#it's not even my assigned role!! I'M THE YOUNGEST!!!!!!!!!

[sorceresslodge]

ANYWAY bitches will put up with insane amounts of bullshit for years and years and years and then basically have no choice to break down and then get told off for how "childish" they're being because they just really can't cope with this last straw of how everybody is allowed to do what they want EXCEPT for them!!

[januaryembrs]

TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.

word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)

trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.

next chpt.

main masterlist.

authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa. 

A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached. 

It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up. 

“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,” 

“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,” 

Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different. 

Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug. 

Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup. 

“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.

Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct. 

“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown. 

“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought. 

“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up. 

Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.

“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?” 

“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap. 

“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.

Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned. 

Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister. 

“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.

Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered. 

“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,” 

Spencer gulped quietly. 

Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze. 

She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman. 

“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it. 

It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors. 

She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs. 

“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.

“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,” 

He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.

“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?” 

“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,” 

She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”

She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them. 

“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”

“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”

“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”

Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter. 

“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.” 

She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student. 

“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again. 

“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”

Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words. 

How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?

–

“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently. 

She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore. 

“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly. 

“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse. 

“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish. 

“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod. 

“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket. 

Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours. 

“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,” 

“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more. 

“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet. 

“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt. 

“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick. 

“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her. 

“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,” 

“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway. 

“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.

Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny. 

In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them. 

“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face. 

Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder. 

“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips. 

“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them. 

“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed. 

“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol. 

“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown. 

“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze. 

“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her. 

He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her. 

“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly. 

“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”

A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in. 

“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command. 

“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,” 

“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!” 

“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?” 

“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand. 

“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.

A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be. 

“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,” 

“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep. 

“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue. 

Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent. 

“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”

Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],” 

The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses. 

“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun. 

“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],” 

“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],” 

Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car. 

“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”

“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,” 

With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips. 

“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside. 

“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,” 

“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand. 

“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened. 

–

The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer. 

Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera. 

She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture. 

There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good. 

But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately. 

“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language. 

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully. 

She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.

“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair. 

“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?” 

She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,” 

It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them. 

“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them. 

“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls. 

“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door. 

She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face. 

It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice. 

Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon. 

“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”

Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers. 

“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?” 

“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.

She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant. 

-

“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod. 

“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,” 

“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.

“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front. 

And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost. 

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,” 

“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk. 

“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?” 

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”  

His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh. 

“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully. 

“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did. 

Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over. 

“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile. 

“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice. 

“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat. 

She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.

“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen. 

“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”

“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,” 

“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,” 

She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs. 

“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile. 

“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,” 

“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,” 

“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face. 

“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat. 

She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding. 

It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else. 

So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from. 

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. 

“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,” 

“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,” 

But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation. 

So why lie?

She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately. 

“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster. 

“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction. 

“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,” 

The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head. 

“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly. 

Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do. 

And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight. 

–

The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself. 

“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk. 

“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her. 

“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes. 

“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.

“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.” 

“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too. 

“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”

“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke. 

He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that. 

“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-” 

“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant. 

“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at. 

“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.

“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,” 

The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”

“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.

“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed. 

“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,” 

Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation. 

Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”

She frowned at him, scoffing,  “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”

The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”

She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her. 

“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?” 

Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,” 

But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly. 

“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her. 

“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-” 

“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,” 

Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself. 

He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.

-

“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”

“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.

“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.

“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left. 

“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”

“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”

“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes. 

“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”

“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back. 

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer. 

“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”

It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house. 

-

Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes. 

“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window. 

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”

“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”

She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”

“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-” 

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”

“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her. 

Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”

Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,” 

Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her. 

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.

He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number. 

“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.

“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.

“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”

“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,” 

“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.

+1. The one where you get arrested.

The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him. 

His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so. 

Yet so was Emily. 

The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway. 

“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.

“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?” 

She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times. 

“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,” 

The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown. 

Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad. 

“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea. 

The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat. 

“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,” 

The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront. 

“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose. 

“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb. 

“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch. 

“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”

“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear. 

“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. 

“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.

She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh. 

She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.

Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”

-

“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan. 

“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder. 

The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.

“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.

Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her. 

“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury. 

She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke. 

“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them. 

“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,” 

“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible. 

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out. 

“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”

Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan. 

“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,” 

If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze. 

“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,” 

Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans. 

“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never. 

He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far. 

“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,” 

She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl. 

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,” 

The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”

“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.

Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road. 

“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,” 

JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line. 

“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms. 

Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them. 

“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,” 

Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet. 

“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,” 

JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later. 

“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,” 

“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.

“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.

“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more. 

“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,” 

Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”

The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on. 

“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought. 

“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,” 

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off. 

“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault. 

“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”

“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”

Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block. 

“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs. 

“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,” 

He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.

He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas. 

Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried. 

Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth. 

“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back. 

+2. The one where you graduate

Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life. 

With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk. 

“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”

Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face. 

“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table. 

Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.

JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again. 

Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up. 

It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough. 

“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”

“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”

“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”

“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.

Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”

As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.

The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”

Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-” 

“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”

“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words. 

Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”

Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast. 

“Graduating, why didn’t you say!” She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”

Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing. 

“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming. 

“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”

The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered. 

“Bug-”

“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation. 

“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,” 

“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”

Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”

“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”

“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down. 

The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you. 

“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,” 

JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-” 

“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”

“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”

-

“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-” 

The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. 

The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled? 

Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her. 

But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother. 

All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery. 

“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.” 

P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it. 

She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close. 

“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”

She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab. 

Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika. 

She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps. 

To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was. 

Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her. 

Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them. 

And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat. 

The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand. 

And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs. 

Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close. 

“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer. 

“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team. 

“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,” 

She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand. 

“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”

She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.

“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”

“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”

“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer. 

Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy. 

“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”

Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling. 

“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss. 

Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready. 

“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound. 

“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?” 

“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,” 

Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy. 

“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup. 

Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”

“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path. 

A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on. 

The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first. 

She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye. 

“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”

She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?” 

Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing. 

“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,” 

“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track. 

“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses. 

“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm. 

“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.

“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.

“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand. 

“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”

He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,” 

He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers. 

Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head. 

“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long. 

Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant. 

“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.

“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,” 

“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound. 

“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”

Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing. 

He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there. 

It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back. 

-

Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before. 

She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery. 

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye. 

She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.

 Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it. 

“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off. 

That was when the shooting started. 

She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening. 

Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye. 

“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”

“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”

“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church. 

They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised. 

Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen. 

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister. 

Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.

Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person. 

Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall. 

“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.” 

Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine. 

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting. 

“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed. 

“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,” 

And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away. 

–

They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax. 

She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze. 

“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes. 

“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered. 

“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”

Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said. 

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push. 

“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,” 

“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,” 

Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”

And so they did. 

–

Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals. 

She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving. 

“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,” 

“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again. 

The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,” 

Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,” 

She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”

He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,” 

She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly. 

“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”

She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude. 

“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”

Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”

She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious. 

Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness. 

“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them. 

“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.

If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou. 

“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her. 

 “The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”

She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick. 

Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage. 

–

The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive. 

The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice. 

They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms. 

This was not good. 

“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression. 

The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach. 

She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy. 

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily. 

But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won. 

Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple. 

“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight. 

“It’s me,” 

She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving. 

Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.

“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head. 

He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise. 

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture. 

“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull. 

She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them. 

It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was. 

–

She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least. 

She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her. 

Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds. 

She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating. 

But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand. 

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”

Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl. 

“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”

“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.

“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,” 

She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,” 

“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed. 

Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action. 

–

Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over. 

Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?

She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless. 

It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now. 

It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority. 

2:53 stared back at her. 

At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened. 

2:54.

She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle. 

The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor. 

“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them. 

She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical. 

Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost. 

Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth. 

She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free. 

He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet. 

“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”

Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine. 

She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.

And she saw why. 

Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight. 

Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps. 

Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle. 

Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more. 

“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her. 

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her. 

Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared,  still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs. 

He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly. 

“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his. 

She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved. 

“You saved mine,” 

And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay. 

Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.

“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”

She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying. 

“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”

“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”

Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes. 

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building. 

Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors. 

Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse. 

Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran. 

Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state. 

“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”

“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”

“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight. 

“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”

She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street. 

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius. 

She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister. 

“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-” 

“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”

Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug. 

“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner. 

“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body. 

“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.

“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric. 

“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!” 

He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave. 

“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”

“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days. 

“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,” 

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog. 

“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”

Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back. 

“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll. 

“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”

“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,” 

She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat. 

“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”

“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.

“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more. 

“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-” 

“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.

“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings. 

“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”

“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?” 

“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,” 

“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,” 

“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”

“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess. 

“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders. 

“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,” 

His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off. 

“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist. 

Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess. 

Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,” 

Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be. 

“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through. 

–

let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??

Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺

SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!

[obae-me]

hiii i saw ur lucifer post and u talked about the brothers having a role in their family, can u elaborate??

Of course! I'd be all too happy to explain! Note: I'm not an expert on this topic obviously, but I do a lot of research on personalities and character archetypes to help build my stories, so it's something I always have on my mind! I highly recommend doing research into this on your own (if you're into this type of thing). Warning: This response might get kind of lengthy, I apologize. I've got a lot of thoughts, but I'll try to break it down as best as I can. Also warning for potential Shall We Date and Nightbringer spoilers.

So, in writing and storytelling, it's commonly told that there are 12 different character archetypes. Those being:

The Lover: Led by the heart/emotions.

The Hero: Overcomes a challenge to save the day.

The Magician: Masters the ways of the universe to use for good/evil.

The Outlaw: Fights against society/control.

The Explorer: The curious one that seeks beyond what they know.

The Sage: The wise one to guide or advise.

The Innocent: Morally pure, naïve.

The Creator: Someone with ambitious goals for their creations.

The Ruler: One with power/influence over others.

The Caregiver: Protects and sacrifices for others.

The Everyman: The most relatable to the common man.

The Jester: The comic relief, but also known to drop heavy truths when it matters.

So, we have 12 characters in Obey Me (not counting the three new additions) and 12 archetypes. And even just glancing over them all, it seems to fit everyone almost perfectly. Of course, most of them are mixes of several different personalities, but all-in-all, from a writing perspective, they all fit into their assigned slots. Also, everyone might have their own differing opinion on where they fit, but these are my personal evaluations of each character.

Starting from the most obvious, we have:

Mammon: The Jester. Clearly written as comic relief in the games. Clearly the jokester of the family. Tougher moments in the game are often diluted by making a jab in Mammon's direction. However, like in many old plays, the Jesters are often the ones that come in and tell the characters or the audience the hardest truths. Mammon has been one of- if not the most- honest characters in the game. And despite being comic relief, it's clear he's got a firm head on his shoulders when it really counts. He is needed to help his family get through tougher times, and he knows how to have fun and make his brothers smile, even if most of it is written at his own expense.

Luke: The Innocent. Most characters in this archetype tend to be children, so he naturally fits that role. He's young, unaware of what the world is really like. Sticking to what he's been taught, afraid of the unknown, and in need of constant guidance.

Satan: The Explorer. Even from the moment he was first created, he knew he wanted to know more about the world around him. He felt there was more to him than his Wrath, more to the world than just what he can recall from Lucifer's memories. His entire character is based around his pursuit for knowledge, his drive for getting out there and exploring and learning about anything he can. He doesn't want to be confined to the label he was made out to be. He's always seeking something else.

Barbatos: The Magician. Even from the very beginning of Shall We Date, we all knew there was more to the butler than it seemed. He's extremely powerful, extremely intelligent, and if he's not quite all-knowing, he's surely as close to it as it gets. Without a doubt, he has mastered his powers, only turning them 'off' or restricting their use at the behest of Diavolo. When everything else fails, Barbatos is usually the one to save the day.

Belphegor: The Outlaw. This type fits him more so in Shall We Date rather than Nightbringer, but I still think he's the best fit for this role. The rebellious youngest, doing everything he can to fight against Lucifer and to get his own way. Plus, of course, the whole bit about quite literally wanting to fight his family and Diavolo for his opinions on the human realm in the first game. He's also Sloth, so no matter what situation he might be in, even if he agrees to do it, he's not going to do it 100% willingly. Or, at least, get some compensation out of it.

Solomon: The Sage. Even though MC being Solomon's apprentice is on the newer side of things, even in season 1 of Shall We Date, Solomon was always giving us little tidbits of advice. He's human, MC is human, he was always guiding us in the proper direction, even if interactions were minimal at the very beginning of Shall We Date. Now, in Nightbringer, the Sage role has come in full force. He's our guide, teacher, human companion, time-traveling confidant, he's it all. Plus he's chock full of the vague mysticism that Sages seem to have in fiction.

Asmodeus: The Lover. I know, it seems cliché, but I had to do some hard thinking before I put Asmo here. If you take away the word "Love" and focus on the aspect of being controlled by emotions, it makes sense. Now, I'm glad Nightbringer has given us a little bit more depth into his character rather than the peppy dramatic demon everyone knows him to be. Asmo is impulsive, almost as much as Mammon. He's caught up in the winds of trends and excitement, but more than that, he's not afraid to outwardly gush over his siblings. He craves love and acceptance, which we see more in Nightbringer, when he's worried he's only loved for his beauty. He's more compassionate than people give him credit for, and he craves that affection back.

Now, for the rest of them, the roles get a little more complex. They seem like they should be obvious, but I think they're a little more switched up than they seem (which is why I started talking about Lucifer's character in the first place).

Again, this is my personal opinion, but I believe that:

Diavolo: The Creator. Yes, he's a prince in title, and yes he's literally 'a ruler' but the trope doesn't quite fit him. When do we really see him demanding something? When do we see him utilizing his power to get exactly what he wants? Hardly ever. What has his entire goal been since the FIRST lesson of Shall We Date? To create a change. To cultivate a better world for all three realms. All of his actions, all of his power is going towards that goal, towards that ambition. This is the most important thing to him.

Lucifer: The Ruler. I almost put Lucifer in the caretaker role, but the ruler as an archetype is defined as a character with the biggest influence over others. Some sort of control or leadership that hinges on their actions an choices. Lucifer is the one who always has to lead the others and tell them what to do, even Diavolo, making sure the prince is keeping up on his own tasks. Even if he is not responsible for an entire kingdom, he is responsible for nearly everyone around him. For better or for worse, his character focuses around control, and all the pros and cons that come with it. He's the one with structure, the one with plans, the one that isn't afraid to say no or turn down ideas.

