#jj architecture

[weepingcloudyouth]

My Story and Hope for Survival😭😭😭

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

A Call for Help from Gaza

Dear compassionate hearts,

My name is Manal. My husband was everything—a father, a husband, a brother. I live in Gaza with my family, which includes his elderly mother, myself, our children, my widowed sister, and her children. We used to live together in a modest home that provided us with safety and shelter despite our struggles.

During the recent war, our lives turned into a nightmare. We were forced to flee on foot for 10 kilometers with our children, hoping to return to something resembling normal life once the war ended. But when we came back, we found our home reduced to rubble.😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Today, we have no roof over our heads. We live among the ruins, exposed to the harsh winter cold and strong winds. My children, like all children, deserve warmth, safety, and a secure place to sleep, but we are unable to provide them with any of that.

I am reaching out to anyone who can hear my plea—whether Arab or international—to help us rebuild our lives. We are in desperate need of assistance to rebuild our home or at least rent a small apartment where we can find shelter and protection from the elements.

Any contribution, no matter how small, would mean the world to us. Your support can be the light that restores hope to my family and gives my children a chance for a safer and more dignified life.

May Allah bless all those who extend a helping hand and reward you abundantly in this life and the hereafter.

With gratitude and prayers,

Manal from Gaza

Please donate together we will achieve the goal.

[floredaqueen]

No Personal Space..

It's JJ's turn! Just some slight attraction.. OK, it's heavy attraction, but their both too stubborn to actually admit it - whatever! Honestly, I loved the version before I started to paint over it

That looks so much better to me, lol

But anyways I hope you guys enjoy! ♡♡

Fellow JJ enjoyers: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @eddiesxangel @princessmaybank

[louistomlinsonslover]

Checked in - George Clarkey

words : 1.0 k +

warnings : Food-related content (mention of a gross food challenge), Fluff overload (excessive cuteness that may cause butterflies!)

The Sidemen studio was buzzing with energy—cameras rolling, crew members adjusting lighting, and the boys already causing chaos before the video had even properly started. You stood off to the side, tucked just behind the cameras, watching as your boyfriend, George Clarke, settled into his seat amongst the Sidemen.

He looked completely at ease, chatting and laughing with the boys as the crew made last-minute adjustments. Even though this wasn’t his usual kind of content, he fit in effortlessly, his natural charm making it seem like he’d been doing this for years.

You, on the other hand, weren’t in the video. You had come along purely to support him, happy to be behind the scenes, just watching. But what you weren’t expecting was the way George kept checking in on you—over and over again, in the most subtle yet adorable ways.

“All right, today we have a very special guest,” Ethan announced, throwing an arm around George’s shoulders. “Mr. Architecture himself, George Clarke!”

The boys erupted into cheers and mock applause.

George chuckled, shaking his head. “I swear, you lot hype me up too much.”

JJ smirked. “Mate, it’s only ‘cause we know you’re gonna get roasted in this video.”

That was met with laughter, but as the challenge got underway—some ridiculous mix of trivia and forfeits—you noticed something.

Every few minutes, George would steal a glance in your direction.

At first, it was subtle. His eyes would flick over to you when the others were distracted, his brows lifting slightly as if silently asking, You okay?

You bit back a smile, giving him a tiny nod.

Then, the gestures became more obvious. A quick thumbs-up under the table, a casual stretch where he subtly formed a tiny heart with his fingers before dropping them back down.

You couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading through your chest.

JJ, who happened to catch one of these moments, narrowed his eyes playfully. “Oi, what’s this guy doing?”

Vik followed JJ’s gaze and smirked. “I think George is sending secret messages.”

Harry snickered. “Bruv, you’re in a Sidemen video, not passing notes in class.”

George, completely unbothered, just grinned. “Gotta make sure my girl’s alright, haven’t I?”

The teasing was instant.

“WHIPPED!” Harry declared dramatically.

Josh shook his head, laughing. “We’ve lost him.”

Ethan nudged George. “Mate, she’s literally right there. She’s fine.”

George just shrugged, throwing you another glance, his lips curving into the softest smile. “Still gotta check in.”

Your cheeks burned, but you weren’t about to complain.

As the game continued, George found new ways to silently reassure you—his fingers drumming lightly against the table in a rhythm only you would recognize, a small, barely noticeable wink when the others were too busy laughing, a soft smile that made your stomach flip every time your eyes met.

At one point, when the boys erupted into chaos over a particularly questionable answer, George leaned back slightly, resting his arm on the chair beside him. With a casualness that didn’t match the giddy feeling blooming inside you, he raised two fingers in a peace sign—his own silent way of asking if you were okay.

You did it back, mirroring the gesture, and he smiled so softly it made your heart race.

But then, he took it a step further.

While the others were arguing about the score, George turned slightly, facing you more. With exaggerated slowness—so that only you would notice—he lifted his hands to form a tiny heart, then pointed at you before quickly dropping them back down.

Your heart nearly burst.

You covered your mouth to keep from laughing, shaking your head at him, but the way he was looking at you—so full of warmth, so full of love—made it impossible not to smile.

Tobi, who had been watching quietly, chuckled. “That’s actually cute, man.”

JJ groaned. “Oh my days. Someone get a bucket.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Honestly, just propose at this point, George.”

George just smirked, clearly enjoying the teasing. But before turning his attention back to the game, he shot you one last look—the kind that made your stomach flutter, your breath hitch, and your heart race all at once.

As the game progressed, George continued his little check-ins. Whenever the boys were deep in conversation or focused on the challenge, he’d take a second just to look at you, his lips quirking up in a soft, secret smile meant only for you. And every time, you felt that same giddy rush, your stomach twisting in the best possible way.

Then came the forfeits.

George, unfortunately, ended up on the losing team, meaning he had to suffer through a ridiculous punishment—having to eat an absolutely revolting concoction that JJ had gleefully mixed together.

You winced as you watched the boys cackle over the disgusting-looking sludge in front of George. He picked up the spoon with a sigh, but before taking a bite, his eyes found yours.

He pointed at the bowl, then dramatically wiped a fake tear from his cheek.

You laughed, shaking your head. In response, you held up both thumbs, encouraging him, even though you were internally gagging at the thought of him actually eating that monstrosity.

George grinned, rolling his eyes playfully before finally taking a bite. His face immediately scrunched up in horror, and the studio erupted into chaos.

JJ was on the floor laughing. “Oh my God! His face!”

Harry was crying from laughter, while Tobi clapped his hands together in delight. “Nah, that’s bad. That’s actually bad.”

Through it all, George still found a way to check on you. Even as he dramatically coughed and shook his head at the taste, he sent you a wink between grimaces.

You burst into laughter, pressing a hand over your mouth.

As the video finally wrapped up, George wasted no time in making his way over to you, ignoring the teasing from the boys as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, his voice warm as he pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

You smiled, leaning into him. “Loved every second.”

He hummed, squeezing your side. “Told you I’d check in.”

Your stomach flipped, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you in the room.

JJ’s voice broke the moment. “You two are disgusting.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, but George just grinned, pulling you closer.

If this was what being ‘whipped’ looked like, he had absolutely no problem with it.

[esote-rika]

not a mask, but a reflection | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: idk hurt/comfort?? flangst? something like that, I'm sorry I truly don't know how to categorize this Summary: The BAU ladies insist on a makeover for Spencer, so you decide to indulge them by promising to take him shopping. It doesn't go as either of you expected, but it allows a chance for the two of you to form a deeper bond. Content: reader’s outfit is described, reader is based on Blair Waldorf in background, and personality– so you're rich!! and fashionable!! And snarky, but in a ride or die sunshine x sunshine protector kind of way, early season 2 glasses!Spencer crushing on reader, implied autistic Spencer, brief mention of his bullying, lots of dialogue!!! especially about fashion advice (PSA to wear whatever you want!!) Word count: 2.8k A/N: I'm back on my Blair Waldorf-reader agenda. I'm mainly writing these because of my own crackship, but I tried very hard not to describe any specific appearance stuff for the reader (aside from what ur wearing) so it’s as immersive and universal as possible! Styling in film and TV fascinates me and I wanted to explore Spencer’s character through clothes. ALSO! I incorporate a Blair Waldorf quote into the conversation that goes “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be.” pls know I didn't come up with it, the Gossip Girl writers did. It's from S4E13 specifically. PART TWO

Saturdays are usually meant for curling up on his couch to read his favorite books, or marathon obscure foreign films. Alone, always alone, Spencer Reid has grown used to the feeling; accepted it, enjoyed it, even. He wouldn’t have survived all these years if he didn't appreciate his own company, after all. 

However, today is different. He’s expecting company, which is unusual enough, but he’s expecting you of all people. And it’s for such a silly thing too— a makeover. Something straight out of a cliche high school movie. It had started at work, during a case, a passing comment made by one of the people being interviewed. Something about looking like he’s playing dress up, spoken so softly he’d been willing to pretend to ignore it. 

But you heard it, had snapped at the man in annoyance about respect and propriety. At the jet, you had snapped at him about wearing clothes that fit better, and of course Morgan and JJ had to get involved, and Garcia squealed about a makeover over the phone. He hadn’t expected you to accept; when you did, he considered several ways to get out of it: pretend to have a date (implausible), pretend to get sick, just don’t show up. But then you said you’ll meet him at his apartment and his world seemed to come crashing down.

“I need to see what I'm working with before I dive headfirst into this,” was your reply when he protested. It makes sense, of course, but he's not happy about accepting you into his space. It's curated for him and his comfort, and he dreads the idea of casting your shrewd, critical gaze over his design choices. If he's less of a coward, he would admit that a small part of him desires your approval. Craves it, needs it, so much it makes his skin crawl.

So that’s why his Saturday morning is spent cleaning; straightening books, hiding the case files strewn about. He doesn’t want to give you any ammunition to tease him with. Having to undergo a makeover is embarrassing enough.

It reeks of bleach when he opens the door for you. The wrinkle of your nose has no business being so cute when it's obviously done to express disgust.

“What is that smell?”

“Hello to you too,” he can't keep the sarcasm from his tone as he steps aside. 

You saunter in heels even though this is meant to be a casual get together. They click against his hardwood floors until you reach his rug, the thick fabric dulling out the noise. “Did you bleach your entire place?” 

