#when roth was still half human

[cupinho]

Don't touch me!

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Hearts of Steel and Lightning. An Earl Von Morgan tale.

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)  

“Mrs. Roth, I thought I told you I was not to be disturbed.”

The banging against the door had gone on long enough to finally draw the ire of Junior Ambassador Jung. He nodded apologetically to his guest at the disturbance who smiled in return. He would have enjoyed nothing more than to fire and replace the assistant but for the moment he still lacked the political position to replace members of the diplomatic core.

It had been several months since the night of bloody velvet. When Jung had heard of that horrible incident he was shocked, but he almost didn’t believe it when he was informed that Ambassador Morgan had protected the Hive ambassador Tilith by tackling an assailant out of a four story window.

Several notable figures had been killed during the attack, but surprisingly Ambassador Morgan was not one of them. He used the assailant he had tackled to cushion his fall which lessened the damage, but not fully negated it. No sooner had EMT’s arrived on the scene was he carted away to the nearest hospital where he has resided since. In the interim Jung had been appointed as humanities ambassador, and now his scheming and double dealing that would ensure his ascendency to the primary ambassadorship now that Earl Von Morgan was still recovering in the hospital.

Without warning the doors to the officer burst open. Jung stood to his feet and was about to lambast whoever was foolish enough to think they could storm into his future but bit his tongue as he saw the man standing before him; almost literally as a small droplet of blood rolled from between his lips as the figure slowly walked into the office.

“You are lucky I find you amusing, Junior ambassador,” the figure spoke, emphasizing the “Junior’ of Jung’s title, “because in any other circumstance I would have shot you for such disrespectful conduct.

Carrying himself on a pair of metal crutches and half a face still covered in bandages, Ambassador Morgan slowly made his way into the room.

“Ambassador..” Jung stammered as he walked around the desk, “so good to see you up and about.”

“Oh really?”

Morgan’s one uncovered eye fixed itself on Jung and he felt as if he had just entered the lense of a deadly hunter.

“Why of course!” Jung continued. “Had I been informed that the hospital had released you I would have sent a car to pick you up.”

Morgan held his gaze for a few moments more before grunting and walking past Jung. “I find that rather hard to believe.” He said as he sank back into the chair Jung had just vacated.

Jung looked at him confused, but was forestalled from answering as the guest finally spoke up.

“It is a pleasure to meet you ambassador Morgan; my name is-“

“Fitzgerald Fondwell, founder and CEO of Fondwell industries.” Morgan finished. He waved for the man to sit back down as he rummaged through the drawers of the desk looking for something.

“What did you do with my cigars?”

“I had them thrown out.” Jung replied.

Morgan’s head slowly lifted itself from the drawer he had been inspecting and fixed him with yet another withering glare.

“They were terrible for your health,” Jung explained,” and with your recent injuries-“

“ROTH!”

Morgan’s voice was loud and authoritative, silencing the Junior ambassador and Fondwell like a school teacher chastising rowdy students. From outside the officer the elderly secretary came in holding a pair of cigars in one hand and an antique lighter in the other.

“Don’t worry, I have your spares still.” She replied dryly as she walked past a still silenced Jung. “And how many times have I told you not to shout at me?”

She laid the cigars and lighter on the desk and crossed her arms. “Damn boy threw out my cigars.” Morgan mumbled as he put one of the cigars into his mouth and fiddled with the lighter. His bandaged fingers could barely ignite the flame and those gathered in the office watched on as an increasingly angry Morgan failed to light his cigar. Just as he seemed ready to throw the lighter at Jung Roth snatched it from his hand and in one swift motion ignited the flame.

Morgan shifted the cigar in his mouth to the flame and took several puffs from it. “That will be all.” He spoke and the secretary let out a long sigh before leaving the room again.

As the doors shut Morgan returned his gaze to Fondwell and Jung. Both looked at each other but neither said anything as they waited for what was to happen next.

Morgan motioned to the one remaining seat open opposite him. “Sit.” He said and Jung sheepishly took the offered seat. He took another round of puffs from his cigar before taking it out of his mouth and dabbing it in what was previously Jung’s drink.

“You will need to forgive my sudden intrusion.” Morgan began, “I understand that you were discussing some rather important matters before I returned to MY office.”

Another emphasis directed at Jung which made him grind his teeth. “It was nothing to trouble you over, ambassador.” Jung began with his fake grin plastered across his face. “We were just finalizing the matter now.”

“You mean the continued enslavement of the B37 Units?”

Fondwell’s eyes went wide and Jung’s mouth fell open.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Fondwell interjected, “the B37 units are products my company manufactures.”

Morgan nodded, though he looked to regret the motion as a flash of pain darted across his face.

“That is true,” he replied, “were we not receiving reports that several units have gain sentience and began requesting equal treatment.”

Fondwell laughed and shook his head. “I would hardly call technical glitches a sentience.”

“A glitch you say?” Morgan looked at the industrial tycoon before activating the intercom.

“Mrs. Roth, please send in my guest.”

The doors opened once more and both Jung and Fondwell turned to see a new figure enter. They wore custom fitted clothes that held their shape, but both of them knew from the sound of the heavy footfalls and the clanking of gears that this new guest was mechanical in nature. To their greater surprise as they finally took stock of the figures face they saw it was a B37 unit.

“What is this?” Fondwell demanded as the unit stopped in front of the desk directly between Jung and Fondwell and removed their bowler hat.

“This,” Morgan said as he pointed to the B37 unit, “is Fizz.”

“Fizz?”

Morgan nodded. “It is the name they wish to be addressed by.”

“This thing cannot have a name.” Fondwell spoke, turning in disgust from the machine.

“And yet it is my own.��

Jung and Fondwell jumped in start as Fizz finally spoke.

“Mr. Fizz made me aware to his people’s plight while I was in the hospital.” Morgan continued as he took another puff from his cigar. This seemed to trouble Jung who looked at his boss.

“I was told you were heavily medicated for the duration of your stay.” Jung asked.

“I was,” Morgan admitted, “until Mr. Fizz here hacked themselves into the medical equipment. Damn near killed me in the process before I came to my sense and called off the rabble of doctors around me.”

“So you’re saying this unit tried to harm you?” Fondwell stood to his feet now and backed away from the unit as if it would lunge at him at any moment. To his surprise Morgan shook his head.

“Quite the contrary; it would seem that the medical equipment, while stating I was receiving the standard amount of drugs, had been in fact giving me nearly three times the dose amount keeping me in my medical coma.”

“We will need to have this investigated at once.” Jung interjected. “I assure you we will find out what went wrong.”

Morgan looked at him and chuckled. “Oh I already know what happened, boy.”

Jung could feel the bands of sweat racing down his forehead now.

“I know it was you who had the machines altered to keep me in this state, and while I was under you could use your new found position to block the motion being put forward to recognize synthetic life as equals.”

Jung gave a nervous laugh. “Why would I do such a thing?” In response Morgan motioned to Fondwell who was similarly sweating now.

“Because if synthetic life became recognized Fondwell here would need to cease production of his most popular product lest he be accused of slavery; which is why he agreed to give you a sizeable bribe for your support.”

Both men looked at each other in stunned silence as Morgan continued puffing away at his cigar.

“You know I think I missed these most while I was in the hospital,” Morgan joked, “I dreamt of them but they never had the same flavor as the real thing.”

“I will not stand here and be made a mockery of!” Fondwell shouted. He shot a glare at Fizz before storming past his creation and throwing open the doors. He found a squad of police officer waiting on the other side that grabbed him and hand him in handcuffs before he could let out a cry of surprise.

As they dragged away the increasingly vocal tycoon another pair of officers entered the office and approached Jung.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Jung demanded as he back away. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Spare us the false hoods.” Morgan touted. “Fizz brought me all the proof I needed before I left my hospital bed.”

As the officer drew closer Jung lunged at Morgan. He wagered if he could take the ambassador hostage he could get them to back off and let him go; that there was some way to salvage this situation.

He made it half way before he felt a cold metallic vice grip grab his arm and throw him back into a nearby bookcase. Jung gasped as the air was driven from his lungs and saw that Fizz had interposed himself between the two of them and had so casually derailed his last attempt at freedom. He laid their gasping as the officers clapped him in handcuffs and began reading him his rights as he was dragged out of the office for the last time.

------------------------------------- “Thank you for that.” Morgan spoke to Fizz as the doors to the office closed.

“I calculated if I had not intervened there was a 96% chance that you would have wounded the Junior ambassador, resulting in a substantial release of his vital fluids across the room.”

“I did not know you cared for human life so much.” Morgan replied in surprise, but Fizz shook his head.

“In truth, I was more concerned with the additional work the cleaning machines would need to perform to remove Mr. Jung’s blood from the carpet.”

Morgan’s eye went wide in surprise at such an honest answer and let out a deep billowing laughter that made his side’s ach in unimaginable pain. Only when his coughs drove what was left of the air from his lungs did he stop and compose himself again.

“Thank you for that.” Morgan said, to which Fizz shook his head.

“Honor your word, and we shall be even.”

Morgan looked at the machine and grinned. “I promise you that by weeks end you and your people shall have the freedom you seek; after that what you do next is up to you.”

Before either could continue the buzzer rang again. “Excuse me ambassador,” Mrs. Morgan’s voice came through, “but ambassador Tilith has arrived and is rather insistent on seeing you.”

“I hate to be rude after you just save me,” Morgan began as he straightened himself up as best as he could, “but I will need to ask you to return at a later time to continue our talks.”

“More trouble?” Fizz queried. For the first time since he saw the human Fizz witnessed Earl Von Morgan look nervous.

“When last I saw ambassador Tilith I was grappling a would-be assassin through a window and falling several stories.” Morgan remarked. “And you her being here brings back those memories?” Fizz asked, but Morgan shook his head.

“Hardly; but in comparison I am more terrified of how she will berate me for being so reckless, and that’s if I am lucky.” He chuckled.

Fizz looked at the human for a moment before turning around and leaving the ambassador to his strange fate.

[compacflt]

do you have any book recs in general? i love your writing style and would love to know what inspires you! <3

four books that i can say really genuinely inspired me and my writing in terms of most to least favorite (of course these are all favorites but they can still be ranked)

Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer — for masterful use of symbolism, epistles, the fact that every time i read it (over a dozen times at this point) i discover something new, and the fact that JSF was twenty when he wrote it—lends some belief that i might be able to do the same or similar. read this book when i was 15 and it is no joke the reason i am at the school I am at right now. long story but… this book makes up a sizable share of my soul

All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque — for plot, character, and power of emotion. If you get a good translation, this book feels like a modern piece of war fiction akin to Kevin Powers’ The Yellow Birds or the first half of Full Metal Jacket. There’s a reason this book was one of the first to be burned by the NDSAP in the early 1930s. Absolutely superb & reading this book at 14 right after i had experienced my own sense of unparalleled loss and tragedy genuinely changed my life. A solid part of why i am interested in milhistory

American Pastoral by Philip Roth — for character, specificity of detail, and engagement with politics. I love every Roth piece I get my hands on. He’s gritty and gross and ahead of his time. This book was genuinely devastating to read. It’s so specific it HURTS. Proved to me that details are how you sell a story. There’s like a three-page monologue about how to make women’s gloves, and because of the context every word is more gripping than the last. One of the best ever American authors at the peak of his game imo. Which is not an unpopular opinion, this book is heavily lauded for a reason

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov — for plot, inventiveness of language, and character most especially. Lolita actually isn’t an all time fav for me because I didn’t particularly like the ending (i didn’t understand the role of quilty in the story) but I can definitely say it’s had a clear impact on the way i write and especially the way i narrate. Humbert humbert squeezes out the truth and is so ashamed of the truth that his shame and all his little lies bleed out through every word. He’s utterly absurd but he’s entirely believable. He’s just… I don’t know. He’s just human. In a way that all fictional characters have an imperative to be human, because fiction is a reflection of our own sick and shameful real lives… and that comes out in Nabokov’s diction and syntax. It’s less specificity of detail, like Roth—actually it’s barely specific with details at all because the details are so explicit and shameful—it’s more specificity of LANGUAGE. Beautiful writing for writing’s sake.

But pretty obviously what has affected my writing most is that i moooostly read only straight white men writing about straight white men problems. See above. So my reading list might not be applicable/enjoyable for everyone. i would like to think i write like a straight white man. that’s my goal. my strategy is not to follow in their footsteps or to break glass ceilings but to eventually beat them at their own game. we’ll see how that goes.

[pinksirensong]

can make a headcanons of how and have an Enemies to lovers with Morpheus having the look and powers of Rachel Roth / raven

I've never done headcanons so no idea if I got ir right kkkkkk but I also can't say "no" so...kkkkk hope you enjoy it!

