#but him asking about david to reporters

[lensinski]

Gary Neville in BECKHAM

Gary was Mister Sensible. Did he talk a lot then? Gaz? Gaz always talked. And we very rarely listend to him.

[yourmomxx]

i wanted to request something sweet with my man aaron hotchner. like r and him work at the bau but their relationship is a secret until r kiss him on accident because shes excited about something!!! i hope this make sense idk!

thanks bestie have a great week!

i’m loving me some babygirl aaron hotchner honestly, i hope you like how this turned out!!

The office lights were blinding.

Like clinically cold balls of headlights that were penetrating through your skull, buzzing at an abnormally high frequence consistently.

You groaned inwardly and pressed the balls of your hands deep into your eyesockets, anything to just make that stupid headache go away so you could continue filing your reports that laid unedited on your desk.

You tapped the head of your pen vigorously against the desk top to jog a flow of words for you to write down.

With your hand supporting your head, you didn't notice a figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey." The tone of Aaron Hotchner's voice was soft and warm, but you still couldn't help but jump at the unexpected presence so near next to you.

You sighed when you noticed it was him, and leaned your head on your hand again. "Hey."

Aaron threw a look on you, then your files, and then your hunched figure again.

His gaze softened.

"Why don't you go home?" He suggested. You opened your mouth to openly protest, but Aaron cut you off before you even started talking.

"You need the rest," He made it clear to you, "and I'm sure Jack would love if you read him a story before bedtime."

You threw him a look. "You can't just lure me home using your son. That's not fair game."

The corners of Aaron's mouth twitched and he tilted his head.

You sighed. "Even if I wanted to go home," You said, "This paperwork won't finish itself."

Aaron moved closer to you and threw a glance over your shoulder, one hand supporting his weight on your desk as he leaned over your body.

"Let me do it," He offered.

You turned to look at him. "I can't ask that of you."

Aaron straightened up. "You're not asking, I'm offering."

Carefully, he pulled your pen out of your hand and put it back into its designated holder with multiple other ones that probably weren't even functioning anymore.

"Now," He drew out slowly, while his fingers were circling under the collar of your jacket hung over your chair, and he held it out to you, "Go home."

You threw him a doubting look. Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"I can make this an order if I want to."

You raised your hands, defeated.

"Alright, alright."

Slowly, you rolled your chair back and stood up, and accepted happily when Aaron helped you slip into the warm jacket. His hands kept steadying you at your shoulders. You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax against him for the blink of a second.

"Thank you," You muttered to him.

Aaron nodded. "Of course."

Your bag was already packed, it was a plus, as you lifted it off the floor.

"Maybe you can read Jack the book you brought him the last time," Aaron suggested. "He hasn't put it down since I showed him."

At his words, your face cracked into a huge, beaming smile.

"He actually liked it?" You hushed. Aaron nodded, smiling.

"That was my favorite book as a child, I'm so glad!"

You strode forward and pulled him closer to you in a short, but emotion-pouring kiss.

When you leaned away, Aaron smiled.

"Get home safe," He said. "Text me."

You dug out your headphones out of your bag and smiled at him.

"Always."

Then, not without throwing your lover a last kiss in your steps, you made your way out of the glass gates and left the building.

Only when the closed elevator doors put you out of his line of sight, Aaron allowed himself to finally pull out your chair and sit down.

He cracked open one of the brown files and started writing.

Only a few tables away, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were frozen in the same position they had been in just one minute ago.

Emily opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

Derek turned to Rossi. "Should we-?"

"No." The elder Agent cut him off.

Emily gestured wildly with her hands. "But they just-"

"I know, but - let's just not."

Spencer tilted his head.

Emily gave in.

They all just watched as their Unit Chief sat on your desk and filled out files that weren't his, as if it was the most normal thing on earth.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

you're too sweet for me

(young) Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Summary: Opposites attract, but Aaron reasons that it doesn't mean the magnets should connect. Just because he's in love with you doesn't mean he has to admit it.

Warning: Angst.

A/N: inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

From the moment Aaron Hotchner met you, he knew you'd be the death of him.

Your bright aura. Your friendly personality. Your witty jokes. Your everything. You.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't drawn to you like everybody else. In fact, he was probably one of the willing victims of your sweetness.

The two of you joined the academy at the same time. Compared to Aaron, you were the one he would call a magnet. You had everyone attracted to you like a moth to a flame, and all you had to do was smile.

Finding out that you both got a position at the Behavioral Analysis Unit gave him such a euphoric daze. Aaron thought he was just happy that he got the job he wanted. But if he had to admit, seeing you was one of the reasons that it felt right.

"Good morning, Hotch!" You came in like the morning sun, filled with energy and blinding light. You slumped on your swivel chair with a chuckle, "Y'know, smiling a little bit won't kill you. How are we supposed to recruit more people to the team if you're frowning all the time?" You coaxed with a playful grin, easing onto your desk that sat across from him.

You were the first person to ever call him Hotch, getting the idea on accident over a cup of coffee. You were in the middle of bringing his mug in the name of being a kind teammate when you rattled on a simple, "Be careful, it's hotch!" followed by bursting out of laughter after the innocent mistake.

And since then, you couldn't call him anything else. Aaron wasn't thinking of correcting you anytime soon. After all, you two have been working together for the past five years, contributing to the continuous development of the BAU.

One other thing...

Aaron Hotchner has been in love with you for years, and kept it buried in the deepest corner of his heart.

Why?

He thought of many things.

First, your coffee order. He took his coffee straight black. The bitterness kept him awake enough to function. You, however, had some step-by-step concoction that kept you insanely energized for the day.

Second, your bedtime. He stays up as late as he could. The silence brought him peace as he listened to his pen scribble on his action report. You, however, slept as early as eight in the evening or as soon as you were allowed.

Aaron wouldn't hesitate to say more, but it'd take him an eternity.

He knew so much about you that someone might render him a creep had he mentioned it to anyone else but himself.

Because one thing Aaron Hotchner knew well was you.

And he knew you'd change in an instant if someone asked you to.

Aaron couldn't possibly have you do such a horrible thing.

The world needed your brightness. Aaron convinced himself that the world needed you more than he could ever do.

You were too good for him, too sweet.

So, why ruin the incredible person you are?

His love for you could be treated with constant denial, but whatever damage he could do to your bright spark would be a crime.

Loving you was a crime.

"I got it!" You erupted in the bullpen, jumping like a three-year-old child. Your vision caught Aaron, who had just walked in. You snatched him into a tight hug as you continued to bounce on your feet.

Aaron couldn't stop his lips from curving, melting into a puddle as he felt your arms wrap around him. His body stood frozen, but his heart was beating so loud he was afraid you could hear it.

Jason Gideon came out of his office to see the commotion, David Rossi right behind him. The two founding fathers of the unit curiously wondered what may have made them stop in the middle of a chess game.

"What's the jumping for?" David had his eyebrows knitted but was enjoying the way you celebrated with joy.

Another reason why Aaron couldn't possibly admit his feelings for you. You were contagious. Your glee always affected everyone, influencing an individual with the tiniest sound of your giggles.

You retracted away from Aaron, facing David. "I got the position in Interpol!" You exclaimed with pride, gasping for air after your prior actions.

Jason and David raised their eyebrows, accordingly giving you a congratulatory embrace. You felt their happiness for you in every bone they had almost crushed. Still, you paid no mind. The news made you feel elated, fueling you with a sense of fulfillment.

"It'd be different to not have you here, but I'm proud of you. Interpol would be glad to have you." Jason remarked with a satisfying nod. "You ready to move to Washington?"

"Even better," You bit your lower lip from excitement, "I'm going to France!" You clasped your mouth with both your hands, containing your squeals behind it.

Aaron heard his entire heart shatter into pieces as your triumph echoed on the walls of the bullpen. Everything became a blur and muffled.

Years of keeping his feelings a secret was no easy task, but at least he got to see your sweet smile each day. He couldn't imagine his life without listening to your random fits of laughter.

How was he going to survive a day without your daily reminder that he was human and not some poker-faced mannequin?

Who would complain about his bitter taste for coffee?

Where would he look when he needed a source of hope in the form of a warm smile?

What would he do without you in his life..?

But you just looked so proud, so excited, so... happy.

So, Aaron Hotchner put up a brave face and soft smile, "Congratulations."

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

~all creatures great and small~ (amazing illustration by the awesome @david-talks-sw)

“And just what exactly is it that you’ve been doing?”

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from giving his fellow Councillor—and friend—a rather pronounced eyeroll. 

“You tell me,” he said without taking his eyes off his clamoring little herd, feeling rather proud of himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Mace came up to his side and crossed his arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. He looked at Obi-Wan, then at his rambunctious little friends and their merrymaking, then back at Obi-Wan again. 

“It looks like you have been avoiding meetings all morning.” 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth. He carefully put his hands in his large sleeves.

“Have I?” He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop laughing if he saw Mace’s no doubt exasperated face, so he kept carefully looking onward. “You should have called me.”

“You know I did,” Mace griped, valiantly ignoring the racket and still boring holes in the side of Obi-Wan’s face.

If it came to a contest of wills, Obi-Wan knew he’d be hard pressed to match Mace’s stubbornness. He turned to face him, and inevitably let out a huffed chuckle. Mace looked annoyed alright, but he could do nothing about the twinkle in his deep eyes. 

“You,” Mace insisted, no doubt trying to maintain what he probably hoped to be a convincingly stern demeanor, “have spent all day corrupting our next generation instead of going over mission reports.”

“Really, Mace—”

A yellow blur careening between the two of them nearly knocked them off their feet. A beige, more bipedal one rushed right after it, bumping into them both with equal speed if not equal force. 

“Sorry Masters!” the youngling yelled over her shoulder without stopping. 

Obi-Wan had to cough into his fist to keep from cackling.

“Obi-Wan.” Mace said.

“She apologized,” Obi-Wan pointed out with a brilliant smile.

“You still haven’t.”

“What for?”

Mace’s control finally cracked, and he thrust an accusing finger at Obi-Wan’s innocent face, ready to give into a rare display of unrestrained aggravation. Obi-Wan quickly batted it away and beat him to the punch.

“It’s a perfectly good way of teaching the younglings patience and control!”

Mace blinked at him, his mouth left hanging open, his finger still up and now pointing somewhere over to the right. He turned slowly, and surveyed the bustling courtyard in bemusement. The half-dozen or so pufferpigs that Obi-Wan had let loose there were being corralled by three times as many eager younglings, clone cadets and Padawans, and the animals all felt entitled to express the full range of their feelings on the matter in a loud and enthusiastic fashion. Little Mari Amithest was still running after the particularly rowdy creature that had mistaken Obi-Wan and Mace for Rodian bowling pins. 

Mace’s eyebrows climbed to previously undiscovered heights. 

“What part of this,” he gestured incredulously, “is controlled?”

“None of the pigs have puffed yet,” Obi-Wan explained seriously. 

Mace’s eyebrows were now on their way into orbit. A moment passed. Then, his expression of astonishment seamlessly melted into curiosity.

“They haven’t?” he asked, considering the whole bunch with renewed interest. 

“I told you, it’s a proven method,” Obi-Wan insisted, vindicated. He pointed to the far corner of the courtyard, where Katooni was showing some of the younger children how to feed a happy looking unpuffed puffer. “My Padawan has taught that one to do tricks.”

The squealing puffer was hopping from one foot to the other before avidly sweeping treats from the children’s outstretched hands. 

Mace was now looking suitably impressed. More careful study of Mari’s chase was making it apparent that the animal she was after was not distressed in any way, but was—rather mischievously—trying to run off with her sash clutched in its stout trunk. 

“You shouldn’t let emotions cloud your perception,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a serious voice.

“Hm,” Mace conceded magnanimously, impervious to the teasing.