His expression is sheepish as he closes the door, “I figured I'd clean.”

“You sure you're not hiding a murdered body in here?” you walk straight into the middle of his apartment and look around. He winces as he waits for your verdict.

“I’m not, I just - you’re so -”

“I’m so?”

“Particular.” I don’t want to disappoint you, but he clamps his mouth shut before the words escape. Having you come in for a makeover already isn’t doing anything for his confidence. In fact, it just confirms his suspicions. Something is wrong with him, despite all the attempts at propriety and flattery otherwise. The BAU sees it, you see it, and you’re here to fix it. He swallows the lump in his throat, and with it, his pride and the tiny hint of resentment. 

You are trying to help, he reminds himself. 

Maybe it’s his hopeless optimism, maybe it’s desperation to seem normal for once, but it’s enough to surrender to your knowledgeable hands. 

He lets his eyes take you in, allows himself a moment to linger on the details of your ensemble. The picture of coordination, as usual; shoes and bag the same shade of rich brown, the barrettes in your hair matching the pale blue trimming along the edges of the sundress you’re wearing. This is you dressed down, he knows, but somehow you manage to outdress him. 

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that,” your eyes roll, before landing to one of the doors in his apartment, “Where’s your bedroom?”

He sputters, “My - uh, why?”

“I’m assuming that’s where you keep your clothes?” You look at him like he’s dumb, and he turns bright pink. “I told you, I can’t take you shopping before I see what you already own.”

He can’t believe he fully didn’t realize it meant letting you into his bedroom. But then again, his brain has the tendency to turn to mush when he’s speaking with you. “Right,” he nods, scrambling to his bedroom. All of his anxieties about his living room and the overwhelming amount of books seem distant now; you hadn’t even commented on them. Instead, this new one arises, bubbles in his stomach. Showing you his bedroom is so much more intimate. The space he sleeps in, where he’s most vulnerable.

A space no other woman has ever even seen. 

He feels your presence behind him, smells the distinct loveliness of the perfume you like to call your signature scent. Of course you don’t ask for permission. He’s found quickly that you’re used to taking and having what you want, used to the world yielding to you instead of the other way around. 

Your heels make sharp taps against the floor. Combined with your perfume, it’s already obvious that you’re making your mark in his room, his haven. He imagines the fragrance will linger when you leave, and it makes his ears burn with a longing that knocks the wind from his chest. The door remains open, and he’s thankful that he isn’t completely caged in his bedroom with you. 

“Here’s my, uh, where I keep my clothes.” he hastily opens his closet, relief flooding his body as he sees it’s not that messy. Everything is ironed and pressed, although some of his sweaters are haphazardly piled together. He hopes he won’t have to show you the mess that is his sock drawer. 

You step up beside him, bare arm brushing against his. Brows furrowed in concentration as you rifle through his clothes. He steps back to give you more room to work with, although it’s more for his sake than yours. Your proximity is making him a little dizzy. He finds himself slumping on his bed, watching your movements. You’re approaching the task at hand with the same meticulous acuity as you would in a crime scene. Focused. Detail oriented, even when doing something so insignificant.

He’s not sure what to expect. He’s bought his clothes based on what he sees other men wear, relying on his observation skills, and the clothing guidelines given by HR to deduce what is considered appropriate. His father wore dress shirts a lot, back when his family was still intact. Hotch and Morgan wear suits, but those have always felt too formal to use on a daily basis. He opts for cardigans and sweater vests to keep him warm instead, because they’re softer, less restrictive. They remind him of Diana, the things she would wear back when she could still teach. He hopes you don’t make him get rid of them.

“You wear a lot of light browns,” your voice lifts him out of his anxious stupor, “You have to give that up.” 

He frowns in confusion, “What’s wrong with wearing light brown?”

“You’re too pale, they make you look even more sickly. But if you must wear brown, lean into this shade instead,” you hold up a dark brown blazer that he actually really likes. He smiles, happy that it got your seal of approval. You turn to him, eyes narrowed, “And your dress shirts are too big, look at where the shoulder seam falls.” 

He blinks in surprise as your hand comes to touch an inch past the edge of his shoulder, pinching the fabric, “It should be up here. You’re too slim for an oversized look, it just swamps your frame. If you’re going to be wearing them, they have to fit you better.” 

He nods, feeling a little out of his depth, “How do you know all of this?”

“Years of consuming Cosmopolitan and Vogue.” You turn back to the closet, he frowns slightly. The words mean nothing to him, and he flinches when he hears you sigh.

“Fashion magazines?” you prompt, glancing back over your shoulder.

“Ah,” He nods, lips pursed, “I can't say those are on my reading lists.”

“Obviously not, otherwise you'd know not to wear,” You gesture at his entire ensemble, nose wrinkling once again, “This.”

It doesn’t really occur to him what the problem is as he looks down at his checked button down. “It’s a nice shirt.” he says, although he can see your point now; it’s too big. 

“Reid, you look like you’re about to start proselytizing about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.” you say, stepping away from his wardrobe and stopping in front of him. 

Your teasing makes his cheeks burn. Or maybe it’s your sudden closeness, your hands at his buttons, “Um, what–” he’s stiff, memories rushing of being held down, clothes forcibly ripped—

“Relax,” you step back after undoing the top button. The annoyed scoff surprisingly gives him some comfort, reminds him it’s you, he’s here with you, “There, that’s better. Don’t button it up all the way.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, it makes you look like you’re cosplaying a minister.” He shifts under your gaze, feeling exposed, even though he’s fully dressed. But that’s exactly what you’re judging, after all, his clothes. There’s nowhere to hide. “Why are you so tense, Reid? It’s not going to make you look like a fool, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Why? Where does he even begin? The fact that he’s never had a woman in his room before, and it’s making him feel like he’s about to implode? His memories of being stripped naked for all the school to see, humiliated, fueling the irrational fear of letting go of his clothes, the things he’s comfortable wearing. And for what? In order to be fashionable? To seem normal, to be fixed? 

He settles for a half truth, the words mumbled and embarrassed, “I like my clothes.”

To his surprise, your eyes soften, “Okay. And?”

“I like how I dress.”

“You don’t want to change your style?”

He looks down and shakes his head, feeling a little silly. How can he explain it to someone like you, who probably would have been one of his tormentors when he was back in school? It’s sick, this desire to be close to you, to be accepted by you as though being in your orbit would lessen his eccentricity. He thought he’d left it behind in high school, had grown out of it, but it’s there, recognizable and refusing to let him rest. 

“You know you didn’t have to say yes to this,” the bed dips as you sit beside him, “It was a silly thing the girls and I thought would be fun, but if it’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop and we could just, I dunno, go for ice cream instead.”

“No, I - I do, I just… don’t want to change completely.” It's almost pathetic how something as simple as clothes is making him spiral, “I like how I dress, even if you guys make fun of it. It’s comfortable. I get really cold hands, and the sweaters help, and - and the satchel is convenient even if you say it clashes with my outfits or whatever.”

Your hand rests on his forearm, and his rambling halts immediately.

“Then I won’t stop you from wearing grandpa-chic,” the lightness in your voice makes him smile, “This is why I wanted to see what you had. I wasn’t about to start from scratch, and there’s obviously a reason you gravitated towards these pieces. I wouldn’t force you into something you hate, that sort of defeats my fashion philosophy.”

“Your fashion philosophy?” He's smiling now as he listens to you.

“I believe that the whole point of fashion and clothing is to help reflect what you are on the inside, not mask it.” You reply, hand finding his own. He allows it, finding something warm and soothing in the touch of your hand, silencing the usual urge to pull away in fear of germs. “And, anyway, I think your clothes make you look really intellectual, so if you like them, you have the pieces in your closet already, it’s just a matter of styling them better.” 

You squeeze his hand, but he could have sworn you did it to his actual heart. 

He watches as you return to his closet again, rummaging through the clothes. You hold up a white button down and a navy blue cardigan, head tilted to the side, teeth worrying the plushness of your lower lip, “Like this; this is a nice combination, and it’ll work better with your complexion. Try it on.” they’re tossed over to him, landing on his lap.

You’re turning away from him, still going through his clothes—allowing him privacy. He appreciates that. He scrambles out of his current clothes, his skin prickling as he thinks about the fact that he’s in a room with a woman alone, getting undressed. No. You’re a friend and a coworker doing him a favor, he should get his head out of the gutter. Hurriedly, he puts the suggested ensemble on.

“Uh, it’s — you can turn around.”

He holds his breath as your eyes rove over his figure, still with the same sharpness he’s used to, but blunted by the small smile playing across your lips. “Yeah, that’s better. Navy’s a great color for you.” you have a stack of his shirts in your hand, all of them patterned and printed, “I’m sorry, but these… have to go. Or at least don’t wear them to work. The prints are ugly, no offense.”

He chuckles, taking the shirts from you, “Not wearing ugly prints to work anymore, got it.”

“Yeah, keep the funky patterns on your ties.” you reach up, brushing lint and dust off the cardigan, “Your shirts should remain plain, solid colors; you have a lot of nice sweater vests and cardigans, it’ll be easier to match them together if your shirts are in more basic colors.” 

Committing your words to memory is easy enough. Rules. He likes rules, but they need to make sense to him, otherwise their arbitrariness will simply frustrate him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

So far, you’re being so receptive to his questions, it might actually make him cry. It’s a new feeling, being the one who’s floundering. Not being the smartest, most knowledgeable person. How exciting, he decides, getting to learn in an area he’s never been able to fully understand on his own. He clarifies, “Why can’t I match the cardigans and sweaters to, uh, colorful shirts?” 

It’s a while before you answer, moving around to wind a tie across his neck. Your words are thoughtful when you speak, “It’s a visual balance. Too many colors and patterns can look heavy and distracting— which is okay, you know, but time and place is always something to consider when you’re dressing up. And you’re going to work, so it’s better to err on the side of caution and wear things that are more… sleek.” Your hands are deft as they tighten the tie, tucking it into the cardigan. “So now that I know what sorts of clothes you like to wear, it’s a matter of finding the right color combinations and cuts that fit your body. Here, see for yourself.”

You push him forward until he’s in front of his mirror, and indeed he does look… better. Still himself, still familiar, but the contrast of the navy cardigan against his pale skin somehow brings out more warmth from his cheeks and makes his hair seem less dull. Visual balance, you said. “Like art,” he murmurs.