• Both knew of each other way before actually meeting

• As the daughter of Trigon she spent a lot of time at Hell…against her wishes

• Y/N was considered the second second on command, always supporting Lucifer and Mazikeen and in counterpart they wouldn't let Trigon out of his cage in Hell

• Her royalties were the main reason for the hate between them, Morpheus hated that someone that was half human was capable of siding with Lucifer

• The fact that Trigon tried to conquer his realm once didn't help

• He would call her "devil mongrel"

• Y/N wasn't vocal about her hate, instead of words she would use her powers to mess up with his head

• Her being the only one capable of making him so irritated that wouldn't even feel when she was getting inside his head

• Lowkey he envied Lucifer for having someone as devoted as her by their side

• Her powers only grew with time and with the fear of losing control she isolated herself at the waking world far away from Trigon

• She found peace as living as any other mortal while helping when necessary

• Soon people started calling her vigilant persona of Raven

• Meditation helped with her control, but with time she discovery it was because it took her to the Dreaming

• Morpheus wasn't happy that the half demon was invading his realm

"You dare invade my kingdom?"

"What?"

• It was not easy to explain that she in fact had no idea she was at the Dreaming

• Morpheus was still skeptical, but let it pass

• Soon the meditation sessions were at least three times a day

• The arguments became teasing

• Their fights were more about protecting the other than anything else

"What I do in the waking world is none of your business!"

"Your well-being is my business!"

• The yelling only stop when Dream kisses her

• Following the events they ignore each other as the plague

• They reunite again when Trigon breaks free and Y/N's is severely injured while trapping him inside the jewelry that is now on her forehead

"I cannot lose you, my little raven. Not you."

• They have been together ever since (and yes, they still fight a lot…but only because they love the make up that comes later)

[undergoingcalibrations]

Aerith and Sephiroth Sibling AU Headcanons

Inspired by learning that they were actually going to be siblings until pretty late in the development of FF7, I wrote a fic recently that touched on how this would have changed a few key moments of the original game (so if you like this you’ll love that). But there was some not-so-plot-relevant stuff that didn’t make it in there, that I still wanted to share because I love considering their dynamic:

Aerith and Sephiroth are half-siblings via Gast Faremis, with mothers the same as in canon. Sephiroth is eight years older. God won’t be able to help Hojo if Sephiroth finds out his role in Gast’s death.

Rith/roth are the feminine and masculine forms of a Cetran suffix roughly translatable to ‘land’, similar in connotation to the Persian -istan or Old English -stead. Sephiroth comes from sephava rith, the Cetran philosophical concept of ‘Promised Land’. Aerith comes from aeva rith, literally ‘beloved/cherished land’, but usually meaning ‘home’. Gast named both of them. Lucrecia had wanted to name Sephiroth ‘Grimoire’ after her mentor, Grimoire Valentine, though this name was shot down by Shinra to avoid confusion with the already initiated Soldier Project G. Aerith always calls her brother Sephi, unless she’s mad. 

Sephiroth was told Jenova was a Cetra who died giving birth to him. He and Aerith grew up assuming that her lack of his inhuman physical prowess and his difficulty in hearing the Planet were due to their diluted blood, and that their ancestors resembled some mixture of their two extremes. This was further confused by Sephiroth seeming to be able to hear his mother (but only his mother) in the Lifestream, an undeniably Cetra ability. 

Usually tight-lipped Shinra allowed Sephiroth to know about, and spend time with, his only sibling in order to later use their relationship as leverage against him. When he was 15, and Aerith 7, Ifalna and Aerith made their seemingly miraculous escape from Shinra HQ- but it was only because Shinra saw holding Aerith’s newfound freedom hostage as an effective way to ensure their nascent superweapon’s obedience.

Aerith and Sephiroth keep their relationship a secret, for the most part. Sephiroth does not want to draw hostile attention to his sister, for fear that there are others besides Shinra who would want to take advantage of his attachment to her. Outside of the Turks and the Shinra brass, only Angeal and Genesis knew for years. After she began her relationship with Zack, the siblings agreed to let him in on it together. Tabloids, meanwhile, suspect that Sephiroth’s frequent visits to the Sector 5 church are surely due to his secret practice of the obscure religion ‘catholicism’. 

Because of Jenova’s alien biology, Sephiroth’s hair grows abnormally fast, about an inch a week. It resembles the mycelial fibres of a fungus rather than the typical keratin structure of human hair, though this is only readily apparent under a microscope- to most it just seems like unusually fine and soft hair. He despised this mark of his supernatural nature until well into his teenage years, and cut it back frequently to match the more conventional masculine hairstyles of his peers, as well as to give enemy combatants one less thing to grab. During the Wutai War, he became so famous there was little point in trying to blend in, and he began to wear it a little past his shoulders, still preferring to exercise some level of control over it’s growth. His hair only reached it’s in-game length after the Nibelheim incident, a sign of the erosion of his sense of self and personal preferences. Aerith, on the other hand, loves his hair, and sometimes convinces him to help her test styles she intends to use on herself later, as both know at least it’ll grow out  fast if it’s really THAT bad. She also adores his ‘kitty eyes’, and as a young child was convinced it was only a matter of time before hers changed to match. 

Ever since he learned about the composition of his hair, Sephiroth has had a recurring nightmare every few months that he is rapidly decomposing, rotting from the inside out. It is the only nightmare he’s ever had. Even in his waking hours, no matter what the medical techs say, he sometimes thinks that if someone was to cut him open, they’d find that silvery material threaded throughout his organs like mold on bread (and after Nibelheim, this was true). Aerith knows about this, and makes special sachets of dried antifungal herbs like geranium, lemongrass, and mint for him to store with his spare uniforms. He knows it’s absurd, like keeping a stuffed animal, but the smell does make him feel better.

Gast taught Sephiroth how to care for plants- one of the lab’s ongoing projects were experimental gardens that were kept throughout HQ’s atriums in order to find cultivars that could succeed even in Midgar’s poor soil. Sephiroth taught Aerith in turn, though she soon became the greater expert. It is one of their few shared hobbies. Sephiroth appreciates it as a challenge, as well as a demonstration of patience and discipline. Aerith is drawn more to aesthetic enjoyment and curiosity about how their little ecosystem changes bit by bit each day. Both see it as a way to practice the culture of their ancestors. Sephiroth is especially proud of the lilies in the church.

Sephiroth never regarded her as a mother, but he was close with Ifalna, and remembers more of the Cetran oral histories she shared than Aerith, due to his age when she passed. After she died and Aerith began living with Elmyra, Sephiroth would sneak out of HQ at night to tell Aerith one of Ifalna’s stories before bed. He was well aware of the ‘calamity from the sky’ but had no reason to associate it with his ‘mother’. Ifalna, likewise, had never heard of silver-haired or slit-pupiled Cetra, but as only a fraction of her people’s lore had made it down to her, couldn’t seriously rule it out either. She’d also heard folktales abou Cetra spectres at the southern ziggurat, and they were much, much stranger than Sephiroth, if they were to be believed. Besides, he can hear his mother with the Planet, which confirmed his lineage to her, regardless. He often helped her take care of Aerith, especially when Ifalna’s presence was required elsewhere for experimentation.

Physical affection does not come naturally to Sephiroth. It’s something he has to actively remind himself Aerith might want in certain scenarios, something he had to learn to recognize when to provide based on practice and observation rather than empathy. While it may seem stiff to outsiders, Aerith knows it’s sincere all the same. He is much more graceful when it comes to being on the receiving end of her hugs and the like- though he may not entirely understand what most people get out of it, he at least understands and appreciates the sentiment his sister is trying to convey.

When Sephiroth is on away missions, Aerith sends him pressed flowers in between the pages of her letters. He once sent her back a sample of seeds from one of his destinations to try to one-up her, but she sent them back, arguing that it was ecologically irresponsible of him to suggest introducing them to the delicate Midgard biome. He stuck to postcards from then on.

Aerith learned the basics of combat from her brother, but due to his natural talents both recognized he was poorly suited to teaching. He was a much better mentor, and her student, when it came to materia- he’s sure she’ll exceed him in magic, eventually. Aerith refuses to call Sephiroth’s sword Masamune, believing that names are an honour weapons do not deserve. She tied one of her ribbons around it’s hilt in hopes he will remember her kindness on the battlefield. He lost it at Nibelheim, and due to Jenova’s influence, could no longer find it within himself to care to recover it.

[chika-the-terrible]

It’s Isu AU time again:

Because of his size, Jacob has a tendency to stub his toes on things, like tables and couches and chairs. He’s not used to such small but heavy things in his way and so he hits them a lot and he ends up cursing when it happens. I like the idea that his cursing is Isu-specific in the way that humans would know he’s cursing but they wouldn’t be able to understand it, so it’s like a bunch of angry gibberish

Jacob practices fighting with the Blighters sometimes, keeps himself in shape and so on. They’re wary about hurting him at first but when they realize he’s going easy on them back, they kinda let themselves loose. It doesn’t hurt Jacob and so they’re able to go all-out and learn from him about different types of fighting

More often than not Jacob tends to carry at least one or two kids when he goes to see the children, giving them a new perspective and they giggle and love it. They kinda fight over who gets to get picked up each time but only when Jacob doesn’t know they’re arguing about it

When the Blighters meet Evie, they’re more scared of her than they ever were of Jacob. This doesn’t change even when she’s nice to them because they know she’s secretly a menace. Jacob’s told them so. Evie consequently decides to show them how much of a ‘menace’ she can be by wrestling Jacob. It doesn’t end well for Jacob

After they get together, Roth and Jacob spend nights sitting by the fire together and Jacob has his arm around Roth while Roth reads a book to Jacob. It’s their time to relax and Jacob learns more of human literature while Roth is snuggled right up against a giant, love-filled, Isu-shaped heater. He’s left pretty warm by both Jacob and the fire and starts sweating but doesn’t care because he knows Jacob gets cold easily compared to Roth as a result of his hotter temperature

Everyone gets spooked when they first meet an Isu because of the strangely-shaped faces, but it’s not hard to get used to. It just always feels like something is off and it takes a while for Roth to get used to Jacob’s face as a result, but then he gets the intimate responsibility of mapping out that same face and jawline when they get to cuddle and kiss

The Twins are actually pretty young for Isu. We know that Isu are able to live longer than humans and so I imagine maybe Jacob and Evie are a little over a hundred years old by the time they go to London, and they can still live a lot longer. It certainly hurts them in the long run to watch their significant others grow older while they barely age. They at least have Evie’s children to help with that but it eventually gets harder on the Twins as they begin to outlive their children, grandchildren, and so on. They realize that Ezio had a point when he told them that had to be willing to be involved for the long run when they fell in love. And it’s Haytham who shows them that, while it hurts, they shouldn’t leave their new families behind. He’s still keeping up with his human descendants after his own relationship and so he helps Jacob and Evie adjust, but it’s still hard, especially for Jacob. All he had was Roth and that was it. He has no children, despite efforts to adopt, and so seeing Evie’s half of the family continue to grow may end up reopening the wound again and again. At least he had Jack and the other Blighter children, as brief as it was, but eventually it’s just not enough, and it drives Jacob to find a way to move on

As it grows close to the turn of the century, Jacob finally adopts a human child named Lydia and does his best to raise her alone, telling her all about Roth (who had an unfortunate early death) and teaches her everything about what it means to be human, based on what he’s learned. And Lydia takes these ideals with her when World War I breaks out and Jacob and Evie are forced to return to Xanadu, unable to stay in London because of the danger despite their protests. Lydia quickly helps the war effort with her understanding of Isu tech and does her best to make things safe again so her father and aunt can return

Masterlist

[kromabelle-art]

Flufftober 2022 Day 1: wearing each other’s clothes

OCs: Luken Roth & Lilika Adler

More Luken&Lilika prompt entries:

whump2020-crying|oc2020-craft|whump2021-dehydration|oc2021-truce

whump2021-revenge|oc2021-smile

“Psssst, Luken.” A whisper came from beside him, startling Luken out of his mindless doodles while the teacher droned on about equations. He glanced over at Lilika, who grinned softly as soon as they made eye contact. Her hazel-green eyes always seemed to sparkle with amusement no matter what was going on around her, almost as if she were some kind of fairy, detached from human consequences. “Can I have your hoodie?”

“My hoodie?” Luken blinked. “But it’s mine.”

She let out an airy whispered laugh, reaching across the aisle in what appeared to be an attempt to grab at his sleeve.

“I’m cold.” She looked at him expectantly, still trying to steal the sweater while he was still in it. When Luken continued to resist, she dropped her arm and gave him the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen. This was unfair. No, it was more than unfair. This was psychological warfare. He stared her down, trying to resist giving in, but it was no easy feat.

Lilika was deceptively cute. Soft features, freckles splattered across her face, a short bob of soft brown hair that looked almost fluffy. She chose clothes he could imagine on a gardener who lived in a cottage. Her hands were frequently covered in paint or charcoal or dirt as she surrounded herself with plants and art and beautiful things. Add to that, she was about a year and a half younger than Luken, and seemed to know how to take advantage of how sweet and adorable she looked. Because that was the other thing. Lilika was the youngest in his calculus class—and consistently at the top of it. She had a spark of genius in her, more than Luken had, and used it to manipulate him.

Sighing, he pulled of the hoodie, and placed it in her expectant grabby hands. She slipped it on, pulled the hood up, and promptly put her head down on her desk for a nap. Luken decided to just let her be.

Before he knew which way was up, it had become a routine. Lilika would tug on his sleeve, or whisper his name, or even just lean in his direction, and he’d be pulling it off already, and watching her put it on with glee.

