#this is gonna BE SO FUN. i figured camille's here to do a piece on them--

[godblooded]

@rejectory has requested the fucked up journalist. 

your own house growing up (it wasn’t ever a home, was it? people had to make it feel that way) wasn’t even as big as this. but the vergers are old meat and so are you, after all, or so was the crellin family (sometimes, even for how your heart aches whenever you look at amma, you’re glad you’re a preaker, even though that’s not much different). you might’ve been raised that way, but you’re certain you don’t have anything left of that you. might’ve existed for a brief second, maybe in the days of cheer, but it never stuck with you long.

(you don’t think parts of adora you hate her you hate her, mama are too clear in you, but damned if you’re not fuckin’ terrified of them. sometimes your hands are soft and you remember tucking amma in and then you remember your skin singing like it used to, the way you hadn’t wanted it to anymore, the way you thought you’d gotten rid of. the word blood throbs just once somewhere on your chest.)

it smells like lilacs here, and that’s not surprising to you. you grew up around stockyards, and while you figure it might always smell like death, it doesn’t. goes to show, sometimes, there are good things even amidst the trash.

the great part about big places like this is i’m sorry, i got lost is your back-pocket excuse. the smell of horses, however? that’s inescapable. the stable’s the ornate kind of thing you think adora would swoon over and then remark backhandedly about over mimosas unreasonably early in the morning. 

you are looking for margot verger-- or her brother mason, but you’re really less curious about him. you needed a big assignment, and this is enough of one. it took you hours to convince curry into it.

you’re not really sure where the front door is, but you are sure it’s somewhere, so what does a little looking around hurt?

[khaleesiofalicante]

ALEC WEEK - ALEC ANGST

“I got this one,” Alec yelled over his shoulder and ran after the demon.

Being the Consul involved a lot of desk work. While Alec did appreciate getting to stay at home with Magnus and the kids…

Well, he was a Shadowhunter after all.

He had kind of missed this. The patrols. The adrenaline.

Most of all, fighting with Jace.

So, when Jace had asked him to join him on patrol, Alec had jumped on the opportunity.

But now of course he was regretting it a little bit.

When Alec had said he wanted to kick some demon ass, he had been hoping for a dozen at most.

Not this.

They had fought almost double that so far and there was many more on the way.

Jace used to call himself a chick-magnet long time ago. But in actuality, his parabatai was a demon-magnet.

Wherever Jace went, they just seemed to hang out in hoards.

They had strategized to find the greator demon that was sending out the little minions. Alec had followed one while Jace followed another. It got darker and darker with every step until Alec found himself drowning in the night. Maybe he had wondered into a cave or something.

He quickly activated his night vision rune. But it didn’t help.

This wasn’t a cave. This was magic. Demonic magic.

“Alec!” he heard Jace yell. “Can you see anything?”

“No!” Alec yelled back.

Jace sounded like he was both close and miles away.

“This is some sort of trick,” Alec said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jace yelled back. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was then Alec heard a low chuckle.

There was something eerily familiar about it. It sounded like someone he recognized – almost.

They were still plunged in darkness, but somehow Alec noticed a figure emerge. He pointed his bow at the man.

It looked like a man. Tall. Lean. Well built. Strong.

Oh god. Surely not another prince of hell. Haven’t they had enough of those things?

The closer it got, the faster Alec’s heart started to beat.

He knew he should run. But he didn’t.

The presence felt both like a threat and an ally at the same time.

Alec didn't want to hesitate any longer. He let the arrow fly.

The figure pulled out a bow out of nowhere and let his own arrow fly. It was like watching lightening. The figure’s arrow clashed with his own and burst into dust.

“Nice shot,” the figure said as it approached him. “Next time don’t hesitate so much. It can get you killed.”

“Jace!” Alec shouted.

But there was no response.

“Who are you?” Alec yelled at the figure.

He didn’t know why we was yelling. But it seemed like the right thing to do. His shirt was soaking in sweat, his fingers trembling slightly.

“It’s me,” the voice said.

As the figure closer, a small gasp escaped Alec’s mouth. He would recognize the figure anywhere.

Even in the depths of such darkness.

“Or should I say, it’s you.”

Alec took a step back.

It was him.

It was Alec. In shadowhunter gear. His hair out of place. His bow and quiver hanging on his side.

It was Alec and it wasn’t.

Despite all the similarities, Alec knew it wasn’t him.

This one seemed…empty.

Or full.

He didn’t know.

But what gave him away was his fingers - And the lack of his favorite and only piece of jewelry.

There was no wedding band.

“Stay back, you son of a bitch,” Alec didn’t hesitate this time.

“Is that anyway to talk about our mother?” other Alec chuckled.

“This is some sort of demonic trick,” Alec said, mostly to himself.

“Duh,” Other Alec rolled his eyes, the gesture intimately familiar.

Alec let another arrow fly but again – he just wasn’t fast enough.

It was almost as if the Other Alec knew what he was going to do.

“Of course, I know what you’re going to do,” Other Alec said. “I’m you, aren’t I?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I know what you’re thinking too,” Other Alec pointed out. “Right now, you’re thinking if Jace is okay.”

Alec held up his bow again even though it was pointless.

“He is okay,” Other Alec waved him off. “He has his own nightmare to deal with.”

Nightmares.

Baku.

“You’re Baku,” Alec said, feeling slightly triumphant. “Eater of dreams. Greator Demon of Nightmares.”

“Well, technically, I’m Alec Lightwood,” the demon shrugged. “Consul in Exile.”

“Alec Lightwood-Bane,” he corrected out of habit.

“Of course,” Other Alec put up his hands, his bare fingers making him more and more worried.

“What is this supposed to be?” Alec demanded. “A nightmare? I’m not scared of you.”

“Aren’t you?” Other Alec cocked his head. “You are your greatest fear, Alec.”

“Bullshit,” Alec spit. “I’m not afraid of myself. Not anymore.”

“Are we sure about that?” Other Alec asked again.

“Yes,” Alec snapped. “I can’t hurt myself anymore.”

“Well,” Other Alec shrugged. “You can still hurt others.”

Alec stared.

It was like the demon had shot him with an arrow. Right in the chest. 

“I know you, remember?” Other Alec grinned. “I’ve seen your dreams. Your nightmares.”

“You know nothing!” Alec yelled and let another arrow fly.

Useless. Other Alec dodged it effortlessly.

“How many people should keep getting hurt, Alec?” his own voiced asked himself. “How many people should get hurt because of your incomptency?”

His throat felt dry. His head ached.

He heard the questions from Other Alec who was in front of him.

But he heard them echo inside his head too. Like he was thinking these thoughts right now.

As if he had been thinking them forever.

“I’m not incompetent!” Alec said through gritted teeth.

“Say that to Max,” Other Alec sneered.

Alec’s heart clenched.

“Or Dad,” Other Alec whispered.

And then it broke.

“I-I tried,” Alec stammered. “I tried to save them.”

“You weren’t even there,” Other Alec accused.

“Stop it!” Alec let another arrow fly.

Nothing.

“You know, it’s ironic that they named you Alexander,” Other Alec chuckled. “When have you ever protected anyone? All you’ve done is hurt people.”

“Shut up!” Alec yelled.

“You tried to hurt Clary because you were angry and jealous. You did hurt Magnus because you were angry and jealous. You tried to kill Camille. You did kill Meliorn. So, who’s next?”

“I’ve changed,” Alec argued, he didn’t know why. “I’ve grown.”

“Growing into a sorry excuse of a man,” the demon laughed. “Now they’ve made you Consul. What a great opportunity to let your entire race down!”

“I won’t!” Alec yelled, even though he had had already had nightmares about this very thing. “I won’t let them down. They chose me!”

“Oh please,” Other Alec rolled his eyes. “No one would have even considered you if it wasn’t for Jace. He felt sorry for you because you never get the spotlight. And everyone who voted for you did it because they felt sorry for you because you lost dad. It was a pity vote.”

“Get out of my head!” Alec screamed. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.”

“On contrary,” Other Alec grinned. “I know you better than anyone.”

“Bullshit,” Alec said again.

“I’m your greatest fear, Alec,” the other man said.

“Because your cocky and rude?” Alec demanded, gaining his confidence back. “I don’t think so.”

“Because of this,” Other Alec raised his empty hand.

Alec swallowed.

“I would never remove my ring!” he said, his voice hoarse. “Never.”

“Aw,” Other Alec said. “Not even if Magnus asked you to give it back?”

The confidence that was slowly building inside him felt apart like a wave crashing into land.

“That’s right,” the man said. “He took it back. He took rafe. He left.”

“Magnus would never,” Alec said, clutching his own wedding ring.

The other Alec just grinned.

“Rafe,” Alec said suddenly. “You said he took Rafe. What happened to Max?”

Stop it. This isn’t real! But Alec couldn’t listen to that voice. Just the one before him.

“That name is cursed,” Other Alec said sadly. “Or maybe it’s just you. You’re not good enough to protect anyone.”

“Max is fine,” Alec told himself. “Max is okay. He is in the institute.”

“Not for long,” the Other Alec said in a sing song voice. “You will get him killed too. He will die. Alone and afraid. Just like your brother.”

Alec leaped at himself, but the figure simply disappeared and appeared in a different spot.

“Touched a nerve, huh?” Other Alec chuckled. “I wonder why.”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Alec let arrow after arrow fly.

Nothing.

“Useless,” Other Alec chuckled. “Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“You will not touch my family!” Alec pointed an arrow. He’d stab the fucking thing to death if he had to. “Do you hear me?”

“I would never!” Other Alec sounded offended. “But can’t say the same for you though.”

“I will never hurt my family,” Alec replied, his voice getting lower and lower.

“You already have,” Other Alec pointed out. “Giving up immortality? Wow. What a slap in the face for Magnus. You know he could have had anyone, right?”

“We made the decision together!” Alec yelled. “Magnus wanted this too!”

“Of course he did, you selfish prick!” Other Alec yelled back. “He did because you did! It’s what you wanted. Because of your precious parabatai.”

“But J-Jace-” Alec stammered.

“You know,” Other Alec’s voice turned into a husky whisper, like he was sharing a secret. “Magnus knows. He has always known you would choose Jace over him.”

“This is just a dream,” Alec whispered to himself desperately. “Just a dream.”

“How about what happened in Thule?” Other Alec asked. “Was that just a dream too?”

Alec gasped.

“Never thought you’d have it in you,” Other Alec whistled. “You’re savage.”

“It wasn’t me!” Alec yelled.

“Wasn’t it?” the other man shrugged.

“All this talk about loving one man and changing the world for him and yet you killed him him with your own hands,” Other Alec shook his head in disappointment. “Magnus deserved better.”

“Don’t talk about Magnus like you know him!” Alec snapped.

“Oh fine. But I do know you, Alec Lightwood,” Other Alec moved closer. “I know your future. You might keep him happy now. But you will be his suffering. You will be his Bane.”

Images of Magnus flashed before his eyes. Magnus coping with his loss. Magnus not coping so well.

“Please,” Alec almost begged. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing at all,” the figure moved back. “I just wanted to talk.”

“You’re not gonna kill me?” Alec asked.

“What’s the fun in that?” Other Alec asked. “I’d rather keep you alive and watch you suffer.

“Get out,” Alec ordered, even though he knew he had no power.

“So sensitive,” Other Alec chuckled. “Fine. I’ll go for now. You better watch out, Alec Lightwood. Bad things are coming.”

“You stay away from, Magnus!” Alec yelled. 

“I could say the same to you,” Other Alec pouted. “Leave him. For his sake. For the sake of your childr-.”

“If you touch my kids-”

“I won’t,” Other Alec raised his hands. “But can’t say the same about their grandfather however.”

“Stay out of my head,” Alec hissed.

“No promises,” the demon of nightmares winked.

Alec felt the darkness slowly dissipate. His heartbeat getting stronger.

The shivers on his arms were just going down when he heard the voice in ear one last time.

“Oh, one last thing,” his own voice whispered. “Give my regards to Izzy.”

Alec’s body shuddered at that and he fell on his knees.

“Hey. Hey. Hey,” Jace was already by his side. “You okay?”

Alec just nodded, still trying to get back to reality.

“Dude, I’d take an army of raveners over this any day,” Jace said, looking rattled in a long time. “This shit was creepy as hell.”

“What did you see?” Alec asked.

“Some psycho version of myself. He kept talking about killing Clary,” Jace laughed, even though Alec sensed the nervousness in his voice. “As if that’s ever gonna happen.”

Alec nodded and slowly got up.

“What did you see?” Jace asked.

Alec thought of Other Alec.

The one without the ring. The one he knew would haunt his dreams every night from now on.

“Spiders,” he said. “Just stupid spiders.”

[crystal-moon-101]

My redesigns for this popular trio!

The Secret Generator 10 (Or Celebrity Trio but that doesn’t really work for me because of Zak...) I’ve been meaning to get around to doing this, since I am really fond of these three boys. With Zak and Rex both being part of my top two shows of all time. Sorry Ben....

-Zak Saturday-

He was the most fun working with. His warm colour palette isn’t something I work with often, but I think I did alright. He also as some small details you might notice, like the fangs, eyes and scales.

Notes:

14 Years Old

5′5 (Will only grow to be 5′8. Which confuses him since both sides of his family have very tall genes. Ulraj pokes fun at him, saying all that height is going towards his ‘Kur Form’)

Dead on the inside.

Aggressively Pansexual

His human side has been growing reptilian features. Noticeable fangs, scales growing around his lower neck, around his chest and upper back/shoulders, pure orange eyes with pupils that can become thin slits and a slight forked tongue. 

Even also displays some reptile behaviour. E.g, soaking up sunlight on a rock, alert nature, able to stand still as a statue. (He’s done these things since he was young. His parents just thought it was something he picked up from Komodo.)

The light that forms around his eyes when using his powers have darkened the skin around his eyes. (Suggested by my friend)

He is oddly thin and lanky, but it’s often hard to see because of the baggy clothes he wears.