Levi: The Everyman. This might be completely subjective, but I believe out of every other character in Obey Me, Levi might be the most relatable. Video games, anime, tv, idols, figures, collecting, comics, manga, etc. He covers a wide demographic of things modern people enjoy. That's not even mentioning connecting to people on a mental level. Social anxiety, jealousy, low self esteem, stage fright, hyperfixations, panic attacks, stuttering, general neurodivergence, I know a TON of people in this fandom connect to Levi. Most of the time, he seems more human than even Solomon. A lot of the struggles he goes through are similar to what a ton of other people go through, and thus makes him one of the more popular characters.

Beel/Simeon: The Caregiver. I struggled with both of these two for a very long time. But eventually I came to the conclusion that they both exhibit the same character role. In Shall We Date, it was more obvious when they were in separate dorms, but in Nightbringer, I feel as if we haven't seen Simeon much at all. Both Beel and Simeon exist as characters to help others, and both have lost much because of it. They're both very giving and kind, and while they do of course have their own interests and selfish moments, most of their actions are for the better interests of others.

MC: The Hero. I originally wasn't going to put MC as an option, but it's true. We as the main character fill a role that would be empty otherwise. We are the ones constantly overcoming trials and challenges and overall doing basic protagonist stuff, so it's only natural that the best suited for the role is MC, whether it be yourself inserted or an OC that's been made. But seeing as it is an otome game, everything does revolve around our actions (even if most of those actions have been made for us).

NOW, a second thing I wanted to mention specifically about the brothers and their family dynamic. There is a second list I know of that focuses on a functioning group rather than individual character tropes. Which is what I was discussing in the post you are referring to. They exist better as a group, they are stronger as a group, and the reason why I think they fit together so perfectly as a family is because they all have their "roles" that keep them functioning.

The Driver/The Fun/The Energy: Mammon is always striving for something, always passionate about something. Even going so far as stealing things. He's the energy, the passion, the fire lit under his brother's feet. There's nothing that will stop him from getting what he wants, and I think that in turn encourages his brothers to do the same. Also, Mammon is the second oldest, he works in tandem with Lucifer to make sure his brothers are happy and safe.

The Organizer/The Structure/The Realist: This one is Lucifer. He's the one who keeps the others on task and in line so that the things that everyone is striving for can actually get accomplished. He's the straight and narrow that everyone must walk across, which can come off as rude or controlling, but most of the time he's the foundation that everyone is settled upon. He might be pompous, but he's reliable. Everybody knows that they're safe with him around. Which is essential to keeping everything together.

The Dreamer/The Visionary/The Design: Asmo definitely loves to come up with ideas. He's always trying to come up with something new for his family to do, something exciting, something fun. He works well with Mammon this way, which is why an extra firm hand is required on Lucifer's part to keep the whole thing from getting out of hand. He has an end goal in mind and knows exactly what he wants it to look like, even if he's not quite sure how to get there. He's sharing his dreams and hopes and projects with the others all the time, and a lot of them join in with dreams of their own.

The Pessimist/The Worrier/The Naysayer: While poor Levi might be an anxious mess and a self-proclaimed bummer, sometimes this can be a good thing. Of course, not when it's gone to dangerous extremes, but it's good in some circumstances to think about possible failures. Working on the other hand of Lucifer, they can both see the weaknesses in ideas or functions and come up with backup plans to ensure everything runs smoothly. Because he lacks the confidence to rush into things, he's able to more tactfully plan something out.

The Optimist/The Mediator/The Diplomat: Beel is often the one trying to quell fights between his brothers. Everyone has a special place in their heart for him and it works the same the other way. He knows how to use empathy to relate to all his brothers, and more often than not, he can work them into some sort of compromise. He fulfills a SUPER crucial role in this group/family dynamic and unfortunately he's one of the more underappreciated characters in the fandom.

The Brain/The Expert/The Researcher: Satan always brings his knowledge to the table. Even if Lucifer is implied to be more knowledgeable, the eldest's efforts are more focused on structure and order rather than education. Satan is more than happy to keep his brothers informed, and a lot of his brothers tend to turn to him for answers. And even if they come to a dead end, out of everyone, Satan is the most eager to do the research about the query they're facing.

The Unexpected/The Wild Card/The Outside Look: Belphie is a rather jack of all trades. Depending on what is needed in the moment, he is capable of fulfilling any of these slots. But more than that, he's the clever one that usually blurts out that out-of-pocket response that is the final key to the puzzle. He does things on a whim, when the mood suits him, but even so usually ends up being successful anyway. With him sleeping and (like in the first game) not being around his brothers too much, he can usually bring in a more outside perspective and catch things that the others miss.

(This was so long, I'm very sorry, but this is my full elaboration ^^)

[shakesthewizard]

The Bad Kids as Knights Radiant

A while ago, I wrote this post assigning the main characters from Deltarune orders of Knights Radiant from Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Archive books. Now I'm gonna do the same with Fantasy High's Bad Kids!

Adaine O'Shaughnessey - "I will Seek Truth." The Order of Truthwatchers.

Do I need to elaborate on this one? The strongly opinionated youngest child of a rich and powerful family who has oracular visions thrust upon them without their asking and has to use their newfound power to save the world despite their pronounced lack of physical ability and the presence of neurological, emotional, and physical disabilities? Is anybody gonna fight me on this?

In all seriousness though - Adaine is defined by her desire to uncover lies and use the truth to set things right, no matter the cost. She so strongly values telling people what they need to hear, instead of what will make them feel better, and alongside Riz she's half of the team's mystery-solving power.

As a Truthwatcher, Adaine commands the surges of Progression and Illumination, and while powers-wise those feel a bit more geared towards Fig's spell list, Adaine is a master of handling the battlefield without drawing attention to herself, and as a Diviner she fills a much stronger support role than other Wizard subclasses.

Boggy the Froggy is Adaine's Lightspren.

Fabian Seacaster - "I will Reach my Potential." The Order of Elsecallers.

The Elsecallers are the consumate badasses of the Knights Radiant, and probably the most concerned with appearances, aside from the Lightweavers (who we'll get to, don't you worry). Fabian himself has huge potential for strength, grace, social aptitude, and academic success, that we see him fulfill over the course of the show. He's an excellent fighter who isn't afraid to utilize a nontraditional ability or tool in unique ways to give himself an upper hand. It reminds me a lot of Jasnah soulcasting on the battelfield.

As an Elsecaller, Fabian commands the surges of Transformation and Transportation. I think Transformation is the most apt thematically, as we see during his season 2 arc, learning to live as himself without abandoning his father's legacy. Although Transportation is also appropriate, given both that he's a very mobile combatant, and that he was the first among his party to gain access to a vehicle - one which he uses on the battlefield constantly.

I would say that the Hangman is his Inkspren, but I really think if he's anything he's a Dustspren.

Gorgug Thistlespring - "I will Seek Self-Mastery." The Order of Dustbringers.

While his personality doesn't match what we know of the Dustbringers in the series so far, Gorgug is otherwise an extremely good fit for this order. In season one, his arc centers on accepting his anger as a natural part of himself, and learning how to point it in useful and helpful directions, as well as reconnecting with his orcish heritage.

In seasons two and three, Gorgug dives into artificing; learning how to take things apart and put them back together, and pioneering ways to combine his skill with technology and his prodigious destructive power.

As a Dustbringer, Gorgug commands the surges of Division and Abrasion. These feel very appropriate for our curious barbarian, and I honestly don't feel like there's a lot I could say that wouldn't be plainly obvious. The kid rips stuff apart, what can I say?

Fig Faeth - "I will Speak My Truth." The Order of Lightweavers.

Performance. Art. Identity. Lies. Fig feels almost like an embodiment of this order. If you know anything about Lightweavers, I don't even know what to say that isn't already apparent. Fig disguises herself, invents new identities, lies constantly, and is the party's designated spy. She expresses these illusory powers by way of her artistic expression, and has a bad habit of running from her problems using those same powers. But of course, when the time comes, she shows an unmatched prowess for using those powers to completely dismantle the lies and schemes of ne'er do wells.

As a Lightweaver, Fig commands the surges of Illumination and Transportation. She uh. Makes illusions and turns into other people. Look, I don't know what else to say. She's a perfect fit.

Kristen Applebees - "I will Unite Instead of Divide." The Order of Bondsmiths.

Holy shit. This is why I wanted to make this post. Kristen, who with force of will and clarity of purpose brings a god back from the dead and forges a bond with her. Kristen, the most powerful Cleric of any god for the last century, who even at her most ignorant is the one to start treating the bad kids as a team before anyone else. Kristen, whose source of power is immense and strange, and who she conflicts with regularly, even as they share a purpose.

As a Bondsmith, Kristen commands the surges of Tension and Adhesion. Again, these are perfect for her. Kristen as a character feels at times to be made of tension; pulling at a deep and very serious love of ritual and spirituality that is at odds with her seeming inability to take things seriously the more dire they get. The girl who can create a new god, who can bring one back from nothingness, and who flunks out of her Cleric class the moment her teacher isn't 100% in her corner. Kristen's arcs also tend to be pretty central to the larger plots, what with the Harvestmen, The Nightmare King, and now Cassandra's spouse seeming to have a pretty pivotal role in whatever the Rat Grinders are up to. In short; Kristen Adheres the bad kids together.

Kristen's Bondsmith-spren is, obviously, Cassandra.

Riz Gukgak - "I will Protect." The Order of Windrunners.

I'm gonna be real with you, folks, I have never encountered a more Windrunner-ass motherfucker in my life. "I gotta do the right thing no matter what and be emo about it the whole time. What do you mean I have friends who love and support me?" Look me in the eyes and tell me if Riz got assigned to Bridge Four he wouldn't immediately dedicate himself to saving his whole crew and freeing them from slavery. You know I'm right.

As a Windrunner, Riz commands the surges of Adhesion and Gravitation. These aren't great fits for his real, very stealthy skillset - but if we're being honest Gravitation is the least thematically interesting surges anyway, and Adhesion is just the "cool nice guy" surge, which Riz already is.

lmk if this is the kind of content you're frothing at the mouth for and I can do more characters (I'm on my hands and knees give me characters to do this with it's so fun for me)

[fallenwhumpee]

Traitor

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Masterlist •

Warnings: This is uuuh... heavier than my usual, and a bit quick in pacing? Probably. Mentioned torture, broken ribs, dysfunctional family, sickfic, intimate whumper, self-destructive behaviour, implied past abuse (in form of training).

"We don't need a babysitter!"

"Hush, you will wake them up."

Leader didn't stir, still pretending to sleep in the uncomfortable position they were stuck. They didn't mean to stay up, they had been awake for longer than they could remember, but the sleep just didn't come.

"They can't just decide for us or tell us what to do. We're not a bunch of newbies," Youngest continued, now more silent.

They... their intention wasn't restrict anyone. They were given to this team because of their ages being close, but even after months together, they felt like an outsider. At least now they knew the reason.

"I know you're still upset for them letting Villain come with us, and I am, too, but this is not the best time to talk. They just did what you wanted with less violence," Medic cut in, more silent.

"Better," Right Hand scoffed. They must be the one who warned Youngest. "But I believe there is another reason. We don't make reports anymore, so who knows which lies Leader fed the agency with? And..."

"And what?"

"There are rumours of a traitor," they finished.

Leader couldn't stop themselves from drawing a sharp breath, but it left unnoticed.

"You think Leader is..." Youngest whispered. "But that's not possible! It's true that they're too serious, but we've been together for so long."

"Yet we know nothing about them," someone finished.

"Leader knew we had a past with Villain, yet Leader let them come our home. They trust Villain for some reason, but..."

"It's concerning. They wouldn't team up with someone tortured them, but we can't be sure, " Medic completed, hesitant.

"We don't know if Whumper did. None of us saw."

Leader didn't know what they did to earn Right Hand's hatred.

"I patched them up myself!"

"Can't it be faked?"

Nothing could've broken Leader's heart more than the deep silence. Leader only wanted to be— what they wanted wasn't important. But for the first time, they thought they could be enough for something.

They couldn't be more wrong.

And not only that, now they looked suspicious to everyone. Just perfect. One more failure to add the never-ending list. Their team distrusted them enough to think they could do such a thing.

It was their fault. They were assigned to a close-knit team, ready to be a family, but Leader was late, and they failed to close the distance and formality.

With time, Leader found themselves negotiating between the agency and the team more often than not. It took them too long to realise that they were only meant to be a bridge, never belonging to a side. It was the only role given to them from both sides. A leash to the team and someone who could get them out of trouble.

Because neither their team nor their superiors were pleased with the results. Their team was reckless, rushing everything and running blindly when one of them was in danger, ignoring everything else. And the agency was too strict, probably looking for the smallest mistake to disband them. Leader was the only thing between, and keeping the balance was starting to cost too much.

The car jolted, Leader hitting their head lightly. They groaned, faking their movements not to give away their involuntarily eavesdrop, and the others just stared at them. No one had the guts to tell all of those to Leader's face, apparently.

-•-

After a long and uncomfortable silence, they were home. They carried Villain to the infirmary without a word to the others. There was no need. Leader had forced them too much and this was the payback. Even if the team didn't think Leader was a traitor, this decision was one thing the team was not ready. It was also the first thing Leader forced them to.

"I'm not looking at them." Medic said firmly as Leader came out. Leader knew what was coming, so they let Medic breathe and waited.

"I'm not looking at them, not after all they had done."

"I just want you to make sure they're not dying." They tried with a soft voice, ignoring a headache starting to bloom in their temples.

"You weren't the one who patched Youngest after everything!" Medic paced in the room shortly, huffing with anger. "You weren't the one who held them as they woke up with nightmares!"

Leader lowered their gaze slightly.

"You weren't there when they broke down and begged us to stop the pain."

No, Leader wasn't. They had done everything to keep Youngest out of Whumper's wrath, rather successfully, but Villain had taken on Youngest a few times Leader wasn't able to take more, especially towards the end. After it, they were too busy with making sure the team was free to look after Youngest, had three meals a day, and kept agency out of their tail while recovering from—

So, no. Leader wasn't there. They had been busy.