Don’t you think I deserve some kind of compensation?” He asked her one day, the hoodie already halfway over her head. She tugged it down and gave him a curious look, her head tilted ever so slightly.

“What kind of compensation?”

“Well, you’re always wearing my hoodie, it’s only fair if I wear something of yours, right?” It seemed to his sleep-deprived brain to be a good idea, but he’d forgotten about it by the time she showed up at his locker the next morning, holding something bulky, knit, and rose-colored in her hands.

“What’s this for?” he asked, gears refusing to move. She tilted her head at him again.

“You said you wanted to wear something of mine. It’s an oversized sweater I made a while ago. Figured it’s one of the few things from my wardrobe that’d fit you decently.”

He took it cautiously, noticing how Lilika stared at him expectantly until he pulled it on. Then she gave him a big grin and raced off down the hallway, calling out, “See you in calculus!”

Luken tried to ignore the sideways looks he got throughout the day, but then someone tried to comment on the large knitted flowers decorating his arms and torso, and he found himself snapping back, “Bet I’m way cozier than you are though” And he realized it was true. The sweater was very comfortable. He almost felt slighted when Lilika traded the sweaters back while they left school. She could’ve at least waited until they both got home. They lived right across from each other, after all.

She must have noticed he liked it, because the next week, she handed him a light, silvery gray sweater, and when he tried it on, it fit perfectly. She simply nodded in approval and pulled on his hoodie, not saying a single word the whole time.

This became the next routine. Swapping sweaters in first block calculus, and trading back as they walked home together. Even when their world was falling apart around them, they kept it up. Even when Luken learned to see the weave of magic around him, learned to see everything, and realized Lilika put the essence of life into everything she made, effectively protecting him any time he wore her sweaters. Even as Luken wondered what kind of benefit she sought from his hoodie when her own sweaters were properly magical. Until one morning, Lilika moved to hand him the newest sweater, and stopped short.

“Where’s your hoodie?”

“Oh,” he started, already feeling uncomfortable as the girl’s face turned sad. “I lost it. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…”

“I’ll get a replacement, okay? Promise.”

She nodded softly and handed over the knit sweater but kept staring at him even as he turned back to his classwork. He wasn’t sure how to tell her the truth. That he’d given it away freely, to another version of her he’d met as he was traveling through the timelines. It seemed a small request from the other-Lilika at first. But he’d seen her lose everything else and knew he couldn’t stay. He knew intuitively that it had meant everything to her, to give his hoodie, and that it would mean just as much to this Lilika—his Lilika, some small part of his mind offered. He didn’t know how to say this to her, but he had to wonder at the way she seemed to look right through him, which of them really saw more.

@flufftober

[rose-in-a-fisted-glove]

I’ve seen multiple people bringing up this, although it is all speculation at this point since Harvard has not been forthcoming: https://theintercept.com/2020/03/02/human-rights-watch-took-money-from-saudi-businessman-after-documenting-his-coercive-labor-practices/

Harvard fumbled the ball here and should have not rescinded the fellowship or simply not offered it in the first place. I don’t think Roth is antisemitic. I do think supporting the idea that “you can’t criticize Israel or they’ll cancel you!” creates an environment where it is harder to call out criticism of Israel that slips into antisemitism.

You lack credibility, friend. You say you've seen multiple people while hiding who you are and offering less than reputable soueces.

And even if you did not lack credibility, you are still engaging in idle speculation. I am not saying he was ethical in his handling of the position regarding fundings.

Just that you are throwing guesses into the wind to see if any will stick.

But as to the second half of what you say, I would argue that there are two types of criticism of Israel

One that criticises the government for specific actions and behaviors. This one is extremely rare to see, and the exception rather than the rule. Often, as in this case, its Jews engaging in it.

And one that uses the excuse of Israel to be antisemitic and also to try to force Jews into loyalty tests to see whether they are "good Jews" and dismisses either rhetoric or actions as "protest of Israel" when it is not. This is the one we see 95% of the time from Gentiles but is also common among certain subsets of Jews as welm.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"In the early 1920s, the future head of the Federal Bureau of Prisons, James V. Bennett, visited the Ohio Penitentiary on a fact-finding tour. His escort led him around to various shops that were “poorly lit, filled with obsolete and worn out equipment.” In most of the shops, many of the prisoners were just “squatting against walls of rooms or loitering by the drinking fountains.” The laggard inmates did not seem bothered by the proximity to their keepers in charge of the workshops, who sat in chairs on platforms just three feet above the floor, “with heavy clubs in their hands. Every now and then, a guard would pound his club on the platform and point at a prisoner, or shout an order, and the prisoners would understand. I thought the prisoners looked dispirited and hopeless, but the guards could not be blamed.” Almost half a century later, Bennett would recount in his autobiography that “the enormous cellblocks depressed me beyond despair.” One of the cellblocks  housed “more than 900 men, with two prisoners in every ten-by-five-foot stone walled cubicle.” His inmate guide noted, “He lived on the top floor and it got ‘damned hot in summer.’” As they continued down a corridor, Bennett hesitated when he came upon “several men in their cells pacing up and down with unusual intensity, jabbering to themselves, rattling their bars, or shouting obscenities.” His escort told him not to pay any mind: “they were psychos,” kept among the general population “because there was no other place for them.”

...

When it came to the biggest of the big houses, idleness at the Ohio Penitentiary “was much more conspicuous [here] than in many prisons.” The Columbus penitentiary was home to an “idle room,” on the third floor of a manufacturing building, where “hundreds of men spend their days sitting on benches in absolute idleness, under the eyes of guards.” One contemporary account described the building as “almost ready to collapse.” Few of the convicts were constantly employed. Between fifteen hundred and two thousand inmates were idle at any given time, confined to the large raftered, barn-like room furnished with benches and tables. Here, convicts languished from morning until nighttime lockup. It was not uncommon for cocaine and morphine addicts to be housed in the idle house as well. One inmate noted, “You can spot them in the Idle House, sitting silent, staring into space with lack-luster eyes, their entire bodies twitching from time to time in that peculiar agony that comes upon the dope fiend when he hasn’t any drugs.”

According to one survey, idleness was “much more conspicuous here than in many prisons by the use of the ‘Idle room,’ in which hundreds of men spend their days sitting on benches in absolute idleness under the eyes of the guards.” Some would argue that the Idle House was still a more humane alternative than sitting locked up all day in cells or in dark, crowded dorms."

- Mitchel Roth, Fire in the Big House: America’s Deadliest Prison Disaster. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2019. p. 93, 96.

[civicmuses]

anonymous asked:

So.... basic facts about Marsha's family? From a new follower who isn't terribly familiar with her

Hunson Abadeer

Demon lord

Ruler of the Nightosphere, a hell-like dimension

Raised Marsha, Sarah, and Rosaline

Struggles to really connect with his half-human kids

Narcissistic and short-tempered but loved his kids

Frequently took his anger out on his kids

Was overly protective of his kids

Often pushed his kids into the family business (ruling the Nightosphere)

Marsha and Sarah ran away; he dumped Rosaline onto Marsha and Sarah hundreds of years later

Marsha has been dodging his attempts to reconnect

Elise

Human woman

Probably the only one that Hunson really loved

Was in college when she met Hunson

Loved kids and wanted to be a mom

Was disowned by her parents when she got pregnant

Mother to Marceline, Sarah, and Marsha

Was unaware of Sarah's existence

Loved Marsha and Marceline very much

Became terminally ill while Marsha was a baby

Sent Marsha and Marceline away so they wouldn't have to see her die

Is alive again under mysterious circumstances

Family doesn't know she alive

Depending on the RPer, I'm open to portraying Elise as Simon Petrikov's sister.

Marceline

Marsha's oldest sister

Is 3 years older than Marsha

Grew up on Earth, mostly alone

Traveled with a man named Simon Petrikov for a time before he had to leave her for her safety

Was around Hunson for a time until he ate her fries

Hunted vampires for a time before she became one of the last vampires in existence

Met Sarah and Marsha hundreds of years later

Loves her sisters

Likes to tease and play jokes on her sisters

Has a pet poodle named Schwabl who Marsha adores

Had a brief falling out with Marsha and Sarah while she was dating Ash

Sarah

Marsha's second oldest sister

Is currently 3 years older but was originally just a year older

Sarah never made it to term; was brought to life by Hunson

Grew up in the Nightosphere

Was often made to look after Marsha when they were kids

Sarah and Marsha are very close as siblings

Ran away with Marsha after an extremely bad fight Marsha had with Hunson

Was saddled with taking care of Rosaline when Hunson dumped her on Sarah

Into gardening and raising butterflies

Has a pet owl named Azrael that Marsha took in as a fledging

Rosaline

Marsha's younger sister

Looks to be 8 years younger and is 600 years younger

A product of a demonic ritual that had Hunson being initimate with a cult member

Was spoiled absolutely rotten by Hunson

Began acting out in order to get attention from Hunson

Was dumped on Marsha and Sarah when Hunson didn't want to deal with her anymore

Her older sisters all love her

Marsha practically scooped Rosa under her protective wing

Rosa does still get on Marsha's nerved from time to time

Isn't really fond of Marsha's romantic interests because she feels they're taking Marsha away from her

Likes Marsha's animals but often doesn't go about the right way to interact with them

Marsha's dogs often chew on Rosa's toys; isn't helped when she uses said toys to tease Marsha's dogs

Marsha's animals (since pets are family too lol)

Has 9 dogs (Autumn, Apple, Butch, Brutus, Mr. Black, Hazelnut, Leigh, Ross, Victor & Charlie), 5 birds (Apollo, Chickie, Pipsqueak, Roth and Poe), a shape-shifting familiar named Blackberry, a python named Cornelius, 2 goldfish (Dory and Nemo), 6 rabbits (Fluffy, Baxter, Bun, Cinnabun, Fiver and March), 2 rats (Gus and Doug), 3 ferrets (Jammy, Swifty and Skitters), 4 mice (Basil, Minnie, Ms. Nibbler and Mr. Squeakers XV), a hedgehog named Needlemouse, a cat named Neil and a Nightospherian Iguana name Rex

Mr. Black, Ross, Hazelnut, Butch, Brutus, Victor & Charlie and Leigh are Nighthounds; demon dogs that come from the Nightosphere

Fluffy, Bun, Jammy, and Rex are all animals that come from the Nightosphere

Fluffy was her childhood pet; Mr. Black and Ross were nighthounds Marsha knew as a child and young teen respectively

Love her animals like they were her children; especially her dogs

Autumn is a light in Marsha's life and her pride and joy

Most of her dogs are toy killers (except for Leigh); mostly stuffed animals and dolls

Mr. Cottontail, Marsha's plushy collection and Rosa's toys are frequent victims; especially to Autumn

Marsha's animals are frequently teased and unintentionally antagonized by Rosaline

anons about my muse's family | open & accepting

[redridcr]

@ubcs​ always wants to make friends through a meme and then Tumblr ate it - still accepting!!

Send ✨ and I will list 3-4 of  my muses that you have NOT interacted with before

tumblr ate the original ask so :’)

TOM SMITH - tight lipped cowboy that brought the entire Seabiscuit team together. Charles Howard found Tom. Tom found the little dune brown horse and the jockey to hold the reins. In any verse, Red will bring Tom up in topics of admiration ; Tom taught Red a lot of what Red knows today when handling Charlie’s horses. If we’re talking almost normie / modern verse, the Howards probably let Tom retire on a piece of their property. Me imagining Carlos dicking around and just sees this older man dad-standing there like this:

MARCUS ROTH - he was my second attempt at cultivating another historically inclined character. Marcus was molded after my favorite artist, Mark Rothko. Russian born, art history professor, and still life painter. Moody and studious and younger than Red and Charlie. He will never let on to his age since he is already teaching at university ( though his age may change - still deciding ). Loves stringing along words with rhythmic alliteration. Maybe as temperamental as Tahno but can came off more callous - because he cares. Hard to get along with but humane to the human emotion. He WANTS the world to know how wonderful art is before HE may forget. Marcus may have the genetics for early onset Alzheimer's, as it is currently grasping the life out of his mother.

GUSTAV - More Dragon Age specific. Named after the artist Gustav Klimt. Warmage at the ripe age of 18-19 and thirsty for the battlefield. Caught an unexpected attack with his own hand and got most of his arm blasted off. Saved many lives, though. Was retired from fighting and sits pretty in Orlais now. Still sought after and cited for his ability to see flaws in war tactics and positions. Smart with his words and a little catty. Appreciates the finer things in life, but still salty that the prodigal mage Mary Pollard would not leave her family and join him for some half baked Academy. In his opinion, Mary wed lower than her status and polluted the world with more half baked mages like Red. Gustav would openly say he has a better moustache and hair than Dorian ( I mean LOOK at it ).

[calamitysshatteredson]

HC + clones/Magitek, for General Roth?