The twinkle of carefully contained amusement that had been present in his eyes from the start had won over all other sentiments. A wet snort had the two Masters look down at the adventurous pufferpig that had made its way over to them. The amicable beast was fixing them with soulful blue eyes, candidly inoffensive. Its stubby tail was wagging quite politely. Mace distractedly bent down to pet the expectant critter on its broad, squishy face.

“It wants to smell your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan warned. “They like crystals.”

Mace straightened and put a hand on his hilt.

“The Mining Guild didn’t pick them up yesterday?” he inquired. “That was on the agenda.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“They tried, but for some reason all the identity chips turned out to be unreadable. There’s no way to prove who these fellows belong to.”

Mace gave him a flat look. 

“Hondo stole them from a Republic transport.”

“There’s all sorts of things on Republic transports,” Obi-Wan reasonably pointed out.

“The transport was chartered by the Mining Guild.”

“Hondo wiped the manifest during his hijacking. There’s just no way to know.”

“Your Padawan was there to escort the Mining Guild representatives.”

“Some mysteries can never hope to be solved.”

The pufferpig had taken to bonking its head against their legs affectionately. Mace, bowing to the undeniable strength of Obi-Wan’s ironclad argumentation, very seriously gave the tenacious quadruped another pat.

“They’re not staying,” he reminded Obi-Wan firmly. 

“Obviously not,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “The Temple would be a terrible environment for them.”

His friend narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“And you’re not making me spend my time finding them a place.”

“Honestly, Mace.” Obi-Wan gave the affable puffer a gentle shove, and it obediently trotted away to a nearby group of younglings and clone cadets who were already entertaining one of its siblings. Obi-Wan wiped his hands on his pants. “Naboo has very responsible educational farms.”

“Does it,” Mace said mildly. 

“Including a recently opened one in the Lake District.” 

Unashamedly petty enjoyment rang in the Force.

“Don’t come to me when Skywalker tries to send them back.”

“Who says I’ll pick up when he does?”

Obi-Wan loved Anakin, dearly. Still, he hadn’t yet quite forgiven his old Padawan for retiring—running away—before they could make him shoulder his share of the sacred responsibility of wrangling the Temple’s significantly increased youngling population. It was Luke and Leia’s birthday soon anyway. 

“You’re stooping to deviousness,” Mace said, carefully neutral.

Obi-Wan gave him a wry look. 

“Never. Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he said just as calmly. 

“It’s them you’re supposed to be teaching,” Mace said with a short nod towards the unruly bunch. “He’s had his turn.”

Speaking of teaching…

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan said smugly, pointing to a boy who had taken to carefully levitating a surprisingly compliant—if a little alarmed—pufferpig, “that wouldn’t happen to be Caleb, would it?”

His fellow Council member was now pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip. 

“I must say, that young man is certainly very skilled at forming connections with animals. Depa must be very proud.”

“Just don’t,” Mace groaned. He whipped out his communicator. “He’s supposed to be meditating with Yoda right now.”

“That explains it,” Obi-Wan said. 

Master Yoda was slowly ambling into the courtyard, looking quite pleased with what he was seeing. He poked misbehaving younglings with his cane as he walked, chuckling to himself when they yelped and hastily reached with the Force to make sure the pufferpigs stayed relaxed. The pufferpigs themselves were only curious, and in a sufficiently playful mood that the younglings’ offended squeaking was not enough to agitate them. Caleb had set down his floating puffer with all possible speed—and great care—at the sight of the venerable elder, and made ample and readily accepted apologies to the perplexed animal in the form of scritches. 

Mace slowly put away his communicator. He pursed his lips. 

“Obi-Wan,” he said slowly, “next time, just have them practice making friends with the stray tookas.”

That’s how his master had done it, and Mace had never had any problems with connecting with animals, large and small. 

“Pufferpigs are much more even-tempered.”

It was all Mace could do not to facepalm. Giving up, he shot Obi-Wan one last dry look.

“Just do your damn paperwork.”

Obi-Wan watched him stride away, dignified and imposing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly paying attention to his surroundings, with how focused he was on pretending he was above this whole situation, he didn’t notice Mari’s wayward puffer on a direct collision course with his legs. The poor creature, who hadn’t noticed Mace either, let out a terrified screech and promptly puffed. 

The entire courtyard froze, watching with fascination as the inflated pufferpig bounced twice and slowly rolled to a halt. It made a sorry little squeak.

Resignedly, Mace closed his eyes and set to work on gently calming down the pufferpig with the Force.

The children loudly cheered. 

[inkdrinkerworld]

reckless affections

pairing: spencer reid x reader

wc: 1.4k

cw: typical criminal minds speak, spencer being unable to control his affection, kind of angst ig, reader is reckless and is bait for the unsub, angst to fluff

You’re nervous as you reach the glass doors; maybe you shouldn’t have accepted the job.

Moving from counter-terrorism to the bau was a hard decision, but you’d been applying for a while and the relief and pride that had filled your chest was immense.

Now, that pride has turned into a bundle of anxious nerves that had your hands shaking as you held your small tote bag of documents and had your heels clicking nervously on the tiled floor.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” you mumble to yourself, biting your lip and tucking your hair behind your ear. You’re about to turn and walk back to the elevators when hells click behind you and someone pats your shoulder.

“Hi, you must be the new girl!” there’s a girl with blonde hair and a pair of pink glasses with a small gift bag. “I’m Penelope.”

She extends her hand and you take it,, introducing yourself in turn making her smile.

“This is for you, but I don’t think you’ll have time to open it. We have a case.”

She leads you to your desk first, where you set the bag, and then the round table room where the rest of the team are waiting.

“Good morning,” you greet everyone, shaking hands with Emily and David who smile gently at you. Jennifer and Luke smile, Matt nods and Dr. Reid - Spencer- you knew a lot about him, looks at you quizzically before nodding at you.

You get the impression that he’s not all too thrilled about your joining the bau.

The case takes up the majority of your time, so you don’t really spend much time pondering over Spencer’s harsh glances when you add something helpful or boost the profile of the unsub.

You’re all having a small break, coffee and cake to give you some sort of sustenance as you rework the profile just a little.

“Maybe it’s a woman?” you say as you take a sip of your coffee, hissing when it scalds your tongue.

Spencer flashes you a look and then goes back to the profile and nods.

“The specificity of where everything is placed, the colour and even down to the placement of the victims could be the work of a woman.”

Matt calls Garcia after that, giving Penelope all the information she needs to confirm that there is a woman who fits the profile better.

“You shouldn’t doubt yourself,” Luke whispers as you guys get ready to go and you smile a little.

Spencer’s glare catches your attention this time and you lean your body into Luke’s just a little. “Is there something Dr. Reid has against me?”

Luke laughs a little, shakes his head and holsters his gun. “Spencer’s a little rough to change. He’ll soften up after the case wraps.”

Honestly you hope he does.

After that case, when you arrest the woman, and get back to Quantico, all you want to do is get home, but there’s reports to finish. That’s the moment you realise things with you and the Doctor aren’t going to get better- not yet.

You reach for the gift bag Penelope had given you, and when you open it and find a leaf shaped broach you laugh.

“Penelope Garcia, how did you know?” you ask as you catch her coming from her cave.

“I know lots, Tauriel.” she gives a dramatic bow and you laugh even more.

“Is that going to stick?” you ask as Emily and Luke pass,

“A nickname from Garcia?” Luke asks and you nod, “Consider yourself renamed. She still calls me, ‘newbie’.”

Spencer doesn’t stop staring even then, or when you start finishing up your report.

Or even weeks after that.

It’s hard working with someone who keeps glaring or scoffing at you, but you manage.

If the rest of the team notices Spencer’s behaviour they don’t say anything, until you’re going in as bait for the unsub.

“She can’t go in there. She’s untrained for this.”

Emily turns to look away from the board as Spencer speaks to her.

“Reid, she came from counter-terrorism. I think she can handle herself.”

Spencer is adamant though and you catch the tail end of what he’s pleading to Emily as you go to tell her you’re ready;

“She can’t do this. Why is she even the bait? We shouldn’t trust her to do this after a month of being here.”

You clear your throat before Emily could answer, Spencer turning a little red but you keep your attention on Emily.

“I’m ready, JJ and Penelope already put the GPS in my hairpin.”

Emily nods, sighing and laying a hand on Spencer’s shoulder as she walks out behind you.

Your eyes flash hurt as you spare a glance at Spencer but you walk out before he can apologise.

The entire time you’re with the unsub, Spencer is on edge. Luke and Matt can see the worry clear as day as they stake out in the van with him.

“Spence, you good?” Matt asks and Spencer sighs.

He struggles to answer but says, “I made a mistake.”

They wait for more, “I said something I shouldn’t have because I was scared she’d get hurt. Now, now she’s gonna think I hate her.”

Luke suppresses a smile, “And you don’t hate her?”

Matt wants to laugh at the way Spencer looks offended at the question.

“What no! Of course not.”

Luke puts his hands up, “I was just asking Spence, so far I think she’s handling herself well.”

Spencer looks to the camera and finds much of what Luke had said.

They listen to some of what you say to the unsub, and when the man pulls a short dagger-like blade on you, they all empty the van with their guns drawn.

“FBI, drop the weapon!” Matt shouts, the unsub just pulls you to his chest and holds the dagger to your neck.

“There’s no way out of this.” you say to him, turning a little so he can see your face. “Not if you keep the knife to my neck, and you want everyone to know who you are, don’t you?”

Spencer wishes you’d stop talking, because the knife doesn’t shift from your throat.

“Put the knife down and everyone will know your name, they’ll know what you’ve done. You’ll be famous.” Luke says and the unsub wavers, his hand dropping from your neck just enough for you to run over to Matt and Spencer.

Luke moves for him, handcuffing him and reading his rights as you leave the bar.

“You okay?” Spencer asks, and it shocks you slightly.

You look up at him as you pull the pin from your hair and let it fall down.

“Y-yeah, he only had a knife to my neck.” you really aren’t that shook up, “I swear Spencer.”

He doesn’t believe you at all, and so he walks you to the ambulance with his hand hovering over the small of your back.

“You don’t have to,” you say as he leads you to the back of the ambulance, “I know you don’t like me.”

Spencer feels like shit when you say that, a hole in his chest at how easily the words leave you.

“No, that’s not true.” he says, your eyes wide as you look at Spencer expectantly. “I do like you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you think otherwise by what I said before and how I’ve been acting.”

Your jaw unhinges at the words leaving his mouth, “You actually mean that? Luke said it takes a while for you to open up, and I wanted to give you space but you’re always glaring and scowling at me.”

Spencer sits beside you in the back of the ambulance, “Because you always put yourself in the most dangerous positions of all of us.”

It’s your turn to glare at Spencer, “No I don’t.”

He shakes his head, “Last week you ran straight into the house with no back up and got shot at twice before we arrived. The week before that, the unsub’s accomplice had almost incapacitated you.”

You cover his mouth before he could go on.

“Okay, so I’m the littlest, teeniest bit reckless. That doesn’t mean you have to glare.”

Spencer laughs behind your hand and you drop it, “I’ll stop glaring if you stop making the most reckless choices.”

It’s a nice middle ground for the both of you, to build a friendship, to be close like you are with the rest of the team.

“Okay, I’ll stop, but you have to be nice to me.”

Spencer nods, “I’ll be nice, but if you go all reckless again, I’m going back to glares and scowls.”

You nod and Spencer lets you lean your head on his shoulder as the medic finishes their check on you.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ too busy being yours ❞ ─ a we could be love blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!rossi!reader. summary: you're pretty much in love with your boss. and he's pretty into you too. but if being your boss wasn't bad enough, he's also your dad's best friend. content warnings: valentine's fluff! no romance involved tho. just friends being friends and sleeping into each other's embrace. as friends do. might not be totally inclusive to full italian girls (?). two idiots in love making rossi seem worse than he is. word count: 2k+. a/n: the bau!rossi!verse begins. i never proof read anything.

being single during valentine's day was already bad, hearing your own father's romantic plans for the evening only made it worse. the humiliating truth of not having the same game as david rossi was daunting, but you didn't have the italian vibes to use in your favor like he did, and you were pathetically in love with your boss and that made every single man look awful in comparison.

