#but because there was an opportunity and they avoided it

[angelltheninth]

Can I et uh... can I get one "leaning against the other one in close spaces" and with... separate reactions from Thoma, Neuvillette ad Zhongli?

Am I a coffee shop? I suppose I can get you your order. That will be, one like and one reblog please.

Pairing: Thoma, Neuvillette, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, teasing, forced proximity, kissing, grinding, tail shenanigans, body warmth

A/N: I would love to be stuck with them. There's so much to talk about.

2. Leaning against the other in close spaces

Thoma calms you down first and foremost. There are many people in the Kamisato household, someone is sure to find you eventually. He would give you some space but unfortunately he can't and under this light you can just about make out his cheeks redden because he can feel all of you pressed against him.

This would be a perfect opportunity for a little make out session, unfortunately your boyfriend is doing his best to try and find a way out of here first. Kisses wouldn't motivate him like they usually do, they would make him want to stay in here longer.

Neuvillette thinks this could be some type of a prank, already getting ready to punish who ever locked you in here. He could use his powers to ram through the door but that would only draw more attention to this situation, and he would very much like to avoid being seen in such a compromising position at work.

As his nerves increase you feel his tail wrap around your leg, the touch sending shivers up your spine. You didn't mean to clench your thighs on it but you did, which did indeed lead to the two of you in a compromising position, with him pressing you against the wall as he kisses down your unbuttoned shirt.

Zhongli knocks on the locked door, baffled how it could have closed so suddenly and so tightly behind you. You on the other hand find the whole thing a little amusing, asking if he wants to get away from his wife so badly, which he if course doesn't.

After some time has passed his body begins to grow hotter, the small and enclosed space combined with your own warm body making it very hard for him to keep himself under control. He is well aware that this is his fault and asks for you to distract him somehow, mildly suspecting that you would kiss him in response, therefore not helping the situation at all.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader #thoma fluff #neuvillette fluff #zhongli fluff #x female reader

[regendary]

I’m obsessed with the idea fantasy stories (currently dungeon meshi) sometimes play with of being forced to confront the person you love because they’ve been turned into a feral monster that is trying to kill you because there are SO MANY OPTIONS and all of them carry different flavors of romance

(Yes, some of them are toxic but on this site we are scholars and we analyze the toxic)

You can:

- Refuse to avoid or fight them and let them kill you (Trusting them to the point of madness, to the point that you would put your life in their hands no matter what form they take)

- Fight them, but in a lighthearted way (Not worrying in the slightest because you’re sure that they’ll come back to you, and taking the opportunity to spar in the meantime)

- Call out to them in desperation, hoping that your voice will awaken the human in them and turn them back to normal (can be paired with other options)

- Treat them like any other monster and kill them immediately (giving up on the possibility that they’ll come back and knowing that they would want you to survive [bonus points if they’ve talked about the possibility before])

Of course, there are a ton of other options and they all depend on the specific situation (I wonder what Marcille would have done if it came down to just her and Falin) but OH MY GOODNESS this trope is something

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #marcille donato #marcille dungeon meshi #falin touden #falin dungeon meshi #farcille #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #fantasy

[clangenrising]

sorry if this is too harsh to ask. when ever the story leans over to the city cats, they mistreat others or lean on the evil/bad side (look at poor aldertail, lake, scorch, and smokeyrose :( ) the more I read this, the more I'm siding with the clan cats to wipe out all the city cats. that way there can be peace for everyone because I can't see how the city cats have any remorse in the clan cats eyes or yours

Wow. Okay.

Um, first things first, I will never be in support of Wiping Out any group of people. I get what you're trying to say but that's just not an ideology I can get behind. It is honestly a very dangerous and upsetting argument to make and hopefully, I can explain why.

Most of the city cats are not Evil. Most of the city cats are people who grew up in a corrupt system and have been taught to do bad things from a young age. Like Mystique for example: Has she hurt people? Yes. Does she seem resistant to change? Yes. Does this mean she is not worthy of compassion or a chance to grow and be better? Absolutely not!

I was raised Mormon. I know a lot of people, some who I love, who do bad things on the regular - people who voted for trump, people who support homophobic or imperialist policies, people who are hurtful to the marginalized people in their lives. I will NEVER believe that these people deserve to die for the way they are. They are just humans doing their best with the knowledge they were given and the baggage they've accrued.

I do think that there are cats, like Razor for instance, who need to be Stopped, certainly, and removed from positions of power. Unfortunately, cats don't have the ability to institute more systemic solutions to these kinds of problems so they will most often solve these problems by killing the cat. But this should only happen after it is clear that there is no opportunity for a non violent solution.

The world is complicated and messy and it means people are taught bad things and have trauma that makes them hurt other people. I'm not saying that those behaviors are okay. They should be held accountable for the harm that they do. But those behaviors do not make them irredeemable or Evil. Hell, I don't think there ARE Evil people! I don't think there are GOOD people! People can't be good or evil because they are always going to be making new choices. Some of those choices will hurt people, some of those choices will help people, some of those choices are entirely neutral. I believe you can judge people's actions but its impossible to judge their 'soul' so to speak.

There are a lot of cats in the city who do bad things because they see those things as normal or because the system rewards them for doing so. Do you think the Clans should kill all of those people?? Because I will never agree with you if you do and I urge you to rethink how you see the world.

Give me any city cat and I will be able to find a way to empathize with them. Yes, even Razor. They're all just people. And in my opinion, none of them deserve to die. They deserve to change and heal. And I think most of them will. I'm a death penalty abolitionist and that means I don't think ANYONE should be put to death. You don't get to selectively apply that kind of belief only to the people you think are 'good'.

Sorry for how long and rambling my response was. If anyone has follow up questions or comments, I'm open to discussing this further, just please remember to be kind and avoid any sort of harassment, and that goes both ways. Nobody harass this anon for what they said. I believe they are very misguided but that doesn't make them a bad person. If you think that then you've entirely missed the point of everything I said.

#not art #asks and answers #anon asks

[piplup335]

Subspace & a reader who is a toxic player!

HEYA, FELLAS!!!

sry I didn’t have time to write, I was quite busy these few days ;-; but hey, now I have time to write! I’m just cramming out whatever time I have to finally rest and finish up reqs :D

honestly I like writing for you all, so I’m not a fan of going inactive LMAO

anyway, enjoy!

requested by…yeah, you already know who you are, you just don’t wanna admit it. I know who you are :)

-

"At last."