“Exactly,” your smile is proud, peeking from behind his shoulder, “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be… and this is showing the world that you’re one attractive nerd.”

He laughs at that. There’s a lightness in his chest as he realizes he doesn’t have to change everything. “I think I get it.” he replies, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Of course you do, you’re a genius.” A slap on the back, one filled with warm intimacy, “Now, I did promise the team a makeover, so now that I know what sort of stuff you need, we can finally go shopping… and we need to do something with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” he asks, but he’s smiling and so are you.

THERE WILL BE A PART TWO! Also, tagging everyone who expressed interest in Waldorf!Reader @mggslover @libraprincessfairy @lillaberry @lokisswiftie

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Don’t Call Me Kid - Aaron Hotchner

“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Hotch, they have an angsty yet adult conversation about it.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I was originally not going to give this a happy ending but I got too sad writing it and changed my mind, also yes i’ve been writing a lot don’t criticize me lol

TW: alcohol mention, angst, age gap, slight physical touch (all respectful, nothing sexual), slight implied daddy issues, fem reader

Rating: G

——

Aaron Hotchner was not a man one could approach without a level head. He was rational, always thinking of the most reasonable course of action, weighing every outcome before making any decision. He had to be, as hasty decision-making had cost him more than he cared to discuss.

You knew that, you’d worked under him for two years now and although he didn’t discuss his private life all that frequently at work, these weekly team meetups at the local bar taught you more than enough about him as a person. The usual stoic head of the team was kind, funny, encouraging, albeit a bit quiet until he knew you a bit better.

About a year into your time with the team you let slip that you’d never explored the city, and Rossi wasted no time letting Aaron know about it. A week later he was driving you around, explaining the history behind the popular monuments you had requested a visit to, then spending an hour at the Folger Shakespeare Library to admire the historic architecture and impressive selection of literature, and ending the day at the Moongate Garden, watching the sunset on a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms.

From that day you knew if there was anything you needed, all you had to do was ask. He’d shown you your favorite restaurant, the coffee shop you sat in every free morning you had, reading books he’d suggested you read. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen hard for him, and over the last year those feelings became harder and harder to push down.

It was 2 a.m. and the bartender had announced last call, earning a disappointed groan from Penelope.

“We were just getting started!” She whined, her speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight Babygirl, let’s get you home.” Derek caught her waist, steadying her as she rose from the booth the team had been sitting in.

“I better get going too, Will has to work early so I have to take Henry to school in the morning.” JJ added, playfully rolling her eyes.

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, wrapping up the current conversation before shuffling out of the bar. You said your goodbyes, giving parting hugs before pulling out your phone, ready to order yourself a rideshare home. Your cell service was almost non-existent and the app was taking forever to load, the chill in the air causing goosebumps to form on your bare legs. You raised your phone in the air, trying to gain a better signal as you walked back and forth in front of the bar, growing increasingly frustrated.

Aaron exited the bar as you made another pass by the entrance, tripping as your ankle wobbled in your heels. He was quick to catch you, helping you find your footing once more.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked, offering you his suit jacket for warmth.

“I’m trying to order a taxi but the app won’t load.” Your frustration was evident, each tap of your finger against the glass of your smartphone just a little too firm.

“You don’t live far, correct? I can walk you home.” He offered, his hand still lingering on the small of your back to steady you. You weren’t drunk, not by a long shot, but you didn’t handle your liquor the best and although you were mostly there mentally, your center of gravity had been better.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.” You countered, always raised to decline at least once when offered anything to remain polite.

“I want to make sure you get home safe, it’s really no trouble.” You knew he was earnest, always such a father figure to every member of the team. You put your phone in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder before turning to walk down the street that led to your apartment building.

You walked in silence for a while, his hand hovering behind you just in case your clumsiness kicked in along your walk. His suit jacket was surprisingly warm, the stiff fabric shielding your bare arms from the cold. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen to wear a short sleeved blouse when it was nearing the end of fall, but you suspected it subconsciously had something to do with how well the v-neck showed off your cleavage. You felt a bit pathetic sometimes, finding any way you could to attempt to pull his attention. It never worked, Aaron respected you too much to stare at your figure no matter how provocatively you dressed.

After a few blocks your heel caught on a storm grate, making you stumble forward. His reflexes were impressive as ever, his arm reaching out to catch your waist.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You joked, straightening your skirt as you started again on your journey home. He didn’t say anything, but the slight smile his lips formed told you he found your try at humor in an awkward moment amusing.

“It’s just around this corner, I’ll be fine from here.” You tried to wave him off, dying to disappear into your apartment to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

“I’m walking you up to your apartment, I need to see you home safe.” He stated, turning the corner with you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, his domineering yet caring tone making your heart race. This was all becoming too much, the protectiveness, the slight touches, you could feel something burning in your chest, the urge to spill your guts growing stronger by the minute.

He waited for you to punch in the code to the front door of your apartment building before holding it open for you, following you to the elevator up to your floor. You took the quiet ride up, him continuing to follow you down the hallway to your apartment when the doors opened. You opened your bag, fiddling around for your keys for a moment before finding them, your hand shaking as you tried to unlock the door. You finally got it, pushing open the front door and stepping into your messy living room.

“How are you getting home?” You asked, setting your bag on the small table next to the door.

“I’ll order a taxi, I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He began to pull out his phone, and the liquid courage coursing through your veins told you to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” You offered, handing his suit coat back to him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure to lock it, never too cautious.

He laid his suit coat over the back of your coach, taking a seat before taking out his phone again to order his ride.

“It won’t be ready for another 30 minutes, I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” He was far too courteous, and all you wanted to do was tell him how badly you wanted him to stay forever.

“You could never.” You told him, kicking off your heels before sitting next to him on the couch. You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself as you picked up the book that was resting on your coffee table. You watched over the top of the pages to see him glancing around the room, scanning the contents until he stopped on the media console across the room. He stood from his place next to you and walked over to it, taking a knee to get down to the same level as your record collection.

“You have impressive taste.” He stated matter-of-factly, his long fingers brushing across the spines of each album. You gave a quiet ‘thank you’ as he began to pull a record out, and you placed your book down again to see what had caught his eye.

“I didn’t know you listened to The Beatles.” He held up the jacket of the band’s white album, looking to you in slight disbelief.

“Of course, The White Album is one of the greatest of all time.” You were excited to talk music with him, it was a topic you’d never discussed before and you were always eager to learn more about him. That may have been to your own detriment, because the more you learned about him, the harder you seemed to fall.

You knew a relationship between the two of you could never happen, he was your superior, not to mention twenty years your senior, but something felt like it was pulling you to him no matter how many guys you tried to distract yourself with.

“You never fail to surprise me.” He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling just so. You could’ve died right there, content to collapse into a puddle of yearning. You didn’t know what came over you, but you found yourself clearing your throat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something.” Your voice shook, but you remained strong in your conviction.

His faint smile turned to a look of concern, quickly rising from his knee to join you on the couch again.

“What is it?” He questioned, brow furrowed as he angled his body toward you.

“I-It’s, nevermind.” That burst of adrenaline quickly faded, his eyes on you feeling like a cigarette burn.

“Y/N, whatever it is, you can trust me. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling me, but don’t let fear hold you back on my account.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your knee sympathetically. You had to do it, there was no way you could face him every day if you brushed him off without an explanation.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, hanging your head, too afraid of what his reaction would be to dare look him in the eye. The silence that sat between you two felt like it carried on forever, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, still holding his hand on your knee.

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked, trying to understand where this was coming from. He couldn’t deny that he had felt chemistry between you, but it wasn’t something he could ever entertain acting on.

“Over the last year I’ve gotten to know you in ways I never dreamed I would, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, even those I once thought I loved in the past. You’ve been so kind, Aaron, you’re an incredible friend, father, leader, how could I be anything but amazed by you?” You felt as though you were rambling, but he seemed so invested in your answer that you didn’t care if what you said was rational.

“I understand.” He confirmed, turning silent as the gears turned in his mind. You could tell he was fighting something internally, the look of concentration on his face seeming almost painful.

You pulled your knee out from under his hand, your nerves convinced that he was looking for a way to fire you without creating an HR nightmare. As quickly as you pulled away he had moved closer to you, his hand finding its place on your knee once more.

“Look at me.” He said, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. You did as you were told, tears threatening your waterline as you did your best to hold his gaze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very charming young woman and I’d be honored to pursue something more intimate with you, but we can’t. I’m your superior, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He explained, the pain in his expression serving to break your heart in two.

“I don’t care.” You were not thinking rationally in that moment, your heart speaking for you instead of your head.

“You should, this is your future.” His tone held frustration this time, finding your childish response disappointing.

“I am not a child Aaron, I can make my own decisions.” You told him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you grew increasingly frustrated with his stonewalling.

“I know that, but you’re young, you have so much to experience and you shouldn’t put that on hold for me, or anyone else for that matter.” Even through his anger he was just trying to steer you in the responsible direction, thinking more about your future than whatever desires he held.

“I have all I’ve ever wanted, my dream has always been to work for the FBI. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I never have. I want a job where I’m doing good and a family to come home to when all is said and done.” You explained, and it wasn’t a lie. It’s not that you weren’t driven, you clearly had to be to even make it to the bureau, but that was as far as you wanted your drive to take you.

“For this to work, I can not be your boss, and I won’t ask you to step down.” He continued evaluating each possible risk in your dynamic, and for once you were one step ahead of him.

“You don’t have to, I put in for a transfer to the financial crime unit last week.” You finally let the other secret you’d been keeping slip, and you watched his face drop in disappointment.

“The team is going to miss you more than you know.” He told you, wishing he had known so he could have convinced you otherwise.

“I know, but I couldn’t bare the thought of being around you every day while I feel like this, and I was fascinated by the way their team handled the case we partnered with them on last month. The timing felt right.” You explained, needing him to know that it was not his fault, but a conscious decision you made.

“I just want to try.” You pleaded one last time, hoping he’d let his walls down just this once.

“If this is really what you want, I’ll take you out next weekend. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way, you deserve that much.” He gave in, letting himself do something personally risky for the first time in years.

“I would love that.” You agreed, all of the anger and frustration that had been building up over the last year finally starting to dissipate ever so slightly.