"what about you baby rossi, any saucy plans for tonight?" your eyes shoot daggers at derek for making the question, bringing everyone's attention to your warm cheeks.

"apparently i have to look for a ride home, saucy enough?" your father shrugs with an apologetic glance at your answer, he usually took you home but wouldn't have the time to today. that's what you get for carpooling.

between dates and the bar, you were getting out of options and was about to accept your fate: you would have to take the subway. you weren't sure how spencer did it so often, specially with his particularity with germs and people, you absolutely hated it, it was too tiring, too loud.

you run up the stairs to get to hotch's office, handing him your reports, slightly out of breath.

"you were quick with these." it's a praise with a hidden quip: you were always the last one to hand yours, not only a natural procrastinator, but you were the last one to join the unit, you still struggled with some of the bureaucracy.

"trying to avoid rush hour, taking the subway today."

"i can take you home–" he seems surprised by his own response, or by how quick he offered that ride. your address is somewhere on your files but he doesn't truly know where you live. he couldn't even shrug it off saying it was on his way home.

"don't you have a date? i mean–wouldn't this make you late for anything?" you hope dearly that you didn't make it obvious that you just wanted to know if he was seeing someone. it's obviously too much to hope for, he knows.

and he smiles sweetly, softly. he tries his best to keep it innocent. "no plans today, just me, my bed... and some popcorn i think."

you chew on the inside of your cheeks softly thinking about your next move. hotchner had slipped through conversation earlier that jack had a sleepover planned, so by that logic, he would be alone, just like you. 

he wasn’t exactly subtly about his interest in you, but he somewhat tried to conceal it, asking him out on a date seemed too pushy. 

“those are exactly my plans… you could maybe stay over for a bit, then? maybe?” your eyes glow with the expectation as you ask him, fingers busy with your necklace to soothe yourself. “we might have to pick garcia up at some point of the night, though, if that’s okay.” you were always tasked with drunk penelope anytime you bailed on them as a punishment. 

you didn’t mind, drunk garcia was fun garcia, but if aaron accepted your invitation, you hoped there wouldn’t be any interruptions. 

movies and popcorn are innocent enough, that’s the first thing on his mind, it can be innocent, and even when he tries to talk himself down of what could lead to very bad bad choices, your mention of garcia tips him over the edge. it was just friends hanging out. definitely. 

“yeah… i mean, yeah sure, that sounds fun. i have to keep myself awake until later than usual in case jack calls me anyway.” you nod more to yourself and offer him a shy smile, just before he hands you more papers. “oh yeah–you’ve got yourself a few more work hours, though.”

the ride to your place is anything but silent. your phone keeps buzzing, signaling the BAU gals group chat wants details of what’s happening but you and aaron barely notice it as conversation flows easily between you two.

you ask him about jack’s sleepover and the sleeping later ordeal and he tells you how on his first sleepover jack gave up and called him to pick him up at almost 1am. “when the fun was over he just wanted his bed. driving the moment i woke was a terrible experience.” 

that was years ago and he still waits for that clock to hit 1am before sleeping. just in case his baby needs him.

you can feel your insides turn into mush, the way he cares always from the smallest to the biggest ways reminding you of why falling for him was so desperately easy. “that’s incredibly sweet of you, aaron.”  

the informality catches him off guard, but he welcomes it, loving the way his name sounds leaving your lips. “he’s a sweet kid, much more cooperative than drunk garcia, i can assure you.” 

you laugh at his joke and it’s silent for mere seconds before he finally asks the question, the one question on his mind since you walked into his office earlier. why? why don’t you have a date? why aren’t you at the bar? how can you even be single?

“i don’t have a lot of free time, aaron. i’m… busy.” you both know that’s not a lie. but you could try to make time if you were interested, you could’ve gone out today. unfortunately, when you found yourself having feelings for someone, you couldn’t bring yourself to look for someone else. all the other men seemed so incredibly dull compared to the one taking you home, and you couldn’t but compare when you were with any other. 

“you had free time tonight.” he’s pushing it and he knows it. he shouldn’t be asking so many questions about your dating life, he shouldn’t pry when he knew himself well enough to be certain he wouldn’t make any moves on you. younger, beautiful, funny, smart… and the daughter of his closest friend. all the reasons he was so smitten were also the reasons he told himself he shouldn’t lead you on. 

you deserved someone your age, with no baggage, or at least one lighter than his. someone with more time to spare, who could take your mind out of the job and not keep you on it. and definitely someone who didn’t go to jazz clubs with your father. 

still, his hands are firm on the wheel, turning left to get to your house. 

“i’m not wasting my free time on guys i meet at bars on valentine’s day.” he smirks, finding a good spot to park his car without saying anything else. he’s delighted by your answers even though it isn’t fair.

he gets ready to leave the car but you stop him, tapping his thigh lightly (it sends shivers up his spine but he’s getting good at pretending not to feel it). “better get your go bag.” you see confusion on his eyes and that known furrowed brow directed at you. “you’re not gonna be comfortable in a suit. you can change to your spare.”

he hadn’t thought about that, it would definitely defy the purpose of a quiet relaxing movie night if he was all dressed up in his well known work attire. so he does as instructed and gets his go bag from the backseat, even though he’s getting more and more anxious by the second. the innocent friends movie night he made himself believe looking more and more like he was sleeping over. 

you give him the tour of your apartment–a gift from your dad when you graduated from the academy, not that anyone really needed to know how spoiled you were–and show him the bathroom where he could change. or shower. he has his go bag after all. 

you go to your room to do just that, trying not to let the thoughts of him possibly being naked and under your shower flood your mind as you take the quickest shower you’ve ever taken in your life. 

as you move from your own bathroom to your closet to get your pajamas you’re suddenly very aware of what’s really happening. you really did invite him to your apartment. this was a date. but it couldn’t be a date, did he see it as a date? being so very infatuated by him and knowing well he had some sort of interest in you was very very different than acting on it. your dad would kill you if he knew. and aaron. and you again, possibly, if he knew it was your doing to initiate it. 

instead of your usual thin fabric short shorts and tank top you wear to sleep, you decide to be decent, black silk loose pants, old university t-shirt, cotton robe, socks and fluffy slippers. anything that could maybe show you are totally just thinking about watching some fun movies with a friend. 

you take two blankets and two pillows with you as you leave your bedroom, the sound of the shower being turned off making your feet almost run to get everything ready. the couch turning into a bed with a bit of struggle to unfold it. you made sure each blanket and pillow were on each side of it, as far as possible from each other. 

popcorn! you need to make popcorn, that’s the first thing you think when you hear the door unlocking, going straight for the kitchen and putting a bag on your microwave. as it popped you got cheese strings and butter out of your fridge. if you couldn’t blow his mind in better ways, you could at least get him hooked to your special cheesy buttered popcorn. 

“i’m making myself way too comfortable, i think.” his voice is smooth and relaxed and when you look back he’s leaning into the frame, his hair is wet and he’s wearing matching black sweatpants and a hoodie you’ve never seen him wear. 

for a moment you just want to kiss him and forget about any debate morality could bring to ruin it, but instead you laugh and take the popcorn out of the microwave and drop its content into a bowl, spreading some butter on top and dropping a few strings of cheese on it before putting the bowl on the microwave. 

“casa mia è casa tua.” your italian is a bit rusty but it still works as a charmer, “go pick us the most terrible looking romcom you can find while i finish this.”

“romcom, huh?” he asks and you can just hear the teasing in his tone. 

“you didn’t think we were going for some documentary, right?” you use a spoon to mix the popcorn to the melted butter and cheese when it’s out of the microwave, and follow him to the living room, “we’re gonna eat this cheesy, buttered, absolutely heart-swelling popcorn and make fun of some terrible, terrible movie love tropes.”

you do just that, and it’s awkward at first, the both of you wanting to be closer but also not feeling like you should cross that barrier, but as the night went on, the more you shared that popcorn, the more laughs you shared, the closer you got on that couch, specially after he tried to rub his greased fingers on your face, making you do the same to him. 

one movie becomes two, and then three, and somewhere in between him telling you about the dates he would take haley as a teen, making you laugh at how sweet and romantic he always was, and you telling him about your first kiss and how terrible it was, you both fall asleep. your head on his chest, his arms around you. 

jack doesn’t call, and if emily tried to get you to pick up garcia you definitely didn’t see it. 

it’s the first time you both share such an intimate moment, and it is just that. sleeping in each other’s arms. aaron even wakes up in the middle of the night, 3am striking on the clock on your wall. he wasn’t even able to freak out and overthink anything about it, the comfort of your smell making him hug you tighter and close his eyes again. 

he could deal with it in the morning.

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 23

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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---

“Sorry about that,” Jazz was as chirpy and radiant as she usually was when she found them in the breakfast room. “Danny’s extra cranky. Probably haven't slept in a few weeks.”

“Everything okay?” Bruce had to ask.

Jazz's smile was bright as she sat down next to Jason, who was finishing his toast. “Yeah! I feel better than ever!”

Right. The vials.

“I meant your brother.” Bruce’s eyebrow twitched with the thousand questions he surely wanted to ask.

Jazz looked up from where she was reaching for the toast and some strawberry jam. “Yeah? He’s sleeping. He’ll be fine.”

Dick chuckled and leaned in. “What Bruce meant to say,” he side eyed his father, who breathed in relief and continued drinking his coffee, “is what was that about? Things seemed pretty heated between Danny and you.”

Jason gave him a warning look, but otherwise didn’t react.

On the other hand, Jazz snorted. “Ghosts’ love language is fighting.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t actually hurt me.”

Jason’s eyebrows went to his hairline, and very wisely chose to bite back a few questions. Also Jazz’s personality was slowly starting to make sense. He was sure that once he knew everything he wouldn’t need to feel this confused.

“Could have fooled me.” Dick commented instead. “Danny really didn't like Jason.”

“He didn’t—” Jazz tensed. She finished chewing and forced her shoulders to relax. “Is not that— I mean. I think Danny will like him, it’s just—”

“Is this about your exes?” Her boyfriend asked softly, reaching for an apple and putting it on her plate. She quietly thanked him.

“Yes and no. I…” she blushed, “I don’t have the best track record.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Did you— Uh.” He realized too late he could sound like he was interrogating her. “I apologize, but I need to ask. The report Danny mentioned—?”

“Yeah. That.” With a tired sigh, Jazz put her knife down. “David. He… Well.”

“That’s the one that cheated on you, right?”

She nodded at Jason. “I found out I was actually a side piece. It wasn’t fun.” She scrunched her nose.

“What happened?”

“Dick.” Jason warned.

“No, no. It’s okay. I took care of it.”

“Dislocated shoulder and shattered hand?” Cass spoke for the first time.

Jazz sighed again. “The dislocated shoulder was because he didn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘no’.” She made a face. “And the hand was because I didn’t realize how… soft humans actually are.”

At this point? They were getting used to Jazz — and her brother — being a different category in their heads. For Dick it was like the slight adjustment he had to make when he was with the Titans. He had been the only human, fully human, of the group and he had to get used to his best friends and then girlfriend making these types of comments regularly.

“I found out…” Jazz continued with a distant look in her eyes, “I found out because I came back to the living world sooner than I expected and decided to check out my favorite coffee place and he was there with another woman. I thought — ‘well, I’m not around much and I’m also not the most exciting person, of course I got cheated on’ but the more I listened the less it made sense.”

“You are not boring.” Jason scoffed, frowning a little at the self deprecating behavior and the story. How could that idiot not see what he had in front of him?