Subspace could feel the smugness radiating off of Medkit as he fired a crystal, instantly healing his teammates. Subspace had tried to chase after and take down the other team's Shuriken for one and a half minutes, only to get shot and taken down by Medkit himself, his sworn enemy.

Or rather, Subspace himself didn't try to take down Shuriken.

It was the player. The one controlling him.

More specifically, someone named (Y/N). He overheard the name when someone yelled at them to keep quiet…and judging by the tone, it seemed like this wasn’t the first time.

Deep down, Subspace never wanted to fight anyone. He just wanted to stay in his lab in Blackrock, tinkering on his newest experiments and inventions, improving the Biografts he held so dear to him...after all, the Biografts were the "people" he truly felt close to, the beings he saw as children.

But no, the creators of the endless game he was trapped in pulled him out of Blackrock for ungodly amounts of time, only being able to leave when the server was shut down for maintenance or when the game was closed for updates.

He rarely even got to see his creations as often, only being able to catch sight of them in what the players called a "lobby" or during one of the matches. Regardless of whether Biograft or Hyperlaser was on the same team as him or not, a familiar sight was always appreciated.

To the players, it was just an average video game where you use random characters and fight each other with swords and stuff.

To Subspace, it was hell.

He wanted to be left alone to work on his creations in the eternal winter of Blackrock.

But no, he had to be pulled out of the comfort of his lab just to fight people, most of whom he had never met before.

He didn't even have control of his actions either- everything was decided by the player.

The player. Subspace shuddered at the thought.

He always hated losing control of his body, watching helplessly as the player controlled his every movement. Controlled where he walked, who he attacked, how he attacked...Subspace couldn't even run to save his life if he wanted to.

Sometimes, whoever the player was would be nice to him. On those days, the player would make smart decisions to avoid death, allowing him to effortlessly eliminate multiple opponents by utilising his poisonous tripmines to shred the opposing team's defences.

In other scenarios such as this one, however, the player controlling him was terrible.

They would make the worst possible choices, immediately charging into battle even though he was meant to attack from a distance. They never used his crystals effectively, missing the opportunity to immobilise and slow down his opponents...they made so many bad decisions it was almost impressive.

Today, however, seemed a lot worse.

Not only did this one player, (Y/N), suck at utilising his abilities, but he would also curse him out for being "bad" and "useless".

And now, here he was. He was faced with a death screen with his limp body on the ground as Medkit ran past him to heal the rest of his team.

The player had spent almost two minutes trying to take down a SINGLE PLAYER. The amount of misfires on other people was impressive at that point...

And now it was all for nought.

"Damn it! You suck at this! I spend so much time trying to kill someone and I can't because you do less than 5 hitpoints for your normal attack!"

Subspace internally groaned at this. He was not allowed to cry out loud or make a sound outside his usual voice lines- that would alert the player that he and the others were self-aware about these phights being nothing more than a game.

He forced himself to keep his mouth shut.

Subspace was irritated- he wanted to yell out loud, retort at the player and get some common sense into his head. He wanted to instruct the player as to how to properly play him so that maybe, just maybe, the player could shut up for thirty seconds.

He was tired of seeing the death screen so many times in one match. By then, he had seen it seven or eight times in four minutes and was slowly getting tired of it.

He just wanted to break free from the puppeteer's grasp.

He just wanted to get out of the lobby. He wanted to head to Crossroads, down the familiar concrete path back to Blackrock. He just wanted to put on a warm coat amidst the everlasting blizzard in his faction.

The blizzard gave him a warmth in his chest...a warm feeling that reminded him of home.

"One last minute..." Subspace thought. One more minute, and he could rest for another thirty seconds...until being pulled straight back into another nightmarish round, another round where he'd experience the constant and tedious cycle of spawning, being controlled, getting killed, spawning again...

He wished he could go home, back to Blackrock. He did not like it here.

As the round ended, Subspace got a glimpse of the results screen.

He was last. Again. With thirteen deaths, zero kills, and only two assists.

“Darn it! Why’d I even pick you? Your damage output is trash!”

Subspace could hear (Y/N) let out a string of profanities upon seeing another loss. Just as Subspave thought all was lost and he’d die from madness after all this, he heard Zuka announce something- something he had yearned to hear for the past thirty minutes.

“Phighters- I got a message from the developers. Server’s gonna shut down, maintenance is happening soon.”

Five seconds later, Subspace felt energy return to his joints as he stumbled onto the floor.

Subspace tried moving his arm, then went on to flexing his fingers. It worked.

He let out a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

One by one, other phighters around the lobby stumbled and toppled over as they regained energy in their joints as the players got kicked.

The puppeteers were gone.

Zuka gestured into his van.

“We’re going back to Crossroads. Hop in.”

As the familiar tower in Crossroads emerged in the distance, Subspace finally let his shoulders relax. He was closer to Crossroads, closer to his laboratory, closer to his home…

Subspace wouldn’t need to fight his beloved Biografts like he was forced to in phights. It always tore him apart to attack his creations, the very things he had worked so hard to perfect…the closest thing he had to a true companion.

But now, he could rest.

Other phighters lounged around in Crossroads. Rocket could be seen making small talk with Sword

Hyperlaser and Katana could be seen heading to the nearest bar.

All the phighters seemed to want to have a chat with someone else before heading back to their respective factions.

Instead, Subspace trudged down the path to Blackrock without saying a word, exhausted and irritated from everything that happened.

Biograft spotted this and immediately sprinted towards his creator.

“I just don’t get it!! Why me?? Why do I always seem to get the most talentless players?? I can see their stats and half the people who play me are newbies!!”

Biograft listened. That was his task, anyway- to identify the needs of his creator and adapt to them. And right now, Subspace needed a listening ear- someone who would listen to all his woes about the day.

“Why am I even doing this?? It’s been a week without seeing a player that knew their stuff!! Dear Illumina, WHY?!”

Biograft may have been a robot, but he was programmed to understand what his creator needed and how to respond.

If he needed food, Biograft could cook up a meal.

If he needed a certain tool, Biograft could bring Subspace his trusty toolbox.

But right now, all Subspace needed was some comfort.

The duo trod back to the familiar snowy landscape of Blackrock in silence. Biograft knew that his creator just wanted to go home. He didn’t have the energy for this.

Back in the lab, Biograft listened to Subspace.

The lab was Subspace’s haven, the only place where he felt comfortable enough to let loose.