How it would pay off, only time would tell, but for now, you were content to just get to know him more and show him who you are the best you can.

——

Part 2 can be found here

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or Aaron Hotchner taglist :)

[maybejj]

what are your headcanons for theo as he gets older? what is he like as a teenager or young adult? or even a young kid (like 6-10)?

i love this question!! this lowkey healed my writers blocked i’m ngl. this also turned out longer than i expected so enjoy! 🫶🏻

theo throughout the years.ᐟ

ᯓ★ theo as a toddler is very shy and quiet. if he’s uncomfortable, he will hid behind his mom or dad’s legs. however, he is wild as a buck around the pogues (jj instigates this behavior) since he’s known them his whole life. pope is lowkey his favorite for sure but theo would never say because he doesn’t want to hurt jj’s feelings although sarah is a close second. he observes everything. he’s always watching every interaction. he’s a very curious baby and has so many questions. he gets scared real easy and is a total mamas boy down to his core. he’s tiny but he’s mighty so don’t mess with his mama. he’s obsessed with superman and legos! loves to build anything and everything his little mind comes up with. for valentine’s day, pope helped him build one of the flower lego sets to give to reader. she proudly displays it as the centerpiece on the kitchen table.

ᯓ★ theo as a young kid is still quite shy. it doesn’t take him as long to open up to people anymore but he’s definitely still cautious. he loves being outside and riding around on his bicycle rafe bought him. he’s starting to enjoy the ocean more and more at this age (wasn’t a big fan of water for awhile) so jj really hops on the opportunity to teach him how to surf. theo ends up loving it! he kinda has a temper in this stage of his life. he gets frustrated easily, has tantrums out of nowhere. he gets overwhelmed easier and will hit the side of his head when his environment becomes too much. rafe and reader work with him on this but it takes time. he loves going to his dads office and looking out the window-it’s very high up so he pretends he’s flying above the city like superman.

ᯓ★ theo as a teenager is very outgoing. once he hits puberty, he becomes very confident in himself. he’s basically rafe’s mini me in the best way possible. his sharp blue eyes are his biggest weapon. uses them to get whatever he wants and it works everytime. he becomes interested in baseball and golfing and rafe gets so excited about this. constantly taking him to the country club on the weekends. buying him all the expensive baseball bats, gloves, etc. he will only have the best of the best. he still lowkey loves superman but he doesn’t want his friends to think he’s lame so he saves his geek out sessions until pope comes over. his love for building things has only increased as he gets older so he takes a woodworking shop class at school and makes his mom all kinds of things. every holiday/birthday/special occasion, he builds her something she can use. at this point, 95% of their house is scattered with stuff he’s built his mom. his still has a slight temper but nowhere near as bad as when he was younger. still very protective of his mother, even more so now that he’s older and is more aware of everything. no one is messing with his mom.

ᯓ★ theo as a young adult is very successful. he goes to UNC and studies architecture. he just loves to build things so he decides to make a living off of it. he wants to start his own business eventually so he shadows rafe for a few months to get the basics down. he’s had a few girlfriends by now but nothing serious, he’s more focused on his career at this point. he’s a great public speaker and always leads all the group projects in college. he doesn’t play any sports in college but volunteers as a baseball coach in his free time for his hometowns little league. he also golfs on the weekends with rafe when he has time. also loves coming into town and having dinner with his parents. he loves sitting down with them and telling them what he’s learned in college and what he’s currently working on. rafe always asks if he’s seeing anyone and reader just rolls her eyes at the typical boy talk. theo always laughs when they start bickering. he’s learned how to control his anger completely by this age and thinks things through before making any decisions. eventually starts his own business after he’s got a couple of years of experience and rafe really helps him out when theo starts to doubt himself. his business doesn’t do as good as he thought in the first year so rafe dedicates a lot of his time and effort into helping his son build it back up and where he wants it to be. definitely still builds things for his mom. it just becomes second nature and he loves being able to give her things that no one else has.

[1-800-local-slut]

You know after reading your Spencer x black bombshell reader fics, I’ve been thinking of a version where reader and Spencer meet and start dating and when he introduces her to the team, Derek (in a universe where he doesn’t know you) is like ‘pretty boy bagged a baddie?! Respect.’

Spencer Reid did good, and you can't help but agree

Spencer Reid x Black! Bombshell! Reader

Warnings: none, cute fluff, drinking, the bau being weird, reader isn't in the FBI in this universe because if she and Derek didn't meet as best friends I could see them hooking up once or twice before she started taking her relationships seriously

Thank you for this request! Please consider sending more request in the future. Comments, reblogs, and likes are really appreciated <3

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Spencer was a smart man. But sometimes he could be a little stupid, and that explains a lot. Such as why he was nervous the entire drive to the bar. While you sat pretty, happily chatting with your friend Marie on the phone he was taking way more detail to driving than usual.

But seeing you happily chatting away with his entire team, dazzling the room the way you had when you first met him, he was struggling to recall why he was nervous. Yes, you were pretty and looked like you just stepped out of a 90s movie, but you were smart too.

The two doctorates under your belt and the partner title you earned at your law firm proved it. And becoming Valedictorian twice (high school and university) in a school in a different country was nothing to sneeze at. If anyone could get along with his team of well-educated peers, it was you.

"Do you speak Japanese?" Penelope asked, a little star struck. The moment you took off your coat and sat down at the booth she had fallen head over heels for you.

"Yes, my parents and I moved there when I was fifteen and I went to college there. I did transfer to Havard for my doctorate though."

A collective 'wow' from the table.

"I've never been to Japan. What's it like over there?" JJ asked, sipping from her glass and pushing a loose hair out of her face.

"I hear it's really nice, I've always wanted to go in Summer." Emily joined in, the two shared a momentary look. The moment that customary two-week vacation came they were gone.

"Oh it's beautiful! The scenery, the architecture, the people are so friendly too! And the speaking of the people, they are just as beautiful." You added with a little eyebrow raise and a laugh. Derek chuckled with a toothy grin. Things were going so well it felt like a dream.

In truth, he was more worried you wouldn't like them. You had your moods, and you have a small group of friends by your own choosing. You were the most social but anti-social person he'd ever met.

And a few more jokes and drinks passed with Spencer relaxing with each passing moment. What was he so scared about?

"If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom." You announced, rising from your seat and sliding out in front of Hotch and Rossi as they were on the side closest to the womens room.

"Oh take your time!" Penelope called.

"Don't take too much though." Derek called in response, to which you laughed as you walked off and disappeared into the sea of people in the club. In truth, you'd be gone just long enough to give yourself a breather. You do that sometimes, disappear to give yourself a moments peace. Infact the minute you got home you'd be in your most comfortable night gown with your headphones secured on your head just listening to whatever video essay on youtube grabbed your attention before dosing off.

But the moment there were sure you were gone, like a group of school children the FBI's most productive team leaned in.

"Oh my god Spencer she's so cute!" Penelope squealed. JJ nodded in agreement. Her eyes were wide with joy for Spencer.

"Cultured, elegant but still approachable. You can't find those young women everywhere these days." Rossi had to share his elderly wisdom.

"She seems nice." Hotch added his approval. Truthfully, it was the highest compliment Hotch would give another man's girlfriend. You were 5/7 for approval right now, not that it mattered but it was nice to know the woman Spencer wanted to spend the rest of his days with could get along with people he spent so much time with.

"Where did you find this woman Spencer? And how dare you hog her for so long? And where can I find women like her?" Emily asked and JJ jokingly elbowed her in the side. She giggled and nudged JJ back as they settled back into the team's silence. Sometimes those two were in their own world.

"You know I met her at the bookstore. We both reached for a copy of Crime and Punishment in its original language, but it was the last one. I was just going to let her have it, but she was like 'you read it first, then you can loan it to me.' and gave me her number but I didn't get it at first, so we then ran into each other again two days later at a bakery and she asked me if I was done yet. So, I was because I finished it last night and I gave her the book and she told me she'd give it back and called me three days later and invited me to lunch."

"Ohhh she wears the pants?" Derek joked and Spencer opened his mouth in mock offence.

"Derek!" Penelope slapped Derek on his arm, and he pretended to beg for mercy.

With each word of approval from his closest friends, he smiled a little wider.

"But, good job man. Respect." He offered his fist to Spencer, who gleefully blew it up.

"I mean seriously good job. I don't mean to disrespect you but if you slip up, I'm right here."

"You have to get in line behind Emily." JJ snickered and stretched backwards.

"What'd he do a good job on?" You suddenly reappeared, lip gloss retouched and hair re-adjusted so it was perfectly back in place. Your arm leaned against the back of the booth, showing off the toned muscles under your dark skin with some specks of golden body glitter on it.

"Everything." Derek smiled, looking at you and you seemed to understand. Sliding back into your spot next to Spencer, who felt a warmth spread from his body starting from the side you were on.

Lifting your glass, looking over the rim and taking a sip. Placing down your glass, Spencer found himself hypnotized by your every movement.

"Well, I can't disagree on that."

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I lowkey hate this but I hope you can enjoy it </3

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠- 2

jemily x reader

a/n: chapter two! i’m also posting this on ao3 under my user over there (eternaldulcet) :)

DC was turning out to be a rather enjoyable living experience for y/n. She’d finished unpacking within her first week and now was just settling into her new life. With June becoming July, the heat was high, but nothing compared to the summers down south she’d grown up in. She was rolling through all of her onboarding at the college and when she wasn’t on the campus, she was exploring DC. She’d seen the staples– the White House, Lincoln Memorial, and all that political jazz. But she’d found some real gems on her commute to work and back.

Aside from all the architectural and historical sites she’s seen, she really can’t express how enjoyable DC has been without acknowledging the gift that is Jennifer Jareau sprinting through the neighborhood. That first morning really had been a surprise, a beautiful, wonderful surprise! One that she very seldom missed now. Their schedules seemed to match in the sense that whenever JJ was out on her morning run, y/n was sitting on her porch swing nursing a cup of coffee. Or she’d made it part of her schedule. Not consciously but why change it now?

For the first week or so, they’d exchange a smile and wave and continue on their day. JJ headed for the stop sign at the top of the hill and y/n returned to her house. But one morning JJ switched it up a bit and detoured up y/n’s drive with a smile. She pulled her earbud out and smiled up at y/n, “Good morning neighbor.”

y/n pulled her eyes away from JJ’s sculpted stomach and met her eyes with a sheepish smile of her own. “Good morning indeed!” she nervously replied, pulling the mug of coffee closer to her chest.