“Thanks,” her smile was small, but sincere, “but the story doesn’t end there.” She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as her smile twitched a little. “Things didn’t quite add up and I quickly realized it was me who was the ‘other woman’ and this poor person didn’t know. And him? He was abusing her.”

“What?”

Jazz nodded at Dick. “I followed them, listening in, trying to see any sign that he was not the same person he was with me that he was with her. Claudia — that’s her name — showed textbook behavior of abuse and I had to make sure.” She sighed, leaning back on her seat, looking tired. “Long story short I caught him threatening her and taking her phone and I decided to act. Waited until she was home safe and had a chat with David and told him very nicely that he shouldn’t do that and yes, I may have accidentally sent him to the hospital.”

She went back to her breakfast, choosing to take a bite of her toast and chew for a few moments.

“Claudia took the chance while he was recovering and broke up with him, moved apartments and found the help she needed. I would have preferred she reported him, but I can’t force her and if that was enough for her then it’s fine by me.” She shrugged. “I had to go back to the Realms shortly after so I couldn’t stay to check further, and then things got complicated and I just came back for college stuff and even then I had to be quick.”

Bruce took a sip of his coffee to hide the tiny smile.

Jazz was not a hero or a vigilante, but he could see why she fit in the family so much, and more importantly, why his son liked her so much.

“What happened to the guy?”

Jazz chuckled at Duke’s question. “As much as I'd like to report some type of karmic punishment, last time I saw him he was still frequenting the same coffee place. But he was alone. His hand was healed, though. I didn’t stay longer to check more. I couldn’t.” Her little frown and tense shoulders told them not to pry.

Conversation continued as they finished breakfast, mostly questions about her brother and what they saw almost go down in the kitchen. Jazz was very open about what she could tell, and shared a few stories about Danny and his “bad taste in women”. They noticed how earlier stories about Danny’s powers and Team Phantom adventures were easy for her to tell; but later ones, from about the time Danny graduated highschool, became a stream of “ummm”s and “uhhh”s and “and etcetera” that she used to dance around the truth.

Jason almost felt guilty for contributing to the general subtle questioning, but Jazz was happy enough to share stories and she even acknowledged that she was happy to share the whole thing at a later time.

Soon the timeline that Barbara had roughly put together was filled with tidbits of information — all those blank spots she found were the times the siblings (and their friends) were back in the Infinite Realms. Doing what exactly? That was the final piece of the puzzle.

She talked about training, about classes, about Frighty and Frostbite and Clockwork and a plethora of ghosts as if they were supposed to know who they were — classic Jazz — and with context they quickly understood that the names she repeated the most were some kind of guides or teachers on this mysterious part of her life.

It wasn't difficult to put together that Jazz, Danny and this… “Team Phantom” were somehow related to the High King of the Infinite Realms.

That still left a bunch of questions, like what were their exact roles, who was the king and what were her parents doing during those periods of time. They didn’t broach the subject but they knew from Babs’ research that they were working for the GIW, a sketchy organization that wanted them eliminated, during those times they were in the Infinite Realms.

If they knew about all of this, why haven’t they done something already? If their guesses were correct, they’ve been fighting and training for a bit less than a decade. It didn’t make sense that they had this kind of power, this kind of backup, and haven’t tried to bring down the GIW yet.

Or contacted the Justice League. Sure, they were angry and disappointed that the heroes never came to help, but Jazz insisted they had the situation back at her hometown under control. Technically, they could now ask for that support.

Glancing at Bruce and his calculating eyes, Jason decided he didn’t blame her for not reaching out. And he wasn’t sure what she would do after how bad Bruce had treated her.

“Oh Ancients,” Jazz jumped and put her orange juice back on the table. She glanced at Dick. “The class. Today. I forgot.”

The man chuckled. “I already called and said that I wouldn’t be able to attend today. The show you and your brother put on in the kitchen told me today was going to be interesting enough.”

She blushed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. They are already used to me canceling at the last minute. Just Vigilante Things.” He winked.

“Don’t I know it.” A new voice answered from the door. Danny walked in dragging his feet, hair sticking outwards in every direction and eyes narrowed. “Good morning.”

“Hey you.” Jazz turned in her seat. “You look awful.”

“Is my natural charm.” Danny yawned and sat next to his sister. “Hi all. My name is Danny. Can I eat some food?”

Some at the table chuckled at his words. Bruce nodded, amused, and abandoned all pretense that he wasn’t analyzing the siblings.

“Slept okay?” He asked.

“Better than I have in weeks.” Danny shrugged, making quick work of what was left on the table. He wasn’t picky, and he didn’t complain about the food being cold. “Mostly because I haven’t slept in weeks more than a few naps under my desk.”

“I told you—”

“I know.” He cut off his sister. “I know. I just never find the time.”

Jazz looked like she wanted to argue but chose to let it go and helped Danny assemble the worst breakfast combination in the world. The rest watched in horror and fascination as the young man devoured everything at a fast pace, not caring about chewing or tasting the food.

Once he swallowed, he continued talking. “We have been using the system — you know, the one you created?” He rolled his eyes when Jazz smiled, pleased. “It has been working fine. It’s just,” he sighed, “after you left everything kept piling up. I didn’t know how much work you did — how much reading I would do.” Danny rubbed his face in despair.

“And that’s why Tucker was my back up for the—”

“And he has been doing a great job but I made the mistake of offering my help, you know, I thought ‘oh, I have some free time! I can help my loved ones’ — that was my first mistake.”

“Thinking?” Jazz arched an eyebrow, her smile mocking.

Danny didn’t find it amusing, but quiet and barely contained chuckles around the table disagreed with him.

“Now seriously, do you need me to come back?” She asked, pointedly ignoring the stares, especially her boyfriend’s.

Danny’s eyes opened wide. “No! No, please. You stay where you are.” He gestured widely with his hands. “We got this. You— You enjoy your vacation.”

Vacation? Jazz said she was in Arkham to learn skills for her work in the Realms.

“I told you I’m not—”

“Yes. You are. Vacation.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little. “Stop worrying. We got this.”

“Good luck with getting her to relax.”

“Hey!” Jazz turned towards her boyfriend. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side?”

“And I am. On the side where you stop worrying.”

Danny finally smiled. “You are not that bad, Mr Boyfriend.”

“Jason.”

Danny’s smiles grew with mischief, and didn’t say anything else. Jazz sighed.

“Please behave.”

“I always do.”

“You know as well as I do that that’s a lie.” She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “I thought we agreed you’d behave when you visit.”

“Still thinking you are capable of ‘being normal’?” He did the air quotes and everything. “Jazz, I love you, but you know that—”

“I know.” She looked down at her hands on her lap. “Believe me I know.”

Something clicked in Danny’s mind, because his teasing smile melted from his face the moment her words were out of her mouth.

He glanced at Jason, who tensed at the look, and went back to his sister. “What happened?”

Everyone noticed the switch in the siblings. Danny’s tense shoulders and alert eyes immediately going around the room looking for something. He didn’t know the details but he knew something was up with Jasmine.

“The situation has changed.” She started, still looking down. “I… The—I mean, I will take care of it, I always do, but we need to talk.”

Jason didn’t miss Danny’s dangerous glint in his eye when he looked at him again. Or the green glow in the blue irises.

“You said so in your text.” He nodded. “So this isn’t just about Mr Muscles over there?”

Jazz's soft chuckle was almost able to break the tension in the room. Cass, Duke and Dick stopped breathing, knowing this was it. Damian, who had been ignoring everyone and had been texting John the whole time, finally put his phone down. Bruce and Jason shared a look. This was it.

“How about we move this important conversation to the drawing room? I feel like you will be more comfortable there.” Alfred as always knew when to walk in, and started picking up the dirty dishes without waiting for a reply.

With a few murmurs in agreement, the whole group stood up and moved towards the room they’d been in the previous night. The arrangement was similar, with Bruce in the loveseat and the siblings cramming themselves in the opposite couch to the one where Jason, Jazz and Danny sat down.

Jazz was holding on to her boyfriend’s hand for dear life, trying to calm down. She appreciated his words of encouragement as they walked with the group, and held her head high by the time she faced her brother again.

“Jason, and his family, they… they know.”

Danny lifted an eyebrow. “I have noticed.” He crossed his arms. “After this morning, I’d expect a few screams in horror, but nobody has reported us to the police yet, so…”

“No, no. Danny, they know.”

It took a moment for her words to settle in, but when they did he bared his teeth and stood up. “WHAT?” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the hell, Jazz? It’s been what, a few months? And this guy,” he pointed at Jason, who didn’t, couldn't, look at him, “makes cute eyes at you so you spill MY secrets?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh yeah?” He threw his hands up. “Enlighten me. Tell me how it was, because I was mostly joking when I said you have terrible taste, but—”

“It wasn’t like that.” She growled, bristling. “Things happened and I really need you to trust me for this one.”

“Trust you?” Danny asked, incredulous. “Are you seriously asking me to trust you right now?”

She straightened her back. “Yes I am. When have I led you astray?”

Danny scoffed. “You want the list alphabetical?”

“Danny.”

The siblings glared at each other, face expressions and eyes telling more than what words could tell. Danny was furious but cautious, and the fact that he hadn’t ran away yet was taken as a good sign. Jazz was hurt and pleading, but firm even when both their eyes started turning green.

Bruce wanted to shrink into his seat in shame, but he couldn’t. He did this. Jazz was forced against her will to reveal information so he wouldn’t march her into the Justice League and trial her for crimes he thought she committed. And now she had the chance to pay back, to rightfully blame him and tell her brother how he kidnapped her and hurt her, and she wasn’t saying anything.

“Okay.” Danny finally said. “Okay,” he sighed, “when we are back home you bet your ass you are explaining.”

“Everything will make sense in time.”

“You are starting to talk like Clockwork.”

This made her smirk. “Good. It keeps you on your toes.”

Danny made a mocking face to his sister and turned to look at the others watching.

“I guess there’s nothing to lose.”

There was a flash of bright light and instead of the tired and burned out younger Fenton sibling, they saw a floating glowing figure dressed in black and white. It was still Danny, but hair was white and eyes were green; and all the ghostly physical traits they saw in the siblings — fangs, claws, pointed ears — were exaggerated in this form.

“My name is Danny Phantom. The one and only hero of Amity Park—” Jazz cleared her throat, “I mean,” he glared at her and crossed his legs in the air, still floating, “I am the only undead hero of Amity Park. I have helpers.”

“Very funny.” Jazz said. She turned towards Bruce, Jason and the others. “Guys, this is my brother. Danny, these are the Waynes. Jason’s family.”

Danny’s eyebrows arched. “You are Bruce Wayne?” The way he asked had zero amount of awe. He was familiar with the name and not in a good way.

“You know who I am?”

“Sam — my girlfriend — knows who you are. She’s been to a few of your fancy-schmancy galas. She said she hated every second of it.”

The older man found it funny. “They tend to be mind numbingly boring.”

“Hey Danny,” Jazz’s voice was careful, “is this place safe?”

This made the young man tense and unfold his legs, all playfulness gone. “What do you mean?”

“I— I did my own check, but I’d feel better if you did one too. I wouldn’t like for, hm, Vlad to—”

“Vlad is involved in this?” Nobody missed the growl in his chest.

“All will make sense, I promise.” Jazz pleaded, lifting her hands in a placating manner.

Jason glanced at Bruce. They knew Vlad Master was bad news, but this confirmed it.

“Okay. Trusting you. Whatever.” Danny breathed slowly and disappeared.

Immediately, Jazz explained: “He’s doing a sweep of the haunt.” Determined, she looked at Bruce and then at Jason. “Will it be okay if I tell him about you guys?”

Bruce looked conflicted for a second, but Jason didn’t hesitate. “Go ahead.” He glared at Bruce as if daring him to say otherwise. “We owe you at least that.”