Subspace spent so much time in the lab, more time than in his own house so much so that Biograft would often worry for its creator. Subspace would then reassure it, saying that he’s just doing what he enjoys. Never once would Biograft ever see Subspace at his workstation without his concentrated expression, only changing when Subspace chuckled softly every time a component worked as intended.

But today was different.

Subspace was resentful of the player, and back in his lab was where he finally let out all his pent-up rage.

Upon entering the lab, Subspace collapsed onto a nearby chair, groaning in annoyance.

“That little sh-!! I did what I could to accommodate his stupidity, but what did he do?? Curse me out, that’s what!!”

Subspace got up, pacing around and stomping on the ground to emphasise his point.

Biograft watched his creator. It could hear everything the player said, and despite being on the opposite team, it could almost feel a sense of empathy towards his creator, deep down in his processors.

“And do I have a damn choice as to whether or not I get controlled?? No!! This crap is all part of a VIDEO GAME, and I don’t have a say as to whether or not I participate!! Can’t I like, call in sick??”

Subspace picked up a screwdriver and was about to hurl it at the wall…but he paused, looked at the tool, and set it back down on his workbench.

He collapsed back into the seat, groaning in annoyance.

“…apologies, Biograft. It’s been a rough day…and I finally get to let loose.”

Understanding his situation, Biograft’s processors whirred to life, processing the new information. The soft hum of the processor was the only sound in the lab as Subspace lay on the chair.

As Biograft’s processors grew silent, it walked over and put an arm around its creator.

For once in a long time, Subspace felt some warmth.

And it wasn’t from his usual coat.

-

thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

if you do have feedback, please drop it in the comments so I can improve my writing for you guys! :D

#phighting! #phighting #phighting x reader #subspace phighting #biograft phighting #subspace tripmine #subspace x reader

[hiskillingjar]

curious as to how you you think strade, law, and ren would react towards an absolute loser/femcel mc, love your account btw

weeeee thank you <3 i'm kind of into this character trope/kink so happy to oblige!

ren 🦊

"i can fix her"

he will make you worse

i mean on the surface he gets everything he wants. someone who likes all the same stuff he likes, he's always liked the shy, nerdy type, after all

what's better, you don't have any friends who will care if...things go a little awry

he'd find your absolute lack of knowledge when it comes to socialising cute. even if you were standoffish, or even rude to him, he'd just use that as a motivation to make you open up

by any means necessary, of course...

he'd like any opportunity to teach you (condition you) to be the perfect girl he wants too.

like my fair lady but kinky. forcefem but for cis people.

and don't worry, he's very patient. he has the perfect vision at the end, and he'll do what he can to make sure it happens :3

law 🥀

"what's a femcel...?"

law would not care, they're basically a femcel themselves.

it would be like two loser girls sitting together and neither one can bring themselves to touch or even speak to the other

granted, they do like the idea of you not having anyone but them to talk to or interact with

they want someone dependent after all

so maybe you'd grow a little closer together, totally detatch yourselves from the rest of the world and prioritise a life together...smoking weed, jerking each other off, watching gore videos

seems like kind of a nice gig tbh

strade 🔨

on first impressions, strade couldn't care less

similar to ren, it might even be a plus.

you follow along so easily to the littlest amount of attention because your self-esteem is so low...he definitely take advantage of that :)

plus, no friends, no witnesses, nobody to come looking for you if you went missing. it's hard not to be appealed to that

you're also just a natural target for teasing and bullying after the fact. you're just so easy to wind up and make upset, how could he possible resist?

very lows and highs with strade though, he's either being sweet on you or making fun of you, making you feel that much more dependent and unbalanced.

and you don't have anyone else to turn to...and nobody is looking for you because you were dumb enough to be totally avoidant when you could have been making friends

if you think about it, this is kind of your fault, isn't it?

don't worry, liebling, I'll always be your friend, even if no one else will <3

#ren hana #ren btd #lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #strade btd #strade ykmet #headcanons #qs #cannibal teeth #grease trap #river walker

[rebelwheelsnycpoetry]

And The Papers Said

TW: ABLEISM & EUGENICS by Michele Sommerstein

Part One And the papers said Michael Hickson, a black disabled man. And the papers said Hospital. Texas. COVID. Infection And the papers said Killed. For his doctor did not feel And the papers said that a… quadriplegic could possibly have a quality … of life. And the papers said and thus was not worth saving And the papers said (was not saved) disabled people are not of worth message repeating and… sent.

And the papers said the doctor had the audacity to say And the papers said it's not personal, to Hickson's wife, And the papers said There are set criteria from the state And the papers said As to who will live and who they let die And the papers said Michael Hickson. a black disabled body, that did not comply

Once again, reunited Eugenics & Capitalism America's not so secret friends fucking each other furiously for the sake of mindless fucking, like machines wallowing in their own stains, covered in their own blood and filth, crimes. unclean Disgusted? You should be.

Part Two Shortages! Hospitals! Ventilators! Low! This that was avoidable & created by the vulture capitalists who see death… elated - pandemic as an opportunity – Cha-ching! Soulless! Shortages! Created by, the powers that be Like when, Cuomo – the hero praised at times for merely being, better than Trump! (Raise the bar! This drinks on me) cut funding, healthcare. home care. hospitals (before and during the pandemic) Shortages! So the billionaires would be spared from paying their fair, share, of… taxes Shortages! While marginalized people are blamed for, “costing too much” the audacity of austerity…

Shortages created when patients, infected knowingly sent to nursing homes, locked up. death traps, unleashing COVID on the people in places where social distancing was never, even, an option.

Part Three There are those, who will hear these words, shrug and nonchalant they will say things like Well, these things happen, what can you do? Those who are complacent, able bodied, complicit, still living but numb. They will repeat, their response so casually even to the face of those visibly disabled, as if it's nothing in a tone used to discuss sweaters and their… plans for lunch as if we as a society can't do better? (We can. We must.)

Who taught you about disability? Who lied to you saying disabled people are less than, undeserving That we are better off dead?

Part Four And the papers said… His wife implored, insisting, knowing he lived a full life. And the papers said for in her eyes, in her heart, her love's life was worth saving. And the papers said, doctors withheld treatment including hydration… nutrition read: starving him for six. days Michael Hickson. a black disabled body that did not comply. “Michael Hickson, [a black disabled man] died leaving, his wife and five children, behind.“

About the poem: I originally wrote this poem because, so often as a disabled person, you read these headlines and it’s absorbed into you, but there's not always an outlet to really express the emotional toll.