Send me a word plus 'Headcanon' and I'll give a headcanon based on that word | accepting but forever slow

MTs had become an exceptionally creepy constant around the halls of every facility, on every airship, in every place Safay existed.  Even not learning the truth about them (or himself) until much later, everything about their existence set him on edge.  Sometimes watching the way they moved had him forcing himself not to shiver out of revulsion--

But there had been times when one moved differently, or stopped moving altogether.  He hadn’t given it much more thought than something obviously going wrong with that particular one, supposing they would simply be fixed or scrapped.  No big loss, after all.  They weren’t human.

Shame about his curiosity, and his habit about satisfying it.  Research Chief Besithia was never particularly good at keeping things wholly private in the first place, and finding paperwork was easier than it should have been.  Accidentally, at first, then on purpose.  Humans.  Clones.  Some of them developed... or redeveloped... human traits...  There was no real research done, as they were indeed destroyed.

The whole thing brought about a different kind of disgust, and entirely too much digging.  One paper trail lead to another, lead to the discovery that his own project--  He was part of a project.  Somehow the project was scrapped, but he wasn’t.  They weren’t, but they... all of the people he’d grown up with as orphans had all been killed on the battlefield... hadn’t they?

“DNA structuring irregularities”.  “Irreversible mutations”.  “Euthanized”.

Safay found out he was still alive because he was a failure.  And more useful as a failure, having taken to the “education”, genes having been altered in just such a way to make him the perfect little general when they needed one.  A failure who bore fruit after the gene altering program was scrapped in favor of Besithia’s clones.

Maybe it was some partially subconscious, misguided idea that it made them a strange kind of relation, in a way.  The clone project, the clones, and himself.  Maybe it was simply knowing that it wasn’t just a nightmare scenario when one of the MTs stopped and trembled and seemed to look at him; that was something, some part that somehow existed, of a person beneath, seeing him.  Seeing him.

He half-expected to be “euthanized” himself, but it became clear that everything within the empire was eating itself.  Rotting, collapsing, and there was no thought given to him.  Fortunate, that.

With everything falling around him anyway, with the loses and expectations of greater loses ahead, he collected the ones he could.  The MTs that acted oddly, the ones that moved differently.  He didn’t know how to help, if he could help, but--

He knew he could try.  He knew he could take them in an airship no one would miss, surely.

[srose-foxfire]

I Wouldn’t Mind You in My Life – Damirae Holiday Special (Ranma ½ AU)

A/N: Hello!! This is my entry for @damiraedemonbirds holiday contest.

 I hope everyone enjoys this as much I enjoyed writing this out. Happy holidays to everyone and thank you all so much for accepting this weird fox who just wants to share her writing. Till next year! 

- Simona 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raven Roth-Kent let out a deep breath as she exhaled and released the tension building up in her body. She stretched her limbs as she had just finished her morning workout routine in her family’s dojo. It was the day before Christmas and Raven wanted to go out and see if she still had gifts to buy for her list. Of course, there was one person who she didn’t know what to get, not like she actually care for him but…

Crash.

“Dammit Grayson! How many times have I told you to stop doing that!” Damian Wayne’s loud voice was heard outside as Raven wrapped a towel around her shoulders. She listened attentively as she could make out frustrated grunts coming from an animal. “I don’t care! I don’t need a constant babysitter over my back! We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t forced me to go to those pools!”

Their argument sounded like it ended with the two brothers brawling as crash sounds were followed. Raven sighed, it was too early for them to be at each other’s throats much less the morning before Christmas. Raven went ahead and open the dojo’s doors seeing a small round cloud of dirt rise where the two brothers were currently fighting. The young girl rolled her eyes and stepped out of the dojo and headed towards her home.

“Good morning Raven.”

“Morning mom.” Raven smiled towards Louis Kent, her adoptive mother, who was currently making some makeshift cookies. “Where’s dad? He usually takes care of the baking.”

“I prohibited your father in being here, I wanted to be in charge of the desserts this year’s and when I started, he started making fun of some of the techniques I was using.”

Raven chuckled lightly. “Alright, I don’t see Jon or Dad around…”

“They’re out buying some last-minute gifts, how’s your shopping going dear? You’re not missing anyone’s?”

“Well…” Raven crossed her arms behind her back as she leaned against the kitchen’s wall. “I have everyone’s gift except… Damian’s.” Raven peeked from under her lashes and saw her mother raised an eyebrow at her with a knowing-crooked smile. “I tried! But I have no idea what to get him!”

Louis chuckled as she resumes cutting some cookies with a round mold, “You will find something, before the day ends. He is your fiancé after all.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dick Grayson gasped as he continues to take in heavy breaths to refill his lungs. “Truce?”

Damian turned his gaze to look at his older brother, they had been both fighting until Clark Kent came with a tea kettle with boiling water and threw it at the boys. Turning Grayson back to his human self. When their quarrel ended both brothers fell on their backs to regain their breathing and strength. “Truce. So… is father really coming for the celebrations tonight?”

“That’s what Jason wrote in his letter; we will have to be careful it looks like it’s going to rain later today. You will have to use all the skills you have not to transform.”

“Oh yes what would father think that his only blood son turns into a girl! And his oldest son is a gigantic panda!”

“And we’re back at this,” Dick grumbled.

“You boys should really learn to keep your voices down.”

Damian widened his gaze as he heardher voice. The young Wayne lifted his head and gaze upon the only daughter, no half-daughter to the Kent, who he was to marry once they both came to age. Both the Wayne’s and Kent’s had a family dojo and given that both head of the households were best friends, years ago they had made an agreement to unified both dojos through marriage. Of course, none of Damian’s older siblings wanted to go through with the act, especially his sisters Cassandra and Stephanie, and the same could be said about Jon who neither wanted to run the family’s dojo. The marriage agreement seemed like a distant dream, that is until Raven was adopted and seemed to value what the dojo stood for and wanted to be a teacher to the upcoming generations. When the news that the Kent’s had a daughter willing to run the dojo, Bruce Wayne announced that his youngest son, Damian Wayne would take Raven’s hand in marriage.

This was all just family duty, to Damian. He would never oppose his father’s wishes though even Bruce had asked him countless times if he was going to go with it. Both families valued their children so if either of them ever wanted to nullify the engagement they could, but both Raven and Damian were stubborn and wanted to fulfill their duty towards their families even it meant getting married.

When the engagement was announced, Damian was sent from Gotham to Metropolis, to finish his remainder high school years and live with the Kent’s so he and Raven could get acquainted with one another. Dick Grayson, Damian’s oldest brother had been assigned to accompany him and look after his brother while staying with the Kent’s. Though through their journey they used the time to train and heard a mysterious place with assorted spring pools. Dick believed this place would offer a place for them to relax from their travels and to fortify their training. It was also Dick’s hope that they could strengthen their bonds as brothers. Damian cursed under his breath, the pools were actually cursed, in each pool someone or something had drowned. When Dick and Damian fell into separate pool, they had both been cursed to take form to what had drowned in them.

Upon arriving at the Kent’s household one stormy night, the family had been greeted with a large panda and a girl with bright red crimson hair. It all had been mortifying for when everyone found out it was actually Damian and Dick. Right away Raven became defensive, she believed Damian had been toying with her feelings instead of coming out clean that he had been cursed. Since then the two couldn’t really see eye to eye and were constantly found arguing.

“Hey little bro, you okay? Raven is asking you something.”

Damian jerked when his shoulder had been touched by his brother and looked at him and then at Raven. “What’s going on?”

Raven sighed, rubbing her temple, clearly, she looked upset. “I’m going out, do you need something?”

“Oh huh… no but would it be okay if I accompany you?”

Raven simply shrugged, “If you like, I don’t control you or anything.”

Damian gave her a flat stare; she was very hot-headed. Damian looked her up and down, noticing she was wearing a thick kitted purple skirt over some black fleece leggings.  And to top it off, a knitted black long sleeve tucked into the skirt. Damian couldn’t admit out loud that Raven was indeed very beautiful but every time she could seem cute, Raven say snarky remarks making her less cute. Damian got up and brushed off the dirt clinging to his clothes and followed Raven out of the house and into the very busy streets of Metropolis. One of the reasons he wanted to accompany her was because he needed to discreetly find her a gift for Christmas. Perhaps he will find her gazing towards anythingat any store to give him a hint.

“So, I heard your father is coming later today… how are you feeling?”

Damian fixed his gaze on her back as Raven had taken a few steps ahead of him. “Not sure, it would be good to see him and the rest of my family again but…”

“They still don’t know you transform into a girl?”

Damian winced, he was an elite fighter, formally trained by his grandfather known acrossed the lands as the Demon Head, and yet Damian still managed to flop and be cursed to turn into a girl. “No not yet, but-”

“Watch out!”

Both Raven and Damian looked up to see a woman had dropped her flower vase from her balcony. Damian quick on his feet sprinted pushing Raven away. Though the vase broke right on top of Damian’s head.

Damian could feel himself slumped down, as he rubbed his head to alleviate the pain as his head was throbbing very loudly. Just then he felt Raven place her hands-on top of his, which startled him as he looked up through his lashed to see her worry for him. Damian couldn’t help but notice how softher hands were against his, and how gentleshe was being. This was a side of Raven he hadn’t seen before.

“Raven? You don’t need to worry I’m-”

“My scarlet princess!”

Both Damian and Raven jerked as they heard the voice of one andonlyDamian’s admirers. Well the only admirer that cared about girl-Damian.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Raven turned around to see Connor Luthor running at full speed towards them. She frowned as he was one of the many boys who would proclaim that they loved her, although Connor now had twolove interests: she and girl Damian. Suddenly Raven felt a tugged from her hand and she looked at Damian would had been transformed into a girl when the flower vase had been filled with water.  

Damian frowned like he had no time to deal with Connor and on top of that she couldn’t tell how much damage he had dealt onto his head. Raven grabbed his-her hands and helped Damian up. She gave Damian a crook small smile before holding onto her hands and sprinting the opposite direction from Connor’s.

“Raven! Where are you taking my scarlet princess?! Please I just want to make sure she’s okay!”

“Just go home Connor! Everything’s handled!” Raven kept on pulling onto Damian as they near an alleyway entrance and turned to enter it. There was a small wall with trash cans aligned, she motioned with her head and Damian nodded in agreement, they both took speed and jump the trash cans together as they jumped over the wall. They stayed still and crouched over the other side and they listened to Connor’s footsteps fading away as he continues to call for his ‘scarlet princess.’

Raven watched Damian as they both were gasping to take a breath. With everything going on they erupted into laughter, leaning against the wall they had jumped over and clutching their stomach tightly. This was strange, even for them. Raven didn’t know what had consumed her to help Damian the way she did but part of her just couldn’t just do nothing.

“Thank you.”

Raven’s gazed widen as she glanced to her side and saw Damian looking down with a feint smile. This was the first time he had ever thanked her, in a way that made her toes curled. Raven had to suppressed herself or fear her face would turn red. A low rumble from the sky pulled her away from her thoughts and Damian.

“It looks like its gonna pour soon. You should go home and change back before your dad arrives.” Raven watched as Damian nodded and stood up, she did the same and both of them went separate ways.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Oh my, it hasn’t started to rain and you’re a girl?” Louis commented as she mixed something that looked like whipped cream in a large bowl.

“I had an incident with a vase… I was actually hoping to get Raven a gift, but I think I lost my chance.” Damian said as he reverted back to his boy self after pouring hot water over his head from a kettle.

“Well now, perhaps there is something you can gift her. I have it stored in my room.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Merry Christmas everybody!” Jason hollered as the Wayne family were welcome into the Kent’s home.

“Todd don’t tell me you’re drunk already; Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.” Damian argued as he kept his arms crossed.

Clark Kent came into view and shook hands with Bruce before chuckling. “Actually Damian, we have a little tradition in our household, we always open onepresent the night before Christmas. I wanna wished a warm welcome to everyone, welcome! Make yourselves at home!”

“It’s good to see you’re doing good Clark, and I hope my two sons haven’t caused so much trouble.”

“Not at all, Bruce!” Clark said in a rather shaky voice.

Raven couldn’t help but snort at the exchange, no one other than her own family knew about the curse Damian and Dick had. Both Jon and her dad were gossips so she could notice how hard they were trying to be keep their secret – a secret.

Cass and Stephanie were squealing very loudly, “where are the two lovebirds?” They yelled in unison.

“We are not lovebirds!”

Everyone in the room chuckled, “Look at them agreeing at the same time. I’m telling ya, these two are meant to be.” Jason added, who very much already drunk.

The festivities started and everyone had a pleasant pre-Christmas dinner and Louis had managed to create a variety of desserts that turn out to be deliciousto everyone’s surprise. Raven couldn’t help but look at the clock that was nailed onto the wall, across from the dinner table. She wasn’t sure if it would be too soon to give Damian his gift. Thinking about Damian made her wonder where he had gone to. She noticed he was gone from the common room and was no-where in sight. He had mentioned he wanted to see and be with his family again, so why wasn’t he here? Raven got up and went upstairs to hear faint noises coming from Damian’s room. She smiled and went to her own room and retrieve his gift, this little gift exchange she wanted to do it away from both their families.

Raven lightly knocked and waited for Damian to open the door. She listened as Damian slowly opened his door, just a little and peeking through the small opening. Raven gave him a small smile before showing him her large gift. Damian opened his door wider, allowing her to step in and motioning her to take a seat on his bed. Comparing him to her own brother, Damian was much cleaner and organize that Jon. There was nothing out of place, well except the scrap of tape and wrapping paper on his desk, scattered all over.