By the time Danny was back Bruce had come to terms that he had to start being okay with a bunch of things really quick if he wanted his answers. Glancing at Jasmine and how her worried frown never left her, he considered it wasn’t that bad of a step towards properly apologizing to her. She had said a few days ago that his apology at Jason’s apartment wasn’t enough. He was starting to understand the dimensions of the situation he caused.

“Okay. Place is clean. There’s a lot of dead relatives but that’s expected from a haunt like this one.”

Bruce wanted so badly to ask him to elaborate on that. But kept his mouth shut.

“Alright.” Jazz breathed in slowly. “Danny,” she started, “remember you are trusting me, ok?”

“You are scaring me.” He tried to joke, but his sister didn’t even smile.

“Could you please show them the… the other thing?”

“What other—” realization dawned on him. “Jazz, you didn’t—!”

“I haven’t!”

“Then why—?”

“I asked you if this was safe, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then listen to me,” she insisted, standing up to approach her brother. “Trust me. Show them.” She took his hands in hers, the contrast of both the alive and dead sibling blurring the longer Jazz stood there. It was like their auras became visible and pulsed together, a low hum barely perceptible rumbling in the room. “Trust me.”

The rumbling stopped when their hands stopped touching. Danny floated back and let his body lower until his feet touched the floor. He threw a worried look at Jazz and nodded, all aggressiveness dissipating and leaving a vulnerable expression on his face.

He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. Gasps and one yelp in surprise filled the silence when green flames engulfed his body, from the bottom of his feet to the last strand of hair, and in its path, it revealed the same undead creature but not quite the same young man.

Danny looked like a completely different person with the dark metal armor over the suit. He looked taller, and bigger, and his presence commanded attention even if he wasn’t saying anything. He wore a cape dark as night, with millions of stars glowing on the inside, and that floated as if some kind of invisible breeze had entered the room.

The most impressive thing, though, was the black crown over his head. It floated a few inches over his hair, and the flames of his transformation seemed to concentrate in the mysterious metal, flowing and pulsating like a heartbeat.

“I am…” Even his voice sounded different. Heavier. He glanced at Jazz, who nodded. “I am Daniel James Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms.”

In the following moments, the Waynes felt like they were living in some kind of surrealistic alternate dimension. It was the moment at the maximum height of a jump, right before gravity did its thing and violently pulled you back down to Earth. Watching Danny, who just a few hours before had crashed into the house and looked more roadkill than person, was floating now in the middle of their drawing room wearing a full armor, a burning crown and a heavy presence that rivaled Batman on a bad day.

Dick broke the moment, acting like the gravity he loved to defy, and hollered a laugh coming from deep in his chest. “Eat shit, Stephanie!”

---

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[ddejavvu]

spencer x reader where they met at the library in college and kind of became study buddies (+ lots of mutual pining), then flashforward to like s4/5 spencer and reader joins the bau :')

i'm gonna pretend spence was normal college age and not 13 <3

--

You spot the familiar stringy mop of brown hair before he spots you, his head downturned in a book that it doesn't look like he should be reading on government time.

"Agents," Agent Hotchner stands in front of you, a step to the left, "We have a new recruit. Agent L/N," Spencer's head shoots out of his book and around to face you at your name, his gooey brown eyes widening, "Is fresh out of her time at the academy, I've seen her reports and I'm confident she'll be an asset to this team."

Before anyone can get a polite greeting in, a kind smile or a nice to meet you, Spencer's springing out of his seat, rushing you and nearly pushing Agent Hotchner over in his overzealous attempt at a hug.

Someone cries, 'Reid!' and you're wondering if this is common occurrence, if he often bowls people over like a puppy excited to see his owner. But as he laughs wetly into your neck, tears in his eyes while he squeezes you, you're pretty sure this is special treatment.

"Spencer," You gush, grinning hard over his shoulder, "It's good to see you again!"

"You too!" He rocks you back and forth, lanky legs nearly tipping you over, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Because it was a nice surprise," You only back away when you see the other agents staring bewilderedly at you, because no matter how kind their smiles are, you don't want to ignore them for much longer in case you come off as rude. Spencer's less willing to let go, but he settles for keeping your arm locked in his grip.

"So, you know Spencer?" A blonde woman asks, slim and pretty. She has an amused smirk on her face, and you nod sheepishly.

"We met in college," You flex your arm, squeezing him closer, "We were study buddies for a while, then he graduated early and left me."

You send a silly glare his way, but he knocks his nose into your cheek as a reply, knowing you're not really vengeful about it.

"That sounds about right," An older man nods, beard greying as he runs a hand over it, "Agent L/N, is it? I remember hearing your name a while back. You've been destined for us, I think."

"That's me," You glance briefly around at the rest of your new team, finding similarly sweet expressions on their faces, "And- and you are?"

"David Rossi," He holds out a hand that you shake with a grin.

"Derek Morgan," A tall man to the left of Agent Hotchner steps up next, followed by the blonde from earlier, "Jennifer Jareau, but most people just call me JJ."

"I'm Emily, uh- Prentiss." A dark haired woman stands beside another blonde, a sleek black pantsuit beside a rainbow-themed dress.

"Penelope Garcia," The latter grins, holding out a hand that has several bracelets tucked around her wrist, "It's nice to meet you! I didn't know Reid had friends in college."

"Or ever," Morgan chuckles, and you squeeze Spencer's hand where he's still holding yours in reassurance.

"We were quite close," You recall lazy mornings in the library, then afternoons sprawled out over the lawn munching on pretzels and fruit, "Neither of us were very social, I think we found solace in that."

"Yeah," Spencer nods, hair flying around his face. You tuck a stray strand behind his ear with a smile as he rambles, "She never asked me to go drinking every friday night."

"Then I think you both need to join us this time," Emily grins, watching fondly as Spencer groans, face-planting into your shoulder, "You can both find out what you've been missing."

You're sure she means expensive booze and scantily-clad patrons, but Spencer's face still rests on your shoulder, and you know what you've really both been missing runs deeper: each other.

[mtmpossession]

Someone New, Someone Better

Aaron Bradford, son of one of the wealthiest business owners in Australia, was the quintessential party boy. He was known for his excessive spending, luxurious travels, and extravagant dinners at the most expensive restaurants. He also had a penchant for collecting women, never shy about flaunting his good looks and charm. As Aaron traveled the world, he could often be seen behind the wheel of the latest car models or riding on expensive Vespas. His unique style and taste for the finer things in life made him stand out wherever he went.

Unfortunately, his father, Robert Bradford, was growing tired of Aaron's antics and lack of motivation to work for the family business. In a fit of exasperation, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He summoned his new intern, David Caballero, and gave him a simple yet important task: find Aaron and report back on his whereabouts.

David, eager to impress his new boss and hopefully move up the ranks, accepted the challenge with determination. He began his search for Aaron, tracking him down to a beach in Botany Bay. There, he found Aaron lounging on a beach towel, surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. Aaron wore red shorts that accentuated his chiseled and muscular body, a sight that left David feeling both envious and a bit resentful.

As he watched Aaron lazily laugh with his entourage, David couldn't help but wonder why someone with such a charmed life would waste it away partying all the time. It was then that he felt a tug on his shirt. Startled, he turned around to find a mysterious old man standing behind him. The man wore a fedora and sunglasses, giving him an air of secrecy and intrigue.

"You must be David," the old man said in a gravelly voice. "I've been expecting you." He held out his hand, revealing a small wooden amulet in the shape of a boomerang. "Take this. It will help you achieve everything you desire."

David hesitantly took the amulet, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What do you mean, everything I desire?" he asked, feeling a strange energy emanating from the amulet.

"Oh, I think you know what I mean," the old man replied with a knowing smile. "But if you insist, let's just say that it's within your grasp now. Go on, use it. See what happens."

Before David could say anything else, the old man disappeared into the crowd. He stood there for a moment, the amulet in his hand, feeling both excited and apprehensive. He knew he should report back to Robert Bradford, but something about the amulet made him curious.

David closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He imagined himself in Aaron's shoes, living the life he always wanted but never thought he could have. The thought was intoxicating, and before he knew it, he found himself reaching out to touch the amulet. As soon as his fingers made contact with the wood, the world around him shifted.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the same beach in Botany Bay, but now he was the one lying on the beach towel, surrounded by beautiful women. He felt a surge of energy course through his veins as he realized that he was now in Aaron's body. His muscles ached with pleasure, and he could feel the heat of the sun on his skin. But more than that, he could sense the power that came with being Aaron Bradford.

David sat up, taking in the view of the ocean and the women surrounding him. He felt like he could do anything he wanted. He stood up, flexing his muscles, and threw his head back, letting out a roar of laughter. The women around him giggled and blushed, their eyes fixed on his chiseled chest and toned arms. He felt invincible.

He walked back to the beach house, a luxurious mansion that had been in the Bradford family for generations. The sand was warm and soft beneath his feet as he made his way inside. The house was filled with expensive art and antique furniture, a testament to the family's wealth and influence. He couldn't help but feel a sense of ownership as he walked through the halls, admiring the priceless works of art and the breathtaking views of the ocean from every room.

David made his way to Aaron's private quarters, his heart racing with anticipation. The bed was huge, with plush pillows and soft, satin sheets. On the nightstand was a crystal decanter filled with expensive scotch and a bowl of expensive, exotic cigars. He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling a familiar ache growing in his groin. He reached down, undid his shorts, and freed his erection.

As he began to stroke himself, he couldn't help but feel a sense of power and control. It wasn't just about masturbating; it was about asserting his dominance over Aaron's body. He thought about all the things he could do now, all the women he could have, all the money and influence he could wield. The more he thought about it, the harder he got.

He imagined himself walking into a high-stakes business meeting, wearing one of Aaron's tailored suits, commanding the room with his presence. He could hear the respect and awe in everyone's voices as they addressed him as Mr. Aaron Bradford. He pictured himself making deals, forging alliances, and expanding the family's empire.

As he continued to stroke himself, he felt the familiar tightening in his balls and knew that he was about to cum. He groaned, his hips bucking as he shot thick ropes of semen across Aaron's abs. The hot liquid splattered against the defined muscles, leaving a sticky trail.He lay back on the bed, panting heavily, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He looked down at his hand, still wrapped around his softening cock, and smiled. He couldn't believe he had just cum in Aaron's body. It was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

He stood up and walked over to the bathroom, opening the shower door. The warm water cascaded down his chest, washing away the remnants of his orgasm. He stepped into the shower, enjoying the feel of the water on his skin.

As he lathered up with Aaron's luxurious soap, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had successfully taken over Aaron's body, and now he was going to live the rest of the day as him. He grinned to himself, wondering what sort of mischief he could get into next.

After rinsing off, he reached for a towel and dried off. He then put on Aaron's favourite Grey joggers, feeling the soft fabric hug his legs. He admired himself in the mirror.

With a newfound confidence, he decided to take a selfie. He posed in front of the mirror, striking Aaron's signature smoldering look. He snapped the photo, and to his surprise, it actually looked pretty good. He couldn't believe he was able to pull off Aaron's charisma even like this.

5 months later:

David left his old life behind him and fully embraced his new identity. He threw himself into his work at the company, making sure to keep Robert happy and impressed. He made important connections, closed lucrative deals, and expanded the family's empire. It was as though he had been born to do this.

He found himself falling into the rhythm of Aaron's life, adapting to the luxurious lifestyle with ease. He began to understand the weight of responsibility that came with being the next in line of such a powerful family. He made sure to uphold Aaron's reputation, both in business and in the high society circles .

As time passed, David felt more and more at home in Aaron's body. He even began to think of himself as Aaron, as if he had always been this person. The memories of his old life seemed distant and hazy, like a dream from another lifetime. He had truly become someone new, someone better.