A lot of times, I 'd read the headlines and somewhat shut down because I can’t feel every time I read something like this, but it’s still in you. Michael Hickson was the first time I read an article that actually included a name when they were discussing “state criterias' and the pandemic. The conversation between the doctor and Hickson’s wife was recorded and when I heard it, it just hit me on a deeper level and I had to write something.

That said, to learn more about the intersections of ableism & racism, I suggest checking out the following peoples: @Imani_Barbarin , @VilissaThompson , @BlackDisability & @powernotpity on Twitter.

You can read more about Michael Hickson’s story here: https://notdeadyet.org/2020/06/adapt-of-texas-protests-hospital-killing-of-michael-hickson-a- black-disabled-man.html

#poetry #poem #disabled poet #disability #disabled #eugenics #michael hickson #disability rights #not better off dead #pandemic #disabled people #black and disabled #disabled man

[mxtxfanatic]

sorry if you're done talking about it and don't want to discuss it anymore, but for me the 'trolley problem' post was just a sad note about how xie lian's attempts to stop "the trolley" (who always has a name and we very well know about it) end up in a disaster. not because xie lian did it, but because the trolley is actually an unstoppable force with malicious intent and no one else gives a fuck or doesn't have resources to help

but xie lian also shows us that even if things end up like that, it's worth trying. it's worth it, because you might not save everyone, but might save a child. a village. a little boy. a little girl. but if you don't do anything, you'll never know

I’m gonna go ahead and link this addition to my original commentary plus this response that I had in the notes to someone else with a similar reading of that post:

All I can say is that some of y’all are nicer readers than I, because I took that post to mean exactly what op said. If op came back and clarified something, I didn’t see it; I’m only talking about the original post and how inappropriate it is to 1) victim-blame a victim of the events in question for apparently having the audacity to not passively accept events he could influence for the better and 2) say this as a “joke” (because the blasé tone, minimalization of the actual events, overexaggeration of the victim’s responsibility for how said events turned out, and the flat-out avoidance to name what was the actual cause of everything that happens to make it into a meme format was fully meant to be taken as a “joke”).

The issue both with the trolley problem and the likening of it to the events of tgcf is that neither the trolley nor anything Xie Lian experienced are “unstoppable forces.” The trolley is not a natural disaster or the act of an omnipotent god: it is just a trolley. And not only is it just a trolley, it is a trolley that was made, owned, driven, and maintained by people. Everything that goes into a scenario where a trolley is on track to run over a crowd of people (tied to the tracks, another thing that is decidedly not a natural occurrence), is one that is 100% manufactured by multiple different people.

Likewise, while the Yong’an drought was a natural disaster, everything that led to the fall of Xianle was 100% the machinations of multiple different parties, from the rich nobility of both Xianle and Yong’an hoarding their wealth, the corrupt officials who stole aid, the corrupt religious officials who blocked Xie Lian’s followers from praying to him, Guoshi and the king for keeping all of this from Xie Lian, and to the other heavenly officials who withheld help with the intent to prey on the victims of the disaster. Jun Wu’s contribution could honestly be considered the least in this conversation, merely serving as the wind fanning the flames of a fire that had already started. None of that was a coincidence nor the fault of anything Xie Lian did or attempted to do.

Yes a big part of tgcf is recognizing that Xie Lian’s steadfastness to helping should be a personal goal, but another big message that mxtx pushes in all her works is that 99% of all societal problems can be tracked down to a few select individuals choosing to do evil because they don’t think that their greed, selfishness, insecurities, fears, or entitlements are a bad thing while most everyone else either looks the other way because “it’s not my problem,” tries to benefit because “why let opportunity go to waste?” or actively participate because mob mentality. Mocking good people for doing good under these circumstances will never be funny, sympathetic, or relatable to me.

#tgcf asks #anon #in other words: mxtx is absolutely right and the trolley problem fucking sucks

[cometkenji]

Virginia vampire - 1/2

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x vampire!fem!reader Cw: SLOWBURN BRO, descriptions of hunting/blood consumption, angst, fluff, non-descriptive mentions of an abusive dad, cursing, typical criminal minds violence, possible ED trigger (more in disclaimer), idk bro you tell me Summary: You escaped your scientist father when you were 17. When requested by Quantico PD to deal with a stemming serial killer, you realize you recognize the wounds. You used to be the one inflicting them. Disclaimer 1: Reader is chubby! She's not physically described here at all but a fat woman is always the MC. Disclaimer 2: Reader lives strictly on blood. This story discusses themes of intense bloodlust/hunger, UNINTENTIONAL avoidance of blood (food), and physical consequences due to not eating (more so in the next chapter). This is NOT pro-ana or anything like that, and while these themes are explicitly negative, they are still there and may affect those struggling. Please look after yourself, this is all fantasy and is not meant to trigger you. That's all <3 WC: 9.6k Like I said, please head the disclaimer as I would hate for anyone to feel negatively about this. I personally have struggled with a restrictive ED and would not write/publish anything I felt would trigger/contribute to pro-ED rhetoric. I'm actually rlly proud of this one I think it's cool and neat and I'm excited to share. I also looped eat your young by Hozier while writing this so would recommend as ambiance. Enjoy <33

The Quantico streets seemed to get darker the more you came out. It was late - technically early, as midnight had passed two hours ago - but still a time of pungent heathenism. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions. You knew yours were certainly questionable, discreetly following a man decked in club attire as he stumbled his way down the street. This was the worst part - having to stalk behind them, giving you nothing but time to humanize them in your head. He was probably going home, back to safety. The process of hiding a body is one you could recite with your eyes closed. It’s bitter and metallic, but familiar, and you seemed to project that harbored guilt onto him. It wasn’t as though he’d never see that safety again, you didn’t kill people anymore. Your unusual diet required this type of robbery, but you’d busted your ass for almost three years to figure out the perfect amount. The amount that keeps you just on the cusp of living, closer to death than most but still able to function effectively. The number of times you felt a heart cease it’s beating against your lips because you went too far would strike envy in the evilest of individuals. The amount you took was pure necessity - a full syringe, never a drop more. It would last you about half the week when rationed out. It was livable, doable, only ever being a problem if you couldn’t get more the exact night you needed to. 

You hated preying on drunks, the alcohol in their blood making it taste rancid, but this was the easiest target you could ask for. Beggars can’t be choosers. He took a moment to catch his breath after he nearly toppled over, and you saw your opportunity on a silver platter. Contrary to the movies, stealth was not an inherent trait you get when you live on blood, you’d gained yours from experience. You never liked being so good at this, but as you rendered the man unconscious and silenced his fall to the ground, you relished in the fact that you were. The days of amateur hunting were long over, and the cries of people as the blood rushed from their necks are ones that echo - ones that sit with you. 