That being said, he’s a lot stronger than you think he is. Can easily lift people twice his size.

Constantly has to get new hair ties. They keep breaking because 1. Every time his powers cause all of his hair to flow, the tie snaps. 2. Working out in the wild, it keeps getting snagged by tree branches or slipping off when he tumbles downhills.

While quiet and casual outside of battles, he will become a lot like his mother on the field.

Has freckles from his maternal side. His mother doesn’t have them, but Doyle does.

Will casually mention his ridiculously and scary adventures like they’re nothing, not because he’s bragging, but because he truly doesn’t understand what normal really is.

So use to being grabbed by the scruff of his shirt that he will always go limp when you grab him like that, much like a baby animal. 

While he can act very eerie and strange, he’s a very sweet and understanding guy. 

That being said, he can be hella scary when he wants to be.

Don’t mess with his family or he will send an army of Grootslangs to your house.

Still trying to figure out his placement in life and what Kur was really meant to be.

After being taught by his family and uncle, he went to Tsul 'Kalu to be his new mentor.

-Rex Salazar-

I think I changed him the least, but I added extra details and made his shirt, pants and shoes into a one-piece suit. It always baffles me how he can pull off this colour scheme so well.

And while I didn’t draw it here. I would definitely make his pure EVO form a lot smaller. Make him come across more like a monstrous zombie robot thing. The reason why is because those EVO forms he had just felt like they belonged to different shows, like transformers. A more creature design would fit better, I feel.

Notes:

16 Years Old

6′1 (Will grow to be 6′5. Yeeeeeee, he’s a big guy.)

Lady killer~

Best wingman and even offers pretend dates to help you.

Can always hear and feel the technology around him. Strange to everyone else, but he’s learnt to live with it. Even comes in handy when trying to find a good wifi connection.

Knows when to cut the bullcrap.

He does have a bit of a science brain, but he uses it differently than his family had.

Constantly jumping between worlds. Sometimes even tossed by someone.

Talks in his sleep, mostly reciting nanite binary coding.

Lonely lad and child solider, great mix, right?...

Goes all out with holidays. He once, somehow, got real snow in Providence. No one knows how to this day.

Hates lightening.

Has nearly called Holiday and Six mum and dad multiple times.

Has a lot more abilities he has yet to discover. (Including turning people EVO.)

Never asked for any of this, but, eh, what ya gonna do

Is always overexcited when doing normal things. (Werids out Noah a lottt.)

You’re endangered if he decided to use his full raw power. (Key signs to look out for is a large amount of circuit patterns covering him, glowing eyes, tips of his hair glowing too, sharp metal growths and technology around you flashing like crazy.)

Loves Imagine Dragon.

Sharp eyelashes.

Just wants hugs, give him hugs!

Always frustrated when someone from his past tries talking to him about the past. Sometimes he wonders if people forget.

Skilled drawer and smooth singer.

Has an EVO pet (Her name is Siri, Btw)

Some have compared him to being a living, breathing nanite. 

Eager to have family game nights! “Poker doesn’t count, Bobo...”

Once had a malfunction, his whole body was out of wack. (Noah laughs about it and even has some recordings, much to Rex’s dismay.)

Has a civilian outfit that Noah put together. (He refuses to take off his goggles, however.) 

-Ben Tennyson-

Now, I already made a redesign for him, along with Gwen, Julie and Kevin (Both for teen and kid versions). I used the same look, just adjusted some details and colours.

Notes:

15 Years Old

5′9 (And he stays that height. He peaked in height very young, but stop growing quickly. This does annoy him.)

Dumbass with bad impulse control.

Even he’s confused by how he keeps attracting women.

Had a rather lonely childhood with many bullies. (It’s why he often seeks attention, he’s afraid of being alone and forgotten again.)

It’s also what made him jealous of Gwen when they were young. Most treated her like the better of the two.

Pretty crap at sharing his feelings. He would rather play it off as a jerk, then go and drown himself in smoothies...

A secret momma’s boy. “Benny Bear” As his mother likes to call him.

Has an interesting dynamic with Azmuth. Despite their arguments, they balance each other well. Others have even seen them taking care of each other (Almost like father and son), but the pair will always deny this and say it’s ‘strictly’ professional.

 Surprisingly great with kids. (This was truly noticed when seen around his 14 baby chills.)

In the future, he will have a nasty wound on the battlefield, which will result in the Omnitrix becoming his new arm and merging with him.

When he takes thing seriously, you know shits going down!

Has a german shepherd name Boston.

 Likes to call Vilgax ‘Calamari’.

Has grown to be close to most Tennyson members. (E.G Camille, who was actually his babysitter after she joined the family.)

He doesn’t like peacocks after...an incident at the zoo. His mother still apologizes to this day.

Decent singer and very skilled at the guitar. 

Has picked up combat moves from Tetrax.

Has always felt like he’s nothing without the watch. Others have said otherwise.

He knows how to speak certain alien languages, Galvan being one of them.

His schedule is a nightmare, because something is always popping up that involves him. This means he sometimes forgets to eat, sleep or even wash. It’s why he’s often caught napping.

Sometimes wonders if he’s human or alien at this point, maybe something else entirely. 

Very soft poofy hair.

Is hated by almost all his villains. He just loves pissing them off.

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter seven

enjoy lovies!! it’s action time!!

genre: angst

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: gun fire, mention of blood, a lot of time/location jumps sorry

word count: 6.5k

SPENCER

SIX MONTHS LATER

"Wheels up in thirty."

The team nods and gathers our things from the round table, leaving the briefing room to return to our desks and grab our go-bags. I take a seat at my chair and reach under my desk, eyes widening as I realize my go-bag isn’t there. I retrace my steps of the last few days of not being on a case and my brain produces an image of my leather go-bag in the corner of Amelia’s bedroom. Upon checking the time, I realize I won’t have time to hop on a train, get to Amelia’s apartment, and then catch a train back here within thirty minutes. I’d miss the plane and then I won’t be able to go on the case.

My phone sits on my desk, screaming at me to make a call. I know I need to call Amelia because I need my clothes for the case. But having her come here and show her face would mean that our secret would no longer be ours. It would give the team more material to make fun of me with and to tease me about but besides that. It would mean that our relationship goes from being just two people to being eight people. I’m sure Amelia doesn’t mind as much as I do, but the fear of something happening to her because of my job will linger forever. However, I really need my clothes and I can’t take the time to worry about the long term issues of telling everyone I have a girlfriend. 

I pick up my phone and dial Amelia’s number. A glance around the bullpen tells me that nobody is looking my way and that means they won’t be eavesdropping on my conversation. What am I even nervous about? Amelia gets along with everyone so I’m sure the team will like her. They will absolutely love her, Penelope surely already does. Everything will be okay, right? I can stand some teasing about her. I already endure the teasing about basically everything else in my life so I can stand some more. At least I can be open about Amelia and bring her to dinners at Rossi’s and she can bond with my best friends and we just won’t have to hide anymore.

“Hi, dove! What’s up? I just saw you like, ten minutes ago. Aren’t you at work?"

“Yeah, I am but I've got a problem and I'm hoping you can help." Once again, I glance up to make sure that nobody is listening.

"I'm at your service, Spence. I'm still at home and I just got dressed. It's your lucky day. What do you need?"

"I left my go-bag in your room. Do you think you could bring it over here for me?"

"Yeah, of course I can but are you sure you’re okay with that? You want everyone to meet me? I know you said you wanted to keep us a secret for a little while." 

No, maybe I’m not so okay with Amelia meeting the team yet but I can’t keep her a secret forever. I have some level of confidence right now so I can’t miss this opportunity to introduce Amelia to my friends. "It’s okay. Not a big deal,” a white lie never hurt anyone, right?

"Okay! I’ll be there in a couple minutes!” I can hear the beautiful smile on her face when she speaks and the thought of getting to see her once more I leave for this case somehow makes all my anxiety and hesitation float away, leaving elation in its wake. We say our goodbyes and then I’m left to my own thoughts without Amelia as a distraction.

I tap my fingers against the desk as I wait anxiously for my girlfriend’s arrival. I try to pick up the case file to observe it again but I just can't focus. Every time I try to read about the details of these dead prostitutes, my brain drifts off to something else and then I realize that I didn’t process anything I just read and I have to start over. All that is happening is that Amelia is dropping off my go-bag, saying hi to everyone, and then she’s going to leave. Simple. That’s all.

"Hey kid, you good?" I jump at the sound of Morgan right next to me, leaning over my shoulder and totally invading my personal bubble.

I nod quickly, shifting away from him so he’s not almost on top of me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Morgan furrows his eyebrows and he doesn’t let up, moving around me to lean against my desk. “You’re being very quiet. That isn’t like you. And if-”

"Amelia!" Penelope squeals, running over to Amelia as she comes through the glass doors, throwing her arms around my girlfriend. This shrieking catches the attention of everyone in the bullpen, and even Rossi pops his head out of his office to see what's going on. "Is the cat out of the bag?" She holds Amelia out at arm’s length and then her eyes dart to me and then to the team around them. Penelope laughs nervously. "Well if the cat isn't out of the bag then I've definitely just ripped a hole in the bag for you!"

"It's okay," Amelia laughs, moving away from Penelope and holding my go-bag out to me. "Here."

"Thank you. You're a lifesaver," I set the bag on my desk chair and move beside Amelia so the vultures can’t swoop her up first. Amelia places her hand on my back and rubs up and down to soothe me, out of the view of anyone else.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up as he saunters over, adorning a smirk that I’ve seen far too many times. “Who’s this? A super secret girlfriend?”

"Um, yeah," Amelia steps closer to me and holds me even closer as I gesture to every member of the team, "this is Amelia. Lia, this is Alex, Morgan, JJ, Hotch is in his office, Rossi, and you already know Penelope."

When I look back down at Amelia, there's something in her eyes that I've never seen before. Her nostrils are flared just a little bit and her jaw is flexed, and she stops rubbing my back, grabbing a fistfull of my shirt instead. I wouldn't even peg this as nervousness to meet the team, this is just weird. I've never seen her act like this. She looks, I don’t know, maybe frustrated? Angry? Pissed off? All my profiling skills go out the window now and I’m absolutely baffled with the way she is holding herself right now.

Rossi is the first to speak up after the introductions, pointing his finger at Amelia. "Have we met before? You look familiar." Everyone, including myself, is utterly confused. Is that what I saw in Amelia's eyes? Recognition? Has she met Rossi before? But how?

"Um," Amelia clearly grasps for words as she retracts from my embrace, "it was really great to meet you guys but I've got somewhere to be so hopefully I'll see you all soon," and with that, Amelia gives them the fakest smile I’ve ever seen from her and speeds off towards the glass doors and eventually the elevator.

Without a second look at any of my bewildered friends, I run after her, catching up just as she's pressing the down button. "Amelia, what the hell? What was that? Do you know Rossi?"

She keeps her head forward, facing the elevator doors. Amelia huffs, tugging on the straps of her backpack and I just barely catch sight of her lip quivering before she twists her head away from me. "Just be careful on your case, okay? Keep being smart and be safe and come home in one piece and-"

"Please don’t change the subject. What’s going on? Why are you like this?” 

"Just drop it, Spencer," Amelia shakes her head at me and sniffles, obviously combating the tears that are threatening to fall. "I don't know who that Rossi guy is. I'm going to lunch with Jenna and I don't wanna be late or else she'll get annoyed."

"You go to lunch with Jenna at Camille's which is a ten minute and thirty two second drive from here. You meet at noon and it's only 11:30 so you have plenty of time. You're not gonna be late," Amelia shakes her head once more and that’s when the anger starts to rise in me. I’m just trying to comfort her and figure out why she is acting like this and she is blowing me off completely. It’s unfair to me. It’s unfair for Rossi to act like he did and it’s unfair for Amelia to blow me off when I’m trying to help. That’s all I want to do- help. 

“Please, Spencer. Don’t.”

I retract from Amelia, my jaw tightening. I watch helplessly as she slips into the elevator doors before they fully open. She slams her finger down on a button and her arms rise to hug her waist, head hanging down. If we were under normal circumstances, I would rush forward and scoop her into my arms and shower her in affection and listen to every word she has to tell me. But now there’s nothing from her and too much from me- too much frustration, too much confusion, and a lingering feeling of betrayal. 

I scoff at Amelia’s disappearing figure and turn on my heel, marching back into the bullpen. All eyes are on me as I snatch up my satchel and go-bag, stomping right back out of the bullpen and down the stairs.

///

THIRD PERSON

///

"Well, that was really weird," JJ grimaces, dragging her feet back to her desk and collecting her go-bag and case files.

"That was weird," Penelope pouts, shoulders hunched forward, watching helplessly as everyone’s faces match JJ’s when they start to scatter. "Guys, Amelia was the girl from the video chat like, six months ago that was braiding my hair, and she has never been like that. She has come by here a few times to leave things for Spencer and to hang out with me when you’re gone. She isn’t like that, guys! She’s funny and energetic and really friendly and not like that!"

"Rossi, do you actually recognize her?" Morgan asks next, turning to his colleague, interrupting his reverie. The group of profilers regularly steal glances out of the glass doors where the young couple is arguing in front of the bureau elevators.

"I do," Rossi continues to rack his brain for an answer. But matter how many times he recalls Spencer’s girlfriends face and continues to think Amelia, Amelia, Amelia, he can’t put a situation to the person. Spencer storms in and then out again, leaving a tense silence in the bullpen in his wake. Everyone shares wide-eyed glances at Spencer’s seemingly dramatic reaction.

"One of you check up on the kid, but Garcia come with me,” Alex goes rushing after Spencer and follows him down the stairs while Penelope hurries after Rossi, all the way to her cave and into her perfectly adjusted seat.

"Sir, what are we doing in here?" Penelope wonders, her fingers instinctively at the ready on her keyboard.