"I should remind you that there's someone who possibly needs the same support you have once given to Youngest. But I'm not asking you to do that."

With that, Medic looked away.

"I'm just asking you if they need it. I'm sure it won't be hard to come up with a diagnosis for the meeting. That's your job, isn't it?"

"I will try," Medic answered, voice thick with embarrassment. Good. Leader could now focus on the next thing.

They went to the briefing room as Medic disappeared into the infirmary. The big screen opened with their command, the shadowy silhouettes waiting for them.

The mission report went well, only trouble being Villain. The agency suggested things Leader would never approve. Luckily, their insistence with Medic checking over Villain gave its fruits.

Medic was almost crying as they barged in and told the list of scars and wounds yet to be healed. Too similar to Youngest, they whispered to Leader. If Leader was less than collected, they would let out a long, relieved sigh that Medic wasn't going to argue with Leader's choice about Villain when they woke up. But they were not, and they kept their face straight. There was going to be time to breathe when they were locked and safe in their room.

After Medic, everyone agreed that kindness would be a better approach. Leader couldn't help but let their shoulders slump a bit, knowing they had gotten at least one side's approval.

The call dropped soon after, and Leader felt a movement behind them. Quickly turning, Medic froze on their place, a hand stretched to reach them. Medic drew back without touching, Leader rubbing their one arm subtly to ease their discomfort.

"Villain will wake up soon."

Leader nodded.

"I think it would be better if they saw you first. We had... not the best start."

That was the only apology they were going to have.

They smiled slightly. "Of course. I'll be in infirmary in a moment."

Medic took the dismissal, and Leader slumped the second they left the room. They were too tired to deal with anything, and they knew that if they left the room, another confrontation was inevitable. But this time, they had an evidence for making people understand that Villain had been a victim as much as them, if not more.

With a groan, they pushed themselves back to their feet. They gave themselves a moment to still their trembling limbs. They were going to be alright. With stable steps and even breaths, they marched to the infirmary.

"Medic," they greeted. "What do you have for me?"

"Too much, too little. We're fine, Youngest is a little unsettled, but no injuries. You would better avoid Right Hand. They are just a little overprotective of Youngest and reasonably angry because of al lof this, you know."

Leader nodded them to go on.

"For Villain, nothing broken, but so much bruises. Wrongly healed wounds... knife marks, and..."

"I do not need a full report." They cut to save Medic from telling more. Whip marks, electrocution, possibly some nerve damage. Leader recognised some of the scars. Too similar to— they had to focus. "Tell me if they will recover, and when they will wake up?"

"I did my best. And I can't tell. If you don't want me to restrain them, you should stay here. It's nearly dinner time and you know we always eat together."

"Yes, alright. I'll stay here. You enjoy your meal." They swallowed the bitterness. There was no need to get upset. They had never been 'we' with the team.

"Good. Let me know if they wake up."

Leader sat to a chair, and at some point, everything blended into each other as they felt their body weight down and pull them deeper towards the silent lullaby their mind chanted.

Blinking, they cursed themselves for nearly drifting off on watch, the first thing they remembered being trusted with in a long time. They stood absurdly, ignoring the dizziness and shaking their head until their vision cleared.

A cry drew their attention, and they made their way to the bed, pushing down the panicking Villain.

"Calm down," they tried, gentle. They always thought they would be doing this to their teammates, not the enemy.

Surprisingly, Villain listened.

"I'll call Medic, is it alright?"

Villain nodded. Leader would like to keep being kind, but they had to get something out of this, or they were both doomed.

They pressed the call button and leaned over Villain.

"I will be honest," Leader started. "I told my higher ups that you're valuable, and I need to give them something soon. Anything works. A name, a place. Even just the numbers of Whumper's forces. I'm sure you understand that I don't want to gain information in other ways. Despite my job, I hate seeing blood."

"I see," Villain whispered, perhaps too stunned. Leader was bad at dealing with people. "I will help."

"Thank you."

-•-

Weeks after accepting Villain, Leader found themselves more tired than ever, with agency pressing for any information and the team having an awkward time with Villain hanging around freely.

Medic was first to warm to the newest addition, even if only a little, so it was weird to hear Villain laugh when Leader knew Medic was away.

Leader made their way to the common space but stopped at the doorframe, too stunned from seeing Youngest of all people sitting and laughing with Villain.

With a relieved sigh, Leader made their way to the kitchen, ignoring the jealousy starting to bloom in their chest. It took Leader months to get a genuine laugh from Youngest.

They buried the tought immediately.

Instead, they focused on what to cook, repetitive movements carrying their thoughts away. They had some time until the agency gave them their next instructions, and they needed peace if they wanted to keep going.

And probably some rest, considering how tired and sore they felt. They were leaning on the counter but still felt too heavy on their feet, struggling to focus.

"What are you doing?"

Leader flinched, taken off guard by the sudden appearance of Right Hand. "Cooking," they answered honestly, not wishing to talk about anything else.

"I mean what do you think you are doing?!" Right Hand snarled. "You just left Youngest alone with them."

"I didn't want to disturb them. They looked like they were having fun."

"Why do you refuse to see? Villain is evil."

"Would you torture me to save Youngest?" Leader asked, cutting sharply. They wouldn't normally do that, but the topic wasn't about them. It was Villain, and someone had to stand up for them. Right Hand frowned as a response.

"Would you?" Leader asked again. If they had said Medic instead of themselves, Right Hand would think. But the answer was obvious.

"Yes," came finally, after so long that Leader thought they would only stare. "But that's irrelevant."

"Why?" Leader asked, but this time they answered themselves. "Because Youngest is family, and one should do everything to keep their family safe." They stopped for a second to let it sink. "That was exactly what Villain was doing. Whumper had their family as a hostage."

"It's not the same! And it doesn't excuse what they did."

"No it doesn't," they turned their head, staring to Right Hand. "But it means you can't judge them solely from their actions. What do you see when you look at them and Youngest?"

They were cut by a notification, an unknown number texting them an address. Leader deleted it before Right Hand could see, but it only earned a suspicious glare. They cursed to themselves, apologising and leaving with a rush. They had to be at the other side of the city in half an hour.

-•-

"You make me look suspicious," Leader greeted Mentor, not caring about their attitude. There had been a time they would tremble with Mentor's one word, but they grew up. Sometimes, Mentor still tried to order them around, but Leader was getting better at standing against those. On a good note, it made Mentor proud, to see Leader managing on their own. At least, that was what Leader wanted to think.

"That's no proper way to greet someone."

"Neither appearing years later with only a location to go is. Just tell me why you came back," they replied back.

"They're suspicious. Wanted me to get a hold of you." Mentor looked just as Leader remembered. Not even a day older.

"You don't trust me," Leader hid the hurt tone in their voice with a fake anger. They weren't supposed to feel hurt. Mentor and them never had a close relationship, and they shouldn't have assumed Mentor would side with them over the agency.

"You're no traitor. But someone working directly above you is."

Mentor's confident tone was the only thing they needed to relax completely.

"I taught you. You can't be a traitor. However, I don't trust you to do what the agency wants you to do."

"And what is it?" they asked. They knew the answer already but had to hear from Mentor.

"They think you are too slow with the progress with Villain."

"I won't torture them," was their immediate answer.

"No, you won't. I would be more concerned if you obeyed the agency this time. I didn't raise a monster. But you have to find a solution. The higher-ups need something in exchange if you want to keep Villain."

So Leader did.

In six hours, Leader was back with the information and a promise to Villain that there was no cleaning duty for a week. They desperately wanted to sleep, their throat hurting from talking too much while interrigating Villain. They needed something warm, free of caffeine despite it being the only way to keep themselves awake at that point. They had texted the emergency number in their contacts, and another location dropped in. This time, it was close enough to walk, and the fresh air was like a blessing to the warm feeling clinging them.

"You look awful," Mentor greeted.

"That's where I learned greeting," Leader muttered.

"I thought you had passed your moody phases by now."

"You look old, but I neither tell this as a greeting nor to your face," they countered. They were sleepy, and they were less tolerant of Mentor, given... everything that happened between them.

"I taught you some respect," Mentor scoffed, sitting down. "Anyway, tell me what you have."

You would look like this if you had everyone breathing down on your neck too.

Leader bit back those words and put a smile on their face with a subtle deep breath.

"I know where Whumper's bases are."

-•-

Leader sank into their blanket, hoping to catch some break. Their blanket was too warm, causing them to realise how cold they were before with the chills wrecking them.

They were soon asleep, but sleeping until morning would be a miracle. Their door was banged before the sun was up.

Leader sat up slowly, their head pounding and vision blurring. The door opened before they could answer, and Right Hand came in with a concerned expression.

"What happened?" Leader croaked, shaking their head slightly to get rid of the exhaustion.

"Agency is making an emergency call."

That was not unexpected, but Leader hoped that it could wait until the morning. Right Hand's expression turned into annoyed with Leader's slow movements. Leader would care, but they felt too sore.

Right Hand let them be, and Leader opened their wardrobe—all black and hard to see in dark. They found their sweatshirt with little struggle, and got dressed. The mere action was enough to leave them exhausted, but they forced themselves to go on.

With the headquarters being close and hour being too early, they walked there at a steady pace. Leader found the once soothing wind freezing, their focus slipping every once in a while.

This continued through the meeting, too, much to their annoyance. Luckily, it was for a coordinated attack on Whumper's forces, and Leader knew every detail of it.

But their eye catched Mentor in the corner, staring directly to them. Mentor disappeared when Leader blinked, and Leader went out right after with a swear.

Following the doors opening and closing, they caught up Mentor in a small briefing room. They coughed as they tried to calm their breaths, their lungs burning with the effort.

"Don't tell me you are out or practise," Mentor didn't even spare a look to Leader bending slightly to their knees, drawing strength from the nearby table.

"Just tired," Leader countered as soon as their coughs subdued, leaving them quite drained. But they couldn't let themselves drop to the chair, a warmth they hadn't felt since their trainee days creeping up. Embarrassment.

They were glad that their hair was covering their ears.

"I, too, am tired but perfectly capable of a little chase. Now listen up because you're going to take one of the bases."

You can't be serious, Leader bit back. They sat down right after Mentor, trying not to make it look like they collapsed, but their mind stuck. No one could handle a base all by themselves.

"It is relatively a small one, at the outskirts of the city. You just have to blow up the foundation of it. Explosives are already prepared, and your truck is ready."

"I..." Leader didn't think they could do it alone, but also they couldn't voice their concern. They were given an order. "What about— what about my team?"

"They're out under someone else's command. And I'm afraid it will stay like that until the agency is clear that you're no traitor."

"This is a trick," they murmured, their controle slipping for a moment. Mentor's gaze softened, and Leader immediately hated the pity. "If I survive, I'm the traitor. How can I prove myself?"

"Just do your job as told. I know you won't let me down and this ridiculous matter will slove itself."

Leader opened their mouth to protest, but a wheeze escaped.

"Are you alright?" Mentor asked immediately. The concern in their voice was foreign. Mentor had never been worried about Leader before.

"Yes," they answered firmly. Mentor reached out to them, but Leader didn't let them. Leader knew they would fall apart at the smallest break they were given. They were in a bad shape, with how emotional and tired they felt, unbecoming of the person they were. They could push through those usually, and crumbling beneath pressure was never an option, until recently.

"Are you sure—"

"I said yes. If this is to relieve your coinscience, i dont need it now. I'm fine and I will do as you told." They cut sharply. I needed when I was young, went unsaid.

Mentor stated silent, and Leader took their leave.

-•-

Leader approached the base with a calculated yet faltering steps, the burdens of exhaustion and their nervousness weighing them down. Each step felt like an eternity, and Leader had to steady themselves against the structure's cold exterior to prevent a fall.

As they worked to plant the explosives, Leader's trembling hands fumbled with the devices. Their body screamed for rest, and the piercing pain in their temples seemed to meld with the weak thud of their heartbeats.

Still, the job had to be done.

But time was a cruel master, and as Leader tried to slip away from the base, they stumbled into the watchful eyes of Whumper's men. It was a trap, and the moment they realized it, it was too late.

Leader found themselves surrounded, their weapon useless with an empty magazine and weak. Panic gnawed at their chest as they faced their captors, a mocking smirk playing on their faces.

But what drained Leader's spirit more was the unexpected appearance of Whumper himself. The cold, empty eyes that had haunted Leader for so long now stared directly into their soul.

"You look even more pathetic than the last time we crossed paths, Leader," Whumper sneered, his voice a chilling echo in the dimly lit space. "Did your agency finally realize you're a little sick puppy? Kicked you to our doorstep, did they?"

Leader tried to summon the strength to respond, but their voice came out as a mere rasp.

Whumper's laughter, a guttural, unsettling sound, filled the room. "I see you've lost your bite, too. How the mighty have fallen."

Whumper's chilling laughter echoed through the room as he closed in on Leader, his shadow casting a sinister presence. "It's almost poetic, isn't it? The great Leader, broken and defeated. What does your precious agency think about you now?"

Leader's voice was hoarse, but there was a spark of determination in their eyes. "They think... they think I'll get the job done."

Leader's vision began to blur as Whumper's men pulled them up.

"You see, Leader," Whumper whispered, leaning closer to their ear, "yoi resort to lies you want to believe. You've failed. But you don't cry. No. Thats not who you are."

Whumper pushed them to the wall from their neck, and Leader gasped, struggling to breathe.

"Any other person would be crying for their teammates or trainers. But you don't have anyone to cry. You are truly alone, and you know it.

Leader knew they wouldn't survive this, but they'd be damned if they didn't take Whumper down with them.

With one final act of defiance, Leader reached to their pocket. They hit Whumper, slipping a tracker to their sleeve as they pushed the remote, triggering a series of explosives placed throughout Whumper's hideout. The chain reaction of blasts tore through the structure, bringing it crumbling down.

Leader's vision blurred, and their body went limp as debris rained down around them.

-•-

When Leader's tracker went on, Mentor's heart stuttered.

They realised something was wrong when Leader didn't check in for transport. And the tracker could only mean that Whumper got away. Leader would never use it if it weren't for last resort.

"They must have let Whumper run away," one mused next to them from the operation centre.

"No," they whispered. "Something— something is not right. I'm getting them back."

They motioned to their friend, knowing they would need help.