[the-au-thor]

Bestfriend Blurb #6 | Spencer Reid

Yep, as I always say: if you ask, you'll receive. You asked for them to figure it out. You asked them to finally say it out loud. Here we go! Hope you like it. If you have anything to say, just say it please. And remember this is not my first language and I tried to translate this the best I could. Also I love you, thanks for your love

Remember this is one of a series of blurbs you could read in the links down below:

#1- When he preferred your smile

#2- When he proved he knows you well

#3 - When he wanted you to choose him

#4- When you wanted to make him smile

#5- When you he loved you and you loved him back

Summary: Spencer and reader are bestfriends that love each other, just they haven't done anything about it. Let's see how they'll figure all out.

Words: 1.5k

Warnins: none

You saw Spencer leaving Hotchner's office, appearing to have a serious conversation, but Hotchner had a half-smile and seemed content with whatever they discussed. You hid behind your laptop as your boss briefly glanced in your direction. Spencer started descending the stairs, and you sank further into your seat, but you still felt his gaze on you. You listened to his footsteps leaving the room, then straightened up to make sure he was really gone.

Your heart paused from the marathon it started this morning when you saw him enter the office after you left a note in your apartment explaining "you had to do something (absolutely nothing) before arriving at Quantico". You let out a deep sigh of relief, deciding you could finally focus on the paperwork from the previous case.

"What are you doing exactly?" Emily's voice interrupted you from her desk.

You moved your gaze from the glass door to look at her, as if she had caught you doing something mischievous. "Me?"

Emily dropped her pen on the desk and leaned back, studying you slowly.

"No, my nemesis who has risen from the dead, Doyle," she replied sarcastically, then leaned against her desk and whispered, "Why are we hiding from Reid?"

You furrowed your brow and leaned back in your chair, letting out a nasal laugh. "I'm not hiding from Spencer..."

"You are. You know it. I know it; J.J, Rossi, and Derek know it."

Derek turned a page of his report and nodded without taking his eyes off the file. "Oh yeah."

"Yup," David agreed from his seat.

You looked at J.J on the adjacent desk, and she shrugged while munching on an Oreo, nodding her head slightly. You turned back to Emily, who wore one of her know-it-all smiles and shrugged.

"García doesn't say yes only because she's not here," she added, and then her expression shifted to a slightly more concerned one. "What happened? I thought Reid's surprise would cheer you up.

"You looked at them in surprise. "Wait, did he tell you?"

"No," Prentiss chuckled.

"We are profilers," Rossi glanced at you from the corner of his eye, sipping from his coffee cup with a small satisfied smile. "We know things."

You gave him a annoyed look and sulked in your chair.

"The surprise was good, thanks for asking."

"I didn't ask; I affirmed. I know whatever the boy genius orchestrated made you very happy, which brings me to ask, why aren't you happy?" Emily inquired with curiosity.

"Well, what is this? One of your tenacious and terrifying interrogation room talks?" you asked everyone, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Derek finally stopped looking at his work to pay attention to you with a sigh.

"Sugar it is very simple, either you tell us what's going on, or we profile you."

You rolled your eyes, knowing they would somehow figure out what was happening with you. On one hand, you were tempted to let them profile you; perhaps they could unravel the mess inside you that you couldn't even identify.

"Don't you think it's weird?" you asked, but none of them seemed to understand what you were talking about. "This, his surprises, don't you find it strange?"

David pressed his lips together but remained silent. J.J then let out a surprised laugh.

"What do you mean? It's... Spencer we're talking about. The Spencer who took you to a Peter Gabriel concert because he knew you were dying to hear 'Solsbury Hill' live, even though he hates crowds," she reminded you.

"The one who didn't reveal certain details in cases so that you could provide them and not feel less in your first months at the BAU," Derek recalled with a half-smile.

"He didn't do that..."

"No, of course not," Prentiss laughed. "Because he also doesn't let you win at chess" she added ironically.

"Hey, I've become very good at chess"

"Not better than Spencer," Derek clarified with a sing-song tone.

You gave him a displeased look.

"Thanks, huh?"

"It's just the truth," Emily genuinely chuckled at your stubbornness. "The point is, Spencer does these thoughtful things for you. It would be strange if he didn't do anything to congratulate you on your exhibition; something we all know meant a great challenge for you."

They all nodded in silent agreement with Emily. Without words, you had no choice but to stop arguing with them. If such behavior was normal for Spencer, did that mean you were perhaps reading too much into it, and your love for him was truly one-sided? Could it be that all this time, Spencer had just been himself and hadn't shown any interest in more than a platonic friendship with you? Since yesterday, you had acted like a coward because you had discovered you loved him, and there was a possibility he felt the same way. After all, who gives up a date just to spend an afternoon locked in with their best friend watching Doctor Who reruns that they could watch any other time? You panicked; he was your best friend, and even though you promised that if something happened, it wouldn't affect the friendship, you knew it was inevitable. Besides, he was also your colleague, and that kind of fraternization within the FBI was practically impossible. There would be tough decisions, inquiries, interrogations, and a probationary period to prove that the relationship wouldn't affect your performance in the field. But what scared you even more was that you could just lose him. Because you loved him so much; you loved how he closed up whenever strong emotions came into him, and you loved stripping away each of his layers until he let you in. You loved listening to him chatter endlessly about something he was passionate about or thought you might find interesting. You loved that he knew so many languages but sometimes struggled to understand the slang of his own mother tongue. You loved his pure heart and always innocent intentions. You loved seeing him with his peculiar weapon and how, in every case, he wished he didn't have to use it. You didn't want to stop loving him just because you couldn't give him what he needed.

"Hey, we didn't say Spencer does that with everyone," J.J, who seemed to read your intrusive thoughts perfectly, saved you from drowning in them, bringing you back to the surface. "He's like that with you," she added firmly, as if wanting to make it clear.

You tried to breathe but found it difficult. It was as if the air had suddenly become dense. You were about to hyperventilate when Hotchner came out of his office at the same time Spencer entered again, looking relieved. Hotch looked at you and then at Spencer, nodding with a solemn gaze before addressing everyone.

"I must announce a new decision that the bureau established starting this morning; Reid will begin to reduce his fieldwork hours to teach university classes."

You furrowed your brow, and your gaze inevitably turned to Spencer, whose eyes were on you as if expecting some kind of reaction. It would come, for sure.

"What?" you asked. "Why?"

The guys turned to Hotchner, awaiting an answer just like you.

"By Spencer's own request" Hotch frowned, somewhat confused, surprising everyone and making everything suddenly move around you.

Thoughts began to bombard you like a meteor shower. Spencer knew; he had found out what you felt for him and was starting to distance himself so as not to hurt you because Spencer was like that. He was considerate even when breaking your heart. Obviously, he would discover your feelings; he was an eminent profiler and knew you like the back of his hand.

"Hey..." you heard your name on Spencer's lips because he had identified the panic on your face and the distress in your eyes.

You looked at him, trying to hold back your tears and compose yourself as best as you could. With false calmness, you placed your hands on the table and then verbalized a decision that seemed to be the most reasonable thing to say.

"I resign."

A sepulchral silence invaded the room, and if you hadn't been so focused on keeping a decent image for a little longer, you might have heard the surprised squeal that came from Derek's throat. Without taking your eyes off Hotchner, you stood up and excused yourself to go to the bathroom because you weren't sure if you could maintain a decent appearance for much longer.

You held on until you crossed the door to start running towards the elevator and try to escape from something that was encapsulated in your head, dulling it, and trying to push the tears out of you. You pressed the elevator button that would take you away from Spencer when you saw his hand preventing doors from closing. You saw his face on the other side of the elevator, and you stayed inside, looking at his stern face and inquisitive gaze; he was searching for some kind of answer in your own face. He would have it, for sure.

"What was that?" He asked

Your lips trembled with nervousness, and then you decided to be completely honest.

"You don't have to leave; I'm leaving. This has been your job since before I arrived, and you shouldn't have to do this for me..."

He frowned almost offended. "What are you talking about?" he asked, taking a step forward and stopping the elevator pressing a button. "What's going on with you? You ignore me the entire weekend, and suddenly you decide to resign to take care of my feelings? How considerate!"

This time, you furrowed your brow. "Ignore you?"

"I'm not an idiot," he accused, making a small accusatory gesture with his hand. "You made your gratitude waffles and left them on the table with a note?"

"I had to go for a run; I wasn't performing as I should in the field, and..." you started to explain but he interrupted you.

"Lies," he lamented. "Lies! You hate sports as much as you hate mornings," he recalled. "And you did the same thing today," he cornered you with his words. "How am I supposed to think you don't want me to leave when you've only been pushing me away?"

That question completely disarmed you; you had left no choice but to opt for silence. You saw him press his lips with determination.

"What do you want?"

Flustered, you gasped, unable to give a neutral answer that would protect you from a broken heart.

"I don't want you to leave."

That genuine response seemed to calm him. His face and shoulders relaxed until the furrowed brow became history, and there was only a hint of weariness in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving, and you don't have to resign," he clarified. "It was a decision I made in conjunction with human resources."

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Why would you involve yourself with human resources?" you asked.

Spencer took the time to answer, silently studying you.

"Because I have to prove that I can do my job even when there are feelings involved and assure them that you can do the same thing."

A tingling sensation began to coat the walls of your stomach, and damn if you didn't already know what Spencer was insinuating, but you had to ask him.

"Your feelings have never stopped you from doing your job. Why would the bureau be concerned now...?"

Spencer let out a laugh and briefly looked away from you.

"It's different now because I fell in love with you," he admitted so honestly, so directly, so bravely, and without a hint of fear that the shame for your own fears silenced you. There was something effervescent inside you that numbed your tongue and destabilized any reasoning. Spencer took a step toward you, somewhat hesitant, but he didn't let his shyness stop him. He cradled your face with one of his hands, and his eyes studied your expression. He seemed excited. "And my dear, you fell in love with me," he murmured the last part, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes to caress your cheek with the soft pad of his fingers. "And I knew you would have fears; I knew your mind would play tricks on you. I knew it in the gallery; that I had to make sure that not a single one of your fears would come true."

You could live a thousand different lives and never do anything remotely worthy of deserving someone like Spencer.

"Spence..." you cried distressed, returning the gesture and cradling his face.

Because while you chose to isolate yourself and heal wounds you didn't yet have, Spencer was trying to eliminate anything that could cause you those wounds in the first place.

"Hey," he tried to calm you while continuing to caress your skin in circular motions. "That's why I talked to Hotchner this morning. That's why I talked to human resources. That's why I'm going to reduce my hours in the field. Because by taking a step back, I'll be closer to you," he admitted as your tears fell down your cheeks and he wiped them away one by one, brushing his nose against yours. "I want this, do you want it?"

You nodded, but you knew it wouldn't be enough; you had to say it out loud.

"I love you too, Spencer. And I'm scared that everything will change" you confessed with a trembling voice.

You felt his soothing smile just millimeters from your lips.

"It will be better," he said before pressing his lips against yours.

You let out a little squeal when the tip of your tongue brushed the smooth surface of his lips. Your back pressed against the cold wall of the elevator, and his chest collided with you as his other hand tenderly caressed your hair.

Nothing in a million years could have prepared you for what a single gesture from Spencer was making you feel. While his lips moved over yours with controlled emotion, and you stretched because you had been so far from him for so long that you needed to be as close as possible now. And for the first time, you didn't need your camera to capture the moment because you knew there was nothing in the world that could make you forget this first kiss.

Spencer watched you as you reluctantly pulled away. He had to maintain control; he could stick to you as much as he wanted at home later. For now, there was a mess to repair in the office with Hotchner; so he took your hand, and waited for the elevator to descend and the doors to open. He didn't expect to face the expectant gazes of your colleagues waiting for both of you outside the elevator. Hotchner had his arms crossed, and Penelope, who apparently had been informed by her not-so-discreet friends, observed your intertwined hands and opened her mouth in surprise.