You dragged the man to the innards of the closest alley, propping him against the wall and rolling up his jacket sleeve. You took off the bag hanging from your shoulders, removing a syringe and a flashlight. Since you hunted at night, it was impossible to find a vein without lighting. It was something you realized quick when you made the switch from neck to wrist. You turned the thing on, clamping it between your teeth and angling it down at his arm. Growing up with the world’s cruelest biologist as a father, you were well versed in the world of human anatomy per his insistence. You watched the vial fill with liquid, cursing your entire situation for being so despicable. The only way to properly describe your father was Frankenstein, eagerly allowing his only child to grow into the role of his monster. He’d handcrafted your DNA in a petri dish, ensuring that malice was weaved throughout your most instinctual needs. He was a well off man, respectively referred to as the brightest mind in our current age. He’d gained fame after presenting his magnum opus - the invention of literal vampirism. Somehow, something only he knew how to do, he’d made a string of DNA that derived the body’s energy from the nutrients in blood. He started with insects, impregnating beetles with the specific code, making embryos that fed purely on blood of the same species, which manifested into a hostile blood lust once the thing was born. He’d reached rodents and promised he would be ending his tests there, not wanting to breach the topic of morality and push forward with mammals. Unfortunately, your father was as honest as he was kind, so here you were. 

You finished the extraction and pulled the needle from the man’s flesh, apologizing profusely under your breath. You patched him up, a bandaid over the small hole, and hid him amongst some garbage bags. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions, and you weren’t about to offer them a possible victim for whatever desire they may be looking to express. You hated that you had to hurt him at all, no matter how minimally. The least you could do was shield him from the people who truly intended harm. You tossed the now full syringe back into your bag, the flashlight following a second later, and exited the alley. The only thing that kept your feet moving was the few days of peace you would get now that you had food. Your head pounded with the feeling of blood just sitting in your bag, the body full of blood laying defenseless just a few feet away. It was a battle you fought everyday, seeing those closest to you as two separate entities - one was a person you loved, one just a plethora of functioning veins and arteries. Their lifeforce was the closest thing to ambrosia you could imagine. It’d taken you years to get control, though, and you refused to undo that for a couple minutes of gratification. You couldn’t. Losing control would grant your father the victory he ached for, and you would die before letting that happen. You rushed to walk away, choosing to propel yourself with the image of his disappointed face rather than the breathing blood bag leaning on a dumpster. He’d killed your mother before you even got to know her, you refused to be the reason someone didn’t get to know their parent.

–

The BAU was an unwelcome sight when the time was five in the morning instead of your usual seven. You’d been ushered to the building by a sleep deprived JJ, spouting off different remarks of remorse for the early hour but needing the team there immediately. The whole table seemed to share in the disdain, as half of them could barely hold their eyes open and the other half were practically chugging shitty break-room coffee. Aaron was, surprisingly, the last to walk in. Greeting everyone with attempted normalcy while visibly fighting off his own exhaustion. His hair was messy, his torso lacking the coverage of his uniform baggy blazer. The sight of him slightly unkempt from the spontaneity of the gathering caused the air to flee from your lungs. You’d had a bit of a staring problem since you started working here, but his appearance now displayed a casualness that was making you dizzy. The deviation from his standard presentation felt strangely intimate, a more personal version of him. You looked away quickly, you had to. He took his spot next to you, having reserved that place for himself when you were first hired. He greeted you personally once he sat down, something for just the two of you. You had looked at him, about to reciprocate when JJ officially started the meeting. 

“Good morning, everyone. I’m sorry for the early start but we’ve been urgently requested by our local PD. They think we’ve got the start of a serial killer, three bodies were found last night with the same MO.”

“Three bodies?” Morgan’s words were laced with bewilderment. “As in three people were actually killed or three bodies were dumped?” The table knew what he was getting at. Three murders in a single night was quite the task. Especially considering the police had to find the bodies, meaning no pedestrian had seen anything worth reporting.

“They’ve left the crime scenes untouched for us, but they’re betting all of them happened in the same time span.”

As if he could read your mind, Hotch asked the main question that’d been circling your mind. “How are they being killed?”

“That’s why we’ve been asked for.” JJ started distributing files containing the crime scene details. “All the victims so far have the same stab wound in their carotid. Nothing had been stolen, and they were all found in alleyways. For the amount of blood that comes with puncturing an artery, there wasn’t a drop found at the scene.” 

“No signs of torture?” Morgan was looking at the photos as he asked, double checking the information he was reading in the file.

“All of them were basically untouched from the neck down. There weren’t even indications of defense.” JJ shook her head as she spoke. “This guy definitely gets the jump on them.”

“A blitz attacker.” Prentiss concluded, closing her file as she reached the end of it. “Any witnesses?”

“None.” The worst answer JJ could have. “Police found them while on patrol.” 

“Alright.” Hotch stood from his seat. “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you at the first scene.” The agents nodded at the orders, exiting the room to complete the task. He looked towards Spencer, drawing his attention away from the file as he addressed him. “When Rossi gets here I want you guys at the second body.”  The man just uttered a “got it” and looked back down, waiting on Rossi’s presence to start moving. Aaron’s eyes made their way to you. “I want you with me. We’re gonna go meet the officers at the latest discovery.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, feigning preoccupation with closing your folder and simply muttering a noise of agreement before standing. 

“I told the press to keep it quiet. Last thing we need is word of a mini spree leaking to the public.” JJ informed the remaining people of this on her way out, peeking her head back through the door to say it before returning to her office. You watched Rossi finally show up and retrieve Reid from the conference room as you were leaving, heading to the car with Aaron close behind. 

Once you were buckled into the passenger seat, you started talking. “Three bodies in under twelve hours. Haven’t heard those numbers since the Barly Butcher in ‘64.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t reach that.” His eyes, although you couldn’t see them, went slightly vacant at the thought. He couldn’t imagine dealing with that level of killer in the modern age - he certainly didn’t want to. “One was too many. God knows we don’t need a Quantico butcher.”

You couldn’t imagine either. “No kidding.” The drive wasn’t shaping up to be a long one, seven minutes went by and you were already approaching the flashing lights of cop cruisers. You got out of the car, the sheriff swiftly coming over to talk. She had thanked you for taking the case, grateful that her precinct wouldn’t be dealing with this one alone. There were CSI already there, but you slid gloves on your hand and headed towards the body regardless. They were respectful, allowing you control of the scene, walking away as you got closer to give you space. 