[lanelane04]

Third Piece of the Puzzle

I just wanna see a happy family with the reader, Hank and Connor so I impulsively wrote this up at like 1am and I have no idea where this is going. But let me know what you think! This will be a series but it depends on how well my commitment issues will take it.

TW: this does deal with depression and grieving, alcoholism (from Hank) and suicidal intentions. Most of the story takes place from the game itself but just as a warning, please read with caution if those are a trigger.

Very minimal use of (y/n)!

Word count: 2.1k

1 | 2

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Hank Anderson.

He used to be admirable, a role model to look up to. He was someone people would use as a good example of how to be a cop. He was intimidating at first, but after getting to know him? He was the person with the biggest heart out of anyone you knew. He had trained other members of the police force, watching them become good people of law enforcement and get assigned to new partners. He had the title of the youngest lieutenant in Detroit history for a reason. He earned that promotion.

But, after the unfortunate incident with his son, everything changed for the worse.

Who could blame him though? Getting into a horrific car accident on a cold winter day, waiting around for news while your son is having emergency surgery and only being told by the android, who performed the surgery, comes in with nothing but dreadful news.

He couldn't focus on anything else that damn android was saying. In his head, it was so clearly the androids' fault. It was the one who did the surgery, it was the one who couldn't save his son, it's all the robot's fault.

He became everything but a role model for beginner police officers. He started snapping easily, he started relying on alcohol to cope with his grief, his depression, and the spiralling, loud and intruding thoughts that rang in his head. He started rocking up to work after midday, he even skipped work a couple of times. He used to be this, he wasn't that, he never did this, you'll never hear the end of it and neither will he. He couldn't see a way out of the spiral but the alcohol makes things easier temporarily.

He's lucky enough that Captain Fowler won't fire him, even after countless threats for doing so. He's lucky enough to still have a job regardless.

This is where you come into the picture.

You were a detective, you were in the homicide division and very occasionally, you would get assigned a case dealing with deviant androids.

You were his partner. He helped you write reports and show you how they should be written properly. He trained you, he watched you move up the rank and become a detective. He even treated you out to dinner as a little congratulatory party. You were someone he was proud of.

He would get assigned cases with you often; him protecting you and vice versa. Putting oneself in risky situations which lead to arguments after the case.

"Did you even think about how you could've gotten yourself killed by doing that?!"

"They were about to shoot you and you think I'm going to stand back and watch that happen?!"

None of you would let the day end without making up though. Whatever argument happens between the two of you needs to be resolved before any of you go back home.

The two of you would grab lunch together on your breaks, you would hang out outside of work and just have a couple of drinks and talk about anything and everything. He also made sure that his intentions were nothing but friendly since he did not want you to take things the wrong way. Bitching about work, very certain people even, an incident that happened in one of your personal lives. He would occasionally invite you over to his place to play with his son and his lovable dog, Sumo. Sometimes he would even just invite you over to watch the game, only to be shushed by Cole whenever the two of you were being too loud.

He considered you one of his closest friends, family even.

He felt a little embarrassed to consider someone who was relatively younger than him as one of his closest friends, which earned a laugh out of you when he told you one night.

"Seriously, Hank? You're worrying over that?"

"Hey, I never said I was worried about it. I just find it a bit embarrassing being friends with a kid."

"Oh, come on! You're not that old, you're only... Double my age."

"You make me feel old."

But did he care about what others might think?

Never and that hasn't changed.

He started to decline your offers of going out for lunch runs. He wouldn't come up to your desk every morning and annoy you before starting his work. When the two of you went out drinking, it wasn't the same.

He would drink until he could barely walk while you would try and talk him out of the drinks. You would have to drive him home, force him to drink water, give mandatory pets to Sumo, and force him into bed.

Every time, right before you leave his bedroom, he would always call out to you and you would always reply.

"I'm sorry, please don't leave me."

"I'm always here for you, Hank."

Not matter how kind-hearted and understanding you can be of his situation, you need to look after yourself too. Doing this every single week for months on end? It's not healthy. He's becoming slightly dependent on you. It gets tiring looking after someone who's struggling, but if they're not doing anything to help themselves without relying on you, should you really be putting in all that time and effort in?

You can, but there's always a limit.

As much as you love Hank and his old man ways, you can't keep doing this. You're important too. You need to put yourself first.

So you started distancing yourself from him. It hurts doing so, but god was it painful for him to see you avoid him. Even the awkward small talk was unbearable. What happened to keeping things open between the two of you? You knew he would understand if you told him but would he take it well? Absolutely not. You were all he had after Cole's passing.

He knows it's his fault you haven't been doing well and he knows you're avoiding him for the sake of your well-being, he knows. Not only did he lose his son, but he had also managed to lose someone who was family to him, all because of him. It's another spiral he has fallen into.

Androids have become more and more popular. They're everywhere; running their owners' errands, working at any job and place you'll see, helping their owner with a task or simply keeping them company. They're only doing what they're told to do and what they're programmed for.

Captain Fowler had assigned him to be Hank's partner, even after knowing the hatred for androids the old man has. Connor had been assigned to cases involving deviant androids. As much as Fowler wanted him to start straight away, Hank didn't seem to come into work that day.

There was a lack of people in the station tonight, maybe the people on the night shift haven't started yet. The sound of faded pages flipping, chairs rolling and sluggish footsteps filled the room. He walked over to an officer and began his line of questioning.

"Excuse me, I hope I'm not disturbing you." You looked up at him, fatigue clear as ever on your face. You looked him up and down, taking in his presence before speaking. Why did they make an android look so handsome?

"Not at all, can I help you with something?"

"I was hoping you would know where Lieutenant Anderson is at this time." He saw your tired smile drop immediately. He thought of all the reasons as to why you suddenly seemed saddened by the name. What happened? Were you close? Did he do something to you?

"What's your business with him, if you don't mind me asking."

"Captain Fowler has assigned me to work with him as his partner. We will be working on cases involving deviant androids." His voice was monotone, with little to no emotion, no fluctuations in his tone, nothing like that. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting for your response.

"Hank isn't going to like the news of that. I can't believe he's on deviant androids as well..." You mumbled to yourself. "He should be at Jimmy's Bar, I can show you the way there if you'd like?" He nodded to your request, stepping back as he watched you turn off your terminal and grab your jacket. He could easily find the bar himself and he should've declined your offer, it would've been quicker to find him, alone. "What's your name? I don't think I ever got it."

"My name is Connor, I've been sent by CyberLife to assist DPD." You introduced yourself, telling him about which division you're in. You brought up the fact that you have been assigned several cases involving deviants, more as a sign for him to know that he can go to you if he's stuck.

Not like he'll ever need the help.

The walk to the bar wasn't awkward, if anything, you were enjoying the interaction with the android. Connor was interesting, he's unique. It felt good within you, finally having a conversation that wasn't work-related or Detective Reed annoying the living shit out of you. You have other officers that interacted with you, but none filled the gap of a true connection. You missed it.

You missed Hank.

"May I ask you a personal question, detective?"

"Of course, you can, Connor. You're free to ask me anything. But please, just call me (Y/N)." You waited at the zebra crossing, waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn green because you know damn well Connor will be on your ass for jaywalking.

"What's your relationship with Lieutenant Anderson?" He looked down at you, observing your reaction. "You seemed upset by me mentioning him earlier. Has something happened between the two of you?" Do you tell him? Have you told anyone about what happened? Have you been bottling this all up this entire time? Was it right for you to just start emotionally spilling everything to him, at this very moment?

Wow, Hank was really your only friend at the station, how sad.

"We... We used to be close." You started hesitantly. How were you supposed to go on about this? Why is it taking so long for the light to go green? "I used to be his partner before I got my promotion. We still worked on cases together though, just not as much." The blaring noise of the pedestrian light going green interrupted. The two walked to the other side and continued their walk.

"I won't go into too much detail but... Something bad happened that turned Hank into the person he is today. I tried to help him but it was starting to have a bad impact on me when trying to look after him." You saw the neon sign of Jimmy's Bar come into view, making you stop in your tracks.

The feeling of anxiety rushed through you. You came here all the time. Was it because you knew that Hank was inside? When was the last time you talked to him? Or even made eye contact with him? You've spent so long avoiding him, even with occasional awkward small talk. When was the last time you sat down with him and had a chat about anything and everything? How long has it been?

"So I stopped talking to him, for my own sake. You can ask him about it but maybe after getting to know him a bit." The android stood in front of you and nodded. His circle LED showed an orange hue before going back to a calm blue. He had been listening intently to every word you spoke, making sure to not miss a single thing.

"I will head in and see if the lieutenant is inside. Thank you for showing me the way, have a good night." He gave you a nod before making his way towards the entrance of the bar.

"Wait, Connor." He felt the warmth of your hand grip around his wrist. He stared down at you, tilting his head in confusion. You looked like you were having an internal argument with yourself. The way you opened your mouth but nothing came out, the way you avoided making eye contact with him, the tight, trembling grip you had on his hand.

"Is something the matter?"

"Hank is a good person, Connor. He didn't use to be the person you're about to meet. Please trust me on that." Once again, his LED flickered an orange amber before returning to blue.

"I will keep that noted." When you finally looked up at him, relief shown on your face. You let go of his wrist but for some reason, he didn't want you to. He stared down at you, confused about the software instability notification popping up on his window. "I should get going now."

"Oh, of course! Sorry, Connor." And with that, you turned around and started making your way back to the station. Should he keep an eye on you until you got out of sight? It's late, anything could happen at this time of night. He's already stalled enough time on his current mission, he should be going now. He can't waste any more time.

Software Instability^

[nightswithkookmin]

Hey it's been a while, missed your blunt rants and opinions.

Today something just came into my mind when my boyfriend said I'm so bluntly flirty, upfront and bold but when it comes to it being initiated back to me, I usually back out and became shy and reserved. Then I wondered because although Jungkook is shy he can be bold and upfront flirty sometimes too so

Who do you think between him and Jimin is more dirty minded, most to get horny and that can randomly talk about sex and all?

Because I feel like Jungkook is just a small bunny you know all doe eyes and innocent baby while Jimin is more like daddy vibes😅😁

Sometimes I get confused with their dynamic roles in the relationship because at times I would say Jimin is more in the in control role, decision making kinda think but then it changes and I can't exactly tell when and how

That's because they are both flirty and dirty minded and shock the pants off eachother- which is good cos sometimes pants can get in the way of - never mind

I think you are right to assign Jm the decision making role in their dynamic- he's a natural at it being a libra and all that jazz. Then he's the hyung coupled with his high emotional IQ and life experiences especially as a hyung to his own bio bro- there's a reason women make better leaders than men ya know? It's not all about brains, heart matters too.

Fun fact, Jimin once said(drew) if he became a ruler he'd have all his hyungs bow down to him and worship him- except for Jungkook whom he'd coddle like feathery baby- which is odd cos outta the six it is Jungkook whom he had trouble bending to the knee. Couldn't even get him to treat him as a hyung and yet he's the one that gets a pass- even when he is in his ego he shows his heart, love compassion and a weakness for his Maknae( whom he drew as crying like a little bitch in his sketch💀)

On the freaky scale, honey it's a tie between those two I'd say. I love Jimin and he's my bias but sorry he's the freakiest dude I've come across on the internet 😭

And Jeon Jungkook can hold his own too😭😭😭😭

Smooth criminals🥲

There's a reason they both be shitting their pants when the other is dominating their 'fan service' moment or initiating it on stage. Jungkook had Jimin's knee wobbling with that last one

Havent seen that man so terrified of another man in his personal space the gay panic was real bless his heart🤧

Please don't let me think about them poking their tongues at eachother thinking they fast- ah shit

Now I'm going over every freaky thing they've done as if checking off items on my grocery list😭😭😭😭

The beauty about jikook is they challenge the cis heteronormative lens and the fact you feel you can't place them in a strict and set or defined box slash role makes me so happy because you shouldn't be able to put them in any set binary positions because they are a SAME SEX DUO😭

They are both complex human beings both intelligent and affectionate within their own right. Just because Jimin is the elder of the two and is predisposed to being treated as such which puts him in a position where he constantly have to call the shots don't mean he's carved out that niche for himself within their dynamic.

And just because Jungkook is the youngest of the two don't mean he can't make decisions for the two. He can and he should. He has my full support on that- Jimin can be a little dish out-can't take-dude sometimes.

And we see this play out in the little things- Jimin whispering to Jungkook asking if he wants to do something, Jungkook nodding or shaking his head at whatever it is Jimin asked just him.

Then sometimes he's not asking Jk, he's telling, he's reasoning with him, imposing on him- like grabbing him, pushing his limits, glaring at him, directing him, commanding him and Jungkook let's him.

Then JK on the other hand- he doesn't say much, you don't see him consulting or trying to reason through decisions with Jimin- he's not asking Hey JM would like my jacket you seem cold, he's just commanding him to take it because he's cold. He's not asking, do you want help with that box it looks heavy, he's taking it from him whether Jimin likes it or not because he's a gentleman.

He isnt much of a negotiator like Jimin is. And that's what makes them unique from any other ship. This dynamic they have- and its unique to Jikook and Jikook alone. I don't see Jk like this with anybody else.

And I wouldn't say that makes JM better than him or vice versa because it boils down to differences in their personalities. they express themselves in different ways because they are different.

Gosh, I wish you could see the images in my head whenever I'm writing about them like this. Its one moment after the other, It would make so much sense to yall.

Also permit me to overstep, most times I find persons who are able to flirt shamelessly but act shy when they are being treated the same do so out of one or a combination of the following reasons: self projection. They project themselves on the other person and judge themselves from that perspective. So they might be thinking damn that's so cringey, do I look this cringy when I do it etc. They shy because they self criticizing.

Then there are those who don't project necesarily but still engage in critiques and judgements of the situation especially if they think they themselves are better at flirting than their partner, or if they think their partner is doing too much, going outside their personality, faking things, copying them, or just being cringe. They shy because they embarrassed.

The opposite of that is putting your partner on a pedestal and thinking damn they hot, or they good at this, almost idolizing them in a way that inspires you to be more like them because you find whatever it is attractive and want to attract them too. They shy cos they whipped. (This is the case with Jikook I think or perhaps a mixture of both)

So in your case do you feel that's what's happening when your bf initiates? Do you feel shy because he's good at it and that gives you butterflies or do you feel shy because you think they cringe as hell? 👀

I'm asking for science.