"Is it done?" she shouted. "And did you wait until I wasn't in the room for everything to happen? Lunatics, I love you, but you are a pain in my elegant ass. I hope you're happy; I bet on this months ago, and frankly, I expected a faster move from you. Now I'll have to give my money to Emily and..."

Hotchner interrupted her to look directly into your eyes.

"I'll ignore your resignation from a few minutes ago, and honestly, I hope something like that doesn't happen again. I didn't bet money, but I did bet on you with the bureau; I vouched for your professionalism, and I know I won't be wrong. But don't make me doubt."

You felt Spencer's fingers give you a calm squeeze, ensuring that you wouldn't hyperventilate again in front of your unit chief because it wouldn't look good.

"Of course, sir. It won't happen again."

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Hotch remained serious, and then out of nowhere, he broke into a cheerful smile.

"That's what I wanted to hear. I'm very happy for you guys."

That brought your soul back into your body, and it was the green light your colleagues needed to let out a cheer and congratulate you.

Penelope jumped at you, and Derek at Spencer, while receiving your friend's hug, Spencer watched you, with that look of appreciation that had been directed at you all the time, and then you smiled at him. You gave him that smile that Spencer was willing to choose over anything every day for the rest of his life.

And things changed a bit. But not as your fears predicted. It turns out that now Mondays were Doctor Who Mondays too; the popcorn actually tasted better, and as you nestled between Spencer's legs and he cradled you in his arms that evening upon arriving at your apartment, your home, you knew it wasn't because of the butter, nope. It was because Spencer Walter Reid had chosen you, and you had chosen him.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Today, people in Israel are really loving Germany. If you're wondering why, it's related to SA's lawsuit against Israel at the ICJ. While the US, the UK and Canada all said that SA's accusation against Israel is baseless, Germany is actually putting its money where its mouth is. Instead of just saying the accusation is not rooted in reality, Germany has asked to join the lawsuit as a third party on Israel's side, protesting the misuse of the convention for the prevention and punishment of genocide. For the record, in the wake of the Holocaust, Israel was one of the countries pushing for the adoption of this convention, and one of the first to sign it. It's unbelievable poetic justice, that it's the Germans now coming to the defence of the Jewish state.

Yesterday, an independent Palestinian terrorist attack was carried out, one Israeli was injured, 3 terrorists were eliminated as they were breaking into a Jewish community. The man who was injured had identifies the cuts in the barbed wire fence, was hit by bullets, but was able to alert Israeli security forces, who stopped the attack. Two of the terrorists were 16 years old, the third was 19 years old. Firearms, knives and an axe were found on them. Here's CCTV footage of them while they were breaking into the community:

As the international coalition's forces have moved from defensive to offensive measures against the Houthis (the Iranian funded terrorists from Yemen), Israel is preparing for possible retribution carried out against our people, especially the southern city of Eilat.

The Israeli hostages in Gaza have not had their medications for 99 days. The Red Cross has refused to take these meds from the families, saying that while Hamas doesn't allow it, they can't pass anything to the hostages anyway. Now there's talk about Qatar possibly forcing Hamas to allow it, maybe as a part of some deal. We'll see. There's a lot of cases where reports from Qatar say Hamas have agreed to this or that (mostly in terms of agreeing to a new hostage deal), and then it turns out it was just the Qataris' suggestions to Hamas, being reported as if Hamas had accepted them. Against this backdrop, the Palestinian Red Crescent has reported it continues to provide ambulatory, mobile medical services to Palestinians who can't make it to hospitals, including giving them their meds.

Meanwhile, SA is proving once more that anti-Zionism is the new antisemitism, because it is being used to hurt Jews worldwide, by removing the Jewish captain, David Teeger, from the national cricket team under the excuse that there are anti-Israel protests against him.

Blinken says that Saudi Arabia is still interested in normalization (meaning, a peace agreement) with Israel. I'm going to be honest, I don't think it's a coincidence that it took the Saudis this long to say it. If Israel had folded, and stopped its war against Hamas, I suspect the Saudis would have taken this to mean that Israel is not strong enough to be an ally against Iran. The fact that the war continues, despite international pressure to stop (and effectively surrender to Iranian-funded Hamas), gives moderate Arab states hope that an alliance with Israel against Iran won't fail them and crumble at the first sign of trouble. I believe that's something that hasn't been talked about enough, how moderate Arab countries have been watching this war with Hamas, and how destructive it would be, if Hamas would have won. And any scenario where Hamas still exists and rules Gaza, even in a limited capacity, would be understood as their victory.

Jewish students at Harvard are suing the university for its longstanding failure to fight antisemitism, including in allowing antisemitic material to be taught in class. This is a reminder that the issue was never Claudine Gay specifically, there's a much bigger problem at hand in Harvard and other western universities, and her resignation is just the first step. I'm glad Jewish students are taking this initiative, to force Harvard to take more steps.

The Israeli Air Force has drawn this imitation of the yellow ribbon, worn as a part of the call to release the Israeli hostages, in the skies of Gaza (pic taken from inside southern Israel):

This is 71 years old Uri ben Tzvi.

I got to watch an interview with him. Uri survived the Hamas massacre on Oct 7 at kibbutz Be'eri, he and his wife hid together for hours, including 3.5 hours during which terrorists were rampaging through their home. Two hours later, they were saved thanks to their son, an IDF officer in an elite unit, who managed to make it out of his own home, and join security forces. But Uri recounted how almost any noise makes him jump now, and how almost all of his age group was wiped out. When he goes to the dining hall (kibbutzim are communal, everyone eats meals together), his friends that he used to sit with are no longer there. He insisted that Oct 7 was a kind of Holocaust, as Jewish kids were once again hiding in closets, terrified for their lives.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[nipuni]

Doctor Who report!! We are all caught up with NuWho and in time to watch the new season when it comes out!! mission accomplished, It took us around 6 months total and we loved every minute of it 🥰

Now that we have watched all eras I can share our tastes and opinions nobody asked for under the cut 😌

We can confidently say RTD's era is our favourite and for Doctors 10 (and 14) followed by 12, but honestly there isn't a single Doctor (or Master!) that we didn't love.

We've also started rewatching the first four seasons now with more context and there is just something so special about them. They almost feel like a different show from all the later ones. The silliness and the way the story doesn't take itself seriously at all until all of a sudden it does and then the pain hits you twice as hard because of it. How with just with a line or deed and it's implications the Doctor can be so unbelievably inspiring. The way the narrative seems to place you in the role of a companion trying to catch up with the Doctor and figure him out yet never quite managing to do so creates this distance but also admiration and reverence in you too and you can't help but adore him flaws and all. It has just the right amount of room for every side character and relationship to develop and feel human and the right amount of exposition to keep the pace quick and don't hold your hand. The glimpses behind the doctor's cheerful childish façade into an unsettling calculating alienness and immeasurable trauma but also a weary wisdom. The complete selflessness to the point of martyrdom. The reckless irresponsible acts of devotion from both the companions and the Doctor. The near apotheosis of the companions the closer they get to him. The contagious feeling of awe and wonder and hope for life. The way it's so unabashedly centered around love of every kind 😭 ARGHH I don't know man there is nothing like it!! Ultimate comfort show for us, just.. healing really. There is so much more I can say and gush about but I'd be here typing all day so I'll draw more about it instead!! We would also like to get started on classic Who soon! and try to get our hands on the audio episodes and comic books and all the extra stuff as well 😊

We also watched more David Tennant works since the last report!

Blackpool was hilarious, infuriating and horny, the singing was a choice but overall so fun!! The Escape Artist was great, very sad and tense, would have loved for it to be longer, these miniseries are always so good but so short!! Mad to be Normal is so underrated? we enjoyed it a lot!! RD Laing's portrayal was so compelling, it's beautifully shot and the 60's setting is really immersive and well done. Einstein and Eddington was also really good, incredibly accurate historical setting!! the costuming was fantastic, one of the best I've seen!! These last two films are biographical and sort of no plot just vibes so maybe this is why they are not everyone's cup of tea but we enjoyed them very much. David just never misses, I'm sure we can watch anything with him in it and we will love it no matter what lmao what a guy 😭

Anyway that's all for now! I hope you are all doing well, spring/autumn is almost here! best bits of the year 😊

[mariacallous]

Content warning: This article includes scenes of physical and sexual harassment and assault.

The trouble in Antarctica started in Boston. It was August 1999, and Stanford geologist Jane Willenbring was then a 22-year-old self-described “country bumpkin.” She had just arrived to start her master’s in earth science at Boston University. As an undergrad with an oboe scholarship at North Dakota State University, she’d studied beetle fossils found in Antarctica and learned how, millions of years ago, the now frozen continent once pooled with freshwater lakes. “That’s not so different from the conditions we might expect in the future,” she says. She wanted to explore this critical science. “It seemed really important for future global climate change,” she says.

Of all the geologists, few were more renowned than the one Willenbring had gone to Boston to study under: 37-year-old David Marchant. Marchant, a scruffy professor at BU, was a rock star of rock study. He was part of a research group that rewrote Antarctic history by discovering evidence of volcanic ash, which showed that Antarctica had been stable for millions of years and was not as prone to cycles of warming and cooling as many thought. To honor his achievements, the US Board on Geographic Names approved the naming of a glacier southwest of McMurdo Station, the main research base on Antarctica, after him.

Willenbring says Marchant had insisted on picking her up at the airport, an offer she thought was nice but strange. It got stranger when he started making her feel bad for his gesture, which she hadn’t asked for. “I’m missing a Red Sox game,” she recalls him chiding her. “You really should have picked a better time to fly.” He asked whether she had a boyfriend, how often she saw him, and whether she knew anyone in Boston or would be alone. In a few months, she’d be heading with him on a research trip to Antarctica and the region with his big chunk of namesake ice. “It was almost like a pickup line,” she recalls, “‘I have a glacier.’”

But it’s what happened in the glacier’s shadow that led Willenbring to take on Marchant and become the first to expose the horrors faced by women at the bottom of the world. A report released in August 2022 by the National Science Foundation, the main agency funding Antarctic research, found that 59 percent of women at McMurdo and other field stations run by the US Antarctic Program said they’d experienced sexual harassment or assault. A central employer, Leidos, holds a $2.3 billion government contract to manage the workplaces on the ice. One woman alleged that a supervisor had slammed her head into a metal cabinet and then attacked her sexually. Britt Barquist, a former fuel foreman at McMurdo, says she had been forced to work alongside a supervisor who had sexually harassed her. “What was really traumatic was telling people, ‘I’m afraid of this person,’” she says, “and nobody cared.”

With a congressional investigation underway, Willenbring is sharing her full story for the first time with the hope of inspiring others to come forward and claim the justice they’ve long deserved. But even now, decades after she first got into Marchant’s car, she can’t help asking herself how, and why, the nightmare happened in the first place. “You never hear a women-in-science panel where people are talking about stuff like I do,” she says, “because they’re smart enough to fucking run.”

[unreliablesnake]

Pairing: David “Deacon” Kay x f!reader

Note: I only saw like one season but goddammit... I had a brainrot and wrote a little something.

Warnings: age gap.

••••

“Just wait until you hear the end of the story because it gets crazier, I swear,” you said with a laugh before taking a sip of your wine.

Deacon loved the idea of just sitting there in the small restaurant near the apartment complex you both lived in and listening to you telling him those funny stories from the hospital. During these moments you were full of life and it was obvious you loved your job more than anything, so he always encouraged you to talk to him about your day.

It would have been a lie if he said he wasn't catching feelings. Because he was. And boy, did he wish you were feeling the same. Every time he saw you smile at him he wanted to pull you into a kiss, just a quick nonchalant kiss that would make him forget every problem he had. But you never showed any romantic interest in him, which soon made him realize he was dumb to assume you would ever love a divorced man his age.