You turned the woman’s neck slightly to get a better view of the injury, the image shaking the ground beneath your feet and causing the water in your tear ducts to form a haze over your eyes. There were teeth marks around the incision. Such a minor indent that it was no surprise it went over looked. You could see it because you’d once been the cause of such a thing. The closer you examined, the more parallels you drew to your beginner days. The skin around the wound was curling upwards, a sign of applied suction. No wonder they couldn’t find any blood, it’d been sucked out. You nearly fell off your feet from where you were crouching. The unsub clearly knew enough about the human body to inflict such a precise cut, pair that with the obvious motivation to feed and you got the bone-chilling realization currently seeping through you. He’d made another one. You had a sibling, and he was hungry.

–

When the regroup was called back at headquarters, you lead an uninformed and slightly confused Aaron to meet the rest of the team. He’d noticed your determination at the scene, questioning your findings and being eager to get back when you made him wait to hear about it. You wasted no time as you entered the room, pulling up the image on the big screen to properly show them your theory. 

“The unsub is drinking their blood.” Looks of defeat and absurdity were present in all of their eyes, but you continued explaining, zooming in so close that the image went slightly blurry. “If you look close enough there are teeth prints around the wound, not bite marks, but the type of print you get from resting your teeth around the wound and applying pressure. The edges of the wound are curling in and up, so it can be assumed some type of suction followed the stabbing.” Most of the team was squinting at the screen, absorbing the details you pointed out and already trying to form a timeline, a motive - something. “That’s why they couldn’t find any blood. It was consumed.”

“So we’re dealing with a vampire?” Morgan sighed, his eyes detailing a reluctant belief. He couldn’t argue with your theory yet, it was the only logical thing they had. “Maybe we should visit your dad, Y/n.” 

You scoffed at the quip, images of the man throughout your early life flashing through your head. “Funny.” You furrowed your brows at him. “You’d have to find him first.” You had slipped from his grasp when you were seventeen. The home you spent your childhood in was vacant a few years later, effectively severing all your remaining knowledge of his life. You’d never had any way to contact him, only the relics of his stories that refused to leave you. The only thing he ever spoke about was himself, and most of his tales were burned into your memory like a branding. If you were honest, you’re surprised he’d never physically branded you, he’d surely thought about it. The dread started to build in your gut. You handled most cases with a healthy distance, some could regard it as a coldness but you preferred the simplicity of your process. This, however, was impossible to deal with impersonally. This threw you headfirst into a situation you had never bothered to prep for. Not only would you be seeing how your team feels about what was essentially an early version of you, but you didn’t want to prosecute this unsub. His path was one you walked for years before acquiring the life you have now. You hadn’t been a villain, there was a high chance he wasn’t either. The bloodlust was controllable, he just needed someone to teach him. Pursuing him with the vigor of a typical unsub would wreck you. You felt protective, almost maternal. Your father had made another monster, but that didn’t have to mean they live a life of his design. You could get him out.

“Can I speak with you?” You hadn’t even noticed the analytical gaze Aaron held, too focused on your own internal spiraling. “Outside?” He motioned his head towards the hallway, instructing you to follow him.

You always felt like a kid in the principal’s office when he called you away from the team. “What’s up?” You hadn’t even waited for him to fully shut the door before you prompted the conversation. You were fully prepared to raise hell and high water to find your unsub, and you needed all the time you could get.

“Is something going on?” He always took extra time to check on your wellbeing. You figured at first it was pity, some type of undermining or an indication he thought you were less equipped for the job than others. He’d never hinted at any of those, always showing genuine concern for you, and eventually you stopped thinking he had ulterior motives. “You’ve been skittish and antsy since you saw the body. You’re speaking faster and can’t look me in the eyes. You’re nervous. Why?”

“Hotch.” You sighed his name, and he tilted his head, leaning in slightly as though pulled in by the sound. “I am nervous. There were three people murdered last night. If this guy is drinking the blood of his victims seconds after he kills, there’s no predicting how long the cool-down will be. He could strike again tonight or he could be gone for weeks. I don’t want more people losing their lives because we waited around too long. I need to figure this out.”

He could tell you were withholding something, you saw it in the way he looked at you. Thankfully, though, he allowed you to keep your secret. Breathing out a sigh of his own and just nodding. “You know where to find me if you want to talk.” 

You held back the look of pure adoration you wanted to send his way, settling for the appropriate neutrality. “I know.”

You both rejoined the team shortly after, ignoring the curious looks of your coworkers and instead inserting yourself into the conversation. Reid went over the typical blood fetishists, along with the multiple philias and phobias associated with blood consumption. All of them falling flat in one way or another. You suggested swabbing the victim’s neck for traces of saliva, Prentiss calling to request the task be performed the second you’d said it. With hours going by and the promise of lab results by tomorrow, you all said your goodbyes. You said a silent prayer under your breath for a body-less night and drove home with a plan. If he was like you, he’d be out again tonight, and you had every intention of finding him.

–

This was the first time in your life you’d ever felt thankful for your knowledge of nightlife. Patrol was amping up, tonight it was one too many cop cars on the street. Tomorrow it could be officers searching the area on foot. With no way to predict the criminal, there was also no way to predict the response, and that was scary as hell. Any attempts they were making to stop him from feeding would affect you just as bad. There hadn’t been a single event since you started hunting more ethically that you’d had to break routine. You wanted to help him, but you also needed to stop him from fucking up your regimen. You were wandering, aimless and anxious. You tried connecting to whatever energetic wavelength you might have with him considering your partial relation, getting nothing but a firm reminder of why that stuff wasn’t considered fact. You ducked away from the second police cruiser of the night, just barely evading the lights before their illumination painted your face red and blue. The alley was a welcoming partner, allowing her shadows to drape over you and create a solitude unique to that darkness. You’d heard the noises a second later - panting, consistent and ragged, followed by a period of silence before resuming. You clicked on your flashlight, shining it maybe ten feet ahead of you and feeling like someone threw sand in your eyes. He was here, dressed in jeans and a black zip-up, hood over the back of his head. You wouldn’t have been able to see him even if his hood was down - he was crouched over a woman, shoulders hunched and mouth greedily stealing what little life she had left to give. He was so small, you physically felt your lips curl in sorrow when you realized he couldn’t be more than fifteen. The woman’s fingers were still flexed, and you assumed she’d died less than a minute ago by her arm placement. They were crooked at the elbow but weirdly resting on the assailant, as though she’d been gripping his shoulders before her strength blew out with the wind. 