[magical-xirl-4]

How would a wholly genderbent shugo chara go in your opinion.

I'm thinking hard about this and at first I thought nothing about the plot would change, but after brainstorming I believe some key parts about the story would definitely be different. I think most characters role's and characterisations would stay the same because their gender doesn't influence the part they play in the story, but some characters definitely would have a different role because their gender affects those things, and so they may have a different arc if they were the "opposite" gender (and dammit it always comes back to the characters who have the most family trauma).

I'm gonna talk about the characters who wouldn't change much first:

Amu would still have a tough facade but may be seen more as a delinquent (I believe their would-be-selves would largely stay the same), Kukai would still be great at sports, instead having a family full of sisters and being the youngest sister, Yaya would have to try to be a good older brother to a baby sister but they might get less slack from their parents about wanting to be the baby forever, Kairi would stay the same there is no doubt about it, and Tadase would too. However I will acknowledge how somewhat ground-breaking it would be to see these characters as the "opposite" gender in these roles (that isn't played for mockery): Amu yearning to wear pink, be more domestically skilled and be seen as cute (could be heavily transfem coded), Kukai being a masculine sporty girl, Yaya indulging in cutesy baby stuff as a boy, and Kairi dreaming of being a samurai (could be transmasc coded).

As for Nagi, Rima, Ikuto and Utau I think their stories could be drastically different.

For Nagi's you'd have to do some playing around. In a genderbent scenario they'd be female forced into a male role... but for what reason? I don't know any boy exclusive sports or arts and to be honest I don't know if there is such a thing. I guess Nagi could be born into a family where only men carry on the tradition of... kendo? But that's not comparable because kendo is a mixed gender martial art, whereas jiuta mai (highly likely to be what their family practices) is for women only. So, my proposal is go full throttle on the trans narrative and have Nagihiko be assigned female at birth, starting out as Nadeshiko, and then transition throughout the story and come out as a transmasc genderfluid person. Nagi is already basically a trans metaphor in canon so why not just do it for real? It'd be so powerful in a story about being true to yourself. You literally get the same character arc but with the transness now being obvious. Nagi/Nade still loves traditional dancing, but yearns to express themselves like a boy would and do boyish things. It literally fits so well even though it's not... exactly “gender-bending” but this is my post about gender and shugo chara so I can do what I want.

Moving on, Rima's story could be extremely different. Truth of the matter is, girls are preyed upon more than boys (even though violence against young boys and men does happen) and it's specifically because of Rima's cute and fem appearance that she was targeted for her kidnapping. Her near kidnapping led to her parents lashing out at each other and becoming dysfunctional, forming Rima's dream of wanting to make people happy so she could have a happy family again. I think there's a lot of complexity with how she views herself too because she knows that as a cute girl she can get whatever she wants from boys, and like... this danger and advantage she has is something so intrinsic to the fact that she is a girl. So if she were a boy, I feel like the reason for the family dysfunction would be different and their general attitude at the start would be different. But like I said, boys can be put in danger too and could develop a complex relationship with their appearance. It's an extreme of totally different, or roughly the same.

Okay, so... Utau and Ikuto. Why do I feel like their roles would be completely reversed?

Utau would still be the younger one, but because they'd be a boy I feel like they'd be less pushed into the idol role and more pushed into the role of what Ikuto was doing in canon: cleaning up Easter's mess (though male idols do exist so maybe they'd be one anyway). In turn, I feel like Kazoumi would want to make Ikuto the face of Easter's entertainment sect as a violin prodigy. Kazoumi is a slime ball and treats his step-son like dirt but I feel like he'd treat them like he does with Utau and make them marketable as a female idol, of sorts.

But wait wouldn't that mean Kazoumi is female in this universe...? Okay so maybe their roles would stay the same because I can completely see the evil-step mother thing happening with Ikuto still doing the dirty work. Though it'd be funny if Kazoumi was the only character that didn't get genderbent and possibly got together with fem Aruto instead (which she'd hate um)... unless he's a gay man in this universe and went with male Souko, which would be closer to canon lmfao.

[cubic-brain]

DETROIT: BECOME NA'VI

Atwow × gn!android!reader

Words : 2,426

warnings : gunshot & blood

Summary : you're an android that's desighed to obey orders and collect stuff, what you didn't know is that you would get attached to someone that will lead you to become a deviant.

A/n : this was supposed to be a oneshot but it seems like it had turned into a series, at least my writing skills will improve but I'll need ideas to do so.

Part 2 , Part 3

Android na'vis, android na'vis became a thing when the RDA had collaborated with CyberLife. They decided to create them as they got tired of making more avatars just for them to get killed. CyberLife had made 3 main android na'vis for the RDA. Let's list them :

-The fighters :

The fighters were made specifically for fighting, they have high knowledge in weapons and fighting skills. They're known for having thicker skin and skeleton to not get damaged easily. The fighters are really important as many didn't have to worry about damaging their avatars.

-The medics :

The medics or the doctors as some refer to are the second most important thing next to fighters. They're always seen next to avatars when they're fighting. They have high knowledge in medicine and they're good in preforming surgeries. Many had their avatars saved by the medics. There for they play an important role.

-The collectors :

The collectors are the third important androids in the base, they aren't just known for collecting materials but for also having other skills such as crafting , taming animals , self defense and cooking. Though their whole purpose is to collect materials, they're fast and durable with their job. The special thing about them is that they're the youngest looking, 13 to 16 year old teenagers. The RDA were happy about them as many had lost their avatars from wild animals.

Well, the androids finally arrived. The scientists had inspected each one of them, they're all in good shape and form. Now all they had to do is transfer them to their right places.

"And you are...?" "I'm Y/n, a collector." They answered and the scientist, they looked around the place as the scientist kept asking questions, Y/n was listening and answering as they looked around the base to find other androids. Y/n was fascinated by the other na'vi kinds, desert na'vis, reef na'vis, snow na'vis and even moth na'vis. They're all being transferred to their right places. "I think it's better if we pair you with Chase" the scientist spoke up catching Y/n's attention again. Chase was a fighter, he was taller than the rest of the androids which made him easy to spot. "Me and Chase?" They asked, the scientist nodded as they got in the lab with Y/n following after them. "There you are!" The scientist exclaimed as they spotted Chase who was standing next to the other scientist who were examining something. The scientist finally got close to Chase and started to tell him the plan. Chase and Y/n looked at each other after the man stopped explaining the plan to them. The scientist raised an eyebrow at them as he waited for an answer. The two eventually nodded and packed their items for tomorrow's work.

The next day went as usual, preparing and checking the tools. Y/n stepped outside as Chase followed behind them. Y/n was assigned to collect a couple of materials so it won't take them long to get back to the lab. Y/n wandered around the forest as they scanned for the materials they needed, Chase was also scanning for any signs of danger. The two were walking deeper in the forest as the awkward silence kept them focused. The duo kept glancing at each other every 5 minutes to ensure they're ok as they got deeper.

Not so long after and Y/n finally found the needed materials, they kneeled down and got their tools out and began their work, Chased took a step closer to them and turned his back on them to shield them if anything happens. After minutes of Y/n crouching and stuffing materials in their back they finally stood up and looked at Chase, "I think we're done here" they said calmly as they started walking and looking back at the android who followed behind. This was their job now, just collecting stuff and watching their backs. This had continued for weeks and the awkward connection began fading away as they got closer.

The two androids began throwing lame jokes at each other, they began surprising and scaring each and tease each other any moment their given. These two were hardly seen alone as they spent every day next to each other. They had each other's backs in any situation. They had a father and kid bond. Sometimes the other androids and scientists would find them resting next to each other, they were inseparable.

It's been a little while since Y/n and Chase would be seen standing next to each other. They were called "the inseparable" by scientists as a joke from being close to each other all the time. Lately, Y/n had starting noticing Chase disappearing sometimes, he'd go out alone without anyone else and without getting demands by the colonel. Y/n brushed it off as the other fighters were also going outside. It became even weirder as Chase began spending more time outside without Y/n, that made them worried.

Y/n placed the coffee on the desk as they were demanded, they turned their head by the sudden loud noise they heard which also got the attention of the scientists and androids. Another fighter was holding Chase by the hair as he stood in front of Quaritch, Chase had a guilty look on his face and his stress level was high. Y/n was shocked to find him held down like that. Chase was then pushed to his knees and was held down tightly by the other fighter.

"Sir I found the reason why Chase was disappearing in the forest a lot." The fighter spoke as they looked at the colonel, Quaritch wasn't paying much attention to that. "I caught him speaking to a native" that's when Quaritch snapped his head towards the two. The colonel stepped closer to the two and asked "repeat?....", the fighter repeated what they had said and began telling more about what they saw.

Chase was caught talking to a native and engaging in other behaviors such as following her and getting closer to her, the fighter continued speaking and revealing more of Chase's relationship between the native. He had mated with her. Chase looked at the ground in shame as the fighter uttered that part in a louder tone for everyone to hear. Y/n got closer to the scene to check on Chase, his stress level were going up. The fighter continued ranting as Quaritch looked at Chase in pure shock as he had trusted him, Chase then looked at Y/n who's led was flashing red as they looked back at Chase.

As they fighter stopped talking Quaritch looked at them then back at Chase. Quaritch had a sour expression on his face as he looked at the deviant. "shoot him" Quaritch demanded as he looked at the other android who's holding Chase. Y/n's heart was beating fast as they stared helplessly at Chase, Chase and Y/n shared one last look before the fighter raised the gun to his head. Y/n stood there frozen as the android raised the gun to Chase's head. Chase broke eye contact and looked down as he closed his eyes.

A loud gun shot was heard as the bullet fired through Chase's head. Blood had spattered everywhere as Chase's head made contact with the ground. The lab was quiet for a moment, Y/n felt something snap inside of them as they looked at Chase's body. Quaritch gave Chase's body a dirty look before leaving the lab. The androids lifted Chase's body and carried it away as the others cleaned his blood from the lab floor. Y/n couldn't even comprehend what had happened. They took slow steps away as they gradually got, they were looking at their feet the whole way they walking to their room. They had no other choice but to leave.

It was now night and everyone was resting from the work that had drained the energy out of their bodies. Y/n was now at the door, the only thing they had is their stun gun and pocket knife. The stepped outside and made sure they're careful with their steps. When they finally got to deep in the forest they started running, they were running as fast as they could away from the place they were supposed to stay at. They ran and ran until they got to the heart of the forest, Y/n sat their back against a tree and stared at nothing.

Y/n was too quiet as their thoughts raced in their mind. That's when the realization hit them. Chase is gone. Y/n didn't know what was happening to them as their vision got blurry and they started shaking, hot tears began streaming down their face as they sobbed of the thought of losing their friend. They were sobbing too hard that they weren't aware of the person that was watching them. Y/n continued crying as they couldn't bare the idea of losing Chase.

Y/n snapped their head when they heard a twig snap, tears were still pouring out of their eyes as they looked around. The android then spotted a slim figure coming towards them, Y/n wiped their eyes to get a better look at the person. A native, she had a concerned look on her face as she looked down at the android. She had long braided hair that reached her torso and and an accessory that was made from feathers and gems, her lion cloth was purple and her song cord had a collection of shiny rocks and gems.

She kneeled down and glanced at the teen who was crying and shaking, she got closer and opened her mouth to speak. "What are you doing here? This place is dangerous you can't stay here or else the animals will get you" her voice was calm and gentle, Y/n could hear the worry in her voice. Y/n looked down as they didn't know what to say, "why are you crying?" She asked as she settled down next to the teen who was still tearing up.

Y/n looked down as they spoke up "my friend w-was killed" Y/n stuttered as they tried not to break down in front of the woman. The woman frowned at the android's words and comforted them. Y/n closed their eyes to prevent the tears from falling as they sighed "I'm so sorry" the na'vi muttered, she looked at the teen who was grieving of the loss of their friend and asked "what's your name?". Y/n looked up at her then back at their lap, the sighed again and looked at her "Y/n"

The na'vi's eyes widened at the answer, Y/n looked at her with a confused expression as the woman looked at them with wide eyes. She then took Y/n's face in her hand and turned it the other way to look at their led. "Y/n....." She mumbled under her breath, Y/n looked at her confused. "You're the one that Chase told me about" Y/n's eyes got wide at the confession, 'is she the one that Chase was in love with?' They thought. "Who are you?" The android asked quietly as they made eye contact with the na'vi. "Call me Amal" she spoke. Amal then tilted her head at Y/n who looked at her in shock.

Y/n got up and looked at Amal who was still crouching, "where's is your clan?" They asked. Amal stood up and looked down at the teen. Amal opened her mouth but closed it and started walking, "follow me" she looked at Y/n then back at her path. Chase had told Amal everything about Y/n so now she's leading them to her home. Y/n followed behind the taller woman as she led them to her home place.

Many clan members had stared at Y/n who was walking behind Amal, some had their weapons in hand and some pushed their children behind them for their safety as they looked at Y/n's clothing. Y/n ignored them as they continued walking behind Amal who was looking for someone. After walking for a bit Amal stopped and looked at Y/n who was nervous. Y/n then looked up to see a familiar figure. It was Jake Sully. Jake looked at Amal then at Y/n who was behind her.

Amal had started explain Y/n's situation to the olo'eyktan who listened carefully, she explained that Y/n had told her. From the RDA coming back and Quaritch trying to find Jake. Jake was quiet when Amal stopped talking, he looked at Y/n then back at Amal. The olo'eyktan then agreed to let Y/n stay as long as they learn their ways and help them out with the wars they're getting into.

Amal then took Y/n's hand and started walking to her tent, after getting in she immediately started going through one of the boxes. Y/n stood there awkwardly as they watched the woman look through the box. Amal then stood up and walked towards Y/n and handed them something, "wear this" she spoke. Y/n looked at their hands to see a lion cloth and an accessory with it. They thanked Amal who then went out to continue her work, they took off the clothes that the RDA had gave them and wore what they got from Amal. It was a grey lion cloth and a beaded necklace/top. It looked nice. After wearing them Y/n stepped out and went to look for Amal. They looked around and found her sitting near the fire pit, they walked towards her and sat next to her. She looked at them as they settled down then went back to her work. Y/n was quiet for a second then spoke up "I would like to help," Amal's eyes then found their way to Y/n again, "I'd help with anything. Just give me a task" they begged. Amal sighed, she looked back at the android who was hoping for a task to be given to them. "Tomorrow, tomorrow you will learn and have tasks" she reassured them, "get some rest now" she patted their shoulder as they nodded and stood up, they walked back to the tent and laid down. 'Guess tomorrow is a new start' they thought as they closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep.