JJ’s smiled quickly turned into a smirk and she leaned back in a stretch, one she knew highlighted all the physical features she worked so hard to maintain. “I see you’re an early riser like me.”

“Mmhmm, I sure do love the morning.” y/n nodded, distracted as all get-out. Hearing JJ’s pleased chuckle, y/n scrambled to sound more intelligent than she had initially. “I mean, I’ve really been enjoying the DC mornings. Plus once classes start I’ll be getting up this early anyway.”

JJ nodded, switching to a deep lunge, “Right, Em and I were wondering if you had started yet.”

“I’ve done all my onboarding with HR, so now it’s just meeting with my department chair and things like that. Classes start mid-August, so I’m soaking up my last real moments of freedom this month.” y/n explained around her mug.

“Gotcha, calm before the storm.” JJ smiled standing to her full height again, catching y/n’s wandering eyes. “Well let us know if you need anything before then. I’m not sure how much help we’ll be but we’re here either way.” They bid each other adieu and they part ways. From then on, if Emily and JJ are in town– it becomes a routine. JJ runs, y/n gawks, they talk, and part ways.

Emily, not exactly having the desire to wake early, catches y/n much later in the day. They too had developed a sort of neighborly wave routine, usually as Emily backs out of her driveway or the rare occasions that she and JJ make it home before dark. It was one of those days that she caught y/n struggling with a package that had been left at her mailbox. JJ’d left something in the car and sent Emily out to retrieve it, but she was complaining far less when she caught sight of the struggling younger woman.

Hurrying down the sidewalk she chuckled and swooped in to lift the other end of the box, “Let me help you with that.”

y/n sighed in relief as some of the pressure eased from her back, “oh thank god. I never did learn how to lift with my legs.” They side stepped their way up to the house and over the steps and with a bit of maneuvering got the package inside.

“where do you want it?” emily asked as they paused in the mud room.

“i’m pretty sure this is my bookshelf for my studio, so probably in there. i’ll lead.” y/n said studying the box before steering them both to the back of her house.

all the houses on the block basically have the same layout— so it wasn’t that surprising to see y/n was using this room as a work space considering jj and emily had done the same. what was surprising was the stark contrast to their office. they’d prioritized functionality and necessity in their space. walls were bare and the two desks took up most of the room. but y/n’s studio was way different. one corner was set up like a recording booth— walls covered in soundproofing foam and various microphones. a piano sat in the center of the room paper spread across the top of it. and the rest of the room held books piled high on the floor, different chairs.

“i can see why you need the bookshelf.” emily teased as they lowered the box to the floor near the books.

y/n chuckled and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “yeah, don’t judge me. after i left my last school— i may have done a little shopping in my colleague’s offices. you can never have too much literature. plus i’ve got to build up my repertoire for students.”

“no judgment at all! i’ve got my fair share of books lining our office as well. most of my mine aren’t work related though. but i didn’t realize there was so much reading involved in vocal music.”

“oh yeah, everyone feels important enough to publish. somethings work and others don’t. i just try to know as much as i can.” y/n shrugged, moving to straighten the pages on the piano. “if you’re not reading the david rossi profiling collection, what are you reading?”

emily laughed outright, “oh those are on our shelves, i tend to read classics from all over the world. i like to practice the languages i don’t get to use as often.”

“a linguist,” y/n hummed as she smiled over her shoulder at emily.

“something like that,” emily said bashfully before deflecting. “what do you know about david rossi? that’s a pretty crazy name to pull out of thin air.”

y/n giggled with a shrug, “i did some research after you guys left. i was curious about the world of profiling and he has like a million books about it.”

emily laughed and nodded, “yeah, that’s rossi for you.”

y/n’s eyes widened a bit as she turned and leaned against the piano, “you know him personally?”

“oh yeah, he works with us. trust me, he gifts us all signed copies of his million books for every holiday.”

“well i’ve heard of tootin your own horn, but seems he’s taken that saying to a whole new level.” y/n shook her head. “well thank you so much for your help. i guess we can add that to my running list of reasons why having federal agents as neighbors is amazing.”

emily’s brow rose and she followed behind y/n back through the house. “a running list you say?”

“oh yeah, cataloging all the perks. top of the list— strong brunettes come to my rescue when lifting heavy packages.”

“always at your service. let us know if you need help building it. jj’s got a knack for all that diy home stuff.” emily saluted as she stepped out of the front door.

“you’ll be my first call.” y/n winked and waved goodbye.

-

“grayson, shut up! there’s no way you said that to him.” y/n gasped down the phone.

“why yes, i absolutely did. i think he was so shocked he short circuited.” grayson laughed.

y/n shook her head and wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. she’d been working in the kitchen for the evening having caught the sudden craving for an apple pie. grayson had called right in the middle of her pulling the pie out and there really was no way to ignore gossip from her old office.

“well what did the rest of the team say?” y/n asked as she slid the pie out of the oven and onto a cooling rack.

“oh you know how they get. yasmine asked 100 questions, alice and rita giggled quietly. while the rest just looked around. god the office is not the same without you!” grayson whined.

y/n laughed and opened the kitchen window to air out the kitchen and the pie. “i know i know. im sure everyone is happy that we’re not there terrorizing everyone together anymore. but gray— you can’t say stuff like that during departmental meetings. bless his heart, you know javier is a power hungry asshole who does not take well to women questioning his decisions.”

“yeah yeah yeah— i’m just so sick of him making it harder for our music department to keep any majors. you know he plays favorites.”

y/n went to reply when a blonde head of hair caught her attention right outside her window, where her pie was cooling. she peered down and met jj’s bright blue eyes. she had a soccer ball at her feet and her hands on her hips. y/n’s quirked in a curious smile and she held up a finger for the older woman to wait while she opened the back door. “well you know that’s part of the reason i left anyway. he’s too big for his britches and nobody’s brave enough to tell him as much.”

y/n ushered jj in while she listened, “he keeps calling this meetings before classes start and trust, i’ll be telling him more than just that.”

“ah now you hush, you will do no such thing. go sit down somewhere and calm down. you know as well as i do, he’s like a dog on linoleum. all talk with that one.” y/n shook her head and blushed at the amusement on jj’s face. “listen grayson, let me let you go. my pie is done and i need both hands. we’ll talk next week, okay? alright bye.”

y/n pulled the phone from her ear and hung up with a sheepish smile, “sorry bout that, we always pick up for office gossip.”

jj shook her head and leaned against the kitchen island with a smile “you really are from the south,” she laughed.

“oh boy, what’s that supposed to mean?” y/n watched as jj laughed. her abs flexing just slightly through her tank top.

“i don’t think i understood half of what you were saying. oh and your accent— gets pretty thick when you’re speaking so passionately.” jj grinned.

“oh if you ever catch me drunk it’s waaaay stronger. but i’ll give you that, between Georgia and Kentucky I've definitely picked up some pretty interesting sayings over my life.”

“i bet, my grandparents had their little farm sayings in Pennsylvania but nothing as interesting as what i just heard.”

“well did you come over to eavesdrop or was there something else on your mind?” y/n teased as she moved to check on the pie in the window.

“well i was kicking the ball around out back when i suddenly smelled something very delicious coming from your yard. and i just had to check it out. the eavesdropping part was a happy accident.” jj smiled coming to peak over y/n’s shoulder at the pie.

“well i guess you’re in luck then, it has about 10 more minutes to cool.” y/n smiled pointed to the freezer. “if you’ll grab the ice cream out of the freezer, i’ll give you a piece.”

“you don’t to ask me twice.” jj nodded and pulled the vanilla ice cream out. y/n nodded in thanks and invited jj to have a seat at one of the island stools. as soon as jj took purchase on the stool both women heard a knock on the younger woman’s front door. y/n looked a little confused but jj waved her off and headed for the door. “it’s probably emily, i kinda just disappeared from the backyard at the smell of pie.”

y/n giggled and nodded and watched from the kitchen as the blonde ushered emily inside, “i should’ve known you’d end up over here somehow.”

“there’s pie over here. can you truly blame me?” jj shrugged, poking emily’s hip affectionately as they both made their way to the kitchen island and y/n.

“well i would’ve yes had you come back with no pie for me.” emily grumbled.

“don’t worry— i would’ve made sure you had a slice.” y/n winked at the older woman. “you know what they say, happy neighbor happy life.”

emily eyebrows furrow in confusion, “who’s says that? i thought it was happy wife happy life.”

“is that another southern saying we don’t know?” jj teased.

“no, i just think neighbors should also be happy. i figure you take care of the wife part anyways.” y/n shrugged, subtly eyeing the women for reactions to her words. she was pretty positive the women weren’t just roommates but she wanted to confirm. that way maybe her brain would start supplying a little guilt when she found herself damn near drooling over one or both of her neighbors.

jj and emily, laughed and nodded in understanding, but almost instantly peeped the younger woman’s intentions. “oh yeah we’re strong proponents of the happy wife lifestyle.“ emily nodded. y/n smiled. taking that confirmation for what she thought it was. no chance babe.

but the jj spoke, “but you’re absolutely right— neighbors should also be happy. i’m sure we can make both happen.”

[rudyking]

My pookie:

Whether JJ's son, Riker, likes it or not, he'll always be his father's pookie bear.

The aroma of sizzling bacon battled for dominance with the sweet scent of blueberry pancakes in the cozy North Carolina kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing above the checkered tablecloth where six-year-old Riker sat, meticulously constructing a fortress out of breakfast toast. His brow was furrowed in concentration, a miniature architect tackling a crumbly, golden challenge.

His father, JJ, a whirlwind of shaggy blonde hair and boundless energy even before his first cup of coffee, bounced into the kitchen, whistling a tune that sounded vaguely like a rock anthem played on a kazoo. Deep dimples punctuated his wide grin as he surveyed the scene. “Morning, sunshine! And look at my little builder!”

Riker, ever focused on structural integrity, merely grunted in response. He was aiming for a drawbridge, and the structural mechanics of toast were proving more complex than he initially anticipated.