“Please excuse the mess, I was actually finishing wrapping a gift… your gift.” Damian went to his bedside and reach for a small box inside the cabinet in his nightstand. He took a seat next to Raven as she had carefully placed his gift on the ground. Damian place the small gift box wrapped in golden wrapping paper.

Raven looked at it all around and then to Damian who waited for her to open it. She set it onto her lap and open it carefully. Raven could feel a tear stream down her face as her heart wanted to shatter within her chest. There inside the small box was her mother’s, Arella Roth, Raven’s birth and deceased mother’s music box. It couldn’t be here; she remembers it being destroyed in the earthquake that had taken her mother. But here it was the small round-like orb music box with depictions of a night sky and its stars engrave outside. The colors a combination of purples and blues, Raven carefully opened it revealing the makeshift shooting star as it lullaby sung filled the emptiness in the room. Though the small painting of constellation that the lid had was no longer there instead it had a cut-out picture of a small child Raven being hugged by Arella.

“Your mom, Louis told me she kept this from your old home it’s the last thing you have of your birth mother. I can relate so I asked her if I could fix up for you, I had to make a few adjustments, but I hope you like it-”

Raven placed the music box onto her lap and wrapped an arm around Damian as she cried silently into his chest. “I love it Damian, thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to me.” Raven pulled away and gently placed her mother’s music box onto the bed far away from the edge so it wouldn’t fall.

“Here, this is my gift for you.” Raven handed Damian her rather large box and placed it carefully onto his lap. She turned it around so he wouldn’t notice the holes where she had punctured the box.

Damian pulled the lid off and raised a brow. “Who are you?”

“Your puppy silly. I found him alone and hungry. Brought him home and decided you should have him; you could really use a friend who doesn’t mind your company.”

“Thank you Raven, does he have a name?” Damian asked as he lifted the small black dog and place him onto his lap. He gently patted the puppy’s head and looked at Raven as she shook her head. “Then I will name him Titus, we will be good friends. Don’t believe whatever this girl has said about me.”

“Ha-ha very funny.” Raven laughed before frowning and thinking back to what had transpired earlier that day. “There’s something I actually wanna talk about… it about this whole marriage thing.”

“You want to call it off?” Damian said so casually ash he played with Titus who had jumped onto his chest and licked his cheek off.

“I don’t know… it’s hard to say it right.” Raven sighed and played with her fingers before looking at Damian, “I guess what you need to know is that I wouldn’t mind being married to you. If the world was ending or some fate had to transpire, you would be the person I would like to spend my life with.”

“Same goes for me… just keep this between us but I kind of… sort of find you… cute. Sometimes I do want to kiss you but I-”

Raven gently pressed her lips against his. She pulled away rather fast and allowed her short hair to cover her redden face. “There so you wouldn’t feel tempted and the feeling is mutual, I been wanting to kiss you for some time now. Just you know… don’t tell our families.”

Damian laughed but gave her a warm and reassuring smile. “I won’t. Merry Christmas Raven.”

“Merry Christmas Damian.” Raven sighed and let her head fall onto his shoulder and petted the top of the Titus’s head as she felt Damian rest his head on top of her. For a moment their world had turned quiet like they were the only ones existing in this plain. Then their world soon came shattering when they heard Bruce scream from down below.

“What do you mean Dick turns into a panda and Damian into a girl?!”

[new-sandrafilter]

How Timothée Chalamet Channeled The Blockbuster Pressure of Leading Denis Villeneuve’s ‘Dune’ Back Into His Role – Venice Q&A

DEADLINE: In a few days Dune will premiere at the Venice Film Festival. You first met Denis Villeneuve about the role in May 2018 and started shooting in the early half of 2019. It was always going to be a long journey, but the pandemic stretched it even further. How does it feel to have finally arrived at this moment?

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET: You know, I like to think that with every film I’ve done, whether it’s Call Me by Your Name or Beautiful Boy, The King, or Little Women, the character you play is almost a piece of your flesh. And that’s always true, but simply from the perspective of how long the shoot for Dune was, and also the arc that Paul Atreides is on, as well as the huge love and almost biblical connection that so many people have for the book and the original film, it really felt… tectonic, if that’s the right word for it. Just getting to this finish line feels like: phew.

And independent of what the film is now, and what it has become, the experience of making it was I was put in such a safe environment, which you can never take for granted as a human, as an actor, but especially when you’re just starting your career, and when this is the first film of this size you’ve ever done.

To get to work with Denis on it, to get to work with someone of his caliber, let alone on a book that he considers the book of his youth and one of the things he has connected to the most… When he would have it in his hands on set, his body language would become that of a fan; of a kid who had fallen in love with the book at home in Montreal. And when all the kids around him were wearing hockey jerseys with their favorite players’ names on the back, this was a kid wearing a jersey that said ‘Spielberg’ on the back.

For it all to come together, especially with the added challenge of the pandemic, it has all combined to make this moment feel especially spicy [laughs].

DEADLINE: The entire ensemble will show up in Venice.

CHALAMET: Right. And I just can’t believe it; Jason Momoa has the number one film on Netflix right now with Sweet Girl, which I just watched. And since we shot, Zendaya has had all this success with Euphoria and Malcolm & Marie. Just to be part of this cast, period, let alone as one of the title characters, it’s really the shit you dream of.

And let me not forget, too—and I know I’ve told you this before—that The Dark Knight was the movie that made me want to act. That movie had a score by Hans Zimmer, and he has done the score for Dune. And it’s almost not what you’d think. It’s totally appropriate and excellent for the movie, but he has somehow managed to do something subversive, in my opinion. It’s a pinch-me moment all over.

DEADLINE: So, take me back to the start. Is it true you had a Google alert set up to track the latest news on this project before you were ever cast?

CHALAMET: Yeah, it’s true [laughs]. Not right away—Legendary had the rights and was developing it—but as soon as Denis got involved, I set up a Google alert and that’s when I got the book.

In total honesty, I think my understanding of Dune at that point was from a graphic novel I’d seen at Midtown Comics when I was shopping for Yu-Gi-Oh! cards when I was about 10. The year you and I first met, when I was there at Deadline Contenders with Call Me by Your Name, that would have been 2017 or early 2018, and Denis was there with Blade Runner. I remember I was trying to put myself in front of him as much as possible and set up a meeting with him. We had a night at the BAFTA where one of my good friends, Stéphane Bak—who’s also an actor—saw Denis across the room and was like, “Hey buddy, he’s right over there.” So, we went over to talk to him. I kept trying to put myself in front of him, but I didn’t really get a sense of the possibility [of working with him].

I was about halfway through the book when I got the call that he was going to be the president of the jury at the Cannes Film Festival, and I was in London prepping The King. He asked me if I could come out there, so I quickly busted through the second half of the book as best I could. So, like, the first half of my copy is properly annotated and full of my thoughts, and then the second half I just raced through. And then I had that meeting with him, and it was such a joy.

I’m struggling with this even now, as I’m working with Paul King [on Wonka], because he’s another guy I have huge respect and admiration for, and it’s hard to feel on a level. Not that you ever are, because as an actor you’re a cog in the machine, and you’ve got to be humble to the vision of the director. But with Denis, he was pacing around the room, throwing ideas around, in some fancy suite in Cannes, and all I could think was that a year before I was just sat on a stoop on 9th Street in the East Village or something.

DEADLINE: Was that your first time in Cannes?

CHALAMET: Yeah. Well, bizarrely, my sister would do dance camps growing up. Ballet intensive programs in a town called Mougins, which is nearby Cannes, so I spent a lot of time there growing up, but never during the festival, and not on the Riviera. To get to be there for the festival was just nuts. I went to see the Romain Gavras movie, I think, and it was just a huge joy.

I got attached [to the role in Dune] a couple of months after that, and it was nerve-wracking from the announcement, because like I said before, the fans of the book, and the fans of David Lynch version, the computer game, and everything, there’s so much love and strength of feeling. And so much of our pop culture and films and books have been derived from Dune, and all the philosophy the book. I’ve been shocked to learn how many people have a next-level connection to the book. I compare it to how our generation grew up with Harry Potter, and that one makes sense to me. But it’s cool to see with Dune also, when you actually sit down and read it… It’s not that it’s a quote-unquote “hard read” or anything, but it’s not made to be consumed easily, I think that’s fair to say.

So, I was grateful to be working on something of this size not only with Denis Villeneuve leading it, who between Polytechnique, Incendies and Prisoners had nailed the smaller indie film across languages, and then had nailed Arrival and Blade Runner, but who, in his own words, he didn’t feel he’d made his greatest film yet. But also, to be working with this cast. I don’t know if there’s some nightmare version of a film where a young lead is not supported by the rest of his cast, where every one of them had been the leads in their own huge projects. But on this, everyone was there to support, and I think it’s because we all wanted to be foot soldiers for Denis, and I think we understood the potential, based on the script by Eric Roth, Jon Spaihts and Denis, that this could be something really special.

DEADLINE: I don’t have a connection to Dune; this movie is really my first experience of the story. What strikes me is this is clearly an enormous universe—a broad canvas being painted with various families and factions and politics and mythos—but that ultimately it comes down to very elemental, human themes, and we feel them through this character you play, Paul Atreides. Did those themes help ground the experience for you?

CHALAMET: Yes, and I would give the credit entirely to Denis. He would constantly say on set that he had some opposing drumbeat or something. In my diminished intellectual standing, I didn’t understand it, but it was like some vision for the movie based on how biblical the book is that tries to tackle so much that it doesn’t tackle anything. I think he felt the need to be close to a character in it, and Paul is that guy in the book. He’s a character that is still in formation, like a lump of clay, which makes him a great figure for the audience to mirror off.

It speaks, I think, to Denis’ premonition and his directing ability that there were times when we’d move on from a shot or move on from a scene, and I swear, literally, we’d go back because Denis wanted to get something over my shoulder, or push in on my reaction, just to make sure [it stayed on Paul].

And again, it’s something where I’m pinching myself. I had the best time on Interstellar, and that was one of my favorite films I’ve ever worked on, but it was very much something where I was aware of when I had the opportunity to do real acting. And on a movie like Dune, again, one could think it would get lost in the scale and scope. But I felt every day like my plate was full.

DEADLINE: One of those themes is fear, and Paul must overcome his to become the person he needs to be. When you are number one on the call sheet on a project of this scale, and the cast list reads like an address book of Hollywood in the 21st century, and Legendary has injected hundreds of millions of dollars into this production, and it’s all falling on your shoulders, I have to imagine fear is a theme you can readily relate to.

CHALAMET: Oh yeah, and they can bleed into each other for sure—not to diminish the other work that goes in. It’s great when your life experience can inform the role. That’s not at all to say I’m on some crusade in the universe or anything, but definitely… And I had that same good fortune with The King I think. My life is not nearly as significant or as exciting as Paul or Prince Hal, but we all share an unwitting needle in the haystack feeling. On The King that feeling was because I was so new to having a career. On Dune it’s because of, as you say, just feeling the pressure of the hugeness of the project in all those different ways. Those things can absolutely inform each other.

And then there are the moments of glee that come, too, like seeing Jason Momoa running at you at a hundred miles an hour, or just getting to shoot the shit with Josh Brolin, or getting to do a scene with Oscar Isaac. I felt so supported, whether it was Rebecca Fergusson or Charlotte Rampling. When Zendaya came, it was a total breath of fresh air, and she’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. I just got really lucky, and I can’t wait to see them all in Venice.

Denis split the book in half, and the hope is a second movie will get a greenlight. That’d expand Zendaya’s role in the story.

CHALAMET: Definitely, Chani will play a huge role in the next film. I don’t know if there’s a script yet, but just based on the book, along with Lady Jessica [Rebecca Fergusson], they have a lot to do together, let’s put it like that. And Zendaya was incredible in this movie; the moment she pulls the mask down, it felt properly showstopping and powerful. I was hiding behind the camera, counting my lucky starts, because I was there in month two of the shoot and here was a total powerhouse just coming in for the first time.

And as I said before, this was before I’d seen Euphoria and Malcolm & Marie. She’s doing such incredible work and is just trailblazing her own path, and she’s so, so cool. She also happens to be in the most-watched trailer of the moment, too, for Spider-Man: No Way Home. I cannot wait for that movie, and I was there, by the way, with everybody else, clicking through the trailer frame by frame looking for clues [laughs].

[winterscaptain]

tell.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i cannot tell yall how long i have been working on this one, so i'll save it. thanks to @ssaic-jareau for hanging in there with me as i pulled late nights to make this happen over the weekend!! i love you!! i know it's broad daylight for you while im being irresponsible, but i appreciate it nevertheless. let me know what you think, my lovelies! i cherish your thoughts!

words: 7.4k warnings: language, discussion of sex, canon-typical case events

summary: “we are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.” veronica roth, allegiant. au!may 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

It’s always tough to spend time away from home when you aren’t on a case, but a conference kept you from your boys the last couple of days, on Strauss’s request. Aaron was none too happy about it, but as the junior-most agent in the unit (even with five years under your belt), the shitty seminars and professional development events fell on your shoulders. 