"Do a background check on Amelia. I'm sure you know her last name," Rossi leans over Penelope’s shoulder, watching her type in Amelia Stark. "I swear, I know that name."

“But why? You know I hate digging through someone’s personal life,” Penelope whines, slapping her hands over her eyes when information pops up about her friend. She feels Rossi lean even closer to her screen and she whines out. “It’s different when I do this alone because I do it out of love! This just feels wrong.”

“Then just forget I’m here. I know this name,” Rossi mumbles absentmindedly.

"I started doing a background check on her when she was here and no red flags immediately popped up," Penelope slowly drops her hands from over her eyes and starts to read the information that feels much more invasive now. "Okay, Amelia Stark- she's 25, moved to Virginia when she was 21, right out of college. She went to Carnegie Mellon and studied fine arts. She's an artist and an amazing one, at that. It looks like she has a couple low grade arrests in here but it's all for graffiti and street art. Friends all bailed her out and that was it, she was never charged with anything. Ooh, bad girl."

"No, no," Rossi shakes his head, "that can't be all. Keep digging."

Penelope whines out when she continues to type, slower than ever before in an attempt to drag out the invasion. "I don't know what you're expecting me to find, Sir. I also don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for so it makes it harder to- oh," Rossi gets even closer to the screen at the sound of her inflection change. "Many, many sealed court records- is that what you're looking for?"

"Unseal them," Rossi demands.

With a few simple yet hesitant clicks, Penelope unseals the court documents and Amelia Stark's entire life is opened up to them.

"This is how I know Amelia," Rossi breathes out. "Do you think Reid knows?"

Penelope shakes her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears as she buries her face in her hands. The air suddenly feels much more tense, they both realize, and a low level of guilt fills Rossi. "No, definitely not. He would've realized why you recognized Amelia if he knew. She definitely hasn't told him. And when I was joking about doing a background check, she seemed kinda nervous, but I just thought it's that kind of nervous we all get like when we're driving and there just happens to be a cop driving on the same road as you- not because of this!"

Rossi tugs his keys out of his pocket and taps Penelope’s shoulder. "Send me her address and tell Hotch I'll meet you guys in Texas."

///

AMELIA

///

I slam my apartment door shut, sending a sloppy and incoherent text to Jenna to cancel on lunch. I can barely see through the tears in my eyes as I try to hang up my keys on a hook and put my backpack beside it. My hands are trembling and even when I stop moving around so I can ground myself, the shaking doesn’t stop.

There's a sharp knock at the door, and I debate not even answering. I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my cries, trying desperately to wipe my cheeks but it doesn't really work. There’s no hiding my red face and my melting makeup, I’m sure.

"Amelia, I know you're in there. I hear you crying."

I grind my teeth when I hear the voice behind my door, anger bubbling up inside of me and it sizzles over before I can even think to stop it. I stomp over and throw open the door, finding Dave standing there with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. "Are you kidding me? You followed me home?"

"I knew you were familiar," Dave strolls right past me, glancing around my apartment like he was invited in. I don’t bother to close my door when I follow him into the living room, slapping his hand away when he reaches out to touch a canvas on the wall.

"You can't just show up and waltz in and start touching things! You're supposed to be on a plane going to god knows where! Get out, Dave. This is absolutely ridiculous!"

"Does Reid know?" Dave turns to me and crosses his arms, his face stoic and emotionless. I try to keep my tears from falling but it's a useless feat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to answer but then all I can do is shake my head no. "No? You haven't told him? You've just lied about your entire childhood? Amelia, that's-"

"I didn't lie about anything!" I shout at him. "I just didn't tell him anything at all and he's fine with that because he cares about me. I don't need you fucking that up, Dave. So thank you for ruining my relationship because Spencer is pissed at me and he probably will be for a while and it's all your fault." It’s a wet kind of anger, the kind of anger that leaves you sobbing and grasping for words. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that I could lose Spencer over this situation, a situation that I’ve spent our whole relationship trying to avoid. 

"You can't blame me. I did recognize you. I just couldn't place why," he tries to defend himself because now he suddenly realizes that he interfered with something he shouldn’t have. He recognizes my tears and my anger and how Spencer stormed off and he sees that this is his fault. He has ruined our relationship.

"Dave, seriously, can you just get out? You're supposed to be on a plane by now," I march back to the door and place my hand on the handle- another invitation for him to get out of my apartment.

"Actually, we're going to Texas," my head slowly trails up at Dave's words and I meet his eyes for the first time since I was standing in the bullpen with my hand in Spencer’s. "We're going to Mike's police department. He called us in."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Dave nods at me, "I'm sure it'll be nice to see him again after all these years."

"Can you, um," I let go of the door and run into the kitchen briefly, picking up a box that I've yet to put a label on, "can you give this to him? I meant to mail it but I didn't get around to it. I sent the kids art a couple of months ago but they wanted more."

"Of course. Anything else you want me to tell him?"

"To be careful," my voice cracks, more tears streaming down my cheeks. Imagines of Mike coming home with bruises and stitches surface in my mind and they make me shudder. But then my mind switches and I’m suddenly picturing Spencer in stitches with a black eye and a busted lip and I slap my hands over my eyes as if that would make the mental images disappear. "To be really careful. And please, make sure Spencer is careful too. He's upset and-"

"I'll look out for the kid. I always do, we all do." Dave takes the box from my hands and pats my shoulder in the least comforting way possible. "Listen, I really am sorry that I exposed you like that. I didn't mean to do that, I just genuinely recognized you and I didn't know why. I had Garcia pull up court records and then I remembered why I knew you."

"Don't tell Spencer, please," I practically beg. "I-I don't ever wanna have to tell him but I know I do eventually. Besides, he'll probably," I roll my eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh, "look at what color socks I'm wearing and then be able to tell me my entire life story."

"Spencer's good at that," Dave gives me a small, proud, almost fatherly smile and starts heading out the door. "I won't tell but you shouldn't keep it a secret for too long. Like you said, he's good at what he does and he'll connect the dots. I'll bring this to Mike and tell him what you said."

"Thank you," Dave gives me one more smile before heading down the hallway. Before he can get out of the building, I stick my head out of the doorway and yell, "and don't ever show up at my apartment again."

SPENCER

"Did I miss some event in the bullpen before?" Hotch asks nonchalantly as he walks onto the jet.

"No," I answer coldly, not even looking up from the book in my hands. I’ve been staring at the words for almost half an hour yet I haven’t processed a single one. My mind is racing too quickly to actually attain any new information, no matter how hard I try. It doesn’t help to feel everyone’s gaze on me, their eyes boring into the back of my head. It’s a feeling that is far too suffocating for me to ever feel comfortable until they have averted their eyes elsewhere.

"I heard some commotion but I was on the phone," Hotch keeps talking and it enrages me that he’s supposed to be the best profiler on this team, considering he’s lead profiler and unit chief, but he can’t tell from the tone of my voice that this conversation needs to end. He just ignores my tone of voice and moves on with his life. I guess I should be used to that by now.

"Just some chatting. No commotion," Morgan gives me a look as if to say ‘how did I do’ but I just look back at my book.

"Alright,” Hotch accepts Morgan’s answer with ease, but not mine, “well, let's call Garcia and get started."

The rest of the plane ride is awkward and tense. In his normal fashion, Hotch ignores the tension and gives us all directions on where to go when we touch down in Texas. I only contribute a few facts here and there but I stick to attempting, and failing, to read my book. I just can’t seem to bring my attention anywhere but Amelia and Rossi. The questions swirl around in my mind and they won’t stop, no matter how many times I splash cold water in my face or try to have a conversation or read the case files. The questions keep swirling.

Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? Why did Amelia leave so quickly? Why was she on the verge of tears? How come Rossi isn’t on the plane right now? Is Amelia okay right now? Is she mad at me? Is our relationship over because of this one moment? Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? And why did she recognize him too?

I don’t say a word as we land and split up in SUV’s, heading off to our assigned locations to start working. I cling to my distraction book and try, for the millionth time, to process the words on the page. But my brain is filled with nothing but Amelia, Amelia, Amelia.

"Agents," the sheriff comes up to us when we enter the station, shaking Hotch's hand before reaching for mine. I just lift my arm and wave at him, not even bothering to attempt a smile. The sheriff gives me an unsure look but drops his hand back to his side. "Thank you guys for coming out."

"It's our pleasure. I'm Agent Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid."

"Well, I'm Sheriff Michael Stark, you can call me Mike. I know your unit chief, Matt Cruz, and I asked him to bring this case to you because I could really use the help. We've never seen anything like this before. But I'm not gonna lie, I thought there'd be more of you," he leads us further into the police station and gestures to the very full evidence board against the wall. Oh gosh, that has to be refined and taken apart. Great, even more work for us. 

"There's other agents are the crime scenes now," I tell the sheriff, eyeing the evidence on the board that is incorrect or won’t help the case at all. Sometimes an enthusiastic police force is really helpful but in times like this, they’re doing more harm than good. I start pulling down all the evidence that won’t help and throwing it aside.

"Great," Mike watches me destroy the evidence board for a moment before plastering on a smile, “I’ll gather the force, and let’s get working.”

///

THIRD PERSON

///

Dave Rossi, go-bag and cardboard box in hand, struts into the Texas Police Department. Some officers smile with recognition as he passes them but he ignore all the attention. He’s used to it, anyway. Rossi goes straight to the sheriff’s office, knocking firmly on the door.

The door flies open and a smile instantly stretches across Mike’s face at the sight of an old friend and colleague standing in front of him. "David Rossi. Wow. It's been quite a while."

"That it has," Rossi steps inside the office, setting the cardboard box on the first chair he sees.

"I thought you retired a while ago. You published those books, I've got them all in my house.”

"Came back. The retired life wasn't for me," Rossi explains, then taps his hand on the top of the box. "I ran into a certain child of yours and she gave me this to give to you and your other children."

Mike's eyes widen when he finally notices the box, tilting his head to read Amelia’s writing on the side. "You saw Amelia?"

Rossi turns his head towards the window and gazes into the main room in the station, where Hotch and Reid are chatting over the evidence board. "Have you met Dr. Reid yet?"

"I have," Mike nods, already slicing the packing tape on the top of the box. "He's-” his hand freezes mid-air, eyes widening in realization, “oh my god. Amelia told me she was dating an FBI agent that works for the BAU. I can't believe I didn't put it together!"

"But Spencer doesn't know. I asked Amelia and she hasn't told him anything."

Mike scoffs dramatically, pulling out a large canvas and admiring the beauty of Amelia’s artwork. She has never disappointed him, Mike thinks. "How is it possible that she hasn’t told him anything? Her tattoos are basically the story of her life. She's got tattoos of her brother and a bunch for her mom, she has a cactus, a bee, a turtle. Her arms basically tell her life story."

"My guess?" Rossi suggets. "It's been cold. She avoided it because she was wearing long sleeves. But she asked me not to say anything so I have to ask you the same. She swore to me that she would tell him eventually so I don't want to come between them."

Mike’s gaze moves out the window again, eyes locked on the quick-talking doctor who politely refused to shake his hand. "She’s gonna have to tell him soon. But right now, we have better things to worry about. Someone’s killing prostitutes,” Rossi nods and saunters out of the office, joining his teammates, getting nothing but a cold, hard glare from Spencer. But Mike doesn’t see this interaction because he’s fishing though his desk drawer, searching for command strips to hang Amelia’s painting on the wall outside. 

/// 

SPENCER

///

I stare out the window as Morgan drives, studying all the sites that pass us. I know that Amelia grew up in Texas. I'm not entirely sure where because she never specified where, but I wonder if she ever walked these streets as a kid. I wonder if she held her brothers hand when they walked to school, or if her mother held her hand and dragged her away from a toy store. Or maybe an art store would be a more apt location for Amelia to get attached to. Did she draw her first picture while sitting on the curb and waiting for the bus? Did she run down these sidewalks with her friends in the middle of the night after they all snuck out? 

"Reid. Hey kid! You're spacing out again," Morgan reaches over and lays his hand on my shoulder. I quickly shrug his hand off my shoulder and pat my cardigan down on my shoulder to correct the wrinkles Morgan just created.

"Sorry, sorry. Was someone saying something?"

Deputy Bennett in the backseat speaks up, "I was just telling Agent Morgan about Joe's Bar and about Dinah. She's the woman who runs it."

I do what I can to keep my mind off Amelia. I miss her immensely, more than usual. We used to text each other constantly while I was away on a case but I haven't heard from her at all, and that breaks my heart. She's my sunshine, and if I don't have my sunshine, there's no way I'll be able to think straight. Her short and sweet texts that I always seemed to get when I’m away quickly became the things that encouraged me to work harder. They encouraged me to solve the case so I could get home and see her smiling face again. But now there is none of that. Not a single ‘hope everything is going okay’ message or a phone call that she swears she didn’t mean to do or a silly selfie of her in her studio or sitting on the couch. There’s no motivation and no encouragement to get home.

But I do what I can in the bar to distract Dinah and the deputy while Morgan goes to talk to the other girl. I don’t even remember her name. All I know about her is that she looks hauntingly similar to Amelia and I can’t get myself to look at her a second time. I ask meaningless questions with answers from Dinah that are all lies. But whatever Morgan is doing seems to be working so I keep going, trying to seem casual and nonchalant.

Morgan comes stutting back with his hands in his pockets, giving me a shrug as if to say got nothing, but his eyes tell a different story. "Alright, Dinah," the deputy says, "we'll get out of your hair now."

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help, gentlemen," Dinah says with a completely fake southern charm, returning to cleaning the bar with a rag.

I tuck my head down as we get back in the car and drive back to the station. My head floats back to the clouds, and I barely hear Morgan and Bennett's phone conversation with Hotch about Preacher Mills that they now have in for questioning. I pull my phone out a check for any messages from Amelia, only finding one from JJ, asking if I'm feeling okay. I ignore her, putting my phone away again and huffing in frustration.