Yn, the calm anchor in their vibrant family, glided in next, a serene smile gracing her lips. She placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of JJ and then gently ruffled Riker’s hair, her touch light and affectionate. “Good morning, sweet boy. Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” Riker mumbled, still wholly absorbed in his toasty project.

JJ, oblivious to Riker’s intense construction focus, leaned over and scooped his son into a side hug, nearly toppling the precarious toast castle. “Morning, Pookie Bear!” he boomed, planting a loud, wet kiss on Riker’s cheek.

Riker stiffened momentarily, a subtle flinch that went unnoticed by the effusive JJ. He loved his dad, he really did. JJ was fun, and strong, and always ready for an adventure. But lately, something in the term 'Pookie Bear' had started to chafe.

“Dad,” Riker started, his voice a little strained as he wiggled out of JJ’s embrace to salvage his architectural masterpiece. “Can you not call me that?”

JJ blinked, the playful light in his blue eyes momentarily dimming with confusion. “Not call you… Pookie Bear? But you’re my Pookie Bear!” He punctuated this statement with another, albeit gentler, cheek pinch.

Yn, ever observant, noticed the slight tightening around Riker’s mouth and the way he subtly backed away from JJ’s affectionate onslaught. She poured herself a cup of tea, her gaze thoughtful.

“It’s just… at school,” Riker tried to explain, his small hands carefully rebuilding his toast drawbridge, “the other kids… they don’t get it.”

JJ chuckled, a rumbling, hearty sound. “Get what, buddy? That you’re the cutest, cuddliest, most awesome six-year-old on the planet? They’re just jealous, Pookie Bear.” He ruffled Riker’s hair again, a gesture of pure, unadulterated affection.

Riker sighed, a surprisingly mature sound for a six-year-old. He knew arguing with JJ in full ‘affectionate dad’ mode was like trying to stop a runaway train with a feather. He decided to change tactics. “Can you call me Riker, just for school stuff?”

JJ considered this, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm, Riker for school stuff… and Pookie Bear for home stuff?” He beamed, as if he’d cracked a complex code. “Sounds like a plan! Smart kid, my Pookie Bear is.” He winked, completely missing the point.

Yn, sipping her tea, hid a small smile behind her mug. This was going to be interesting.

The school bus stop was a bustling hub of youthful energy. Riker, feeling slightly self-conscious, stood a little apart from the other kids, fiddling with the zipper of his backpack. He was wearing his favorite superhero t-shirt, a valiant attempt to project an aura of cool, independent kid-ness.

Suddenly, a voice piped up, loud and teasing. “Hey, look, it’s Riker!” It was Ethan, a slightly taller boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Riker braced himself. He knew Ethan could be… well, Ethan.

“Hey, Riker!” Ethan repeated, grinning wider now. “Is your daddy going to call you Pookie Bear when he drops you off?”

A few titters rippled through the small group of kids. Riker’s cheeks flushed a dull red. He mumbled, “No, he’s not.”

“Pookie Bear!” Ethan called out again, even louder this time, drawing more attention. “Pookie Bear! Pookie Bear!”

The chant started softly, a low hum of amusement. Riker wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He glared at Ethan, his blue eyes flashing with a hint of JJ’s famous temper. “Shut up, Ethan!”

Ethan, fueled by the attention and Riker’s obvious discomfort, only escalated. “Pookie Bear! Pookie Bear! Daddy’s little Pookie Bear!”

Riker balled his fists, his heart pounding. He was six years old, almost seven! He was a superhero protector of the innocent, defender of justice! Not… Pookie Bear.

Just as he was about to launch himself at Ethan in a blaze of righteous indignation, the school bus rumbled into view, its yellow bulk a welcome distraction. The chanting died down, replaced by the usual chaotic scramble to board.

Riker slumped onto a bus seat, the taunts echoing in his ears. He hated ‘Pookie Bear’. He hated Ethan. He hated everything.

That evening, dinner was a slightly subdued affair. Riker picked at his macaroni and cheese, his usual boisterous chatter replaced by quiet contemplation. JJ, blissfully unaware of the schoolyard drama, was regaling Yn with a hilarious, if slightly exaggerated, tale from his day at work, mimicking voices and gesticulating wildly.

“And then, get this,” JJ was saying, his voice rising in dramatic crescendo, recalling something Rafe said, “he actually said, ‘But Maybank, are you sure this is… prudent?’ Prudent! Like I’m some kind of… imprudent… Pookie Bear or something!” He chuckled at his own joke, reaching over to ruffle Riker’s hair.

Riker recoiled as if burned. He pushed his plate away, his eyes welling up. “Don’t call me that!” he burst out, his voice cracking with pent-up emotion.

JJ stopped mid-sentence, his playful expression instantly replaced by concern. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, Pookie… Riker?” He corrected himself quickly, sensing something was amiss.

Yn, who had been quietly observing, put down her fork and gently touched Riker’s hand. “What happened at school today, honey?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing.

Tears streamed down Riker’s face as he recounted the bus stop incident. He described Ethan’s taunts, the laughter, the humiliation. His voice trembled as he confessed, “They all called me Pookie Bear, Momma. Everyone.”

JJ’s face darkened. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. His jaw tightened, and his blue eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, now blazed with a controlled fire. “Who are these kids?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me their names, Riker. Daddy’s going to have a little chat with them.”

Yn placed a calming hand on JJ’s arm. “Hold on, JJ. Let’s hear Riker out first.”

Riker sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s just… it’s embarrassing, Daddy. It’s a baby name. I’m not a baby.”

JJ’s expression softened. He looked at Riker, really looked at him, perhaps for the first time acknowledging the small shift from baby to boy. He saw the vulnerability in Riker’s tear-filled eyes, the longing to be seen as big and capable.

He knelt down beside Riker’s chair, his gaze level and earnest. “Riker,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Pookie Bear… it’s my special name for you. It’s because you’re… you’re my little bear cub. My cuddly, strong, brave little bear.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s… it’s my way of telling you I love you, even when I don’t say it out loud.”

Riker looked up at his dad, his tears slowing. He saw the sincerity in JJ’s deep blue eyes, the unwavering love shining there. He knew JJ loved him. He’d always known it. It was just… the name.

Yn intervened, her voice warm and understanding. “Honey, your dad loves you so much. And ‘Pookie Bear’ is a name that shows how special you are to him. But I also understand that it’s… maybe not the best name for school. How about we make a deal?”

Riker looked at her, hope flickering in his eyes.

“At home, you’ll always be our Pookie Bear,” Yn continued, smiling at JJ, who nodded in agreement, his protective fury subsiding into something softer. “But when you’re at school, you’re Riker. Just Riker. A super cool, superhero Riker.”

Riker considered this. Home Pookie Bear and School Riker. It had a certain… logic to it.

JJ, ever the showman, clapped his hands together. “I like it! It’s like you have a secret identity! Like Batman! He’s Bruce Wayne during the day, but at night, he’s Batman! You’re Riker at school, but at home, you’re… Super Pookie Bear!” He winked, unable to resist a little playful embellishment.

Riker giggled, a genuine, bubbly sound that chased away the last vestiges of his tears. “Super Pookie Bear?”

“Yeah!” JJ grinned, his dimples reappearing. “You can have a cape… made of blankets! And your superpower can be… super cuddles!”

Yn laughed, shaking her head at JJ’s antics. “Let’s maybe work on the superpower. But the secret identity thing… that’s actually pretty cool.”

Over the next few days, the ‘Home Pookie Bear, School Riker’ agreement seemed to work. At school, Riker puffed out his chest a little straighter, introducing himself simply as Riker. He even managed to ignore Ethan’s occasional ‘Pookie Bear’ taunts with a newfound confidence.

At home, though, he was still JJ’s Pookie Bear, happily accepting the hugs, the kisses, and even the occasional… blanket cape. JJ, while still prone to calling him ‘Pookie Bear’ at random moments, made a conscious effort to use ‘Riker’ more frequently outside of their home bubble.

One evening, while they were building a magnificent fort in the living room, draped with blankets and fairy lights, JJ leaned close to Riker, his voice soft. “You know, Pookie Bear,” he whispered, “you’re growing up so fast. Soon, you’ll be too cool for your old man.” He feigned a dramatic sigh.

Riker snuggled closer to JJ, his small hand finding his father’s. “Never,” he mumbled, his voice thick with affection. “Never too cool for you, Daddy.”

JJ’s heart swelled. He wrapped his arm around Riker, pulling him close. “That’s my boy. My Pookie Bear. My Riker. Whatever name you go by, you’ll always be my amazing kid.”

And in the warm, blanket-fort glow, surrounded by the love of his parents, Riker knew, deep down, that even if ‘Pookie Bear’ might be a little embarrassing sometimes, it was also a symbol of something truly special – the boundless, sometimes goofy, but always fiercely loving heart of his dad. And maybe, just maybe, being Super Pookie Bear at home wasn’t so bad after all. Especially when it came with super cuddles.

[thekylemeredith]

#DavidByrne is my guest tonight, which means we’ll be dancing with architecture and questioning the fabric of reality—politely, but with groove.

Also on the setlist: Funkadelic (cosmic funk doctrine), Beck (beat-driven surrealism), JJ Cale (laid-back genius), Holly & The Italians, Space, Portishead (sad, smoky trip-hop), new Samia, and the theme to Flying Blind—because someone has to remember.

6p ET on WFPK. Heads will talk.

[fleelangston]

WELCOME  TO  BATH  ,  nikki, jj & sidney !  you've  been  accepted  into  the  program  !  please  send  in  your  accounts  within  the  next  24  hours  and  don't  forget  to  sort  through  our  checklist  !

─   (  archie renaux. twenty five. cis man. he / him.  ) thank god you’re here, man - have you seen SAWYER DEVI anywhere? i totally lost them after their rendition of youth by glass animals last night. no? they’re like, aye - high and go to PALLADIAN - i think they’re a SENIOR studying FILM & CINEMATIC STUDIES? but who knows, these days. all i know is that they’re CHARISMATIC & RIGHTEOUS and a GEMINI . last night they kept going on and on about how they won LEAST LIKELY TO LET THINGS GO.   last year, which is cool and whatever, but i just wouldn’t expect it out of them, considering they’re so, like, DOGMATIC & REBELLIOUS, you know? anyways - i’m going to check down by the courtyard, i think that’s where they like to hang. text me if you see them, okay? bye! / as penned by nikki.  25.  any pronouns.