Even though you landed early in the morning, flying coach all the way back from California, there was a whole day with Jack waiting for you and Aaron upon your return. A rare Saturday - no case, no paperwork, just family.

You knock on the door with a knuckle, unable to reach your keys around your bags and breakfast. 

Aaron opens the door with a “Hey!” coated in laughter, kissing your cheek. He’s still in his pajamas. 

You squint at him. “Am I early?”

He snorts. “Never. We’re running late.” He takes the takeout bags and coffee from your hands. “Thank you for breakfast.” 

“Of course. I wanted -” 

Jack runs across the apartment and slams into you full force. “You’re home!” 

You curl around him, your hands on his head and shoulder as he cuddles into you. “I am! I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His voice is muffled by your shirt and it makes you smile. You glance at Aaron over Jack’s head to find a smile. 

“Come look at our fort!” Jack, wearing a blanket cape, takes you by the hand and brings you into the dining room, where the dining room table has been turned into a massive fort fit for a king. 

Or, rather, two kings. 

“Oh my goodness, Jack. This is incredible, little bug. Your architectural prowess knows no bounds.” You look up at Aaron from your place on the floor. “Where’s your cape?” 

His deadpan, as usual, never fails to make you laugh. “Uh, I’m wearing it.” 

Jack continues to drag you all the way under the table until you’re laying on your bellies in the little slap-dash shelter.

Aaron flops down on the floor on the other side of Jack. “We slept in here all night.” 

“Really? That sounds like so much fun.” 

What you mean is, What, with your bad back? 

“Mmhmm,” he replies, only to really say - 

Yep. I feel like shit. 

“Can we sleep in here again tonight, Dad?” Jack asks, turning to Aaron. “All together?” 

You exchange a glance with Aaron, who laughs. 

So much for grown-up plans...

+++

You’re both scrambling to get ready for the bike ride across the mall and day at the Smithsonian when the phone call comes in. 

“Hotchner,” Aaron says, still at the counter, tucking his phone under his chin as he finishes packing the rest of the picnic basket. 

He freezes, hastily bagging some carrots and putting them in the basket before holding the phone in his hand and leaning heavily against the counter. “You’re kidding.” 

That’s not a good tone. 

Jack looks up at you, and you rest your hands on his chest over his shoulders, backing him into you as you watch Aaron with your lip between your teeth. 

“Did they raise the terror alert?”

Shit. 

“Okay. That’s for the best. Um…” He checks his watch. “I’ll get down there now. Yeah….Do you need the rest -” 

With a huff, he meets your eyes and nods. 

You let out a sigh and kiss Jack’s head. He knows the drill and runs off for your phone, still charging in the bedroom. 

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll be there first. We gotta get Jack squared away but I’ll get going while -” He pauses, probably interrupted by Strauss again. “Thank you...Yes...I’ll be there as soon as I can and the rest of the team will meet at the scene.” 

You know that also means you. You also can’t ignore the prick of anxiety that shoots through your belly, knowing he’ll likely be in danger without you for at least a half-hour. 

Jack returns with your phone, Jessica already on the line. 

+++

Aaron, of course, leaves right away while you wait for Jess. 

You sit on the couch with Jack. “I’m so sorry, buddy. We’ll have to do a big day, just the three of us, another time.” 

Jack shrugs. “It’s okay. Sometimes you just gotta catch the bad guys.” 

The offhand nature of his understanding strikes you as instantly hilarious, and he laughs with you when you double over, wiping tears from your eyes. 

“Yeah. Sometimes you just do, kiddo.” 

+++

When you finally arrive at the scene, Dave’s already set up hostage negotiation. You cross the street, finding Will and JJ huddled with Emily and Derek. 

“You okay?” You ask, placing your hand on Will’s shoulder. He’s not just JJ’s not-husband. He’s your friend, too, all on his own. 

“Yeah, jus’ fine.” He shakes his head. “Jus’ a little rattled, is all.” 

“Understandable.” 

His mouth presses into a thin line as he exhales. “Thanks.” He checks his watch. “Y’all should get on back. I think Strauss just showed up.”

JJ kisses his cheek and trots off to meet the rest of the unit. After another hug for Will, you follow suit. 

+++

“The media's calling them the Face Cards. Seven bank robberies in seven months. They've killed one person at each robbery.” Aaron leads the rest of you to the trailer, where the monitors are all set up. 

Dave furrows his brow. “M. O.?” 

“Single gunshot wound. Each of the victims has bled out.” 

That doesn’t make much sense. 

You jump in. “Serial killers with a 30-day cooling-off period and we're only just hearing about this now?” 

“Well, headquarters has always characterized them robbers first and killers second,” Aaron replies, glancing back at you. You roll your eyes. 

Of course they did. 

“No one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies,” Spencer notes. He’s more than right, and you thought the same thing - it’s almost like he took the words out of your mouth. 

“I disagreed with the original assessment. I was overruled.” Aaron’s bland version of frustration is clear in his tone, but he knows, just as you do, that ship has sailed. All you can do now is handle what’s in front of you. 

“So why are we here now?” Dave asks. 

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.” 

Aaron starts to walk again as JJ asks after more information. Aaron usually rattles it off pretty quickly, but with the quick start this morning, you know he trusts the rest of you to ask the questions you need. “What more do we know about them? 

“They're organized, they're efficient. Each strike lasts about two minutes.” 

Derek, walking beside you, finally joins the conversation. “They gotta be scouting the banks in advance. Why haven't we been able to identify them off of surveillance footage?” 

“They hack the security feed and turn off the cameras, both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we're allowed to watch.” Aaron leads you all into the tactical staging truck, watching the security feeds. 

+++

As you continue to watch, the scene becomes clearer, the power dynamics more tangible. 

Dave sees it, too. “They're using the hostages as human shields.” 

JJ, with Will beside her, studies the footage, watching the Queen run around while the King finds himself preoccupied with the Jack’s wound. “This is the first time they've been interrupted. What went wrong?”

“It's a big bank,” Emily says. “It's possible they weren't about to round everybody up before someone triggered an alarm.” 

That’s a fair point, but you ask your question anyway.  “Why haven't they cut the feed now that they've been cornered?”

Derek, still beside you, answers. “Letting us see inside gives up a tactical advantage. They gotta know that.” 

They don't seem to care,” Aaron says, from your other side. 

You’re all silent for another minute, watching to see what happens next. Even though their plans went awry, the team still looks fairly calm and collected, all things considered. 

JJ’s frown only deepens. “They're overconfident. Arrogant, even.” 

“The face card masks add to their narcissism.” Spencer’s voice comes from the end of the line. “Their personas are the royalty of poker.” 

You nod - it’s a great point - while Aaron starts making assignments.  

“JJ, Reid, and Prentiss, look at past robberies. That's gonna be our victimology. Pull another analyst if you need to.” He turns to you, then Dave, on his other side. “I want you two to handle negotiations. And, Morgan, strategize tactical options with MPD.” 

You shuffle, gathering your radio and earpiece from the charger next to Penelope’s computer. 

When the rest of the team leaves, you hang back with Dave, keying into the radio channels and standing by for further instruction - you know there’s more for you in the trailer at the moment. 

Further instruction, though, may have to wait. Strauss climbs the steps into the rig and Aaron greets her. “Chief Strauss.” 

“The Director ordered me to supervise your operation.” 

Of course he did. 

“Puts you right in the spotlight,” Dave says, not unkindly. It’s almost fond. 

You can’t help but hold back a little bit of a smile. If the situation were reversed and it was Aaron at the helm, you’d be proud of him, too. 

“Well, you've got gunmen with hostages in the Capital. The Hill's concerned.” 

Aaron nods, gesturing to you and Dave. “We're about to open lines of communication.”

“What about a tactical assault?”

The three of you shake your heads as Aaron responds. “I don't think it's a good idea. There are hostages in front of the doors and windows.” 

Erin, finally onboard, turns to Dave. “What's your negotiation strategy?” 

“The Jack's bleeding out. They'll ask for medical attention.” 

You hum, a little skeptical, and look back at the feed. “The female unsub might have something to say about that. Look at her body language.” 

Dave follows your gaze. “She is cold and detached. The King seems genuinely concerned about his partner's welfare. But she couldn't give a damn.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “The men probably know each other.” 

Aaron, picking up on your train of thought, flags Penelope, “Garcia?” 

She turns in her chair, already typing. “Shuffling my techno-fabulous deck of databases, sir.” 

And so it begins. 

+++

“I’ll do the talking - I’ll need to establish some rapport with them, but I’ll need you keeping the team updated and coordinating any allowances or personnel as things come up, okay?” 

You nod, a little smile pulling at the side of your mouth. “You got it.” 

Dave claps your shoulder. “You’ll be in this chair one day, so pay attention.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He dials in and the phone starts ringing through the speaker. You’ll be able to hear everything. 

“Who the hell's this?” You check the monitor. The King picked up the phone. 

Obviously, the Jack can’t pick up the phone, stupid, he’s bleeding out!

“My name is David Rossi. I'm with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?” 

The King doesn’t address the question, but rather looks back toward his fallen compatriot. “All right, I want a doctor sent in, and then I want out of here.” 

Dave checks his watch. “Well, we certainly can discuss that. Let the hostages go and we'll give you all the medical help you need.” 

You take a mental note. Your memories from Dave’s lectures at the academy are fuzzy at best, and you haven’t had very much time handling these things in the field. The last time a major hostage crisis was at hand, you were a hostage yourself. 

A shot hostage, if the chronic nerve pain in your shoulder is any reminder. 

“I can't do that. I need the leverage.” 

“How about a sign of good faith? Send out the women and children and I'll see what I can do.” 

You watch as the King takes the phone away from his mouth. You can vaguely hear him update the Queen, but she’s not having it. She pulls a child from the lineup and your lower lip disappears between your teeth. 

A man, you presume the girl’s father, speaks to the Queen before she shoots him in the abdomen. The King gets back on the line. 

“You better send in some more help or more people are gonna die.” He hangs up. 

Shit. 

+++

“You’re not seriously considering sending an agent in there?” You turn on Hotch and he sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

“We don’t have much of a choice. I’m not the authority on-site and with the director pressing Strauss, there’s not much I can do.” 

The two of you are alone for the time being, so you’re able to rib him for a second to lighten the tension. 

“What’s the point of being unit chief if you can’t lord it over everyone all the time?” 

You're rewarded with a shadow of a smile and a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. I lord it over you plenty.” 

“Not enough.” Your tone is childish, the words murmured under your breath. 

When he walks away, he taps the side of your ass with the back of his hand. If you weren’t in a professional setting, you could mistake it for a promise. 

But, Aaron, that would be unprofessional!

You turn to look at him and just catch his wink as he hops up the steps behind Strauss. 

+++

With Garcia’s magic and Aaron’s genius, you figure out that the men are related. 

While Rossi hops on the next phone call, you help Derek outfit the medic with a bug and a weapon. 

“We're sending in the medic now, Chris. Tell Oliver help is on the way.” 

Derek nods at the medic and he hops off, heading into the bank. You jog over to the trailer only to find a humorously horrified look on Strauss’s face. 

“Is she…” 

You get closer, looking up at the monitor. 

“...putting on lipstick?” 

You scoff. “She’s vain. Only contributes to a profile of vanity and narcissism. She likes to be seen - this is a game for her.” 

You jog back out before Strauss can respond, taking your place between Aaron and Derek. 

“Green. You gotta go. Green. Go,” Derek says into his mic. 

The agent-turned-medic makes a move and immediately gets a shot between the eyes for his trouble. Your hand files over your mouth and Derek ducks away, taking a second. 

Well, that couldn’t have been any worse. 

You look at Aaron, still staring at the screen, beside you. He’s thinking the same thing. 

+++

Derek walks up to you, kevlar and sunglasses firmly in place. “Tactical's been deployed, snipers are moving into position.” 

At your questioning look, Strauss clarifies. “The Director's ordered a full tactical assault.” 

The look doesn’t leave your face. “His last orders cost us an agent.” 

Radio transmissions fly one ear and out the other, not to mention the flurry of activity around the negotiation tent. Before Strauss can reply, Will’s call shoots past you to Aaron.

“SWAT's getting itchy fingers.” 

Aaron turns, covering his comm mic at his chest. “You remind SWAT that bank robberies are federal jurisdiction. No one fires until they're ordered to.” 

“Right.” 

Will disappears and you suppress a little pleased shudder. Aaron’s very much in control now and it is doing things to your body that are better suited for, well, anywhere else. You tighten the velcro across your chest as if to compress another rush of… nothing useful. 

Aaron turns back to you, Dave, Derek, and Strauss. “All right, when the crossfire starts, what's gonna happen to the hostages caught in the middle?” 

The question is a trap, and Dave doubles down. “That's the wrong call, Erin, and you know it.” 

Strauss falters for a minute, leveling with the rest of you. “It's not my call.” 

Aaron doesn’t let up. “You're here and you're in charge.” His tone is sharper than yours would be in the same situation, but you’re nearly fifteen years younger and a whole four steps down on the totem pole. 