"Lady troubles?" Bennett chuckles from the backseat, patting my shoulder in the same horrible way that Morgan did. "I don't need your profiling skills to see that from a mile away."

"I'm fine," I snap as Morgan pulls into a parking spot at the station and I’m stumbling out before the car is even in park.

I have every intention of dashing inside and ducking my head in a book to distract myself, but before I can even get to the evidence board, I stop in my tracks. That painting wasn’t there when we arrived. This is a new addition and it looks similar to the art I have on my desk at Quantico. I take a step closer to the canvas and my blood runs cold when I spot Amelia’s distinctive signature on the bottom right of the painting.

“You like the art?” Bennett is at my side once more. “We get a new one every few months.”

“Um, uh huh,” it takes me a split second to remember how to speak. I’m just so utterly confused. I thought I was close to learning every about this woman and she keeps surprising me. Amelia sells her art to museums and rich people who fill their houses with legendary artwork. What is this painting doing in a police station in Texas? “Where do the paintings come from?”

Bennett shrugs in an annoyingly casual way. “Sheriff Stark’s daughter is an artist or something. She sends them over here sometimes. He’s got a house full of little brats at home. Don’t know how he does it,” he chuckles and leaves me high and dry, even more confused than I was before. 

///

The case turns out to be much more complicated than we imagined. At first glance, we seem pretty convinced that the preacher is the unsub. But when all the evidence lines up, it’s clear to see that he is being set up. So we set off on the mission of trying to find the preacher to tell him we know he’s innocent.

"Preacher's car was just spotted at El Lobito's diner," Hotch relays the information to us. "Reid and Blake, Sheriff Stark is gonna drive you over. JJ and Morgan, take another car over. Rossi and I will coordinate from here."

Everyone nods as we pull on our vests, adjusting guns and double-checking ammunition. We rush off to our cars and speed off to the diner, sirens blaring. I refrain from checking my phone, knowing I need to clear my head if I'm about to go into a potentially dangerous situation. I can’t think about Amelia right now. I can’t think about her laying on the couch in her nearly-sheer pajamas with a glass of wine in her hands. I can’t think about her wrapped up in her duvet and sleeping without me. I can’t think about her crying over the event in the bullpen without me there to hold her. No, I can’t do that. I need a clear head. 

We arrive at the diner and we're all eyes, searching for movement from inside. Lorenzana comes up to us, her hand poised on the gun on her hip. "He's been in there a good five minutes now," she tells us. "No movement inside yet."

"What about patrons?" 

"Diner's closed," Lorenzana says.

"Looks like two entrances," Blake says, her hands on her hips. "The question is, is he alone?"

"Uh, guys," Deputy Bennett says just as JJ and Morgan run up beside us, "I've got movement. We should move in. We should move in right now."

"Actually," I glance inside and see that all the preacher is doing is peering through the window. Bennett needs to calm down and stop being so dramatic about everything, "we're better off establishing the perimeter first. Then we can open up a line of communication." 

"I think you're right," Sheriff Stark nods, effectively dismissing his defensive officers. "I think we should-"

Suddenly there's the loud screech of a gunshot and everyone ducks as an initial reaction. Sheriff Stark falls to the floor in front of us but Blake and I duck behind the open door of our SUV. The preacher starts reining bullets down on us, haphazardly aiming for anything and everything. So much for telling him we know he’s innocent and bringing him in for protection. 

"Blake," I tap her shoulder, gun drawn in my other hand, "we gotta get the sheriff."

Without another word to me, she runs right into gunfire. She grabs one arm of the Sheriff's arms and starts to pull him, but clearly can't. My eyes go wide and the gunshots pound against my eardrums as I push myself away from the car.

"Blake!" I’m screaming as I shield her from the bullets coming her way. There’s no doubt she would have been killed by any of those bullets. She should be more caeful. She has a husband to return home to.

There is a searing pain in my neck and it takes me a second to process that I've been shot. The world starts to move in slow motion when I crumble to the ground and stare up at the dark sky. There are tears falling down my cheeks and stinging my gunshot wound, but the stars seem to calm me. I wonder if these are the same stars that Amelia used to look at with her brother. I wonder if Amelia is looking up at the stars right now. 

Amelia. My girl. I can't find it in me to have an ounce of anger in me towards her anymore. I'd give anything to be able to hold her right now as my body fills with indescribable pain. I can feel her hand in mine and her laugh echoing in my ears, drowning out the gunfire around me. How does she do that? Her laugh always overpowers everything around us. I swear I can feel her lips on my face and I can feel her hands on my skin, and I want to reach for her. I can see her right in front of me, leaning over my weakening body and whispers sweet nothings in my ear. Is she actually here? I can feel her. Why is she in Texas? Why is she in the middle of a shootout? Why isn’t she wearing a bulletproof vest? She needs a vest. She needs it now.

With the little amount of strength I have left, I reach my shaking hands for the velcro on my shoulders, tugging on them. I tug, and tug, and tug, and nothing happens. The vest won’t come off. I can’t save her. I need to save her.

I'm jolted out of my beautiful daydream when I feel myself getting dragged against the pavement. My view of Amelia dissipates and I cry out, reaching my hand out for her. There's a face in front of me but I'm looking past them, smacking my lips together in an attempt to speak. But then the person is gone and I'm left alone again. I try to call out for my girlfriend, who has disappeared, still tugging at the velcro on my kevlar vest. She needs it. I need to save her.

I sit there helplessly for what feels like forever, hands shaking and covered in blood. The sound of gunfire starts to warp in my ears and it seems to get more and more distant by the second. Maybe the gunfire is stopping. Maybe Amelia is safe. If she isn’t safe then I don’t know what I would do. I try to speak again, but my jaw just goes slack and suddenly I can’t move it anymore.

Blake rushes over and crouches in front of me, pressing her cold hands against my bleeding wound. The temperature of her fingers jolts me in the most shocking and aggressive way, a gasp coming from my wide-open mouth. "Medic!" She shouts. "We need a medic now! There's too much blood!"

I can feel blood dripping down my body and my head is starting to get fuzzy. The blood soaks my kevlar but it doesn’t stop me from continuing to pull on the velcro. I don’t feel bullets flying past me anymore but Amelia still needs it. But the more energy I put into tugging at my vest, the more parts of my body start to render useless. My fingertips tingle and my eyes start to roll.

"Hey, you're doing great. Just keep your eyes open and on me," Blake tries to give me a smile, but it never reaches her eyes. "Eyes on me, eyes on me," I try to trail my eyes up to hers, but they just cross and my head starts to pound. "Spencer! I need your eyes on me!"

My vision starts to sparkle and then those sparkles burn out until all I see is black.

 taglist!

@babybobbybones @blameitonthenight21 @thematthewgraygube @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @rxseinbloom @m0rcia​ @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @gublergirls @wonderlandhatter @ambitious-but-lazy 

[realfuurikuuri]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

MissingArm!AU: When escaping the cave, it wasn't his tail that got crushed. In exchange for his innocence, he gained a sordid past. The Pure Heart Valley seemed like a good place to escape. To start a new life with a new family to forge a new identity. However, when the past rears its ugly head Mao Mao's forced to step up or be put down.

AN:  Ho boy, this chapter was longer than I expected (again) so this is again going to be split into two parts. So, the title won't make the most sense. I've been putting off uploading it for.... reasons. Regardless, this chapter has very little Mao Mao in it, instead I focused a bit more on comedy. I feel that we need some light-hearted fun after Mao Mao's nonsense. The song recommendation here is Queens of The Stone Age - Go With The Flow. As always, follow @spookylovesboba on Tumblr/twitter/youtube, and enjoy the chapter.

Direct Link to chapter 8 on AO3: XXXXX

What happened?

That was the only question in Badgerclops mind as he picked up the broken pieces of wood. Headquarters was a wreck. The front door had been smashed to pieces, along with a large part of the wall. The TV was broken, which sucks. What doubly sucked was that their couch, Sofia they called it, had fluff flowing like blood. The destruction went through the entire HQ. Not even the dojo was spared. Axes, maces, spears, swords, knives, and arrows sticking out of the walls and floors like the spines on a porcupine.  

And it was all on Badgerclops to clean it up. He didn’t even have Adorabat to help him. She wouldn’t leave Mao Mao’s side, besides, he didn’t want to bring a hyperactive 5-year-old to this tetanus factory. At least his metal hand couldn’t get splinters. It made gathering all the broken pieces of wood much easier. What wouldn’t be so easy was the repairs. The windows were broken, and duct tape might fix the sofa. Duct tape wouldn’t fix the broken equipment in the garage. He couldn’t even salvage any tapes because those were torn apart, too!

What the hell happened?

Badgerclops didn't have time to wonder because the monster alarm began blaring throughout the house. Fine by him, he hated cleaning up. He slid down the pole to the garage, hopping onto the aerocycle. It roared to life despite the damage. Riding the adrocycle alone, Badgerclops couldn’t help but think that it seemed… bigger. He ignored the feeling. Badgerclops revved the engines and slammed right into the garage. His face left a nice imprint on the metal shutters.

“Oh, come on! How did you manage to break the fucking garage, too!” he screamed, clutching his bloody nose.

He blasted a hole in the garage with his laser-cannon (he was going to need to fix the garage anyway) and rocketed towards the valley.

* * *

Badgerclops landed in the valley plaza. Sweetipies were in a panic, running around like chickens with no heads. Muffins was hiding in her bakery, Pinky was throwing bricks through the windows of said bakery. Pinky may be worse than smallpox, but he couldn’t cause this much chaos. At least, not often.

Badgerclops thoughts were cut short, quickly stepping out the way of a laser bolt that left a black stain on the ground.

“Fear me!” Orangusnake yelled, firing a laser tool at the valley. “The Ruby Pure Heart belongs to the Sky Pirates.”

Where’d he even get a piece of heavy artillery?

The entire group stood on one of the roofs with their laser cannon. While the piece of artillery was concerning what was sitting next to it made him open his right eye. The cybernetics zoomed-in, identifying Jǐngtì with a yellow danger outline. If he was half as strong as his father he’d be trouble. More worrisome was that fighting Jǐngtì could anger Mao Mao, and that man had earned his red danger outline.

Badgerclops didn’t think he’d be trouble. Jǐngtì looked less than thrilled. He sat down with his feet dangling over the edge, the purple bandana over his face as he looked off into the distance. Badgerclops hoped it stayed that way.

Badgerclops turned his hand into a megaphone. “Attention all Sky Pirates under the authority of the Pure Hart Sheriff, please kick yourselves out before we do it for you!”

“Like you have that authority! You aren’t the sheriff,” Orangusnake yelled back.

“What! Of course, I do. I’m the sheriff!”

“No. Mao Mao’s the sheriff. You’re just a… cop, I guess.”

“I can be the sheriff, too!”

“I don’t think you can.”

“Listen, I’m not gonna take this from someone who can’t tie their own shoes.”

“Actually,” Jǐngtì spoke up from the sidelines,” Orangusnake’s right. There is only one sheriff per county, which considering Mao Mao’s head law officer of this entire kingdom it would make more sense to call him police commissioner or maybe chief of police. While he is right in saying there can only be one sheriff, it doesn’t make sense to call Mao Mao a sheriff.”

Orangusnake raised an eyebrow,” where’d you even learn that?”

“Learned a lot of law stuff in prison, but fun facts about law enforcement doesn’t matter. We’re here to take the Ruby Pure Heart not shoot the shit with a cop,” said with a roll of his eyes.  

“Right, and their precious, little sheriff isn’t here to stop us!”

“That’s because he’s in the hospital,” Badgerclops answered.

“Oh, is he going to be okay?”

“Camille said he should be out in a week.”

“Tell him I wish him well.”

“You do know that your villains and he’s the sheriff, right?”

Orangusnake squinted his eyes. The gears in his head slowly turning as he realized the problem. “Uh… I hope he stays in the hospital?”

“Wow, going to say that you hope he stays in the hospital when his son is right there? That’s so mean. I think you owe him an apology,” Badgerclops said, exaggerating every expression with a thespian flare.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Jǐngtì rubbed his temples. “Orangusanke, for the love of God, don’t listen to the cop.”

“Okay, geez… don’t have to be so mean about it.”

While messing with them was fun Badgerclops figured it was time to move on. He charged his arm cannon and pointed it at the group. “Hey, Jǐngtì can you move to the right.”

“Fuck off.”

“...Hey Sky Pirates, can you move to the left?”

“Okay,” they said in unison.

As soon as they moved away from Jǐngtì Badgerclops took the shot. The blue energy blast taking them -and a sizeable chunk of the roof- flying over the horizon.

“What did I just say,” Jǐngtì screamed at the speck flying over the horizon.

“Give it a rest Daddy-Issues.”

“Yeah, I know. Banging my head against a brick wall," Jǐngtì muttered, "why aren’t they in prison?"

"They are surprisingly stubborn,"

“We’re okay,” was heard echoing over hills, right one cue.

Badgerclops gestured for Jǐngtì to come down. Jǐngtì simply gave him the middle finger. Badgerclops crossed his arms and gestured again. Jǐngtì turned away, refusing to look him in the eye, but Badgerlcops kept staring at him. The silence stretched on for five minutes before Jǐngtì relented with an exasperated sigh. He pushed himself off the roof, dropping to the ground with deceptive grace. He certainly was more dexterous than his mother, perhaps his father, too. Badgerclops’ cybernetics made note of that.

“What do you want,” he spat.

“Nothing, I just wanna check on you,” Badgerclops said in a white-lie.

Jǐngtì seemed to notice something was up. He cocked his head to the side and looked Badgerclops up and down, ear twitching while he thought, his paw dangerously close to that golden dagger. Was he going to attack?

Badgerclops jumped when Jǐngtì suddenly crossed his arms. “Why,” he asked.

“Cause your father would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

Another half-truth.