──   (  taylor zakhar perez. twenty6. cis man. he/him.  ) thank god you’re here, man - have you seen DALLAS MOLINA anywhere? i totally lost them after their rendition of malibu 1992 by coin last night. no? they’re like, aye - high and go to LANGSTON - i think they’re a JUNIOR studying CIVIL ENGINEERING / ARCHITECTURE? but who knows, these days. all i know is that they’re JOVIAL, ALTRUISTIC and a LEO. last night they kept going on and on about how they won MOST LIKELY TO SLIP AND DIE IN THE SHOWER last year, which is cool and whatever, but i just wouldn’t expect it out of them, considering they’re so, like, UNINHIBITED and ALOOF, you know? anyways - i’m going to check down by wickham-on-heath, i think that’s where they like to hang. text me if you see them, okay? bye! / as penned by jj.  twenty4.  they/them.  pst.

──   (  medalion rahimi. twenty eight. demi woman. she/they.  ) thank god you’re here, man - have you seen NIMA HAMIDI anywhere? i totally lost them after their rendition of saw you in a dream by the japanese house last night. no? they’re like, aye - high and go to LANGSTON - i think they’re a SENIOR studying LITERATURE / MORTUARY SCIENCES? but who knows, these days. all i know is that they’re DISTANT, PROBING and a LIBRA . last night they kept going on and on about how they won MOST LIKELY TO TURN THEIR REMAINS INTO AN APPLE TREE last year, which is cool and whatever, but i just wouldn’t expect it out of them, considering they’re so, like, CURT and INEFFABLE, you know? anyways - i’m going to check down by the cuthbert arts library, i think that’s where they like to hang. text me if you see them, okay? bye! / as penned by jj.  twenty4.  they/them.  pst.

── ( tamino amir. twenty-seven. cis man. he/him. ) thank god you’re here, man - have you seen MOURAD ADHAM RAMZI anywhere? i totally lost them after their rendition of ana la habibi by fairuz. no? they’re like, aye - high and go to PALLADIAN - i think they’re a GRADUATE studying SCIENCE ILLUSTRATION AND PRACTICE? but who knows, these days. all i know is that they’re WISTFUL, DOTING  and a VIRGO . last night they kept going on and on about how they won MOST LIKELY TO BE A TROPHY HUSBAND OF A MILF NEAR YOU last year, which is cool and whatever, but i just wouldn’t expect it out of them, considering they’re so, like, GENTLE and COMPLAISANT, you know? anyways - i’m going to check down by the old graveyard, i think that’s where they like to hang. text me if you see them, okay? bye! / as penned by sidney!

[qoldenskies]

MB ABOUT 11! I meant like. If Donnie takes some food down easier is there more of that. I remember that they said there'll always be food if he needs it but like. Specifically that.

BUUT THIS BRINGS UP A QUESTION. Maybe it's been answered but. If you're in a yap mood then I'm finding something to yap about LMAO

Since Donnie makes a clear effort to not flail or shut down, how can they tell if something's bothering him?

ALSO the mental image of Donnie looking at a plush for more than two seconds and then moving on and the other three being like WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN in the background for gift purposes is hilarious.

If Donnie was to play a video game on like a computer or something, do you think he'd like Minecraft? Maybe with Mikey. I think maybe he'd appreciate being able to build together.. if it turns out like crap he can always blow it up and cry about it.

Does Donnie ever go to sleep maybe in Raph's arms for comfort and then wake up in a haze and forget he wanted to do that and scream and scare the shit out of Raph when he wakes up..

What's the go to movie for a bad night?

Does Donnie ever space out really bad and how do they all deal with that..

AGAIN DONNIE CENTERED Leo's next

OHHHH THEN THE ANSWER IS ABSOLUTELY YES i do think they go out of their way to buy things that bring him comfort and that includes food, especially because i think before donnie would just buy for himself and he doesn't really do that as much anymore.

but onto questions (YIPPEEEE HOORAY)

Since Donnie makes a clear effort to not flail or shut down, how can they tell if something's bothering him?

the thing is that it is genuinely hard sometimes. donnie's always nervous and he's always jumpy, they just get very good at noticing when things are off. it's when he's not even looking at them at all, apologizing more, crossing his arms or hugging himself, seeking out things that would normally calm him down. usually he cant hide it for long either, especially if it's a day where he cant really be around them much.

ALSO the mental image of Donnie looking at a plush for more than two seconds and then moving on and the other three being like WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN in the background for gift purposes is hilarious.

^^^ canonizing this as we speak because that is pretty much the Experience whenever they have holidays,,, they have to ride off a lot of what they KNEW pre-curse but donnie's interests are naturally going to shift and he's not as quick to express himself, and it's hard to get a straight answer out of him when they ask, so they just pay extra attention!!

If Donnie was to play a video game on like a computer or something, do you think he'd like Minecraft? Maybe with Mikey. I think maybe he'd appreciate being able to build together.. if it turns out like crap he can always blow it up and cry about it.

donnie would love minecraft. i think he'd hate building architecturally but he'd love redstone, so him and mikey probably collaborate. mikey builds the houses and donnie gives them automatic lights and cool fancy doors and shit.

also i cannot resist, he would be a strip-mining king. my canary. unironically it would be a very easy task for him to lose himself in. probably good stress-relief.

Does Donnie ever go to sleep maybe in Raph's arms for comfort and then wake up in a haze and forget he wanted to do that and scream and scare the shit out of Raph when he wakes up..

i havent thought about it, but it's likely happened at least once! he doesn't go to raph for comfort a lot for a reason, at least not at first. if he's already in a bad mood i think he's going to automatically register him as danger.

What's the go to movie for a bad night?

jj pluto's vacation iv. uwu

Does Donnie ever space out really bad and how do they all deal with that..

the ice cube trick that april introduced is a classic. she did a lot of research (particularly when she learned about the four days in solitary isolation thing, and went out of her way to dig for mental health resources) so all of her tactics kind of bleed into how the others handle it. especially because they dissociate too to an extent! leo freezes up sometimes in canon so i could see it becoming an issue for him, especially because he's known to go really quiet when he's triggered or super upset.

it really just depends on the severity, because sometimes there's nothing they can do but stay with him and talk him through it, go through grounding exercises and be patient. if splinter or april are around, they'll have them do it, because they're comforting faces to see when he's coming out of an episode.

[samheughanswife]

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dior A designation describing artisanally woven fabric originating from the Outer Hebrides, a chain of islands off the west coast of Scotland, Harris Tweed® was unsurprisingly at the heart of a number of key looks that kicked off Monday evening's #DiorCruise 2025 show at Drummond Castle. Possessing a distinctive textured handle, @MariaGraziaChiuri selected it for wrap-effect dresses and kilt-accented tailoring as well as abbreviated architectural and sporty outfits.

This is so fabulous.

A palate cleanser courtesy of JJ. The fabulous Ms Rosamund Pike in Dior. Classic black coat ✔️, Mini Dioriviera Lady Dior bag ✔️

An escort free zone.

Where were Caitriona and Sam? Another missed opportunity. Tartan, Drummond Castle, networking 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

[fayedartmouth]

Weekly update of the OBX car accident fic. I feel like I don't love this as a standalone scene because it's not exciting, but it is necessarily advancing the plot to where I'm trying to go. LOL, I'm at a point with this fic where the snippets are not always super exciting but they're necessary to the architecture of the story.

So anyway, a few more weeks until I think I finally get them all back together. There's some necessary meandering first and possibly a medical complication. We'll see, lol. I have five scenes sketched out, but I think it'll end up being more because I haven't spent any time on the resolution at all in my outline.

So sorry that this is a boring one! Thank you to everyone reading!

Full master post is here.

Shoupe was spending too much time on this damn case, and he knew it.  It was open and shut, <i>an accident</i>.  He just had to sign the paperwork already.

Yet, here he was.  Back the next day for more.

He told Peterkin it was because there were unattended minors involved.  The hospital said no one had showed up for John B or JJ yet.  Uncle Teddy was coming in from the mainland; Luke Maybank was drying out.  He had an obligation.

She raised her eyebrows at him.  “I mean, social services will appreciate not having the paperwork.”

Because everyone knew.  Investigations could be opened.  With kids like that, they never went anywhere.  And it just seemed wrong, right?  They were sure to clean up the roadway debris.  They impounded the vehicle.  But no one cared about a pair of boys without parental supervision, still laid up in the ICU.

Whatever the official reason why, he knew the personal ones.  That he probably just cared, more than he had a right to, as he flashed his badge and checked in with the morning doctor on call.  The news, at least, was mixed.  Pope and Kiara were doing much better.  Kiara would be discharged later today, her vitals having fully stabilized.  Pope’s cognition was improving, but he was still disoriented and unsteady.  They wanted another day of observation with a repeat series of scans just to be sure.

John B was stable and apparently recovering well.  He would need time – he still wasn’t mobile – but things looked to be moving in the right direction, at least.  

JJ, of course, was making things difficult.  That was what he did, after all.  He was still deeply sedated and on life support.  Wait and see, the doctor said with a shrug, like they hadn’t been waiting and seeing since yesterday.  Like JJ hadn’t been waiting and seeing bullshit his whole life.

He thanked the man anyway and made his way up to the ICU.  He’d come all this way; he might as well check in.  That was the plan, however.  

Making plans with Pogues?

Never a good idea.

He barely got to the floor when he ran into Kiara Carrera.

She looked fine, for the record.  In a wheelchair, sure.  Hooked up to an IV.  But awake, alert, good color.  Pissed as hell.

He looked around, seeing no sign of her parents.  No sign of her friends.  “Are you supposed to be here?”

She had a split second of sheepish denial, but she got over that fast.  She seemed to see him and decide something, right then and there.  “I’ve been trying to talk to JJ’s doctor, but they keep telling me bullshit about patient confidentiality.”

“Well, that is a thing–”

Kiara shook her head.  “It’s bullshit,” she said.  “You know that we’re family to JJ.”

He sighed.  It wasn’t like he didn’t know those kids were joined at the hip.  And it wasn’t like he didn’t know that JJ’s real family wasn’t going to show up for him anyway.

Yet, there was only so much Shoupe could do.  

“Look, I want to help, I do, but it’s not my call–”

He was going to defer – deflect.