Not for the first time, a rush of affection and gratitude for him crests over your in a wave and you have to look away, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. When you look back, he’s watching you. 

I’m okay. 

He nods as Erin speaks again. 

“So you want me to disobey the Director?” Erin sounds dubious, at best. 

Dave responds quickly. “Yes.” 

Aaron amends, and if the situation wasn’t so tense his correction would almost be funny. “No. I just want you to buy us a little time.” He pauses, wavering for a second as he rephrases. “Don't be quite so efficient.” 

You’re never surprised by Aaron’s political savvy, but it is a nice reminder that he can run circles around every bureaucrat in the district if given the chance. 

“Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast.”

+++

“It’s an impossible ask, Dave. You know JJ will never go for it.” 

“It’s not up to JJ.” Aaron’s voice approaches from behind you. “It’s the director’s call, but mine first.” 

He comes to rest beside you as Dave leaves the two of you alone. 

“What are you gonna do?” You look at Aaron, finding his eyes trained on the monitor, arms crossed over his chest.

He sighs. “If it was you he asked for...” 

You bump his shoulder. “What, not interested in feeding me to serial killers today?” 

It’s a loaded joke, especially for the two of you, but after Emily, you’re past such things. If the situation were reversed, Haley would never stop giving you hell for getting serial-killed the way she did. It’s only fair to return the favor. 

“Over my dead body, baby.” He reaches down to squeeze your hand for a second before letting you go. “Do me a favor?” 

“Anything.” 

“Stay here.” 

+++

You can hear JJ’s anguished shouts from here, beside Dave and the phone. 

Derek has a good enough hold on her, Emily and Aaron protecting him from JJ’s wild elbows. She’s beside herself but eventually breaks free and sprints back toward the trailer. You turn to follow her, just in time to hear a gunshot. 

Will.

+++

You’re all gathered in the trailer as JJ asks the same questions over and over again. Garcia, just like the first time, doesn’t have any answers. 

The static on the monitors is nearly deafening in its silence. 

JJ looks at you for a moment and takes a shaky breath before looking at Hotch. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her voice is broken when she speaks. “Aaron.”

You know he’s never been able to deny her anything. In the entire time you’ve known him, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed. 

His eyes don’t budge from hers. “We’re going in.”

+++

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, trying to stem the stinging from the heat and debris. Your ears ring and you’ve got a scrape on your chin from where you face-planted into the asphalt. 

Eventually, you remove your hands and open your eyes to the early summer sunshine. Your bias is clear enough - Aaron’s the first one you look for and the first one you find.

He’s looking a little dazed and more than a little ruffled, but alive. 

Ignoring the whine in your ears and swiping some blood off your face, you jog over to him, taking stock of him from head to toe. “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you realize he probably can’t hear you. An image of Kate reaching for you and the smell of blood flashes into your head, but you push it away. 

His ear…

“Aaron?” You lay a hand on his shoulder and he startles a little, meeting your eyes and coming back to himself all at once. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, tipping your jaw up with one finger to examine your chin. “You’re hurt.”

“Honey, I’m fine. Your ear…” You follow a small trickle of blood up the side of his neck, rounding him to get a better look. Just as you’d feared, his bad ear is bleeding again. 

He waves off your concern and taps his comm mic, calling for support in quick, clear soundbites. You snag the back of his vest before he can get too far away from you. 

“As soon as you’re done with that, please get it looked at.”

With a sigh, he nods and gestures to your chin. “I will if you do.”

You roll your eyes. 

“Where’s Emily?” You hear Morgan ask JJ as they get their bearings around you. 

With a start, you follow them into the building, attached to a couple of SWAT agents. You know Aaron will get after you for going in before everything’s cleared by bomb squad, but you can’t keep still. 

The heartache you feel for JJ supersedes anything else going on in your head. It’s something that plagues you all the time - the both of you doing this job. Losing Aaron in the field is a stark reality you can hardly consider at any point, especially when evidence of its reality is right in front of you. 

+++

Aaron can’t help himself - he pulls you close after you’re both released by the paramedics, pressing a kiss to your head. It’s almost desperate as he leans back and pulls your collar from your vest, his hands smoothing over your shoulders. 

“I need to debrief SWAT and first responders - can you stay with Dave and help with the media?” 

“Okay. Let me know if you need any extra hands - I’ll send ‘em right over.” 

He smiles at you, soft, small, and affectionate. “Thank you.” 

+++

You pull your phone from your pocket. 

She picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Jess.” 

“Hey.” She pauses. “You okay?”

With a shaky sigh, you reply. “Yeah. I’m fine. Aaron’s fine.” 

“I heard about the explosion. Is there anything I can do?” 

“No, we’re fine. Just...Just stay out of the city.” After another breath. “Is Jack okay?” 

She laughs a little. “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s a little anxious but I turned off the TV and we’re headed out to the park for a little while.” 

“Good.” You look over at Aaron, who holds your eyes for a second before returning to his EMS strategy huddle. 

“Be safe and come home to us soon, okay?” 

“Yeah. We will. We love you. Tell Jack we -”

“ - Of course.” 

+++

You follow Spencer through the debris once you’re done handling the media storm with Dave. Picking through the rubble, searching for something - anything - but not finding much. 

Derek’s voice echoes through the ruined, cavernous space that used to be the main lobby. “Everything they've said and done was for a reason. But what doesn't make any sense is she switched the negotiation demand. Chris wanted to go to Switzerland. She changed it to Chad.” 

“They also requested a private plane,” you note, “but no mention of a pilot.” 

Spencer stops, and you almost run into him. Emily stops as well, looking back at the pair of you as Spencer organizes his thoughts. When he’s ready to speak, he says, “Guys, if you think about it, even the dates mean something. In 2004, while she was wreaking havoc abroad, he was dishonorably discharged. Then in 2008, they likely met in Chad. And now this in 2012.” 

Good thought. But then again, when is one of Spencer’s thoughts bad? 

It’s a decent enough question, and you run the gamut of all the surprising and absurd things Spencer’s said in your presence over the years. One in particular comes to mind. 

Evil twin, eviler twin. 

You hold back a little laugh, despite the harrowing circumstances. 

Yeah, that one was pretty bad. 

“Okay.” Derek grabs your attention again. “So, is it a coincidence that those are all election years and they attacked D.C.? Maybe this is a political statement.” 

Emily’s eyes are stuck on something on the ground, but you’re not sure if it’s what she’s really looking at. “No. It's more personal than that. It's their story.” 

Derek’s brow pinches. “What?” 

“All of the details are a part of their story.” 

She starts to leave through one of the shattered windows and you follow her back to the trailer, Spencer and Derek not far behind. She hops up the steps and you take your place beside Aaron once you’re all inside. It’s much cozier in here, with eight of you. 

Spencer fills the rest of the team in on your conversation inside. Unsurprisingly, it’s rote - read like a cold script. 

Emily picks up when he’s done. “Their timeline suggests they were both destructive before they met.” 

“So we're talking about ex-military turning on their country.” Strauss looks and sounds skeptical, but you can’t blame her. In American culture, it’s rather incongruous. 

Now who sounds like Spencer?

“It's rare, but soldiers become disenfranchised no matter what the nationality. And if he met someone like-minded at that time, there'd be no stopping them.”

“So you're thinking they met during the civil unrest in Chad in '08.” Aaron’s voice isn’t skeptical - more probing. You can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “And one or both of them are pilots.”

“So if Garcia concentrates on that region,” Emily points to an area on a map, lit up on the monitor, “specifically weapons running in and out of Libya, there's a good chance we'll find their paths crossed.”

Penelope types furiously for a moment, her fingers flying over the keys. “Okay, multiple entries into Libya for a private pilot named Matthew Downs in '08, but I don't have her name.” 

“Well, because she had aliases. It's the only way to stay a ghost.” 

Looks like Emily’s Interpol knowledge is coming in handy. 

She continues. “Here's the thing - they are a couple. Regardless of what we believe of them, they will celebrate themselves and their connection.” She turns to Penelope, a thought sparking behind her eyes. “Is there anything that happened on this date in Chad?”

“Oh, you are good, Emily Prentiss.” Penelope types for a moment and you lean forward, watching her work. “But this news is not. Yes, there were multiple explosions on this date in '08.” 

Aaron speaks from beside you. He’s a little closer than you thought, and it startles you a little. 

In fairness, you’re still jumpy from the explosion. 

“Where were the most casualties?” 

“At a church-- no, no, a train. Yep.” 

Morgan squints at the photos of the hulled-out building. “Semtex and C-4?”

Penelope nods while Aaron turns toward Strauss. “Are trains still arriving at Union Station?”

“Yes, but only the authorities are allowed in.” There’s a moment where she almost looks panicked, but collects herself as the rest of you gear up to leave. 

Emily exhales down her nose. “That’s why they needed Will.” 

+++

Aaron drives impossibly fast through the district. You sit in the back seat with Emily, holding onto the handles above the door for dear life. 

You’ve never flashed your badge so many times in such a short period. Aaron tucked his badge into a strap of his vest, just to save time, but still has his credentials locked between his fingers as he drives. If you didn’t trust him so much, it would freak you out a little.  

+++

The comm in your ear crackles as Emily speaks. “I found Will.” 

“Is he mobile?” Aaron’s voice comes both from beside you and your comm - it’s a little disorienting, but you push through. 

“Negative. He's got 6 transmitters on him and this whole place is gonna blow.”

There’s hardly a hesitation in Aaron’s steps as he processes the information. “All right, where are you? I'm on my way.” 

He’d like to think he’s made of steel. 

Sometimes he is. 

“No,” Emily asserts. “You gotta get everyone out. Is the bomb squad here yet?” 

“They're 3 minutes away.” 

“Copy.” She sounds a little disappointed, or maybe frustrated, but doesn’t say anything else.

He turns back to you, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you leading evacuation. Get out of here.” 

Tears prick at your eyes and honestly, this is the first moment you’ve really been afraid. Existentially afraid. Afraid of walking out of this train station and leaving Aaron and Emily and Will to blow up. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yep. Go.” He tries to push you away, but you resist. 

“Promise?” 

His brown eyes soften as his mouth presses into a thin line. “Can’t. I love you. Get outta here.” 

You bounce on your toes for a second, acutely aware you’re wasting valuable time, before yanking him forward to kiss his cheek before you sprint away from him, shouting instructions to the panicked crowd as you go. 

+++

You catch up with Derek, racing to catch your suspect. He corners him in an alley but can’t quite overpower him. You reach for your sidearm, but by the time you take aim, Downs is already on the ground, a gunshot ringing through the air. 

Startled, you turn over your shoulder to find Aaron still staring down the sight of his Glock. 

Could take an eye out, with that thing.

You sigh and holster your weapon. Derek looks plenty dazed and you don’t blame him. It’s not often he’s on the receiving end of a near-miss in close combat. He looks over your shoulder and you can see something pass between him and Aaron. 

Maybe one day, Derek will know how much Aaron loves and respects him. 

You watch Derek shake it off and stumble as he attempts to rise to his feet. 

Today is not that day. 

Coming to your senses, you trot forward and help him to his feet, brushing wayward asphalt off of him. You turn back to Aaron. “Everything alright?” 

He ignores you, pressing the mic at his chest as he begins to run back toward the station. “Prentiss, what’s your status?”

+++

Seeing Will and Emily leave the building in one piece is a relief. You meet Aaron’s gaze and his eyes are exhausted. The gears in his head still whir. He’s still in game-mode, and it’s a good thing. 

With the logistical nightmare of two bomb threats in one day, there’s a lot of work ahead of you. 

+++

You swing back and forth in your desk chair, brain completely numb from the paperwork. It’s been a long day, and you’ve been up since three this morning, what with your flight back from California. You’re certain you’ve had longer days than this one, but you’re approaching twenty-one hours without sleep and it feels worse than you remember. 

What were we planning to do today?

A bike ride and museum day with Jack seems impossibly long ago. Last week, maybe.

Derek and Emily sit on their desks, attempting to keep a conversation going without much luck. 

They were house-hunting this morning. 

Penelope slowly descends the stairs as Spencer turns in his seat. “The convention’s still happening tomorrow if you want to go.” 

They were at a convention this morning. 

Everyone had lives this morning. Weird.

She makes an uncertain noise. “That whole city-on-the-brink-of-destruction thing kinda took the wind out of my sails, you know?” 

You look up at her as she takes her place beside Spencer. “It’ll get you every time.” 

“You gotta watch out for that,” Emily adds. It makes you smile a little. 

Derek looks a little less amused, reminding Emily they’ll have to finish the inspection another time. Between Spencer and Penelope, Emily cops to a crack in the foundation of her almost-home. 

“That does not sound good,” Penelope says. You can’t help but agree. 

There’s a weird look on Derek’s face, but you ignore it in favor of Strauss’s descent on the stairs. 

“Our unsub,” she says, “is Izzy Rogers. She'll be charged with multiple counts domestically, and our international counterparts will have their turn with her. She will never see the light of day.” A little smile graces her lips. 

You realize with the tiniest of laughs (really - it’s a one on the Aaron Hotchner scale of laugher, which means it’s hardly noticeable to the naked eye) that you don’t hate her or even dislike her as much as you used to. Maybe, you even want her around. 