“Fine. What do you want to ask?”

“Nothing, just come with me,” Badgerclops said.

Jǐngtì gave him a dismissive wave of the paw but followed behind Badgerclops anyway.

First, Badgerclops had to do the normal formalities and procedures. He normally the official nonsense to Mao Mao. Shame the bootlicking stickler wasn’t here. First was the piece of artillery. Badgerclops could tell it was old and those idiots probably couldn’t modify any cannons the airship had. Could they?

“Hey, Daddy-Issues! Know where they got this?”

“In one of the trash piles at the junkyard.”

What the hell was this doing in the junkyard? Questions for later. Right now, he should take a page out of the SKy Pirates book and salvage the trash. Badgerclops went to work with his metal arm, disassembling it, quickly packing it up, and then tossing it all the way back to HQ. With any luck, he could use the parts to fix the garage.

Next was examining the damages. There was the torn roof which he’d blame the Sky Pirates, and that was about it for damages. Oh! And that soot mark on the ground. Badgerclops turned his hand into a hose to wash it off but stopped when he noticed something was off. The black spot wasn’t a scorch mark. It was a hole.

Badgerlcops kneeled down and peered into it. The hole was deep, dark, and dangerous. A hollow space under the plaza was a massive sinkhole risk. He was also sure that some sweetiepie would fall in sooner or later. He was fine with Pinky disappearing into the abyss, but God forbid anything happens to Muffins.

Badgerclops went to patch the hole when he heard Jǐngtì call out,” Hey, fat man.”

“Call me Badgerclops.” You rude little bastard.

“I refuse to believe that’s your actual name, but whatever. You know what this pink, disgusting thing is?”

“That’s just Pinky. Ignore him and he’ll go bother someone else.”

“It’s not the rhino. It's another pink, disgusting thing.”

“Please don’t describe our King like that?”

“I’m not talking about the lion, although he is also pink and disgusting.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“Just see look over your shoulder.”

“What do you want me to… see..,” Badgerclops words droned off when he turned around.

A blob the size of a house sat in front of them. At least Jǐngtì was right to call it pink and disgusting.

“You know what this is?” Badgerclops asked.

“Why would I know? I got here last month, and I’ve spent most of that hanging with a group of idiots.”

“Just don’t mess with it,” Badgerclops said, taking a few steps to get a full picture of the creature.

It was pink, a semi-liquid, Newtonian fluid… What was Jǐngtì doing?

Jǐngtì stood next to the blob, staring back at Badgerlcops with petty defiance in his eyes. He reared back and kicked the blob as hard as he could. Badgerclops tensed up, expecting something to happen. The blob did nothing except shake like a mound of jello.

“Be careful! If you get hurt your father’s going to hold me responsible.”

“It’s always about my father-”

The blob lashed out. Landing a swift strike to the stomach that sent the boy sprawling across the pavement.

“Jǐngtì!”  

Badgerlcops rushed to Jǐngtì’s side, holding him in his arms. Is he okay? Badgerclops didn't know what to do. The kid made a strange hrrrk, hrrk, noise from the back of his throat. What was it? It couldn’t be good, right? Suddenly, Jǐngtì pushed away from Badgerclops. He stumbled to a stop before emptying the contents of his stomach all over the ground. When he was done vomiting Jǐngtì stumbled back, almost falling until Badgerclops caught him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jǐngtì said even though the lie was as plain as the nose on his face.

Badgerclops lead Jǐngtì to a nearby bench for him to catch his breath. “How does this feel,” he said, kneeling down to gently touch the bruise on Jǐngtì’s stomach.

Jǐngtì winced in pain, which was enough of an answer. Badgerclops robotic eye revealed that the kid didn’t have any ruptured organs, but they were definitely bruised. He made a mental note to take him to Camille before remembering Mao Mao was there. What to do? What to do? He wasn’t going to leave without making sure Jǐngtì would be okay.

“Hey, Jǐngtì…,” Badgerclops said, looking up to see Jǐngtì wiping tears from his eyes.“You know, I don’t care if you cry, right?”

Jǐngtì waved Badgerclops away, making Badgerclops chuckled before he cleared his throat. “Hey, Jǐngtì uhh… do you need a place to stay? Cause your dad’s not going to be home, and I figure you need a place to stay.”

“Don’t you need to do something about the blob?”

“I’ll set up some tape around it and maybe it won’t hurt too many sweetipies.”

“It already ate the pink rhino thing.”

Badgerclops looked up to see that Jǐngtì was right. Pinky was floating in the mucus. Unfortunately, he wasn’t suffocating.

“Well, I’ll also give it a medal or something.”

“You can stand, right,” Badgerclops said, helping Jǐngtì to his feet.

Things have really gotten out of hand haven’t they, he thought to himself. Badgerclops wearily eyed Jǐngtì. He was a criminal; there was no dispute about that, but Jǐngtì needed someone to watch him, not arrest him. For the time being, at least.

[hes-writer]

The Hate You Give

Hi hun! If you’re not too busy, could u write one where they’re are dating and she’s a latina? Like she feels insecure about her brown skin, slightly bigger chest and ass, her thick dominican accent bc the girls who were linked with him before were all white and blonde and like she tries to break up with him bc of all the hate and differences. Thanks honeyy!!💖💖 @champagnehaarry

disclaimer; I'm not latinx and I've done research as to not offend or stereotype this character to the best of my ability.

Summary: Y/N is latina and receives hate messages

Warnings: angst, fluff

——

Y/N was different. She knew that, well, she had an idea ever since she hit puberty way back when. Her chest had grown bigger than the rest of the girls and her bottom would get her catcalls when she walked down the street. She could handle it, she prided herself in being strong. She didn't mind her accent, not one bit. Sure, it was thick and her pronunciation on certain words had others asking for her to repeat what she just said maybe once or twice, but she tried to understand where they were coming from; ‘everyone has their differences,’ she thought. Her skin never really bothered her–in fact, she hadn't spared much thought about its pigment until now.

When she met Harry, all her insecurities washed away as if she was just a regular girl meeting the love of her life. The way she looked didn't matter to her because she could see in his eyes that he loved her—nobody could tell her any differently.

——-

Y/N was strong. So strong that even when the media caught the first sight of Harry and her hanging out together on their third date, she blew off the fact that one of the cameramen shouted at them, "Harry! Who's this beautiful brown lady with you?" One might say that it was a compliment, at least he called her beautiful, but she couldn't shake off the measures that person took to describe her. Couldn't have he just called her 'lady'? Y/N decides that she's making a bigger deal out of it than it actually meant.

The second time something remarkable happened—it was when Harry stopped their romantic walk to take pictures with his fans. Y/N didn't mind, she loved that Harry was so dedicated to the people that support him that he would basically give all that he can to them. He didn't have to, but he did and that made Y/N fall harder for him. One of the girls asked Y/N to take a picture, handed her their phone and posed with Harry. Y/N was surprised at the straightforward action and she knew that she could not mess this up. Not when the girl has probably been dreaming of this moment her entire life, Y/N will not be responsible for a blurry, half-assed picture. Instead, she asks the girl,

"Do you have any requests on how to take it? Portrait or landscape? Nothing below the waist or..?"

Harry admired her for being so caring, he only smiles at her for asking, being so patient that he feels giddy on the inside and he cannot wait to ask her to be his. The fan, however, furrows her brows and her face morphs into one of confusion.

"Can you repeat what you said?" Y/N repeats her statement but was only met with the same expression-–maybe with a hint of annoyance.

"I'm sorry, can you just take the picture? I don't want to be rude but your accent is so...thick, are you even from here,"

"Obviously not," the girl's friend answers for Y/N. The most obvious answer, if any. The girl beside Harry nudges her friend, eyes shifting from her and then hardening towards Harry as if warning her that she was being a bit rude.

Regardless, the friend eyes Y/N up and down with a glimmer in her eye that spoke hatred.

Y/N takes the picture anyway.

——-

As Harry and Y/N reach the door to her apartment, she couldn't help but think of the past events. It wasn't only that, it was a built up of temperament where she had been treated indifferently by people around Harry. Some fans commented under her selfie on Instagram ranging from "at least you have boobs and ass girl" to "how much fake tan does she use" —none, by the way, she was all natural. And Y/N can't help but feel a tad insecure.

Then came the news articles with the headlines, "Harry Styles Spotted With A Spicy Latina" or "Harry Snags A Girl From Down Under" which confuses her not only because they're an invasion of privacy but she wonders how her whole humanity can be diminished into such an objective headline—she had a name. Granted, she wasn't really worth knowing but regardless, it was better to be called by her name rather than a hotshot eye-catching headline.

She taps the link to one of the articles, scrolling through the lengthy piece of work, eyes squinting at the introduction where it states that Y/N was certainly a deviation away from Harry's usual hookups. Harry had taken it upon himself to make them some hot chocolate while she got changed in comfier clothes as a conclusion to their date night. She was supposed to choose the movie. Her eyes squint at the words "10 Proofs that Y/N Y/LN is a no match for Harry"

The first one on the list was Taylor Swift. Of course, how could Y/N forget about her. Skinny, blonde and pale skin, a stark contrast to her curvy figure, wavy hair and darker toned pigment. She feels a lurch in her stomach from the hit of realization.

Then came Camille Rowe—a model with similar attributes as Taylor. Completely the opposite of Y/N and she feels herself getting more sick at the knowledge being pounded into her. She didn't care about Harry's past because she only cared for who he is in the present. Seeing the women he went for before her puts a stake right through her self-esteem knowing that she would always be compared with one of them as long as she and Harry were together. Her confidence staggering each time she reads a negative comment about how her skin color made Harry stand out whereas it made her blend in the background-a sarcastic joke that wasn't very funny. Her breath hitching every time the topic of her accent came up; how fans who've met her in person make fun of her not having an understandable accent as if it was her fault that her pronunciation was too broad beyond their compare. And each time she sees a comparison of her and Harry with him and his exes, she shakes her head because she knows that literally nothing good ever comes out of that.

She knows she's strong. But why did this hurt her so much? The personal attacks being hurled at her made her feel so inferior to others and even to Harry! It was like the media was never gonna get used to the fact that she's a person of colour—continuously writing papers about their 'interracial' relationship as if it was such a huge deal when really, it was not even their business to pry or scavenge for.

"Hey love, have you chosen a movi– hey, hey what's wrong?" Harry walks through the doors of her bedroom, feet kicking the door slightly open while his hands carried two steaming mugs of foaming hot chocolate. Upon seeing her tears and slouched stance, he sets the cups down on the bedside table before sitting with her at the foot of the bed.

Y/N stares at him as he does so before wiping her eyes with the heel of her hands. "Nothing, it's nothing just.."

"You can tell me anything, you know that. Now tell me what's wrong, lovie" He wraps an arm around her figure as an action of comfort, but Y/N only sees it as a burden in her chest.

"I think we should break up, H" She looks at her sock-clad feet. Not being able to look at him in the eyes, it's her weakness.

"What? Y/N, did I do something?" Harry tilts her chin up towards his face, eyes frantically searching her red ones for a justifiable reason for her decision.

"I'm not good enough for you," Harry gasps at her confession, genuinely surprised that his girlfriend could even fathom to say those words, let alone think of them.

He denies every claim about her theory but his voice was muted by her mind repeatedly playing the things she had read a few minutes ago. Memories of her being demeaned echoing through her head.

"You're the best person I've ever been with. It doesn't matter what other people sa—"

"Yes it does, Harry! It definitely matters when I'm being constantly picked on and compared to your ex-girlfriends. Every day I read something about how I must've 'tricked' you into being with me because of how I look," Y/N cuts Harry's rant off, not caring if it hurts him because she was so so hurt. The pain had embedded itself in her, working its way up to her roots; who she was and where she came from.

"I'm not just another girl that Harry Styles dated. I'm the brown girl, the one who has the 'biggest ass' out of all of them and especially the darkest because you... you've only dated people like Taylor before and I can't live my life being put down because of how I look,"

Harry stares at her with emotion. Of course, the media was gonna pinpoint what his 'type' was. He didn't know it was hurting his love.

"Y/N, they're all bull. Whoever's writing this shit, they're only in it for the money," he begins, forcing her body to face him completely. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met. They're my exes for a reason and even if I did date them, I'm with you now because I love you for who you are,"

"But it's true, isn't it? They're all so small and I'm big. They're half the size of me for god's sakes!"

"It's not true. And you know why? You're mesmerizing in your own way. I love the way your body curves, the way you look doesn't matter to me as much because you're a beautiful, genuine person inside and out," He nods along to his words. "But your body is amazing, Y/N. And you should learn to love your skin because it shows you who you are."

Y/N bored at Harry's eyes, seeing nothing but genuine kindness behind it. Her mouth gapes open having not heard such compliments from anyone as authentic as the words Harry was speaking to her.

"Harry..."

"No, Y/N. I won't sit here and listen to you put yourself down. You deserve to know how unbelievably gorgeous you are. The tabloids, the hate—they're not true and people like them need some education before they go off dragging other people who don't look like them down."

"You're right, H. I'm sorry,"

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about,"

She wipes tears from her eyes, this time they're from happiness.

——

@ynm1505

[fanfeline]

Get your cousin on Cam👏ille 👏 Des👏mou👏lins👏 asap!!!

@oh-and-this so this got FUCKING LONG my sincerest apologies to anyone on mobile I’m…I’m so sorry

it’s hysterical though

so: me, adoring Camille Desmoulins, vs. my cousin, who knows literally nothing about the man or about history in general!

N: Hello~

A: So, ready?

N: Yeah!

A: Alright, there we go.

N: Honestly…he doesn’t look- he’s not the worst you’ve pulled.

A: :) No, he’s not.

N: Like, we’ve definitely had worse. I’m disappointed in you.

A: [mock offended] Oh, okay! Fine!

N: I thought you could do better.

A: Yeah, fine, give me a second-

N: No, wait! I still need to describe this guy!