A/n : english isn't my first language so excuse any grammar mistakes and don't be afraid to point out any spelling mistake cuz I'll fix it.

And I just wanted to say a big thanks to @fl3shm4id3n as she was the one that inspired me to start writing, her stories gave me enough courage to publish my own. Thank you Cereza! :D

[lovesick-panmess]

The Sun Lives Forever (Until it Dies)

Raphael looks out to the demolition in front of him, wondering how long he can trick himself into thinking that the monstrous pink tentacles are actually the green pines in the forest way back then. When the worst monster they had to face was made out of ancient armor, all he needed to do was have faith in his brothers to catch him, active the ninpo that rested deep inside that reassured him that he wasn’t alone.

He was falling and his brothers were nowhere around to catch him.

-------

‘I don’t want to die.’ A childlike cry comes from inside himself, the tears blur his vision back to reality where he is, in fact about to die.

As kids, Donnie enjoyed assigning them roles that correlated with whatever topic of interest he was studying that week. 

It started with the four elements of matter, in which Raph was Earth, Donnie was Fire, Leo was Water, and Mikey was Air (this sparked a lengthy debate between the brothers as well as a TV marathon of ‘Avatar the Last Airbender’ whenever their dad wasn't hogging the TV), and even the parts of a cell (Raph will never understand Donnie's cried insistence that he was the mitochondria but wore it as a badge of honor anyways).

Then came the solar system. 

It had been exceptional for one topic to entirely hold their attention, and Mikey's delicate touch in artistry always complemented Donnie's narrative of a vast and fascinating space. Raph was content to simply listen to the cosmic realm that lay far beyond the swearing, while Leo enjoyed examining and reading the interesting factoids.

"Keeping it within the Milky Way, Raphie would definitely be the Sun in my brilliant mind. I don't mind being specifically the moon of the Earth, albeit I might hop a little. Given that his ego provides more than enough fuel to keep him blazing, Nardo is the stars, and Angelo is the comets since he would be responsible for destroying the dinosaurs just as he is for destroying my technology."

Mikey attempts to kick away the scrap metal he was currently painting on. 

The slider leaped up and down in excitement despite the soft-shell’s jabs at him, shaking Mikey fiercely as he did so and saying, "Whatever Don-Bon. Be a dull moon; I'll be a star! I am the stars’ ruler; Michael, you gotta draw me-“  When Raph turns to Donnie, who is still reading intently, the two youngest brothers' chatter fades to the background. "Dee, why is it so obvious that I'm the Sun? Raph thinks Mikey fits it better, he shines so brightly with that smile of his.”

As any rational thought would be quickly swept away and the victim (yes, you heard that correctly) would become a mindless slave for the time being, the box turtle's smile was a sight to be avoided and adored. Despite that, Raph would be more like the Sun than Mikey because of his shining, gentle demeanor, which held an ineffable warmth to their days. "You have to be", Donnie begins to shake his head while waving his palm in the air and looking away from the eldest. "Because you are the center of our universe, it only makes sense for us to revolve around you. And you, Raph, are like sunshine personified. You shine sufficiently bright.”

Raph now has to look away before he ensnares Donnie in a bear hug for the remainder of the day as the genius's face twists and he carefully looks up, obviously questioning whether he said the correct thing but the goofy grin on his brother's face gives him all the answer he needs. As Leo and Mikey's disagreement intensifies, Raph turns around and hastily holds out his arms to keep the two of them apart before they collide.

“The stars are prettier!”

"Comets are stronger!"

“Well the Sun is pretty and powerful, it can also never die. So Raph wins and you two bozos can stop arguing.” He responds with a triumphant grin, shrinking slightly in the face of the death glares he receives. He turns over his shoulder for Donnie to support him, but the genius had already left the premises.

Donnie returns with a presentation that is tilted ‘The Moon is superior, now bask in my glory..” He doesn’t make it past the first slide before getting tackled.

——-

Raphael feels the sensation of a falling star.

Most likely as a result of him actually falling. (Obviously)

Raph wonders how long he can fool himself into thinking that the pink monstrous tentacles are truly the green trees in the forest from back then as he looks out at the devastation in front of him. The ninpo that lay inactive inside him now, when it once reassured him that he wasn't alone and activated when the scariest creature they had to battle was made of ancient armor and all he had to do was trust his brothers to catch him.

His brothers aren’t here. 

The tears start flowing immediately, and yet the regret does not. Leo's portals weren't working, Mikey was unresponsive, they were encircled, and Donnie was on the verge of shutting down, which wouldn't help them any. He recognized what being the bait could cost him. Leo's expression of panic and futility could be seen from far away, and the slider was unable to come up with a solution.

But that was okay, Raph is the big brother, he picks up after his baby brothers. (They’re little, they don’t know any better)

‘I don’t want to die. I don’t wanna go.’ A childlike cry comes from inside himself and he swears that he has been falling forever, his heart clenches in terror as his mind flashes through remembrances of Leo's laughter and jibes, Donnie's ramblings of various scientific findings, and Mikey's experiments with different dishes, and the cold, horrifying realization that he will never experience those again.

“But you saved them. They are safe in the turtle tank by now.” Mind Raph replies, images of taking Brother Kraang with him but, of course, the monster was forced to use one last resort. Raph tries to ignite his ninpo once more, but the red flicker that envelopes his wrists quickly fades and serves as final proof that fighting is hopeless.

As he sobs and wails in the face of death, he tries in vain to console himself by wrapping his arms around himself. Mind Raph can be heard softly humming, "A memory then. A distraction.” 

Since the sight in front of him is already transitioning, Raphael is unable to reply.

——-

It was Leo’s pick for movie night and he has grown a love for horror movies at the ripe age of 10. Raph catches himself blinking in surprise and quickly moves to remove his brother from sight before frowning in frustration and responding, "I don't know Leo. Are you sure that Donnie and Mikey can handle it as well?” The cover art wasn't particularly horrifying, but the pool of blood at the bottom was realistic enough to give him a slight uneasiness. 

“Disregarding the fact that I am being discussed as if I am not even present. I have done significant research on the movie, certainly not sufficient to be spoiled, but other than three possible sequences I should be able to watch this film without concern.” Donnie says, citing the lists of highlights and drawbacks for the eldest to see on the screen. Mikey pips up, “Pluss, my favorite actors Jackie Duff and Ashton Canon are in lead roles! So there is no way I am missing this masterpiece.” 

From a great height, Leo could be seen grinning and encircling Raph, remarking, "And I know losing 3 to 1 is a defeating loss, bro. But, ask Dad like you always do; after all, you are his favorite.”

Even trying to fight against his brother's puppy eyes was pointless (Raph loathes being such a pushover, but their happiness was truly contagious and he just can not say no). He nods simply before heading to their father's room from the living room.

The fact that their father was even engaged in their activities was one of the many illusions that Raph worked so hard to maintain. Most of the time, the 12-year-old had to check in twice a day to make sure that their father is even still alive.

Because one day he’ll forget, he’ll forget to check and Dad would be dead for hours. 

Holding the poster, he shakes the notion from his head while gazing into the rat's lifeless eyes and paying attention to the rat's ears as they occasionally twitch. “Pops?” He speaks quietly, but he is fully aware that there will be no reaction. Instead, he makes an effort to time himself; if Raph could do it, their "chat" would go no longer than three minutes.

There had been times were Raph used to talk, hoping it would be encouraging enough to get some kind of response but hope had been sucked out of him as all he could look at was his dad’s empty shell. The room felt suffocating and he had already woken up more anxious than usual today, he can not stop himself with the instinct to run out so run out he does. 

Splinter doesn’t even blink when the door slams.

“Well? Well? What did Dad say?” Mikey asks with Raph’s return, bouncing off the couch eagerly and into his arms, giggling when he gets twirled. “Pops says we can watch, but we still need to go to bed at 9 like always.” That earns him cheers and a light kiss on his cheek from Leo, it suppresses all the bad feelings, even for a little bit. 

“Let’s go make dinner so we have plenty of time to watch.” 

The film wasn't as bad as his imagination had made it out to be; some scenes had him burying his face in the cushions as the protagonists ran through the haunted mansion. Mikey was enjoying the sarcastic quips as well as pointing out the symbolic meanings tied into the monster's backstory, while Donnie and Leo were both loudly commenting on how moronic it was for the heroines to lock themselves inside the residence to hold back the monster. Overall, it was an exciting night that put them all to sleep easily.

Raph, on the other hand, couldn't sleep.

His mind replayed the scene in which each family member was picked up and dragged away, the grief-stricken wails echoing loudly. He hugs Captain Snuggles even tighter, his gaze fixed on the door at the slightest sound. 

Footsteps can be heard down the hall, and his heart quickens as he listens intently, his brain quickly registering the steps as Donnie, who always tried to be quick and quiet, but the creeks of the floor gave him away. He opens the door, beating Donnie to it, but is stopped by the sight of stray tears.

The soft-shell turned away, wiping away tears of embarrassment, and gently tugged on Donnie's sweater sleeve, Raph pulls him into a hug but decided to leave space in case it became too much. “You wanna talk about it, Dee?” The silence between them lasts until Donnie pulls himself away slightly in favor of signing. 'My brain is exacerbating the dinner scene. It's as if I can hear the blood, it's so disgusting- Leo picking on me before I came to you wasn't helping.'

If Raph had to guess, Leo is probably scared to, but the need to act as if he isn't causing the slider to deflect with jokes. ‘ You know how he is, always gotta be the brave one. Sleep with me? If you want. You’re always welcome too.’ He suggests, pushing the door open with a small grin in response to Donnie's nod. He was completely right about the movie being too much, but it wasn't the time to point fingers. They’re little, they don’t know any better.

Raph turns as Donnie climbs into his bed, hearing sniffles and Mikey's loud footsteps, which sounded identical to his own. The box turtle was by the doorway, and all it took was for the youngest to jump into the comfort was to leave his arms outstretched and open. “Aw the movie was scary, wasn’t it? Don't worry baby…Raphie’s here." Despite the youngest's recent claim to independence, it was good to be able to hold him tight like this. Raph places a kiss on Mikey's temple, becoming a little overwhelmed with emotion.

Mikey was the quickest to fall asleep, now basking in the presence of his brothers and Donnie's sleepy expression proves he is not that far behind. Still, Raph is alert and tries to ignore his own fatigue for Leo who hasn’t made his way towards his room, and no footsteps to be heard. He gets up, deciding to simply retrieve the slider himself, and makes his way down the hall quickly turning at the sound of the door creaking open. 

They make brief eye contact before Leo quickly closes the door, "Go away Raph! I’m all right." The lie feels natural, but the tremors in his brother's voice upset him. Raph leans against the door, putting light pressure on the wood. “Leoo..” He softly hums his name, just like he used to when he was trying to convince Leo out of bed when they were little.

It works, just a little bit because he's able to see the red markings peeking through the crack in the door. Raph smiles wide enough that his snaggletooth appears and does it again for good luck, “Leoo..ruler of the stars.” He can hear the defeated giggle and pushes the door away in favor of scooping his brother up in his arms.

"I didn't mean to tease Don, just—I don't know... It made sense in my head," Leo confesses after a while. "I didn't want to be scared.” What Leo really implied was that he didn't want Donnie to be scared, which goes unsaid "It's okay if you're scared, Lee; I was too." The look of disbelief on his face causes laughter to bubble up in his throat, "It's true! Big brothers get terrified as well. Every time. But you know what really helps?" He starts walking back to his room, Leo by his side.

"I know that I got the moon, the stars, and the comets looking out for me.”

When they return, Donnie is still awake despite his exhaustion, and it's clear that the genius was awaiting them both. He easily slips out of Mikey's grasp, and Leo shuffles awkwardly but lets himself be dragged to bed by his twin, who fondly flicks his brow. Raph is mystified by the sight but decides to chalk it up to twin telepathy, despite Donnie's adamant denial.

The snapping turtle settles in last, the weight of his own anxiety keeping him from rest; he feels everything, and the hammering of his heart is certain to set him off. ‘My babies’ His heart cries out in fear, clinging to his sleeping brothers with a ferocity that, surprisingly, does not wake them. He’ll protect them, he will he swears it.

Fragments of emotion bind him, but it's as if the puzzle is damaged. The pieces don't quite fit, as well as tides of emotion that threaten to whisk him away squeeze at his heart. The love of a father inside the body of a brother.

The sensation evaporates almost as quickly as it emerged, and an unsteady inhale grounds him as his heart speaks again.

‘ My babies.’ Soft and fond this time, with a gentleness.

‘ My boys.’ His mind responds with a fuzzy warm feeling in his chest, and he unconsciously hugs his brothers tighter.

In the bliss of a memory, Raphael doesn’t even feel when his body hits the ground.

———

Donatello detests it when they separated, even though he sees the advantages; after all, one Kraang wouldn't be capable of pursuing them all in various directions. He knows Raph, they all do, and his altruistic brother always does something unsafe for their benefit, never his own. He'd just yelled at Leo for pulling the same stunt during one of their expeditions.

He supposes it was the pot calling the kettle black.

Still, their older brother hadn't arrived at the rendezvous point, causing Leo to worry, and Mikey's hopeful smile didn't last the walk back to the disintegrating building. The soft-shell is glad to have updated trackers on his brothers now more than ever (the apocalypse providing all sorts of technological advancement), but he tries not to focus on the fact that Raphael's tracker isn't moving.

Mikey is the first to notice him, tears streaming down his cheeks at the state of the snapping turtle, and he does his best not to rattle him awake, "Raph! Guys, he's not waking up-" Leo blanches with one look at his brother, quickly turning around and clutching the handles of his swords, his voice wavering, "Donnie, scan and do what you can, I'm going to teleport us back to base."

Protest feels ineffective because he knows Leo will have trouble opening the portal from the distance they were from the base, and they are all exhausted from the battle just moments before. Raph, on the other hand, doesn't have time for doubts, and a quick scan of his body tells Donnie what his heart already knows: 'Raph won't make it.’ Mikey covers his mouth and shakes his head in disbelief, implying that he said it aloud. The box turtle focuses his hands on his brother's plastron. "I'm going to heal him, I know I can do it!"