You waited, just a moment, stilling to see what move - if any - he would make. He was completely entrenched in his task, but you were surprised your light hadn’t set him off yet. It was only when the river ran dry that he seemed to notice your voyeurism. His head snapped in your direction so fast that you jumped on your feet a little. You thought back to how volatile you’d been in his shoes, deciding the best way to approach him would be that of a rabid animal. You inched closer, seeing him mirror you with a slight back-step. 

“Hey.” You talked quietly, breathily, trying to subdue any dominant undertones you could be carrying. “I need you to listen to me, ok?” You crouched, hoping to put the two of you on the same level. “I know you’re not trying to hurt anyone. You’re hungry, yeah? You’re hungry and I know it fucking hurts. Worse than you ever imagined it could.” You thought back to the days of captivity. Your father made you the absolute pinnacle of gluttony, feeding you even when you finally didn’t want it, engorging you with the only thing you could sustain yourself with. Going from a state of constant overflow to barely a drip-feed was agony, causing fits of hunger so extreme that it was a miracle he hadn’t hit double digits by now. “I can help you, alright? I’ve been there. It doesn’t have to be this way - I promise it’s manageable.” You really should have planned some sort of script for this, you were winging it and from the accusatory look he was wearing, you didn’t think it was working. 

You asked if he knew your father, hoping to establish some reputability in his mind and prove you knew what you were talking about. The name, though, seemed to hit him like a bullet. He took off running and blew past you so fast it knocked you over. You jumped up as quick as you’d been put down and set off after him. The kid was fast, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you lost him. He had the advantage of being half your height in a city full of narrow shortcuts. You pleaded with him in between breaths to just listen to you, promised you didn’t want to hurt him, all of it was futile. He ducked into a subway and slipped from your grasp before you even knew you had him. Your eyes teared up from frustration, so close to being the saving grace you were desperate to be but just managing to graze it before it leaped away from you. You felt the toll of such a run immediately sodden your legs and weaken your lungs. You didn’t have nearly enough fuel in the tank to give chase, but what were you supposed to do? You’d seen him, almost had him before the acidity of your fathers name melted all the progress you were making. Fitting, you thought. You slipped your phone out of your pocket, you were still an agent who had just found a body. Another victim in a string of serial killings; if you didn’t report it and were traced at all back to the scene you could be fired - or arrested. Hotch’s contact burned a hole straight through your pupils. How the fuck were you gonna explain this? You just happened to be on a classic midnight walk alone as a woman in the city currently housing a vampiric serial killer. You could almost hear the crease of his eyebrows as you told him where you were, requesting the team be awoken and the local PD be sent to you. You’re sure he could hear the ball in your throat as your vision got watery again. He promised he’d be there soon, telling you to hang tight. He was comforting, but there was a determination in his voice that told you he wasn’t letting it go this time. You didn’t know how to prepare for whatever that meant, but you knew some worms would be leaving the can. 

Ten minutes later and you heard the familiar shout of your last name. “What the hell happened?” Morgan seemed worried you’d been attacked, scanning over you to check for any signs of injury. He wouldn’t find anything but your rapidly rising chest.

You watched the EMTs wheel away the woman in a body bag, locking your gaze on Derek when you started to feel nauseous. “I’m fine.” You crossed your arms, rationalizing that maybe a physical security would grant you the strength needed to conceal this mess. “I live right up the road. I go out walking sometimes when I can’t sleep. I just saw the body in the alley, guy was gone by the time I found her.” 

He seemed relieved at your avoidance but also completely floored by the stupidity of walking so late. “Stop walking alone at night.” He was clearly protective. “That's why some of these cases are even possible.” He looked at you, taking your story as truth without a second thought and letting a sense of mourning flood his irises. “I don’t know how I’d cope with having to put you in one of those bags.” How charming. “You get me?”

You looked at him, putting on a face of regretful understanding and simply uttered back a quiet “I got you.” to hopefully dodge all the attention he was giving you. 

He chuckled, looking behind you and gaining a sort of cringe in his smile. “Good luck with that.” He nodded towards whatever was approaching and joined the congregation of other agents and officers, essentially isolating you with the thing you’d been dreading most. Aaron Hotch.

“Aaron-” You turned around to face him but stopped talking when you saw the look he cast at you. Something so curious and pleading for the knowledge you withheld, he seemed to manually dim it with the aspect of his authority. He was your supervisor, but he cared for you as something deeper than that.

“We’re heading back to the BAU. I want you in my office when we get there. We need to talk about this.” He waited a second, letting the unusual professionalism sink into you before seeking confirmation. “Am I clear?” He was gentle in delivery, but the fear you’d betrayed him weighed heavy on you.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, looking at him. He wasn’t mad, and you didn’t regret the decisions that got you here. Your mind was simply racing with any plausible lie you could tell him to escape this situation unscathed. He knew you better than you were even aware of, you didn’t know if you could get away with lying at all, let alone lying in excess. You just prayed he was feeling particularly forgiving, along with hoping he was especially tired due to the hour. If you lucked out, you might only have to relinquish your integrity instead of the truth.

–

The sound of his door closing felt like the final sign of your demise. He hadn’t slammed it, he’d shut it gently and moved to sit opposite you in his office chair. You couldn’t remember a time he’d been genuinely angry with you. Right now he simply reeked of desperation, of empathy, and it was that notion that kept your eyes from meeting his.

“What’s going on, Y/n?” He was so soft, the tone of his voice combing through your ears like hypnotism. You were so fucking guilty.

You stared at his name card and wondered immaturely how it would feel to share a surname with the man. “I told you what happened.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “You told them what happened.” You begged him internally to just leave it alone. “Now I’m asking you to talk to me. You can’t even look at me. You seem to think that because you can conceal the standard signs of lying that nobody can tell. You slip past their radar because they don’t know your tells, Y/n.” Your heart sped up, he’d probably known you were keeping something from him before you’d even made the choice to. “The top of your middle finger covers your index when you’re lying or when you’re not telling me something, you know that? Every single time. You haven’t held a conversation in the past week without doing it.” He clasped his hands on the table, readjusting to really focus on you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Something about him always had a way of wearing you down. You’d been smothering the feelings you held for him for years, so when he showed such devotion to you, he could wring you out like a sponge with just a sentence. You visibly deflated, shoulder slumping forward. “I saw him.”