A: Alright, alright, it’s fine, we can do both major portraits, I can pull out Boze too. Okay, start with this, we can transition later.

N: Okay, so!

A: There’s a zoom function here too, I’m not sure quite how far it will go….

N: So, his nose is a little wonky. He should get a nosejob. Sorry.

A: Okay, this is the eighteenth century.

N: Yeah, just a little, you know, chop chop, go to the doctor-

A: I’m pretty sure this is the era of bloodletting as a valid form of medical treatment.

N: What? Whatever. His hair? Honestly, his hair’s not the worst. Although, you can kinda see these little, like, short pieces on the side of his face? Looks like a little kid, taking his mother’s scissors, chop chop chop.

A: Yeah, I could see that. I’ll be honest, having studied this man, specifically this man? [pause] Yeah.

N: Where are his eyelashes? Can I- can I zoom?

A: You can, I don’t know how far it will oh jesus. [high-quality portrait, it zoomed in a lot and startled me, okay?]

N: Do- do you see that?

A: Short lashes are not uncommon. I don’t know, ask the painter, it’s not like I have any photographs of the man!

N: There are no eyelashes there. There is: eyelid, eye, under-eye-bag. There are no. Eyelashes.

A: [high pitched] Give me details about this man.

N: Also, his eyebrows are not on fleek at all. Kind of just disintegrates. Like, “Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.” Um, okay, this man, he definitely works as an actor. But like, community theater. He takes improv classes, he lives in Pennsylvania- no, New Jersey. [imitating New Jersey accent] Jersey, honey. [normal] I can’t do the accent.

A: No, you really can’t.

N: He’s got ears, I think. I can see one…part of one.

A: Probably. [look, he never listens anyways]

N: He definitely, like [pause] unicycles to work.

A: [laughing] Okay.

N: But only on Tuesdays. The rest of the days, he bikes. He’s zero-waste, except he has a drug problem, sooooo. He’s also vegan, but only every other day. Oh, and he’s definitely an Internet troll.

A: [laughing harder] That’s the most accurate thing you’ve said yet.

N: His name is like…Cameron.

A: [pause] That was weirdly close.

N: Wait, what’s his name?

A: Camille. His name’s Camille. [note: my voice changed dramatically here and now I’m wondering if my voice always gets that soft, sad and practically reverent when saying his name because if so? that’s fucking pathetic]

N: His name’s Cameron. And he has- does he have any pets? An iguana.

A: What’s the iguana’s name?

N: Jorge [pronounced as in the Spanish]. Spelled J-G-E-O-U-R-G-J-E-U-X.

A: That is roughly the way he does spell names, I will admit, he’s terrible at it.

N: And there it is. He definitely works in a museum part-time, cause community theater doesn’t pay unfortunately. …Is that a rat tail? Oh no, that’s just part of his collar.

A: Yeah, that’s his collar, he wears his hair loose.

N: Okay….I’m just zooming in on random spots.

A: Yeah, no kidding.

N: Look at those LIPS, BABY!!! [dramatic kissing noises] Wait, why is his nose shiny? Oh, shit, the boba, hang on-

[N goes to go make sure the tapioca pearls didn’t melt again]

A: [calling across the kitchen] If you’re done with this one, I’m going to the other portrait, there’s another portrait. Here.

N: …You know what he looks like? A character from Pushing Daisies.

A: Okay, yeah, that’s fair.

[digression about Pushing Daisies]

A: No comment on his hair in this one? It’s very different here.

N: Oh, his hair’s so bad. Wait, is this the same guy?

A: Yeah, same man.

N: Oh god.

[break]

N: We’re recording again!

A: Yay! So, second portrait, this is the man you have nicknamed Cameron.

N: Cameron! Wait, this doesn’t look like Cameron.

A: Same guy, I promise.

N: This is Olga. [Ari starts laughing hysterically] Olga is a woman in her thirties, you wouldn’t guess it, she looks like she’s ninety. She lives on a farm in, like, Norway. Olga churns butter.

A: I swear to God, this is the same human being!

N: No, this is Olga. She churns butter with her brother, Üulga.

A: Oh, right, I keep forgetting he had siblings.

N: Olga is the girl, Üulga is the boy.

A: To be fair, I think he keeps forgetting that he had siblings too.

N: Üulga! Üulgaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. So, Olga. Actually, this more and more starts to look like Üulga. By the way, Üulga is spelled with two “u”s.

A: O-okay, I’ll figure out how to fit that in somewhere.

N: You’re gonna have a fun time typing this up.

A: It’ll be a mess! I love it.

N: Okay, Olga! Olga has a computer from the 1990s, and it only works with a bicycle.

A: You’ve established a connection between this man and bicycles, then.

N: Oh yeah, Cameron! I forgot about that.

A: It’s the SAME HUMAN BEING, I promise you!

N: Does he like bicycles?

A: I have no idea.

N: Olga’s trying to grow in a mustache.

A: [deep breath] Continue.

N: So…okay, moment of silence.

A: [laughing] For my last remaining brain cells?

N: Stop laughing, pay your respects!

A: I have PAID my respects in TEARS.

N: Okay, he kind of looks like that sticker on your laptop.

A: The sticker of Thranduil from the Hobbit movies with a flower crown?

N: …Yes.

A: Okay! Newsflash!

N: Will your followers know who that is?

A: Almost definitely, they’re nerds.

N: Wow, okay. [pause] Olga, precious Olga, I’m gonna end this with a scene? Of Olga, like I did the manchild. What was his name?

A: They were, like, neighbors.

N: They were roommates. Oh my god, they were roommates.

A: If you knocked down the ceiling or the wall or something, I don’t remember exactly where, I’m not good at this. Oh, yeah, these are his letters? This book I’m holding. They’re his letters. Oh, wait, any comment on his facial features, because they’re decidedly different than the last portrait, meaning I have no idea what this guy looks like.

[I can’t transcribe the scene because the file’s being weird, but she was basically voicing/characterizing Olga like The Final Pam from Monster Factory. It was a trip, I assure you. Maybe I’ll manage to get the good file at some point - Ari]

A: Okay, wait, here’s my favorite print, where he’s holding the sword by the blade like an idiot.

N: Yeah, he’s an idiot. This guy is named Christopher Columbus.

A: Don’t you dare compare this man to that rat-ass bastard that is Christopher Columbus.

N: No no no, this is Christopher M. Columbus, he killed Christopher Columbus, stole his name and became the greatest leader of Czechoslovakia that there ever was.

A: What a terrifying thought.

N: Can you zoom in on his hat?

A: No, if we were somewhere else- I actually have this print hanging on my wall?

N: Why.

A: [pause] What do you mean, why?

N: …Nevermind. His hat looks like Mario’s hat. It’s got a facial expression.

A: Where?! Where is there a facial expression??

N: There, see, eye, eye, mouth.

A: Those are leaves, and I don’t see! Oh…no, I do see.

N: I wanted to tell you, dear readers, I’ve loved doing this commentary, I’ll do more in the future, I don’t know when I’ll be back-

A: We’ve got time, we’re doing more recordings after this.

N: Oh. [laughs] Okay bye!

[rorykillmore]

oh feel free not to answer this if uve already gone into this and i just missed it but what r ur characters Thoughts about the big denny shift (plus laura who like, clearly isnt gonna know too much of what denny was like Pre shift,)

okay so lucille is gonna be a bit ruffled, she doesn’t really like change on principle and this is a whole lot of nonsense going on for someone who. doesn’t generally like nonsense,

that said, it’s gonna be really easy to be insular if you want to be given the nature of the new revamp locations so like. really she can just stay in victorian london and be content not to get too involved in the rest of it. she might go to metropolis sometimes too just because the modern world has grown on her and there are certain things she prefers about it, but that’s about it

siobhan might be a little shaken up by the whole thing, honestly, because she’s been on denny... i dunno is it close to three years now? so to have everything just suddenly up and completely change one day is. worrying. like it has to make you wonder, can the rifts just fuck up everybody’s lives any time they want? no matter how long they’ve been stable? she probably... won’t be very Optimistic about denny after that, maybe privately feel that they’re all kinda living on borrowed time, but she’ll still go about doing her regular denny guardians thing because. the world doesn’t stop even for this shit, and she has no patience for standing still

sara is not entirely unused to completely changed timelines and alternate realities so this is a little bit par for the course for her! i think more than anything she’ll just have to adjust a bit to... the lifestyle changes she’ll be required to make. being restrained to a single time, having to find a bit of a different purpose and all that. i can imagine things MIGHT get a bit stir crazy on the waverider while everyone’s adjusting. so if anything, all the changes in the world and the weird ways the rifts are reacting gives her something to do, something to investigate, which is a relief at that point. sara never got to do enough science-y stuff before anyway. people forget she’s good at science-y stuff!

bramblestar, badgerstripe, and nightcloud will probably all have some varied reaction of “...uh, what” because they don’t really have a thorough enough understanding of the rifts to like. try to make sense of what’s happening. and to them, the southwest is a big enough world that they never really have to leave it and go deal with all of this plot stuff, so to some extent it doesn’t really matter or affect them that much (we’re still keeping the rdr 1 locations as well as just adding a few from rdr 2 so it’s not even like their territory is gonna change). the only exception might be nightcloud, who occasionally leaves the clan territories to visit people and who may or may not ultimately end up not in a clan at all so. if she does, she’ll have to find a new place to settle

dolores probably.... won’t like it; it’s kinda easy to make her bristle at stuff like this, where someone or something else just seems to have complete control over her environment and can change it on a whim. but she’d also lose patience pretty quickly if she tried to confine herself ONLY to beacon heights, so she’ll make the best of it. she’s gonna be pretty fascinated by auriga - our future space station world - and see some opportunities to... maybe find some advantages and gain a foothold there, so.

sophie-anne ultimately doesn’t really care how the world pieces itself together. she might be a little more fascinated by what the rifts are capable of than she lets on; but she’s also gonna benefit from all of this way more than she’s gonna be inconvenienced. so! she likes living in the 1920′s more than modern times anyway, probably. and she gets to make a useful deal with the organization,

camille is just going to be exhausted, as usual,

really though there’s getting used to weird stuff and then... there’s this. i think camille’s standard defense mechanism for things that are Too Much is to just, not try too hard to process it, so she might not really react a lot outwardly. she’ll just keep doing her job, maybe try to help felix a little if he needs it. though eventually if she starts travelling a lot... she’s gonna get to see a lot of different parts of the new world one way or another, so it’ll be interesting to see what she ultimately makes of the whole thing

sly is going to be a little... concerned about the stability of things, naturally, but i also think he’s actually the type who will adapt pretty easily to all the changes! actually his world is honestly. kind of similar in spirit to new denny’s, because a lot of the sly cooper games are just traveling around to different locations that are playfully stereotyped and stylized enough to almost seem like they’re from different eras. and i think he’ll really fit in in port royal, and he’ll be thrilled to get the chance to kind of, take after henriette (his pirate ancestor) more, so he’ll be pretty content! at least for a while.

susie is just gonna be like “mmm okay”, like, that’s just about the best way i can describe it. like less concerned and more almost judgmental,

but no she’ll be able to understand what’s going on a lot more thoroughly and instantaneously than. most characters, so in some regards she’ll have less reason to worry (she knows how the glitches work, understands that the rifts aren’t going to suddenly blow up or anything) but in some she’ll have more (she’ll be a little more :/ about the whole organization thing even if that’s not really the sort of thing she gets involved in)

delia is going to find the whole thing pretty frustrating. as if she needed more to worry about! she can’t really control where the academy ends up, so the fact that’s gonna be in a much more precarious and dangerous location than before is... ugh. i won’t talk much about this here because giz sent me a separate ask for it but suffice to say she won’t be happy

alana is going to be... slightly overwhelmed and also a little more nervous. with all of these isolated, varying locations to contend with instead of just, you know, one big, organized country, it would be a lot easier for people like hannibal to slip under the radar. actually, probably a lot easier in general for criminals to hide out in certain places, so the mld is really gonna have to crack down and adapt. she’ll probably be pretty invested in getting everything... organized again

for villanelle, on the other hand, that’s the opposite of a problem!, being stuck in just one country is pretty problematic for an assassin; she’s had to be a lot more careful in how she operates. being able to travel a lot more in between these locations that are still struggling to even figure out ways to communicate with each other is so much more preferable! and chaotic! and fun! plus she gets to experience more culture than just. america. she’s been really salty about just being stuck in america. it doesn’t really concern her that much what the rifts may or may not do (or she’ll say it doesn’t; she’s not exactly gonna be pleased that her younger self was running around for like a week) as long as she has her freedom and stuff to keep her busy and entertained

and then laura, like you said... is an interesting case because she’ll have known original denny for like. less than a week. she’s not gonna appreciate the world fucking uprooting itself, but she also has no real attachment to a lot of these places that other people do. and honestly laura is so fucking. numbed to weird bullshit at this point that she’ll probably get over it pretty quickly anyway. she’s a lot more concerned with... everything she left behind in her world and what she’s gonna do with herself now than she is with any of the big site changes, basically

[writingismyhappytime]

Dauntless: Daddy Dearest (Part 3)

Eric x OC

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, Parenthood

"Goddammit, Camille! I can't keep doing this!"

"Well, you're gonna fucking have too!"

"I have no fucking clue how this goes together!"

"Figure it out!" Camille hissed, perched on the edge of the chair in the living room. I scowled at her from the floor, some baby trap in front of me in pieces. Why the fuck didn't they give these things to us already built?

"These directions make no fucking sense."

"Oh, give them here," She held her hand out, and I slapped the paper into it in irritation. If she thought she could do better, she could have it! I'd been trying to put this crib together for an hour, and so far it had three legs attached to some bars. None of that shit made any sense.

Her face pinched as she looked at it, hunching her shoulders a little. She pursed her lips, which immediately told me she had no clue either. I sighed, knowing that face meant she had no clue either. I leaned back into the chair, defeated by a baby crib.