Even if stubbornness is an Hamato trait, Donnie is grateful for it right now.

Raph's eyes open slightly and turn to gaze at him while he watches Mikey's mystic energy surround their brother, and Donnie swears he will never insult the realm of mystic abilities again. He could see the strain on his hands and knows that Mikey is only buying them more time.

That is a terrifying thought.

'Keep him awake, keep him awake until Leo makes a portal,’. His brain prompts him to speak, but the words die on his tongue as Raph's gaze softens. "Hey, Dee... It's fine to cry, you know... You are always welcome to sleep with me." Donnie doesn't understand, clutching the snapping turtle's hand tightly and trying to keep the sobs from raging through his body, seeing how distant Raph's eyes appeared.

The magic comes to a halt with the youngest appearing to be on the verge of passing out and new cracks running from his fingertips and down his arms; Mikey cries against Raph's plastron, completely overcome with grief, but Raph remains reassuring. “Aw that movie was scary..wasn’t it? It's all right, Raphie is here." The crying intensifies, yet Mikey covers his mouth to quiet his sobs to no avail. Donnie activates his ninpo creating a shield to cover them as well as muffle their sounds; they deserve this moment without fear of being heard.

Raph’s expression becomes troubled, unable to see the slider next to him despite looking as far as he can, Donnie watches Leo’s ninpo barely flicker but he keeps trying, swinging his weapon in different directions and bitter determination in his gaze. His brother will not die. He can’t. 

“Leo.”

“Look if Raph is trying to lecture me, tell him to save it for the base-“

“Leo,” Donnie repeated himself, burning rage in his gut because it's a waste of time to keep trying, Leo is wasting time, and Raph doesn't have much left. He has to lean in to hear whatever whispers his dying brother is uttering, but he tries regardless. "You know how he is...always the brave one." It rips his wrath apart, staring down at Raph and then back at Leo, taking in his twin's trembling stance with his tears soaking the ground underneath him. “Spirits, Donnie, why isn’t it working?! Why can’t I do this?”

Silence replied, mocking them for their failure, and Leo bristles in fury until Raph speaks, obviously, the lingering feeling of death is not enough to stop him from consoling his brothers. “Leo..” The snapping turtle hums in a familiar tone of childhood, coaxing and gentle, breaking Leo's heart even more as he shakes his head. "Leo…ruler of the stars.” Raph smiles, and all of his determination evaporates as the slider races to the eldest side, apologies and loving affirmations spilling through his lips. “Raphie...Raphie..” He calls out his brother's name fervently.

“It’s okay if you’re scared Lee. I am too..”Raph’s voice wavers, his eyes becoming less distant and far more clear than before, Donnie can feel the way he stiffens and feels his own heart drop. 

“I don’t wanna go..” 

Donnie clenches his teeth, knowing that his brother does not deserve this. Raph deserves life, the longest possible life with his brothers, and endless bliss that not even the spirits could bring. His mind rattles on and on, spiraling in his thought because for all his genius and intellect he can not give his brother the life he deserves.

‘You could give him rest?’ His heart suggests, his gaze now fixed on Raph's tears as the notion of dying dawned on him, the soft-shell recalling the distant look in his eyes just moments before. Donnie nods determined that he will be the one to provide his brother the rest he deserves rather than death.

"It's okay, Raph." Words start to freeze in his throat, but he presses on, even attempting to be reassuring as he smiles through the agony, cupping Raph's cheek, and trying not to shatter at the undivided attention. "It's fine if you want to sleep."

Mikey's eyes widen as he realizes what he's doing, but it doesn't quite register with Leo as he takes in Raph's look. The snapping turtle's brown eyes fluctuate as he walks the border between reality and the memory provided to him, but he lacks the strength to fight for awareness and slips back with ease. Donnie breathes a sigh of relief, ignoring Leo's intense glare but still grabs his twin's hand, "Need to make sure Leo and Mikey don't have any nightmares, plus Raph isn't exhausted."

It's difficult to determine which memory Raph is in because he's been caught so many times for warmth after a nightmare, but the argument was there on the tip of his tongue, childish and full of errors but it had worked between the two all the same. "Well, since you're half asleep and I'm wide awake, I'm the most awake older brother by default, so you have to listen to me."

He laughs and for a brief moment Donnie feels so much relief in the rumble of the snapping turtle’s chest, “That doesn’t make sense Dee…” He laughs wetly, even in memories, Raph’s fondness never fades. Donnie squeezes Leo’s hand tighter and rubs his thumb against the scars that decorated the eldest’s cheek, his own heart begs for some sort of release from the anguish still he persists for Raph.

“It makes perfect sense, Raphael! Who is the genius here? Me or you?” The way Raph’s eyes threaten to close makes his blood freeze, he watches his own hands tremble and feels how faint his brother’s heartbeat is. “You are..” Another laugh more quieter than the last, “Just a small nap, okay?”

“The smallest.”

“Wake me up later?”

Donnie's source of strength? He didn't have an answer, but he allowed the last words his brother ever hear to be a lie. "Of course, Raphie...I'll wake you up later," he says, even as he sobs, ignoring the way his skin is burning. He watches the lights of life leave Raph’s eyes, death claiming the snapping turtle and taking his last breath. 

Their Sun dies right in his arms. 

The world around them grew darker, time passed, and all Donnie could hear were Mikey's muffled screams. Comets collided with the Earth whenever the youngest smashed the surface below them in rage. Leo, spirits, appeared dead himself, expression blank despite the flood of tears and his fist over his chest as if grief was about to destroy him before collapsing into himself like a dying star. Donnie dreads leaving Raph's side, but he needs to because he cannot lose another brother in the span of seconds-

After all, it’s his job as the eldest now.

———

“Raph? Why are you still up?”

The soft-shell returned much later in the night with a glass of water; his glasses were off, so the time stamp was blurred, but he could make out the 2 in front as well as his brother's guilty grimace. “Hehe..just wanted to stay up. Make sure Leo and Mikey don’t have any nightmares, plus Raph isn’t tired.” The snapping turtle shrunk back as Donnie squinted, seeing how hard the eldest was fighting to keep his eyes open. 

This would be the start of a very long road for the eldest, successfully creating an Atlas that would carry the world and let himself be crushed underneath it. It will eventually lead to his death. 

But 10-year-old Donnie is unaware of this; all he knows is that his brother is growing as fast as they are and that he deserves to rest. He shuffles back on the bed, careful not to the others and crossing his arms, “Well theoretically speaking since you’re half asleep and I’m fully awake, I am the most awake older brother so. You have to listen to me.” Raph’s yawn gets interrupted by his own snort, his tired gaze filled with amused fondness.

“That doesn’t make sense, Dee.”

“It makes perfect sense, Raphael! Who is the genius here? Me or You?”

“You are..” The eldest retorts, sleep taking him by the minute, and he eventually gives in, "Just a small nap, okay?" The genius beams triumphantly at the praise and success, adjusting slightly to allow the other to lean against him, "The smallest. I'll wake you up later, okay?” With no response, he glances down, Raph already asleep and snoring, making Donnie quietly laugh.

The soft-shell whispers into his ear in a moment of intimacy soaked in moonlight.

“I may be the genius but you’ll always be our big brother.” 

--------

UMMM I've had this idea for the longest time and writing this was horrible 3 days one trying to put my dreams into words. I've seen soo many different ways that Donnie and Raph have died in the bad future and I think the concepts are so interesting so I wanted to throw my own hat into the ring, a parallel I had yet to see in a Future Raph death is when he falls in the forest during the Shredder arc! It's such a pinnacle moment for Raph and I wanted to twist it on its head but also to focus a little on the eldest pipeline. Instead of Raph to Leo (because you know the whole leader stuff), I wanted a Donnie and Raph focus especially after seeing so much evidence that Donnie is in fact the oldest twin (though I don't think it's been declared canon). The burden of the eldest hehehe hoped you liked it!

[rinwellisathing]

More Modern AU Bhaal Cult stuff

So basically, like I said, in the Modern AU RP my partners and I do, I'm in charge of writing the Bhaal cult, which primarily is Gary (Default Durge) and Sentry(my custom Durge) but also includes Orin and some other background Bhaalspawn OCs of mine. -The relationship between Gary and Sentry is special, Sentry is his favorite sibling, always meant to be his protege and successor if anything happened to him. When Sentry is in his abusive first home, Gary visits him and convinces him to give into his urge and murder his abusive guardians. After, because Gary is still too young to raise Sentry himself, but old enough to be considered Chosen and make money through the family's shady dealings, he provides money to support Sentry to his new adoptive family at The Church of Ilmater. After Sentry's adoptive mother at the church dies, Gary takes him home to the Bhaalist compound and teaches him. -Orin, as the youngest, is cared for by her siblings as a group. She's a bit of an annoying, trouble making little sibling, but at least to start out they do care about her and include her in things. When Sentry comes, they paint together, Gary lets her help make snacks for movie nights, Tomi does her hair. Papa Sarevok's influence is what ultimately leads her to hate Gary and Sentry and feel jealous of them. -Tomi, as a middle sister, is quite satisfied in her role. Her beauty makes her good at publicity so she portrays the family publicly as a wealthy, charitable old money family and covers up their crimes. But in the dark, she grows the ingredients for most of the drugs they sell, works as one of their top tier escorts, and gathers information on assassination targets. -Jackal, being the middle brother and quite violent, is the enforcer. He goes to intimidate 'problem people' or take care of nosy Fists when Gary can't be disrupted from his important work. He's an abrasive dick and gets along the least with the rest of the family, but he is an efficient killer and bruiser. -Gabraela, as the eldest sister, helps take care of the younger ones and keeps records of the cult's finances and dealings. She's also in charge of making sure Fel's cooking and cleaning is up to snuff. Generally as assassinations go, she's called in for big jobs that require a lot of power, but again, aren't important enough for Gary to go himself. -Gary, as the eldest brother, is in charge. Sarevok may be 'papa' and the head of household, but Gary is Chosen, Bhaal's favorite son. He deals with all the most important murders, hand delivers the most important bribes, and visits the most difficult intimidation cases. He also has the most doubt about his father, however, especially when he enters a relationship with Enver Gortash instead of assassinating him. -Sentry, as the youngest brother, is new to the cult and fully being trained and prepared by Gary for his role as one of the Chosen, THE Chosen should anything happen to Gary. When his big brother dies, he fully takes over as Chosen, but is still expected to perform the other duties he's been assigned, including the escort work, drug dealing, and bribes. He is an artist as well as a bit of a delinquent and like his big brother, has his doubts about father.

-Fel is the faithful house keeper and nanny to Bhaal's children, helping to guide them and care for them as their father would wish. It is his duty to steer them where Bhaal would want them.

-Sarevok is the head of the household and presents himself as 'father' to the family in Bhaal's absence. He has the final say even over Gary or Sentry as Bhaal's direct mouth piece, but barely involves himself in the day to day affairs of the family.

[j-a-n-e--d-o-e]

BNHA WIP Idea

Idk if I'll ever write this but:

After Almights retirement an online hacktervist group out Endeavor as a child abuser because they believe in transparency and that Japan deserves a true hero as no.1 (in this I'm assuming the Commission were aware and buried reports from neighbours and calls from mandated reporters so there's a partial trail of overlooked concerns +Rei's hospitalisation, ++the lack of hospitalisation for Shoto despite the obvious scar, +++Touya's'death').

Hawks suddenly went from no.3 to no.2 to being the defacto no.1 of Japan and is seriously overwhelmed. If he makes it till the rankings he'll be the youngest ever at 22 but he literally hates everything about the role as he suddenly has to do alot more modelling and interviews on top of an increased patrol schedule thanks to Endeavor facing an enquiry, Almight being 'retired' and a massive increase in general crime. Not to mention the league of Villains (this all happened before he's assigned the infiltration mission and with Endeavors fall from grace causing greater instability the Commission aren't willing to compromise Hawks image in the event that the hackers strike again so he's never ordered to approach Dabi or go undercover).

Despite not wanting to be no.1 Hawks does everything for Japan and it's citizens and recognises that they can't afford him stepping down or trying to make someone else no.1 at this point so does everything to keep it together so that people have someone they can have faith in and depend on.

The group go silent for a time given that The Commission buried everything about Hawks but eventually they hack the commission servers themselves and find out the truth, not just about his heritage but what exactly the commission did to make heroes like him and Lady Nagant. The Hacktervists don't care that his dad is a Villain so long as Hawks shows no signs of following in his footsteps. They do care that the commission bought and abused children using the 'greater good' as an excuse.

They broadcast the whole thing, every dirty detail for the world to see, then dump the files online for everyone to access.

Potential conversation post reveal:

"They abused you!"

"So?!"

"Keigo..."

"Don't! That's not my name! That's not- Why does it even matter?"

"You can't seriously be asking us that?!"

"Well I am. What does it matter how they made me if it means I get to save people?"

Scene where Aizawa makes a comparison in his mind to the scene/dialogue above with AlMights suicidal Ideation and self sacrificial mindset in canon. It's somehow worse because hawks is so young. Questioned if this will be his class once they graduate. Asks himself what kind of world they live in that can justify this.

[earthbovndmisfit]

Thoughts on josuyasu? Also: merman!AU josuke and okuyasu

My honest thoughts on Josuyasu are that they're silly and they are very much in love. I might not post much about them or other ships, but there's a bunch of Jojo ships that I like and enjoy seeing around! (I am just too big of a Speedwagon/Jonathan/Jonawagon trashbag that most of my posts and rbs revolve around them lol).

In the mer!Joestars AU, Josuke would be a merman while Oku is either his caretaker or maybe a regular visitor (since I think he's the youngest Jobro of the bunch?? I'm not too sure about this, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!). Maybe he's a regular visitor who gets a part time job at the aquarium after class!

I know a lot of people has the idea that there's not a single thought in Okuyasu's head, but the reality is that he's a lot smarter than people give him credit for. Sure, he's a silly guy and he may do and say dumb things, but at the end of the day he's a teen acting like most teens do. And not just that, but he can also recognize that he isn't the brightest crayon in the box and yet he is often seen making insightful observations that your Local Certified Dumbass(tm) would sure af not have the brains to make.