He should have remembered.  Kiara Carrera was just privileged enough not to give a shit.  She was also just convicted enough to do whatever the hell she wanted anyway.  Her idea of justice wasn’t all wrong, but it was a little naive, if only because she still believed that pure conviction could make a difference

“They’d listen to you,” she said, and her eyes seemed to brighten at the idea.  “Shoupe, you can help me.”

His eyes narrowed despite himself.  He wanted to help; that was why he was here.

But why did he feel like he was about to be recruited to something untoward?  He knew these Pogues were good kids.  But they were good kids with the worst ideas, hands down.  It didn’t help that the Kooks were against them, sure.  But they were their own worst enemies.

“Kiara,” he said, pursing his lips as he looked anxiously down the hall.  “Where are your parents?”

She straightened up, clearly indignant.  “You don’t need my parents.”

He rolled his eyes.  “I don’t need anything,” he agreed.  “But do they know you’re out here?”

She scoffed.  “It’s a free country.  Women are allowed to go anywhere without an escort, you know.”

He gave her a pointed look, exasperated.  “But you’re a minor.  In a hospital.”

She reddened slightly.  “They let me go to John B’s room.  Took me there themselves and everything.”

He didn’t think she was lying to him.  About that, anyway.

And yet–  “So why are you here?  In the hall?”

“Because,” she said.  “No one’s been able to see JJ yet.”

He hesitated at that.

Her eyes widened.  “You’ve seen JJ?”

“I’ve seen him,” Shoupe acknowledged.

She leaned forward, intent now.  “See, you <i>can</i> help us.”

He let out a breath, hot and short.  “Kiara–”

“We need to see JJ,” she insisted.

His chest tightened, gut twisted.  “He’s still in very critical condition–”

“Which is why it matters!” she said, voice rising a little.

He reddened, as a few people around the waiting area looked at him.  He dropped his voice.  “Kiara, that’s not my call–”

She shook her head, adamant.  “You know he’ll be better with us,” she said.  There was no hint of compromise in her eyes, not about this.  “And we’ll be better with him.”

They’d be less trouble, he was sure.  If he didn’t reunite them, these Pogues were going to be hatching escape plans all over the hospital, their injuries be damned.

And yet, he had the Heywards and the Carreras to worry about.  The last thing he needed was for someone to file a formal complaint.  The Carreras would, in a heartbeat.

Yet, he knew why he was here.  He knew what he wanted.

He wanted to make sure they were okay.

Each and every one of these dumb idiots.  They hated him; they thought he was the bad guy.  And he just wanted to help, despite his better judgement, despite his legal jurisdiction, despite <i>everything</i>.

Sighing, he looked down the hall again as he considered his options.  “There’s really not a lot I can do.”

She latched onto his hesitation.  “But there is <i>something</i>.”

That figured, didn’t it?  That she would believe that.

That she <i>knew</i> that.

For being the one with the power and the badge here, Shoupe felt pretty damn helpless.  

Mostly because he wanted to help.

God help him – save his job – he really, really did.  

But a badge was persuasive.  And Shoupe was damn good at making personal appeals.

If he could just convince the doctors that it was in the medical interest to let these four, injured, unsupervised teens spend their time together–

Well, if Shoupe could pull that off, then he was in the wrong profession.  A career in acting would have been appropriate.

Yet, why was he here anyway?  It wasn’t to finish paperwork.  It wasn’t witness statements.

It was because he couldn't stand the thought of these dumb kids being on their own.

He was too soft for this bullshit.

But no one else was looking, were they?  No one else wanted to see?

He couldn’t let them slip through the cracks, could he?

<i>Would</i> he?

“Maybe,” he relented, quick to hold his hand up to the look of triumph on Kiara’s face.  “But it’ll take a little time for me to work it out, and you all have to play by the rules.”

She smiled, nodding quickly in agreement.  “Fine.”

He huffed, shaking his head at her.  “And that starts by getting you back to your room.”

“I’m fine–” she started to protest.

He pinned her with a look.  She had the decency to close her mouth.  “Come on,” he cajoled.

He took the back of her wheelchair, starting them off down the hall.  “Which one is yours again?”

She made a face, tilting her head to the side.  “Just take me out to John B’s.”

He was ready to argue.

She glanced up at him.  “I wasn’t supposed to leave that room,” she admitted.  “They’d be pissed–”

He sighed.  “Really, Kiara?”

She smiled, innocent as she pleased.  “You said you wanted to help.”

He huffed, turning her down the hall to John B’s room anyway.  “I don’t suppose I’ll get any credit for that later.”

“You’re part of an oppressive system with so many inherent biases–”

He shook his head, keeping them moving.  “That’s what I thought.”

[cosmic-entity-creation]

Haii ! May wi req a tier 3 creator's choice pack ?? Our only specifics are lots of non-noun neos , creature-esque genders , and appearing human but something's not quite right >_< Tysm in advance !!

Tier Three - Creator's Choice.... Human..?

Name: Canidae, Lost, Jason, Felidae, Crocuta, Hyenadae, Genus, Jean, Jamie, Joan, Willow, Wish, Misty, Mystic, Warbler, Barbara, Ellis, Ellie, Angelie

Nicknames: Cani, Dae, Jay, JJ, Feli, Croc, Hy, Gene, James, Jo, Will, Mist, My, Warb, Barb, Barbie, El, Angie

Age: 17-19 years old

Species: Human..?

Pronouns: she/her, they/them, it/its, xe/xem, fae/faer, ip/ips, sei/seim, ve/veir, shx/hxr, thxy/thxm, ix/ixs, x/xs, xyz/xyzs, &/&s, 0/0s, dae/daem, dae/daer, fae/faem, ze/zer, zie/zher, re/rems, pix/pixs, he/hem, shi/shir

First Person Pronouns: we/us, i/me, v/ve, le/leer

Source: None

Roles: Assidumate

Alterhumantiy: Barn Owls, Changeling [D&D], Changeling [Star Trek], Shapeshifter

Gender Labels: Creaturegender, Creaturething, Werecreature, Eldrifigender, Genderstatic, Animaliagender

Orientation Labels: Sapphillean

Relationship Labels: Nonhuman4Human, T4T Polyamorous

Presentation Labels: Bouquet

Personality: Unsettling, Affectionate, Feral, Playful, Prankster, Happy Go Lucky, Silly, A Bit Naive

Likes: Dark Humor, Purple, The Dark, Slasher Movies, Rodents

Dislikes: Loud Noises, Sudden Movements, Bright Lights, Snakes

Hobbies: Collecting Queer Labels, Collecting Trinkets, Pranking Others, Cooking, Painting, Writing

Interests: Bugs, Worms, Mogai Stuff, Owls, Crows, Architecture Songs: BURY THEM [Kaia Jette], Freak [ZAND], Overtime [Cash Cash], Working Bitch [Ashnikko], You're Gonna Go Far, Kid [The Offspring]

Appearance:

[ Source 1 | Source 2 | Source 3 ]

**Note: Added some extra categories because I get really into this one! :]

[tullysinclair]

( Mia Goth / female/ she/her) — Tallulah “Tully” Sinclair has been living in Port Leiry for a few days. She currently works as a Recent Graduate, and is 21 years old. No one is sure if she's actually a Vampire or if she's connected to Kanemaru. She tends to be quite Quiet and Obsessive, but can also be Sweet and Thoughtful.— ( JJ/ EST/ he/they/ 21/ needles)

Name: Tallulah “Tully” Sinclair Occupation: Recent grad, Architecture degree Age: 21 Sexuality: Lesbian and solidly in denial Straight Species: Vampire Clan/Pack/Coven?: Kanemaru Hometown: Savannah GA Relationship Status: Single Personality Traits: Quiet, shy, romantic, sweet, thoughtful, obsessive

001. The Sinclairs are well-known, well-off, and well-liked in the community, and Tallulah is their straight-A’s, strait-laced, perfect daughter. Sundays at church, summers spent half at the beach and half at a grandparents house out in the country, it’s a charmed life. When high school comes around, private school in New York sounds more like hell than anything. When the entrance exam results came back with news of a scholarship, her parents spoke of nothing but networking and connections for weeks. She lets her mother drag her around store after store to be sure her daughter has an up to date wardrobe, watches her wring her hands over making sure she looks classy and up to par with those “uptight New Yorkers”. The suitcase of designer clothes sits untouched in the dormitory closet for months.

002. Eventually, the clothes get worn, but not by Tully. Nyx Waneoft is everything she was scared of finding at this school wrapped up in one perfect package, and something seems to click into place in Tully’s mind on move-in day when she walks into their shared room. Richer, prettier, better in basically every way. Of course the clothes look better on her. Everything does.

003. Trips back home are full of disappointing looks and raising expectations. Questions that she can’t answer, not without raising more and more questions. The summer before her senior year is spent dodging conversations as her mother tries to talk her into dates with her friend’s sons, into considering going to a debutante ball of all things. Did she always hate this sort of life? The weight of it all didn’t feel so crushing, hundreds of miles away in her and Nykki’s room.

004. Nykki’s year abroad shows Tully just how alone she is without her. Her new roommate is randomly assigned, and the room is so much smaller without her there. A part of herself is missing, and she fears she might never get it back.

005. College isn’t as awful as she expected, not when Nykki is finally back. Their apartment has so much more freedom than a dorm, and she won’t admit it, but she’s not too upset that they couldn’t find a 2 bedroom. Pushing twin beds together into a mega-bed like in their dorm saved so much space, it was such a relief that she wasn’t the one who had to suggest that.

006. There’s a hand on her waist and a tongue in her mouth, and the hands that so badly want to pull Nykki closer are pushing her away, the alcohol doing nothing to slow the excuses as they push through her mind and fall out of her mouth. It’s not real. It’s practice, and it’s only ever going to be practice. Nyx has a whole line of boys eager to see the results of that practice, and Tully has... other things to focus on. This isn't going to happen.

007. Their beds are pushed apart, the apartment is tense for weeks before their graduation. Tully wants so badly for them to be okay again, and when Nykki suggests a graduation trip across the country, who is she to deny her? She’s smiling again, joking and making plans again like she had before that night. A quick trip to Port Leiry to see her sister, and off to Cabo, to sun and sand and another stab at trying to bring things back to how they were. Everything will be fine.

Wanted Connections WIP