He had seen your boyfriends, the young and successful titans who were ready to give you whatever your heart desired. He remembered that surgeon you dated for a while around the time he moved away from his family, the man who always gave you a ride home in his fancy Aston Martin, and the man who once yelled at you in the hallway during a nasty fight. That was the day he checked his license plate to see who he was and if he got into trouble before.

“Okay, I'll shut up now,” you said with your hands held up.

“Please, don't.” But you shook your head and took a bite of your pizza. “What's wrong?”

“You always do this. You know, asking me about my day, then watching me with this weird smile on your face, as if you were listening to the village idiot telling some funny story.”

Deacon let out a laugh while he took the glass of wine from you. “Okay, no more alcohol for you. I watch you with a smile because I love to listen to your stories.”

It was strange how he couldn’t remember when he reached out to take your hand, but when he saw your gaze move down to your hand, he immediately pulled it back with an apologetic look on his face. He could have sworn you were disappointed by the lack of contact, but he dismissed this thought immediately. If anything, you must have been relieved that he decided not to force this.

“There’s something we might need to talk about,” you suddenly said, your voice serious all of a sudden.

He let out a questioning hum to assure you he was listening, but before you could say anything, a man near the entrance began to yell at the couple sitting by the window and even pointed a gun at them. Deacon’s immediate reaction was to pull you down on the floor so you would be out of sight, then he pulled out his own weapon and told the man to drop his gun. Instead of doing that, the man pulled the trigger with shaking hands and the bullet grazed the innocent man’s arm. The woman screamed and Deacon shot the attacker without hesitation.

While he made a call to report the incident and call an ambulance, you slowly stood up and looked over at the two injured men not far from you. Even though he wanted to stop you, you sprung into action and asked the staff if they had a medical kit in the restaurant. Being a doctor meant you were ready to save whoever you could, including the attacker who was slowly bleeding out on the hardwood floor.

“Let me help,” he tried when he stopped behind you.

You turned to him with an angry look on your face before returning your attention back to your patient. “You did enough damage, Deac,” you spat.

With a sigh, he moved over to the other man and helped to bandage the wound until the ambulance arrived. His eyes wandered to you every once in a while, seeing the way you did your best to save him with the help of a waiter. He knew what bothered you. He knew you swore to save people, while his job often came with taking the life of someone. Maybe for you there was no way to get past that, and seeing him actually hurt another human being opened your eyes and made you see this contrast.

The ambulance soon arrived and the paramedics took over, leaving you standing in front of the restaurant and watching the others do their jobs. Deacon bit on his lower lip nervously as he stepped behind you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to pull you against his chest, his face buried in your hair as he kissed your head. “Are you okay?” he asked you quietly.

You didn’t turn to look at him, you didn’t even respond to his question, but within a matter of seconds you said, “I need to wash the blood off my hands.”

He took the hint and let you go, his eyes not leaving you while you went back to the restaurant. You never returned to his side, instead you stayed inside, sitting by a table to wait for the cops to arrive and take your statement. Since he didn’t want to push you now, he kept his distance, hoping you would change your mind and talk to him about what happened.

But then a week passed and he hadn’t seen you. He briefly considered visiting you at the hospital you worked in, but he was quick to dismiss the idea. So when Hondo told him someone was looking for him, and he found you standing in the hallway, he had no idea what to say. Should he apologize? Was this what you wanted?

To his luck, you knew exactly what you wanted to say. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you away. It’s just… I know you wanted to protect the people there, I know that man shot another before you pulled the trigger, but you need to understand that I’m not comfortable with this. I knew what you do for a living, I heard the stories, but I guess you always tried to shelter me by keeping these parts to yourself,” you told him.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” was all he said to you.

You took a step closer, your eyes fixed on him as you got ready to speak up again. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before the shooting.” He nodded, encouraging you to go on. “Maybe I’m seeing more into things than I should and I need you to tell me whether I’m right or wrong. The way you’re looking at me and touching me makes me think that you might see me as more than a simple neighbor. Or friend.”

As he took a deep breath, Deacon carefully considered what to say. He didn’t want to risk losing you over feelings you might not even reciprocate, so he cleared his throat and decided to lie. “Look, I’m much older than you. I want to believe that you’re my friend and I want to make sure you’re safe. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“Sure?”

He nodded and heard a relieved sigh leave your lips. Or was it a sigh of relief? Because the next moment you muttered something under your breath, maybe an apology, then before he could ask you what you meant by that, you put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer to kiss him. Your lips were soft as they moved in perfect sync with his, and his hands were resting on your waist when he moved you a little closer to him. Anything to close that almost nonexistent gap between you.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but duty calls,” Hondo said with a laugh when he passed by.

“We will have to talk about this,” he told you, unable to hide his smile. This was exactly what he’d been dying to do ever since that day he had his first proper conversation with you. When you nodded with a shy smile, he gave you a last quick kiss and said, “I’ll call you later, okay?”

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - David Hale x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators @bennykk @kelpies-shed

Before you there was ATF Agent June Stahl.

David doesn’t know what he was thinking when he stuck his dick into that particular bag of crazy. The two of them had a mutual hate for the MC and for each other. She was there to get the job done and he utilised that. They ended up fucking on his desk barely a week after she landed, kept it up for over a month before things turned sour.

What he remembers the most from that time was that it was always filthy, always violent. He’d hurt for weeks in the aftermath, his uniform chafing the scratch marks she left on his back. At no point during that ‘relationship’ did he feel good about himself.

It's been a couple of years since then and he hasn’t thought about her once, not until she strides into his stationhouse with a couple of junior agents and a bundle of files tucked under her arm.

“A war is coming.” She tells him.

And that’s it, the devil is back in his life.

David sighs because there’s been a couple of  months of peace since Clay Morrow’s ‘excommunication’ and the Sons seem to be turning their hand to more legit enterprises. Their assets have been tied up in porn since Suzie Quinn took over Luann’s business.

“Galen O’Shay, he’s one of the Irish Kings, leadership in the True IRA. The Sons are hunting him.” She tells him before she shows him a picture of a man he doesn’t recognise.

“What do they want with him?” He asks as he leans over the desk and studies the image. He can feel her eyes on him, sizing him up just like the first time and he shifts uncomfortably. She sets another picture down in front of him and this one he does recognise.

“Evelyn Shaw, unofficial matriarch.” She says leaning in close. He can feel the heat off her body rolling over his skin, the overripe sweetness of her perfume invading his nostrils. It’s suffocating being this close to her, it feels like she’s trying to claw her way underneath his flesh. “The club’s defence attorney and Chib’s fuck toy.”

David sighs because he knows Evelyn, he’s dealt with her in the past. She’s a nightmare in the courtroom, fiercely intelligent, tenacious but she’s also a good person. He’s lost count of the domestic violence cases she’s brought him. Each and every single one wrapped up neatly in a bow, ready for an arrest. He suspects it’s personal for her, that if he tracked back her history, there would be a report somewhere that detailed something terrible that had happened to her.

“I don’t understand how the two connect.” He tells Stahl as he shifts away from her. She follows him the same way she did back then, maintaining proximity, keeping him close.

“Intelligence suggests that Galen took her a couple of months back, hurt her and left her for Chibs to find inside a barn on the outskirts of town. They’ve been calling him the Mad Scot from here all the way up to Stockton because of the violence he’s left in his wake trying to find him.” She tells him, her hand coming to rest on his and it feels like his skin is crying to crawl right off his bones to escape her. He pull his hand away, tucking it into his pocket. “It only stopped when Chibs received confirmation that Galen had left the country.”

“And now he’s back.” David guesses as he replays back the past couple of his months in his head. It’s been a while since he’s heard from Evelyn, he doesn’t realise it until now.

He’d thought that the Sons had gone quiet but now he realises what’s really been  happening, they’ve been circling their wagons. Someone hurting one of their women, they won’t let that slide, the same way he wouldn’t. He’d go to the ends of the earth anyone laid a hand on you.

“Sure is baby and so am I.” She says her hand gripping his tie and drawing him closer, her lips ghost in his ear as she whispers. “My pussy’s missed that mouth of yours, why don’t you get on your knees and give her a kiss.”

He tears himself away, his cheeks colouring.

“I’d rather eat glass.” He tells her, using his palm to smooth over his tie.

She raises a eyebrow, her hand coming to rest on her hip as her voice turns cold.

“What? Your little art student lets you come in her mouth and you’re suddenly in love?”

His head snaps up and he senses his mistake the instant he makes it. He’s given her an opening, an acknowledgement that there’s someone important in his life that she can fuck with.

“How does it feel sticking your dick in the same pussy that Teller’s blown his load in?” She asks him, that cruel smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. “Or is that part of the allure, you get off knowing that you have the one thing that he wants.”

David tries not to react, he tries to keep his face impassive but she must see a flicker of something in his features.

“Has she told you anything about her time with him?”

David crosses his arms over his chest, his teeth grinding together as his eyes bore right into hers.

“You’ve never asked her have you?”

No, he hasn’t and you’ve never volunteered. There’s a line in your relationship that neither of you will cross because if you tell him something, you know he will have to do something about it and it tangles you up with the Sons all over again.

“This is a rabbit you don’t want to chase.” He warns her, his voice full of vitriol.

“We’ll see.” She tells him with shit eating grin of hers. “We’ll see.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[satoshy12]

Tiny Percy

Tiny demigod Percy did beat up bigger bully in School. And the thing is, no one believes the bullies when they go to the teacher to snitch (many bullies are that way). The victim fights back! I will make him a bad person!

The situation worsened as Percy confronted Ethan Thompson after he attempted to grab his lunch once more. Percy beat up the taller bully.

After the event was reported via email, Principal Matthews called Ethan, his parents, Karen and David Thompson, and Sally Jackson.

Percy was immediately accused by Karen, who said, "Your son assaulted my baby boy, Ethan." 

Sally Jackson, Percy's mother, responded with disbelief, "I don't believe it. It can't be true."

At the same time, Percy's home teacher and swimming and gym instructor, Coach Anderson, weighed in skeptically, saying, "I find it hard to believe. Perseus has a lot of athletic potential. Let's avoid drawing hasty assumptions." The suggestion is that, given young Percy's ability, he would simply ignore it even if he did participate in such an activity.

David Thompson chimed in, "You've seen how Ethan is." Ethan has several bandages prominently around his head and limbs, indicating that there are several wounds or abrasions below. There appears to be a fracture to one arm, as indicated by the cast, which is kept immobile by a sling. His face is rather bloated, and the bruises that have caused his skin to become purple and yellow are a few days old. Patches adhere to various body areas, perhaps masking minor wounds or scratches. "My child is an MMA fighter! Explain this!!

Sally was unwavering in her belief that Percy was innocent, saying, "It just can't be Percy."

David brushed off Sally's justification, saying, "Don't try to excuse it!!"

Principal Matthews stepped in and called Percy into his office, recognizing the gravity of the issue. He hit a button on his radio. "Perseus, could you please come to the principal's office?"

Shortly after, there was a very young voice that said, "It's Percy, and you all know it." 

The parents saw that Percy was considerably smaller than Ethan as he walked in.

This even made some kids and professors chuckle, as it finally made the Thompsons' parents understand why their assertions appeared improbable to others.

The parents, bewildered as to how their small child could have surpassed their strong son, were left to wrestle with the possibility that their son's story could not be credible. To hide a friend who had committed this, he just told lies.

"We would just now depart, and it would be best if we forgot about this whole thing," David Thompson said as he got to his feet. "It seems like I noticed the error."  Karen quickly got to her feet as well and dragged her son out. Already, this was too much for her, and she was terribly ashamed. She didn't even look aside as she dragged her son, Ethan, along.

"Can I stay here till math is done?" Percy asked Principal Matthews as the three of them were outside and heard the two parents scream at Ethan.

Sally gave her son a look and said, "No." Percy simply turned and walked out the door. "Drat."