"Wouldn't it be fine in a box?"

She swatted my head. "It's not an animal, Eric."

"Yeah, but seriously, wouldn't a box be fine for the beginning?"

"Eric!"

"Well, I can't get this thing together! I'm a soldier, not a handyman." I grouched, tilting my head back to look at her. "Can't you get one of these already put together?"

"Apparently not. This is what we got, so we're going to have to figure it out."

"They fucking gave this to us to make fun of us, I swear." I grumbled. "They knew we couldn't do this shit. Someone else is going to have too."

"And who else do we have?" Camille sighed, letting the instructions lower to her lap. Her dark eyes find mine, her shoulders slumping a little. "Eric, we don't have anyone else."

"No, I don't have anyone else. People actually like you." I corrected her, giving her knee a swift kiss where it's by my face. "What about Zeke? Or Tori?"

"You want me to get Zeke to do this?" She arched a brow down at me. "You hate him."

"He's a good soldier, he might be useful."

"Are you going to tell me to call on Four next?" She snorted, but straightened a little. "Although I'm sure he could do it."

"You are not calling Four," I snapped, sitting back up. "He couldn't do this."

"Why? Because you can't?"

"Oh, I can do it," I defended myself. "It's just... difficult. Killing people is easier then this."

Honestly, it was. I could kill someone ten times by the time I got this thing together.

Camille just shook her head at me, handing me the instructions and leaning back in her chair. Her hand was against her stomach, and she looked exhausted. I didn't think she's been sleeping, the kid has been pretty active lately. Lots of kicking, making her pee, he's on her bladder or something, I didn't know.

She's tired, that's all I got. So tired, in fact, she spent a lot more time napping then screaming at me, so it's not all bad.

I looked down at the paper in my hands. Scars decorate my palms and fingers, from knife wounds to climbing, from training accidents to me just punching the shit out of people. These hands weren't equipped to handle something small and fragile, and my stomach knots painfully at the thought of it.

I didn't want that baby to come yet.

I was... terrified.

I wasn't a good person, not a good role model. I killed people, murdered them, followed orders. I was a fantastic soldier, but not a people person. I was the epitome of what Dauntless should be, but not how a person should.

I tighten my grip on the paper, watching it tear a little.

Just a little pressure, and something like this could be ruined. I was barely pulling, and yet it wanted to tear --- how could I even think I could hold a baby?

I would hurt it.

I felt sick just at the thought of it.

"Eric, don't mess up the paper," I heard Camille grouch, her fingers brushing through my hair. "We'll lose half of it and be really fucked then."

I let go of it, letting it flutter to the ground. She stroked her fingers against my scalp, and I felt myself relax slightly. I loved her, she could handle me being rough, she could handle me at my worst, and she has. Camille was tough enough to control me and deal with me, keep me grounded before I got out of hand.

I knew what I was, I knew what I could do.

That baby, that kid... it's not gonna know. What's it going to think when it gets big, and it learns what a monster it's father is? It's not going to like me, look at me with unconditional love. It's going to look at me the way everyone else, with a mix of fear and trepidation.

I couldn't be a father.

"Eric."

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine," I glanced back at her, seeing Camille was gazing at me, her brows furrowing.

"Don't bullshit me, something's wrong. You're being all... stoic."

"Stoic is my middle name," I responded lightly, kissing her wrist. "And you shouldn't be worrying about me. You're the one having a baby in a month."

A month.

That's all the time I have left.

All the time I have to be free.

She's eight months, and I knew it could come even earlier then that. What if the doctor got the dates fucked up, or the baby decided to come early? What was I gonna do? What if something goes wrong and I lose Camille?

I wanted her more than I wanted anything else.

She's the only reason I haven't lost myself, or that's the way I feel sometimes. The track I was heading down, being Max's henchman, it wasn't a good one. Still isn't. Camille was the only bright light in all that darkness, the only person who made me realize there's more to life than just what I want.

Her being happy, me being able to do things that make her smile, it means more to me now then even being the leader of Dauntless would. Making her happy makes me feel good, it makes me feel. I wasn't numb inside, I wasn't a --- around her, everything was just better.

I didn't want to lose that.

I let my eyes trail down to her stomach, seeing her hand pressing against it.

That kid might ruin all that.

I get I'm panicking, that I'm being a little over dramatic about it --- if I confessed any of this to my girlfriend, that's what she'd tell me. She'd say I have nothing to worry about, I'll be a great father, blah blah blah.

She's too optimistic for her own good.

I'll ruin that kid.

"Oh," Camille suddenly straightened with a hiss, and I jumped, twisting to look at her. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, a pained look on her face.

"Camille?" I demanded, scrambling to my knees. "Baby, what's wrong?"

She didn't immediately answer, holding her breath. I reached out, my hand closing nervously over hers where it clenched against the chair arm. She let her breath go slowly, her fingers slipping through mine.

"Camille?" Did I sound as anxious as I felt?

"Sorry, it's... nothing." She muttered, looking a little pale. "He just kicked really hard."

"Oh." I relaxed a little. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. He must just have your temperament," She joked lightly. "Already pitching fits and not even born."

I snorted, reaching forward to run my fingers down her cheek. "Are you sure you're alright? Do I need to get you to the infirmary?"

"No," she shook her head quickly. "No need to parade my fat ass" through the compound just yet, Eric. He just kicked hard, I'm not about to burst."

I flushed a little.

"You're just... not far along enough yet, I don't want anything bad to happen." I mumbled, getting to my feet.

"I worry enough for the both of us, Eric." She squeezed my hand. "Don't get yourself worked up."

"I'm not worked up."

"Do you think I haven't noticed that you're freaking the fuck out?" She asked me after a moment, as if she couldn't hold the words in any longer. She looked up at me, frowning. "You're having mental breakdowns on the inside, I can tell."

Huh.

I frowned at her. Maybe she knew me better then I thought she did.

"Everything is going to be fine, seriously." She told me, shifting a little, wincing. "This thing is going to come out and it's going to be fine."

"Are you reassuring me or yourself?"

"Maybe a little of both?" She shrugged her shoulders, pausing. "Eric?"

"What?"

"Can you... help me up?" Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, embarrassed. "I can't... lift."

I snorted, trying not to chuckle as I reached down, gently helping her up. She only gained maybe an extra twenty pounds, if even that.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just going to go lie down for a bit. Slugger is seriously being an asshole right now."

"Slugger?"

"What? Don't like that name either?" She rolled her eyes at me. "We still need to pick one."

"I'll pick one when I know what it is."

She scowled. "Eric, we need to name it beforehand, so we're prepped!"

"If we knew the sex of it, we'd be prepped." I huffed, not giving in. I wasn't going to pick a name, no matter how much she screamed at me. She didn't know what the baby was gender wise, and she wanted to be surprised. Me, I'd rather know already.

Plus, if we gave it a name, that would make it even more real then it is.

"Go lie down," I waved her away, turning to look down at the mess of wood and screws in front of me. "I'll put this bullshit thing together. But, if it doesn't work out ---."

"No box, Eric. It's not a puppy."

"I'm just saying ---."

"I'm saying go fuck yourself if you think putting a baby in a box is a good idea," I heard her call, already in the bedroom.

My lips quirked.

Always had to put me in my place.

~~~~~~

"So, not much longer now, huh?" Melanie nudged me with a grin on her lips, cutting her eyes up at me from the table. "Camille looks ready to pop that thing out any day now."

"She's got another month," I muttered, ignoring her as I checked all the guns. Melanie's good at knowing stock, taking a gun apart and putting it back together, and shooting it. What she's not good at is everything else. Max wanted me to brief her, make sure she could handle the op she was leaving for in a few days.

"Yeah, but you know how that works. Just because it's a month, doesn't mean it can't be any day instead." She said lightly, and I sent her a vile look.

I didn't want to hear shit like that.

"Oh, don't look at me like you're going to kill me. I'm surprised you're even sticking around." She rolled her eyes, leaning her hip against the counter where the guns laid in front of us, cleaned and ready to go. I cut my eyes at her.

Melanie could be pretty, if she tried. Her blonde hair was in dreads down her back, and she kept her black eyes painted. The silver hoop dangled out of her nose, and she was covered in swirling tattoos. She was a frightening woman to look at, and pretty formidable in her own right. Usually she had some kind of bruise where she'd been fighting.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I looked at her in annoyance.

"You're not the daddy type, Eric."

I knew that.

I looked away from her, down at the gun I was checking.

"How long are you going to play house with Camille before it gets boring for you? You're not going to get any sleep with that thing there."

"That thing is my kid."

"Unfortunate for it."

"Is there a problem?" I snapped, finally turning to face her. "What's the fucking issue, Mel?  Why all the bitching?"

"I don't have a problem, Eric. I just don't get what game you're playing. You don't even like kids," Melanie faced off with me, still holding a black magazine in her hand, the gun resting against the table. "I get knocking her up was an accident, but you should have had that taken care of. It's cruel, even for you, to give her hope when you're just going to leave her."

"The fuck kind of person do you think I am?" I snarled, my temper flaring. How fucking dare she think I'd up and leave my girlfriend like that!

"One exactly like me!" She snapped, glaring up at me. "You're not father material, Eric. You never should have gotten involved with her past the point of fucking. People like us don't get families, we don't keep them. You're fucking yourself over playing house, and you know it. This should be your operation; this should be what catapults you into the good graces of Erudite."

"You act like I give a shit about any of that."

"Oh, I know you do. You think you're a badass, Eric, and you are. But right now, pretending you can start a family and be happy --- well, you're messing yourself up. Why do you think Max doesn't have anyone, huh? Because he's the leader --- leaders don't get distracted with personal matters." She said tightly, and every word hit me harder and harder. I knew she's right, but I didn't want to believe her.

Having a kid was a mistake, pretending that I could be a parent was a mistake --- letting Camille think all of it would work out was a mistake.

"I'm not going to leave Camille," I muttered, glaring at her. "Not now, and not ever."

"I know you think you love her, Eric, but we don't know how too." Melanie's voice gentled, and she reached out, her cold fingers brushing against my cheek. "We do the dirty work, we do the bad things everyone pretends doesn't happen. People like us don't have happy endings."

I stared at her uneasily. My stomach was in knots again, just like it always was lately.  She was right, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"I hate you got yourself into this mess," Melanie sighed, her hand dropping from my cheek. "You always find a way out, though."

"I don't want a way out."

"You will." She gazed at me, and it's that look in her eye --- it's the same as mine. She knew I understood what she was saying, I'd given the speech before myself. Still, everything was so different now --- I didn't want to give it up.

I never used to be so conflicted about anything, either.

"You know you always have somewhere to go," she added, my eyes finding hers. "When that finally gets to be too much, you have somewhere to go."

"It's my apartment."

"No, you gave up your apartment, Eric. That's both of yours. You'll have to leave, not Camille, not with that kid."

I glared at her. "I never asked for your opinion, Mel, and I don't fucking want it."

"I didn't ask a lot of things from you, Eric, and yet I still had to deal with them." She retorted, just as harshly. "I'm doing this op for you, understand? You better fucking appreciate it, because I like my job in the armory, and this better not fuck me up. As soon as that kid is born, you get your ass straight and take this op, got it?" Her finger jabbed deep into my chest. "Otherwise you'll never advance again. You keep turning down jobs, and you'll stop getting them."

Yeah, yeah.

I batted her hand away, scowling.

Whatever.

~~~~~~~

"Eric?"

I opened my eyes, hearing Camille's soft voice. It's late, we went to bed hours ago, but I couldn't sleep. I'd been laying there, listening to her restless shifts, unable to doze at all. Melanie's words kept running through my head, every single one of them right... which was what made it so bad.

I love Camille, and I've never loved anyone else before. She made me happy, she made me feel warm and she made me laugh. She gave me unconditional kisses, words of confidence... she loved me, no strings attached.

But she didn't deserve me.

"Are you awake?"

"Yeah." I gave it a moment before I shifted, rolling over to look a her. It's dark, but my eyes adjusted hours ago.

Camille was staring up at the ceiling, biting her lip before rolling her head to look at me.

"What is it?" I ask, propping myself up on my arm. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, I can't sleep." She muttered, looking a little guilty. "I didn't want to wake you, but ---."

"I wasn't sleeping either," I shook my head, watching as she forced herself to sit up, her hand immediately going to her stomach. She shuffled until she was leaning against the headboard, sighing.

"Is it kicking again?" I asked after a moment, and she nodded.

"Yeah. He won't stop tonight."

"He must be restless," I sat up, shifting until I was beside her. I slipped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her to my side. She pressed her face into my neck, cold hands curling against my bare chest.

"I guess." She mumbled, curling into me. I let my fingers stroke through her hair, pressing my lips against her temple. The kid was moving around a lot, which I guessed was a good sign, but it made Camille uncomfortable. She had a small frame anyway, so it doesn't have a lot of space to move around.

Her shoulders tense, and I watch as her hand pressed harder against her stomach, as if willing the baby to stop moving.

"He always does this when I try to sleep," she said after a moment, her voice tight. "I hate being pregnant."

"You don't have much longer left," I said after a moment, swallowing down the ball in my throat. Those words were awful on my tongue, sour tasting. I wanted Camille to never have that kid, but I also didn't want her to be in pain, either. The faster it was out, the better, right?

Right...

"That's not soon enough," She sighed, her breath hot against my skin. "I wish he wouldn't kick so much."

"Don't worry, we won't mess up again. No more kids."

"And here I thought you wanted twelve."

"I don't think I could handle eleven more of you." I teased, feeling her smile slightly. She looked down at her stomach, hidden beneath one of my shirts, I noticed. I guess it was easier for her to wear my clothes to bed now then hers, though.

"What do you think it is? Boy or girl?"

"Why don't we just ask the doctor and find out?"

"Eric."

Fine. "I dunno."

She frowned. "I don't care what it is. Just as long as it doesn't have three heads or something."