Don’t push it.  

“I just thought you'd like to know that.” 

The five of you murmur something that sounds like, “Thank you, ma’am.” 

She pulls Derek, probably to kick his ass for something or another and send herself back on your shit list. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

You take Izzy Rogers’s file from Emily, looking over an impressive rap sheet. You’re happy for a few things. 

The first - that Aaron’s not a federal prosecutor anymore. This’ll be a case for the ages. 

The second - you’ll never have to think about her again. 

The third - you’re not sure. You’re sleep-deprived. It’ll come to you. 

She cost me my precious eight hours and I’ll never forgive her. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron leave his office. You set the file down and look up at him, halfway-hoping for once he’ll tell you to go home without him. 

“Dave wants to know if everyone is free tomorrow night.” 

Without any inflection at all, you reply. “We better not be doing anything tomorrow night.” 

“Well,” Derek says, interrupting Emily’s snort. “If he’s buying, then I’m definitely in.” 

Emily, Spencer, and Penelope jump onto Derek’s conditional acceptance and a rare smile pulls at Aaron’s face, his dimples on full display. 

“Hear that? We’re in.” 

+++

When you get home, Aaron all-but carries you to bed. With the tenderest of hands, he removes your shoes and socks, unbuttons your pants, slides them down your legs, and throws them in the laundry basket. 

You’re practically wilting where you sit, feeling more and more like a sleepy toddler by the minute. 

Aaron unbuttons your shirt and slips it off your shoulders, kissing each cheek in turn. “I’ll start a shower.” 

You move to protest, but he strips and that mostly shuts you up. He starts the water before he returns to your side.

“I just want to sleep, Aar. Please.” 

“Baby,” he says, a fond little pleading note in his tone. “We just changed the sheets. Do you really want to get semtex all over them?” 

With a huff - “No.” 

He smiles and helps you to your feet. “Didn’t think so.” 

You’re so tired, it doesn't even cross your mind to take advantage of the shared shower or his lack of clothes. By the time he dries you off, tucks you in, and locks the bedroom door to ward off the over-eager six-year-old down the hall, you’re asleep. 

His own exhaustion pulling at him, he doesn’t have the time or energy to cherish how peaceful, safe, and warm you look. He just draws you close to him until he can feel your heartbeat. 

Sleep takes him rapidly after that. 

+++

As Will and JJ exchange their vows, you tuck further into Aaron’s arms. His whisper floats past your ear, barely audible. “Wanna do that sometime?”

“What? Get married?” Your voice is just as quiet. 

“Mhmm.”

“Only if it’s you.”

There’s a kiss pressed to your temple with a smile behind it. “I think I can make that happen.”

You turn your head to the side to keep your snark from carrying. “Please don’t propose to me right now. This weekend’s been long enough.”

Derek kicks the side of your foot from where he stands beside you, unable to hear the conversation but knowing you both well enough to keep you from tumbling down the rabbit hole of distraction. 

Aaron presses another kiss to your temple. “I love you.” You feel it rather than hear it.

You pick up one of his hands and kiss the back of it. You don’t need to say anything. 

+++

Aaron holds you close as you dance together, surrounded by your family. JJ and Will sway back and forth nearby, wrapped entirely in each other. Erin and Dave have been surprisingly brave, dancing and laughing quietly together throughout the evening. 

As nice as it was to just have something for the two of you, sharing your love with your family has its own set of perks. You don’t have to hide anymore or justify your pigheaded protection of the other. 

You can just… be. 

+++

Eventually, Dave calls all the “...fortunately unmarried individuals to the dance floor,” and refuses to let anyone slip through the cracks. 

When Aaron hangs back, drink in-hand and a little smile on his face, Dave calls him out. “Divorcés and widowers, too, c’mon.” He pauses, finding another tactic when Aaron doesn’t move. “If you’re both, you get extra points!” 

Aaron rolls his eyes and you look around, finding an inappropriate amount of humor in JJ’s confused relatives. You can’t help but bark a loud laugh when you see how hard Derek’s trying to keep his mirth at bay.

Too soon for the dead wife jokes? He seems to ask. Can I laugh? 

Something in your eyes gives him tacit permission and he nearly blinds you with his smile. 

When Dave’s tricks fall short, you do your best to pull Aaron from the sideline with your best set of bedroom eyes. He courageously resists, so you give up and settle next to Anderson. “What do you think Dave’s come up with, this time?” 

“God only knows.” 

Anderson, like the rest of you, knows that Dave’s hosting abilities know no bounds. 

“Because so many of you are joyfully unmarried, the newlyweds wanted to make sure there was someone else to suffer the slings and arrows of matrimony with them in the near future. Thus,” he opens his arm to JJ, who appears with her bouquet and a smile, “the bouquet toss will be an equal-opportunity event.” 

With a laugh and a shake of your head, you prepare to duck out of the way. 

You look over at Aaron. This is ridiculous. 

He only shakes his head, hiding his smile behind his drink. And yet…

He leaves the rest of the implication unsaid, but you flip him off for good measure. Your exchange must have taken longer than you thought because before you know it, you have a face full of white roses. It’s over. 

You pull the flowers from your face and level JJ with a glare across the dance floor. “Really?” 

She raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “I turned my back and everything.” 

There are whoops and hollers from your team and you can only roll your eyes. Derek and Will strong-arm Aaron onto the dance floor (you know he let them - if he really wanted to avoid you, they wouldn’t be able to move him an inch), where you’re both cajoled into a kiss and a photo. Penelope’s on the other side of the camera, grinning from ear to ear. 

She waves at Aaron over the camera. “Smile for real, damn you!” 

She amends, adding, “Sir,” for good measure. It has its intended effect and she’s rewarded with a rare, bright laugh from her unit chief. 

Absurd traditions aside, you’d be lying if said you stopped smiling even once. 

+++

As the party settles, some couples stay out on the dance floor, sedately twirling and swaying to the music that continues to play across the yard. 

You and Aaron have relaxed significantly since the Great Bouquet Debacle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. You’re sitting across his lap, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, with one of his arms wrapped around your middle and the other draped over your knees - the picture of relaxation. 

Penelope, Derek, Emily, and Will have taken up residence on the other side of the dance floor, their heads close together and voices low.

Aaron’s eyes slide over them as he watches the room, scanning out of habit. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

You lean further into him as four pairs of eyes flicker over to you before returning to their huddle. “Us, probably.” 

He hums, understanding and pensive. “Probably our sex life, right?” 

“Probably,” you sigh, playing at boredom. He covers your hand with one of his and you play with his fingers - lacing, unlacing, kissing his knuckles. 

It’s nice to feel safe, comfortable enough to love each other where curious eyes can see you. 

You can feel his smile against your forehead as he presses a kiss between your brows.  

“I mean,” you continue, “there is a lot to talk about.”

He shrugs, adjusting his arm where it lays across your legs to keep you both comfortable in the seat you share. “That’s true enough. Though, I can’t imagine any of their projections being right.”

+++

“I bet they’re into like…tantric sex. Like hours and hours and hours you know?” Penelope says, conspiracy the top note in her tone. 

Derek looks at her and she backtracks, only a little on the defensive. 

“What? Spencer’s talked to me about it before and I...read.” 

He rolls his eyes, but Emily spares Penelope from any further interrogation. 

“I could see that.” She watches the way your fingers wander over Aaron’s bare forearm, playing with the ridges of his watch, the way his thumb absent-mindedly draws small circles on your outer thigh. “Yeah, actually I think that’s exactly what happens.”

+++

“What do you think they’ve got so far?” 

He plays at boredom. “They’re probably trying to take a guess at anything they can reach - with both of our profiles in Derek’s pocket, he’s going to have the most luck, I think.” 

“Really?” You ask. “Not Emily?” 

He snorts. “No. She has her mind on other things.” 

That holds you up for a second, and you’re not sure if he’s still playing into the bit. “Wait, what do you mean?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.” 

“She’s resigning, isn’t she?” You give up the fun and lay your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. 

Without thinking, his hand rises to your cheek, affectionately brushing over your cheekbone before dropping back down. “She might be.” 

“Did she do that thing where she sighs really big and then looks off to the upper right middle distance?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Shit.” 

You’re both quiet for a moment, just enjoying the low lull of the music and the lights and the sights and smiles of your family. 

“Hey.” 

You lean back a little and meet Aaron’s eyes. “Yeah?” 

“What’s my tell?” 

The concern drops out of your face all at once. “You think I’m gonna spill just like that so you can go and change it on me? Not a chance.” 

He sighs and his chin tips up in defeat. “So I have one?” 

“Of course you do, stupid.” You flick his chest and a laugh rumbles through him. “Everyone does. You know mine, I know yours. You’re gonna have to get over it.” 

“So you’ve caught me in lies before?” He asks, not without humor. 

“Duh. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught every lie you’ve ever told, but you seemed so proud of yourself that I just let you have it.” 

You can almost feel the eye roll. “Really?” He sounds skeptical. “Name one lie you’ve caught me in.” 

“Alright.” You count off on your fingers. “You dinged my car door a couple of weeks ago, you definitely didn’t drop the bags at Goodwill, you do know it wasn’t Jack who finished the ice cream in the freezer, you -” 

“Okay.” He covers your hands with his and kisses your fingers. “That’s enough. I get it.” 

You kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you’ve caught me in every single lie I’ve ever told, too, huh?” 

“Only every once since the day we met. Yours is obvious.” 

It’s a trap. You don’t take it. “Hmm. That’s convenient.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

You lean back to look at him. “You’re a shit, you know that?” 

He nods and raises his eyebrows, a cheeky, close-mouthed smile slowly creeping across his face. 

You playfully smack his chest with the back of your hand. “Fucker.” 

He says something under his breath and you level him with a look that has him repeating himself. 

“I said, you wish.” 

You roll your eyes and tuck back into his neck, kissing the skin above his collar. You can feel him shiver and you know you’ve got him. “Not just wish, honey. Know.” 

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @bwbatta @wakatoshislover @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw  @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bispences @thebivirgin

[chika-the-terrible]

Isu AU hours again:

Because Jacob keeps hitting his face on the doorframes and because he likes taking an unconventional approach, he tries getting into the Alhambra through a window once…to which he clearly didn’t think it through because his size makes it almost impossible for him to squeeze through one. Roth makes sure all the windows are locked after that, even as he laughs at the stupid memory

Even though Jacob basically spends all his time at the Alhambra, sometimes he has bad days. Something sets him off and then he’s grumpy and miserable for the rest of the day. Roth, even though he likes a little spice in his life, knows that Jacob being unhappy is not a good thing and so tries unexpected ways to cheer Jacob up. It doesn’t always work but Roth’s trying and that’s enough to make Jacob smile again

Roth also has bad days, too, and not just from a bad meeting. Maybe he has nightmares sometimes because of his past, but he’s so used to them they don’t bother him or anyone else, they just make him lose sleep. Jacob, on the other hand, hates it. He hates how Roth gets the nightmares and loses sleep and so he takes it upon himself to help Roth when the nightmares happen. Even though Roth very much insists that he’s fine because he’s used to dealing with the nightmares, Jacob still tugs Roth to bed and lays there with him. Jacob’s too big to have half of it and so he has Roth lying on his chest and stubbornly refuses to let his friend do anything else until Roth gets some sleep. And, surprisingly, Roth does get lulled to sleep by listening to Jacob’s heartbeat. It becomes something of a routine for the nightmares long before they get closer together and Jacob doesn’t think much of it until Roth points out how it always feels like they’re flirting or something when Jacob does this for him and the Isu man is torn between friendship and love feels in an instant

I love the idea of Jacob being the little spoon to Roth when they first start sleeping together. I do like it the other way around as well but this version is more adorable, in a way. Jacob just kinda has to make sure he doesn’t roll over and crush Roth in the night is all

Jacob is also the guy who likes to stay up late and then sleep in. Roth’s not much of a morning person himself but he tends to get up before Jacob does and so he’s the one that has to get Jacob up for the day most times. And let me say, getting an Isu man to wake up that sleeps that deeply is like trying to kick a dead horse. So Roth comes up with another plan, bringing breakfast to Jacob in bed, and the smell wakes Jacob up. It becomes another little tradition for them, just like the nightmare thing, and Jacob eventually tries to turn it around once to show his appreciation to Roth. Of course, he can’t cook to save his life and so had to rely on Lewis’ help, but it’s the thought that counts

Evie watches Jacob fret and worry over Roth’s health in the aftermath of the showdown. Her brother absolutely refuses to leave Roth alone most of the time (with the exception of his testimony) and he paces around a lot with nervous energy. Briefly Jacob had floated the idea of using Isu tech to heal Roth’s injuries but Evie shot that down, reminding Jacob that humans and Isu tech didn’t tend to mix well, not even the medicinal ones (i.e. the Shroud) and so Jacob has to do the waiting game. He hates waiting, but listening to Roth helps cheer Jacob up and it makes Evie happy as well because she can see how much Roth means to Jacob. Roth’s lifespan might be far shorter than Jacob’s but they clearly cared about one another, and Evie wasn’t about to get in the middle of that

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