With all that considered, I think he would be the kind of guy who becomes just ✨ mesmerized ✨ (or should I say.... "mermerized"? lol) with the aquarium and the sea life living there after some school trip to that place, and even more so after meeting some of the mers living there. After that, he visits the aquarium often and is eager to learn more about sea creatures.

It's been established that Jonathan is often helping visitors and sharing his knowledge with them, so he is always happy to share with Oku his knowledge on both sea life in general as well as about merpeople. Speedwagon (who I'm assuming is either the owner or the manager of the aquarium while *also* doing a lot of the physical work too along with the other Jobros because he genuinely likes doing all that stuff and running the place the best way possible) would see the kid hanging around often and, even if Spw wasn't the observant man he is, he would still be able to notice the Very Evident enthusiasm in Oku's face every time he learns something new and just his eagerness to learn more. And so, a spot would be eventually offered to him for a part time job there. By this point he would know a lot about merpeople already, so it wouldn't take long for him to be considered for a role as a caretaker (with a little help, maybe? since he's still new and not experienced). It would be through his constant visits that he would meet mer Josuke and, now, he would be assigned as Josuke's caretaker due to them being friends already and getting along well.

Needless to say Josuke would be so happy to get more time to hang around with Oku. And, of course, the typical Teen Chaos and all of its shenanigans would ensue from then on. Nothing mean spirited, just teens being teens -them being LOUD, mostly- really lol (idk if merpeople have longer lifespans than humans?? but Josuke is still at the stage of a merperson's life that would be the equivalent to a human's teenage years anyways).

[alienside]

hi and also hello. may i please hear everything about seia i would like the seia breakdown please and thank you <3

seia breakdown!!!! seia my beloved <3

the short version is that seia is 95% of keldan's impulse control. long version under the cut

okay in my head i picture seia as being from like a mountain village whose primary economy is mining-based. this is almost completely irrelevant to the actual story but i planned out everyone's backstories like three years ago so you're getting it. seia's naturally smaller than most people from these mining villages tend to be but he was also more sick than the average kid (which did not help) so growing up he was sort of on the frail side. that being said there was absolutely zero like "gender role" expectation that he would ever have to work in the quarries, because his culture doesn't really have Gender the way others do, and thus don't have gender roles either; everyone just contributes what they can to make sure the household runs smoothly, which means seia grew up helping out with stuff like finances, gardening/animal tending if he had the energy for it, sewing/mending clothes/weaving, other stuff around the house that's less physical labor. (btw this cultural view of gender is also why seia's nonbinary; he literally just cannot be bothered with translating his experience for others, and the first person who spoke to him in another language assigned him he/him pronouns and seia was like "whatever".)

anyway. there's some imperial/war-related stuff that happens next. crown soldiers show up, "this land belongs to this nation now", and they ship off basically everyone who's still school-aged to boarding schools in the empire proper. (two notes: first, i haven't named like most of the places that are relevant to backstory. yes i've had this wip for years. move on. second, i am assuming you've heard of cultural genocide. that's what's happening here.)

seia ends up rising through the ranks so to speak and gets a lot of attention for his knack for languages. he ends up in service of the crown that kidnapped him (this is probably around age 16 or so), as a translator/interpreter, and after a couple years ends up sold/traded to the highest bidder (melati's father, the king of. yet another name i haven't thought up yet.) they use nicer words than "sold/bought", because "slavery is illegal", but i'm not going to pretend seia had any choice in what's happening.

he does use his essentially-free access to royal libraries to do a LOT of reading, both before and after the trade. he teaches himself a lot of stuff, including More languages and some "applicable" life skills. (read: forgery. he gets terrifyingly good at forging official documents. he doesn't use this until after he joins up with keldan, because he's afraid of what will happen if he gets caught, but with keldan he's a bit of a loose cannon lmao)

also. MOSTLY irrelevant to the story but seia has like one friend, who was the youngest son of the first king seia worked for. they made it work alarmingly well despite the power imbalance thing, and the prince teaches seia how to swordfight. seia later trades that in for a dagger, saying it's more his style, but in a pinch.... absolutely deadly. they keep in touch after seia gets traded off, they write letters to each other in varying languages and use code names. the prince's real name is kazik tho.

also also. working for melati's father and spending like 90% of his free time in the library, seia's seen her before and she's seen him. they've talked more than once and melati would even loosely call him a friend at this point in their lives. being a princess she doesn't really question the exact terms of his employment. it's not really malicious, it's just that in her mind, the palace is kind of the best gig anyone could hope for, and she has a daughter's trust in her father (for now) and believes he'd never hold anyone against their will. and while technically he's not holding seia prisoner, seia has nothing and no one on the outside, and nowhere to go, and a contract a mile long that he doesn't know the exact terms of but surely there's a clause in there about abandoning your post before your term is served (there is. seia ends up breaking it anyway).

anyway. seia meets keldan on a diplomatic trip to okskiy, where keldan lounges around the throne room despite his king's best efforts to get rid of him before the party starts. (this is like almost immediately post-aderyn-breakup btw). seia doesn't get much time off during the actual meeting/negotiations/dinner, but once everyone's drunk and happy seia gets to slip away from his interpreter role, and he and keldan make small talk for a while and seia commits his face to memory because it feels like he's the first (second?) person to ever actually look at seia. it's complicated.

they end up meeting again on seia's "home turf"; keldan's delivering something on behalf of his king, and seia's the only one who speaks a language keldan understands, so they get plenty of more-or-less one-on-one conversation time. call it bonding or whatever. later, keldan's wandering around the castle (read: snooping) and happens upon the king propositioning seia (this is compete chance here. keldan's the only person i know who's obnoxious enough to have even the opportunity to stumble in on this conversation), which seia does not want but can't exactly say no to without risking. yknow. his life.

the king fucks off w/ keldan's arrival (not that keldan understood what was being said exactly but the postures... expressions... yeah) to avoid suspicion (does not work) and keldan's like. "fuck that guy." seia replies "he's my king." keldan says "what if he wasn't though" and then gets to play white knight for seia for about thirty minutes (the time it takes them to get back onto keldan's ship) before keldan really starts to get to know seia and realizes he is WAY out of his depth here.

they're more or less business partners after that. it's weird because seia definitely is not considered part of keldan's "crew", but keldan's operation is able to expand thanks to the breadth of languages seia can speak, seia travels everywhere with keldan + has his own cabins on the ship that he never uses bc he's always in keldan's, they read each other's minds and gaze longingly when the other isn't looking, but if a crewmate asks whether they've slept together keldan is like "why would we do that". they're a hot mess. seia forges like 90% of keldan's documents, whatever he needs (the other 10% are, technically, legal), and literally asks for nothing in return. keldan's always putting gold coins in with the rest of seia's stuff or trying to slip him payment some other way. seia stashes his collection of inks and fancy pens and parchments under keldan's bed.

the really sticky part is that neither of them really talk about their pasts. granted keldan can't talk about his childhood without getting into stuff that would make him sound crazy ("turns out there is stuff below the continents" crazy), but neither of them know where the other is from, they don't communicate w/each other in either person's native language, seia doesn't even know keldan had a partner before him.

keldan's also a bit insane. so he gets all these random ideas for all kinds of things (business, ship repairs/additions, fanciful vacations, you name it) and then seia's the one who filters it down into something doable. half the time seia is then also the one who implements it, whatever it is. keldan will be like "lets do a vacation on one of those waterfall islands" and seia will be like "what if instead we just spend a couple weeks off in okskiy" and then also schedule that time off into their calendar. this is more or less because seia is wayyyy more organized but also a little bit because even tho keldan has the big ideas, he wouldn't actually be into them. he would hate the wet humid nature of the waterfall islands and seia knows that and talks him out of it, and keldan wants seia happy so he agrees readily when seia suggests okskiy instead. they make it work somehow and everyone's like "how have you not broken up yet" and they're like "broken what up?"

so. that's where they're at at the beginning of the story, and then aderyn and melati walk onto their ship as a unit and everyone collectively is like. "what the fuck" for a whole host of different reasons. the plot of sky sea is like 50% character-driven conflict in the sense that while aderyn and keldan are trying to reconcile their old history, aderyn's guilt, and keldan's anger, seia's also insanely jealous but doesn't understand why and almost flat out refuses to talk to keldan about it. aderyn and melati have the whole "we're only in this together because both our lives are in danger" on top of the whole "you said no one would know who you were" "how was i supposed to know that the one person who could possibly still be alive to recognize me would be on this boat" thing. seia and melati have a little bit of a guilt/anger thing happening too; it's sort of "logically i know it wasn't her fault but emotionally i need someone to blame and she should have known something was wrong". keldan and melati are pretty much the only pair NOT fighting, but they do bond over being generally obnoxious and high-maintenance. when aderyn and seia aren't trying to kill each other over extremely minor arguments that are actually metaphors for much bigger issues, they're complaining about "royals. ugh". keldan's crew wants to quit sooooo bad except that they also find the drama highly amusing. one guy on the crew is like 'man i always wanted to be part of a high-speed chase' and boy does he get his wish.

[starfleetsxvulcan]

You Are Young (Drabbles)

Well.

She was quite identical. Spock couldn't deny that.

The bridge had all the same stations, chairs, hardware. All that varied was a slightly altered color-palette with the shine of everything hardly being touched or used to its full extent.

She was no Enterprise, however. Even as the Vulcan stood waiting by what was the place of the science officer, he did not think he belonged there but he paid no mind to the unfamiliar crew about him anyway. This left him to theorize the possibilities of why Jim had given him this assignment specifically, letting him go from his usual duties at the space dock so he could come aboard another Starfleet vessel for the sole mission of 'parting wisdom' on a newly ranked captain. Perhaps it was because Spock, himself, never participated in 'Shore Leave' or maybe his captain truly believed he could teach a lesson or two.

The latter was more appealing.

From what the half-alien had gathered about this 'Captain Daniels' was that he came to the role of commander rather quickly since his training. In fact, he was one of the youngest-if not the youngest-in the force to take on such a starship. On paper, the man was more than qualified in his capabilities, his knowledge, his apparent 'grace under pressure'...but if all was well with Daniels, Spock would still be on the Enterprise.

Just then, the bridge doors opened wide and a freshly shaven man stepped within, gold shirt and all. This must be Daniels and the spiteful expression on his face told the vulcan at once that he was not happy to see him.

"...Mr. Spock." Daniels began as moved towards his chair, eyes locking with his guest. "I'm a very busy man, I have orders from Starfleet to launch my ship. Said orders that are not only being hindered by your own commander but also by you and your unneeded presence on my bridge."

Ah. So, this is what Kirk was hinting at.

"Captain Daniels, I presume?"

"What is it you have to do, what is it you want from me?" There was a pause. Then Daniels was now walking directly up to Spock, no animosity being hidden from his features. What followed was a scoff. "I know about you, your captain, the Enterprise and its methods. Haven't you gotten enough praise and glory with that ongoing five-year mission?"

The vulcan kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back taking a firm notice in all the eyes upon the two now, his face was blank slate, however. He was giving Daniels nothing. "I do not blame you for believing our mission is unnecessary to Starfleet. For it has never been done before and perhaps it never will be done again. It is far beyond distasteful to assume the Enterprise flies for glory or praise, Captain, it flies for peace just as your vessel should."

Daniels' confidence seemed to almost immediately wilt.

Spock continued sharply. "You are young! Inexperienced!" The captain began to take a step back. The science officer only proceeded to take a step towards, he was backing this captain up easily. It wasn't very long before Daniels was trapped at his chair and the vulcan was still upon him with his own hard glare. "If you wish to get on with your duties, as I do with mine, you will work with me. Not against!"

Daniels made a small noise, falling back into the chair, looking up at Spock with a wide-eyed gaze.

Satisfactory.

"Now then, what action did you take in the role of captain on your last mission. Full details...Mr. Daniels."

[beetchy-keen]

I love when I wake up at 1 am and see my sister was sending nasty texts just a couple hours ago, expecting me to be awake to act as the mediator between her and the youngest.

Get ready for a long post containing family drama that I needed to get off my chest or I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. This is a rant, please skip over as you see fit.

First of all, this was between her and the youngest, and did not need to be in the group text. Got an issue with the chore that the youngest is assigned to do? Text her and ask. If she doesn't answer fast enough, call her and calmly ask.

Second of all, there was no need to be ugly about it. It was the youngest birthday and she might have slacked a bit, but that only requires a bit of firmness. The youngest may be in her 20s, but we three know she has a disability that makes her like a teenager. My sister and I are the adults here and need to act accordingly.

Thirdly, my sister knows I have an interview tomorrow. She knows that it's critical I get this job, so why would I stay up as late as she does? Seems as counter intuitive as me staying up to write this out, but her text got me mad enough to stay awake, so in the most sibling-love way, fuck her for that. My sleep schedule will not match up to her expectations because I actually enjoy being up early as it works better for my more mom-like role in this house.

What's hilarious is she's expecting me to stay in this house and continue to put up with all this. My plan is to get my bills on track, save up for a deposit and get an apartment as soon as possible. 2-3 bedroom if necessary to give the youngest a less hostile home, maybe rent a house if it's necessary to save the dogs that are actually well behaved from being taken to the pound by my sister. That would wreck her expectation of being paid any sort of rent to help with the bills and probably make home ownership even harder on her, but that's what happens when you lash out at family. I'll always love her, but I'm not inclined to help.

My plan is to give her money to help cover the expenses of paying for my sister and I over the past couple of months, to make things right as well. Also I intend to take over the youngest's expenses so my sister has nothing financial to hold over her head.

You know, I'm just fucking mad because this isn't the youngest's fault in any way. She has become the scapegoat for my sister and her boyfriend because she can't defend herself. It's not her fault her disability makes it harder for her to find work. It's not her fault she consumes groceries intended for others when no one labels or communicates that. Yes, it is on her to keep up with her chores, but like with teenagers she does need to be reminded of what to do, and talked to accordingly, not have someone bitch her out. They haven't come after me like this because my sister is hoping to have someone to watch her house in 3 years, but I've had it.

Maybe in 3 year's time I'd consider moving back into my sister's house when she has to be stationed somewhere else to take care of it. But I'm not gonna tell her that when I leave, she can just look at me like the villain, because I know she's not gonna see that it was her behavior that caused it.