"Doc says it's fine, don't worry about it."

"Doctors are fucking dumb, Eric."

"I never said they weren't."

She flinched, and I tightened my hold around her shoulders. I reached over, placing my hand on top of hers where it's clenched against her stomach, wishing I could do something to help her. I couldn't give her alcohol, although I could use some, and I wasn't about to let her have any drugs, either.

"It's alright," I murmured, kissing her nose. "He's just eager to meet his mother. Thinks she sounds hot as hell."

"Eric!" Camille pinched me. "Come on!"

"Well, I think she's hot as hell," I chuckled, kissing along her cheek, hoping to distract her. "With her high cheekbones, her soft skin," I moved across her jaw, making my way back to her lips, "these soft, plump lips that I love around my c---."

"ERIC."

I laughed, slipping my fingers under her chin and tilting her head up so I could kiss her properly. She sighed beneath my lips, kissing me back. I kept it gentle, lazy almost, because I knew nothing could come of it.

We hadn't had sex in months, I'd gone through withdrawals to a point I'd almost considered helping myself. I knew she wasn't up for it, she never felt good, plus moving around proved to be an issue for her. I was afraid I'd get too rough with her, that I'd hurt her instead of making her feel good, anyway.

I let my hand cup her jaw, feeling her lean into my touch.  I nibble along her lips, my hand slipping around to cradle the back of her head. She's warm, just like always, and so soft. Her fingers curl around my neck, and I sighed, feeling her lips part as my tongue ran along them. She never denied me, she was always... perfect.

She groaned against my lips finally, pulling away.

"Fuck, I wish I wasn't pregnant. I miss fucking you."

I snorted, caught off guard. "Here I thought I was going to be celibate for years."

She grinned at me, letting her chin rest on my shoulder as she gazed at me with so much warmth.

"Not forever, Eric. I like sex too much. Just..." She hesitated, looking down at herself. "I'm not very attractive right now, the size of a barrel. It's horrible."

"You're always attractive, Camille." I corrected her, tilting her face back up with my fingers. "I don't care if you're the size of a water tower. I love you, and your bump, and if you're really up for it I'll just turn you around and not even notice."

"Eric!" She smacked my chest, scowling at me as I laughed, giving her a crooked grin. I couldn't help myself, teasing her always made my day.

"You're such a jerk," she grumbled, but I could see her smiling, even in the dark as she snuggled back into my side, pulling my arm around where my hand rested against her stomach again, her hand on mine. "But I love you anyway."

She's probably the only person.

I curled myself around her, cradling her against me, her head tucked beneath my chin. I wanted to take care of her, but I didn't know how. All I could do was be here, let her scream and yell at me, pitch fits and then cry and apologize. I would be here when that kid was born, and... I couldn't leave her with it by herself.

I couldn't live without her.

I'd be miserable again.

"He's always better when you're here," Camille suddenly said, tightening her hold on my hand. "He likes the sound of your voice."

"He?"

"It. Whatever. You know what I mean. He always calms down when he hears you, you asshole."

I chuckled. "It's first word will be a cuss word, I just know it."

"Probably. But it'll be your fault."

"Your favorite word is asshole, Camille."

"And yours is fuck, so I don't know what you're trying to prove... Asshole."

I hid my smile in her hair, the fragrance of vanilla filling my nose.

"I love you," I said, feeling that I had to say it over and over. I wanted her to know that I did, I wanted to make sure.

"I love you too, Eric," Her hand pressed harder against mine.

I hoped that she did, truly.

I wouldn't survive without it.

“Don’t think being all sweet gets you out of putting that crib together tomorrow.”

Oh, goddammit.

Tags: @jcause.    @elaacreditava.       @riegan.   @deathbyamonster @pathybo@buried-in-books @maquet-lambb.  @jojuarez26. @ljvosscmt    @beltz2016 @magellan-88

[5hfanfiction]

Home (chapter one)

a/n: TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of violence and gun violence 

    Being bounced around from foster home to foster home was, different. But it was not fun non the less. Avenue knew that to be true.         After being taken away at the age of six from her parents. Her mom dead with a belt around her bicep and a needle stuck in it and her father out of his mind. Now at the ripe old age of 15 the girl had grown into herself a bit. She had pale skin, dark brown hair that was a weird combination of curly and wavy, light brown eyes with green sprinkled around the edges. Her voice was low and raspy, being spoken with a pair of plump lips, small nose, and thick eyebrows.

    The girl grew used to being moved every 2-3 months. But, this being the case, Every social worker She’d had all think the same way. The basic teenager trying to rebel against society. Ave didn’t have the best track record though. She had trespassed, stolen, talked crap to any sort of authorative figure… been arrested to many times to count. Before all that ahe had one person that she could trust with her life, but people move on.  It was nights like this when Avenue missed her the most. But that’s besides the point. The girl getting a new social worker today. Avenue was sick of this.         It’s going to be the same story, they say that she can’t be that bad and then they give up on me about a month into it. In all honesty the girl just wanted someone not to give up. It gets tiring, considering that they are usually all old people who hold you up too high expectations. This time she really did it, now residing in not in a foster home, but a dump; a group home. It sucks, but you know, it can’t be that bad, it could be worse right? Wrong. Everyone here thinks that they have a chance of getting adopted or have a chance for redemption but they are oblivious to the fact that they are here until someone is dumb enough to adopt them. Not to mention the owner of this dump is like the wicked witch of the west, her hame is Maria (sounds like a jackass name right?)

     So this is really where the story begins. “Hurry up and get your lazy ass out of bed and come down here!” Maria called from the downstairs. The girl rolled my eyes, swung the covers off of her body, quickly changed into a random oversized t-shirt and skinny jeans, no socks, she hated socks, finally trudged down the stairs.

   At that moment standing towards the entrance of the building was a women who looked to be around her mid 30s, with dark black hair, electric green eyes that seemed to swallow you whole, pale skin, plumps lips, and smoking figure. What they both didn’t know is that this moment would change both their lives.  She smiled sweetly and Ave- for some reason not known to her- smiled back. The green eyes lady walked towards , Ave slowly until she said in a deep raspy tone “Hi my name is Lauren Jauregui, and I’m your new social foster mother.”

    Lauren approached Avenue with great caution not exactly sure what was going though her mind. Her face may be completely still as if a Greek stone statue, but her eyes told an entirely different story. Her eyes told every though and emotion racing through Avenue’s mind at that one time. Lauren extended her hand while still looking at Avenue. Avenue hesitated before shaking Lauren’s hand.“ You too will be spending lots of time together so don’t make it awkward on the first day Avenue.”, Maria fake smiled and so did Avenue. “Lauren you can go up to her room, she will be right up.” Maria told Lauren. She just nodded and disappeared behind the wall that separated them from the stairs.

     Maria slowly turned towards Ave. The girl knew that exact look. She just closed her eyes took a deep breath and opened ready for Maria’s words.

     Lauren on the other hand sat on the bed in the room that was Avenue’s. Lauren read her file, she knew exactly what she was getting herself into. But when Tyler called earlier this morning and she heard desperation in his voice, she agreed to meet the kid. Now  lauren knew what he meant in saying “that kid just needs a home.” Avenue’s eyes were wild and just scared. Looking at Lauren’s every move for a motive.    The room was small and cramped, the bed was quickly made, a small backpack layed on the floor next to a desk with a notebook and random sheet music screwn over it. Lauren looked at the small book collection on the desk, Yellow by Lena Nottingham, The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe, good taste kid. Quickly going through the book and the book had writing and underlining and highlighting throughout it.    The door opened and Avenue entered with the same emotionless expression. Lauren was the first to speak, “how bout I help you grab your things kiddo and we can get outta here?” Ave just nodded and started stuffing the small amount of clothes and belongings she had into the backpack. Lauren helped as much as she could but let Ave have her space. The pair finished up and made their way to Lauren’s beat up Honda. Ave took the passenger seat, Lauren the drivers and made the way to the Cabello-Jauregui residence. Lauren looked over at the girl staring out the window mouthing the lyrics to the Drake song playing Hold on, were going home        How ironic. Lauren quickly looked back at the road, how am I gonna tell Camila and Dinah?          The pair arrived to the house, it was a deep blue color with white triming, and a big old tree sitting next to it dividing their property from their neighbors. Lauren- after fumbling with the keys- let the girl inside and brought her to her room. “just settle in kiddo, I’m gonna go and work a bit.”, Lauren exited the room and went to the stack of papers on the kitchen table that she had to grade. And the two stayed like that untill 2:26 rolled in. That’s when Dinah Jane Cabello-Jauregui and her girlfriend Normani Kordei walked in through the door. Lauren knew it was Dinah by the signature front door flying open and,“MAMA IM HOME, WHAT’S ON MY EATS”    The tall Polynesian walked into view followed by Normani. “Well hello to you too.” Lauren responded. The girl already had a piece of bread stuffed into her mouth and let out a muffled hello.     “Hey Mama J” Normani greeted, before helping herself into their fridge. Camila and Lauren adopted Dinah nearly 10 years ago immediately after they got married. She was a trouble child at times though, with her knack of theatrics and all around being loud but grew into a strong independent 16 year old. Normani and Dinah met a year earlier and it was your basic high school love story.         Lauren took a deep breath, not knowing why she was so nervous,“ So girls, we have a new housemate.” Dinah stopped mid bite, and looked at Lauren as if she was crazy.

     “Mama I know your paper grading has been effecting you, but I think this a whole knew level.”           “No Dinah-” Lauren let her head plop onto the paper stack, “we have a new girl living with us, and she’s gonna be for a bit.”

     “What? Who? Why? How? Where?” That’s all Dinah could respond with. Normani looked between the two and was wondering what exactly was going on too.

      “Gah, just wait till dinner, I’ll explain everything later” Lauren knew going over this know would be a disaster. So Dinah, shook with this new information just went upstairs with Normani. And everyone stayed like that till dinner. Avenue came out of the room that she was staying in and went downstairs to see Lauren in her element. Her hair was in a messy bun, some weird kiss the chef apron on, and some indie music that Ave had never heard of playing, cooking. Lauren turned around and saw Ave standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Hey kid, dinners not gonna be ready for another 15 minutes.”

   “Okay, umm- do you need help?” Avenue asked rolling on the balls of her feet.

     “Yeah sure, thanks for asking, can you please set the table” Lauren flashed a smile. And Ave quickly set to work grabbing the plates and forks and glasses and putting them onto the table. The funny thing was there was way to many things out, 6 sets of everything. Now Ave may not be the best at math, but she knew for a fact she only counted two people, herself and Lauren. She didn’t ask questions. Asking questions was dangerous, Avenue knew that to be true.        Time rolled past as it always did, and soon enough Lauren was shouting at the bottom of the staircase ,“¡DINAH, NORMANI, HORA DE LA CENA!”

     The door opened next to Lauren and in walked in a tiny blonde girl. She was tan and sported a smile that could light up the darkest room. “Hey Mama J” The tiny 16 year old greeted Lauren and walked into the kitchen.

     White blood. As strange as that was that was the first thing that popped into Avenue’s mind after seeing this girl for the first time. The girl greeted Avenue with a cheery,“hello!” Avenue was gonna responded but she was cut off by a loud squeal, and saw a giant Polynesian running twords her with her arms open. Avenue stepped just to left of the girl and clenched her fists ready. The girl looked hurt but quickly recovered. “I’m Dinah! That’s Normani-” she pointed to an attractive woman to the left of her. Lauren came into the room and pushed the four girls gently into their seats and the front door opened.

    A small latina walked into the room wearing a police uniform. She looked to be around Lauren’s age. Friends maybe? Lauren got up and wrapped the girl into a hug, then a kis- Screams that’s all that occupied the room. Avenue was thrown off and onto the floor as he mounted her, throwing punches left and right. The mystery girl cocked an eyebrow at the new girl sitting at the table. Ave only froze when she felt the cold metal against her temple, the creak of the trigge- “who’s this?” The smaller girl asked.

     Lauren smiled and responded as smoothly as she could, which wasn’t all that smoothly to be honest, and answered, “this is Avenue. She’s gonna be staying with us for awhile.”

    The police officer offered a smile to the girl, who seemed to have a dazed expression on her face,“ hey mija, I’m Camil-”

    “You’re fags?”

     The sound of silver wear hitting a  plate was the only sound that was heard in that instant. “They prefer people, but yeah their gay.”, Normani finally broke the silence.

     Camila and Lauren sat down quickly and began eating. Lauren could tell both Camila and Dinah were fuming. Avenue seemed to be lost in her head, she looked.. relieved? 

     “I’m sorry.”

     Camila looked up at the Avenue. Her face were unreadable and her knee seemed to be bouncing a mile a minute. “You’re okay.” And with that the table gradually evolved to chatter.

   After everyone was done Lauren sent Ally and Normani home, Dinah to get ready for bed, do homework, fun stuff like that, and Ave to do whatever. As soon as all the children were gone Camila turned to Lauren, “what was that?”        “What do you mean?”

      “Well why do we have a stray in our house. And what the fuck was that at dinner.”

       “Okay easy Camilk 2%, so I may have got a phone call this morning and agreed to foster this kid for a bit?”

       “LAUREN!”

       “Camila calm down, she needs this. I know what she said at dinner was a shock to me too, but I feel like there was a meaning behind it-”

       “Yeah she wants to disrespect me and my wif-”

     “She apologized and YOU said it was okay. You can’t make a big deal about it now, okay?”

    “Okay.”

    “ I love you.”

    “I love you too.”

     Avenue finished the poem finally. ‘Gravity’ has been teasing her for the past 4 montha, ever sinc-, don’t think about it. She finally finished. Avenue smiled and retrieved the ancient mp3 player and cheap headphones from her bag. She let the sounds of Drake fill her ears.

Hold on were going home.                 A/N: and chapter one has been completed. If you prefer Wattpad I got chu fam: allysuss