He straightened, assessing how to tackle a statement like that. “You saw the unsub?” You just nodded. “Do you know how important that information is?” He seemed bewildered, even a little angry at the fact you didn’t tell them. “You know better than most how significant every sighting is. Why would you ever keep something like that from us?” He was speaking slightly faster, confused frustration filling his words as he continued. “It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt, Y/n. This was extremely reckless, I don’t understand how you could-”

“Hotch.” You’d never had to speak over him before. “He’s my family.” The words were coated in bile as they left you - this was a steep slope. You hadn’t anticipated sharing even that piece of information, your family history was far too close to your less than common genetic misfortune to ever be talked about. 

“...What?”

Your eyes teared up. You were going to tell him, and you were also going to cry. “I have to tell you something.” You felt the quiver of your lips, heard the shake of your voice as it circled the air. What the fuck were you thinking? 

“My father - um…lied to the public about his testing. He promised everyone that he would stop at mice, but he didn't plan on actually doing that.” You shook your head in tune with your words, speaking slowly as you thought of how to drop this bomb and cause the least amount of damage. “He kidnapped a woman, my mother. At that point he’d figured out a way to implement the DNA strand he was using on rodents into human sperm, and he managed to get her pregnant with it.”

His face went slack, an emotion reaching far beyond shock, beyond disbelief. “You mean…?”

“It’s not vampirism in the cinematic sense, Aaron. We don’t burn in the sun or have heightened senses or speed. It’s just a cruel mutation. Human blood is the only substance our body can process.”

“You - you keep saying ‘we’.” He was frantic, you didn’t blame him. “Are there more?”

“Just the unsub.” The look in your eyes was begging for acceptance, for empathy and tenderness. You hadn’t even expected him to believe you, but now you feared the possibility of him running for the hills and spilling your secret to anyone he came across. “He’s the only one I know of. I didn’t expect my father to do it again.”

“Jesus Christ.” You concealed a laugh at how expressive the confession was making him. You knew it was the worst possible time, but you’d never seen him so human. “Is this - I mean how do you live, Y/n? Are you killing people?” You understood the accusation, but that didn’t dilute the sting of it as it hit your ears.

“No, Aaron. God, no.” You rushed out a denial before he could think too hard on it. “It took me years to figure out the bare minimum I could live on, ok? It’s two full syringes a week, nobody ever dies. Ever.” He seemed out of it, you didn’t know how to gauge whether this was a good or bad reaction. You’d never told anybody. How did you even proceed in a situation like this? “Look, I know, ok? This is fucking crazy, but you can’t tell the team.” He widened his eyes at you slightly like the thought of not telling them was wilder than anything you just told him. 

“You can’t seriously expect-”

“Aaron.” You were on the brink of losing your breath. “I’m not a threat. I’ve worked here for years. I’ve lived with this my entire life and I have control. We need to focus on finding the boy and that won’t happen if they know.”

“Boy?” He furrowed his eyebrows deeper than you’ve ever seen. “He’s- It’s a kid?”

You thought back to the encounter. You could cup him in your palms. “He has to be. He’s tiny, fourteen or fifteen I’d say.” You nearly broke as you thought of the child he’d never get to be. 

“There’s no protocol for this, Y/n.” This was one of the first times you’d seen him speak with his hands. “I don’t even know how to approach it anymore. It’s hard enough dealing with a child unsub when they’re human. How do you suggest we deal with a vampire?”

“Hotch.” Your eyes held disappointment. He was coping with the situation, and you knew that, but his words still didn’t sit right with you. “He is human. A very scared and lost human boy. My dad overfed me as a kid, wanting to disable the signal that tells you when it’s enough. It’s why he’s killing so many, he must have recently broken out. You get…I don’t know, insatiable. You start and don’t know when to stop, it's just blind instinct. He doesn’t want to be hurting people.”

“You speak from experience.” You didn’t want to tell him he was missing the point, but there certainly wasn’t a mutual focus between the two of you.

“Nobody’s perfect, Aaron.” You spoke with tears lining your eyes, your past was the most shameful thing you carried with you. “I need to find him. I can help him.”

He sighed, baffled and exhausted at the entire situation. He nodded soon after. “I won’t tell them.” You felt the increase in oxygen as you practically gasped in relief.

You stood up, stopping with your hand on the doorknob. Were you running? Yes, most definitely. But he wasn’t speaking and you couldn’t imagine he wanted to stay in your company. “I promise I’m not a monster.” You didn’t quite know if you were trying to convince him of this, or if you were hoping to affirm what he was already thinking, but it was the only thing you could think to say. 

He just stared at you, eyes vacant but clearly attempting to imitate the warmth that would normally reside there. “Goodnight, Y/n.” It was such a familiar phrase that it nearly made you puke from the comfort flooding your body. You scoffed at the casual nature of the remark in the face of such an unusual time, but were still unfathomably thankful for it. 

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

–

Three days later, and you were really feeling the distance. He stopped the routine of checking in - he stopped speaking almost entirely. He spoke of you, giving you orders or assigning your assistance to others but never talking directly to you. He used to pull you aside sometimes just to ask about your day, now he wouldn’t even look at you. The bodies had only been piling, patrol increasing night by night all hell bent on catching the so-called ‘virginia vampire.’ The absolute last thing you needed was a media wave of infamy to drown the boy, but there was no stopping the press once they were off and running. You doubted it made a difference, internet access was fully forbidden within the iron fist that was life with your father. You were hopeful some type of DNA could be pulled from the bodies, as the clean up was nonexistent and some of the necks had still been wet upon police arrival, but you got nothing. Or rather, nothing within the system. Garcia had compared the results of the sample to every database in the country - sometimes branching beyond that - but nothing proved useful. It was foolish to be disappointed, obviously your father wouldn’t have registered the baby of his hostage with the required legal standards. You hadn’t even known what you wanted to find, but the presence of absolutely nothing was crushing.

With the new surveillance demands your local PD wanted to meet, the BAU ended up pitching in to night monitor with them. It wasn’t difficult by any means - just tedious. You sat in turned off cop cars for most hours of the night while trying to ignore the persistent burn of hunger that was lighting up your stomach. You knew it’d been too long since you went out, but you were out of luck. People weren’t on the street hardly at all, and even if there was a small population to prey on, the cops breathing down your neck made it nearly impossible. You’d been paired up with Morgan for the last two nights you’d done this, time moving faster with him there to entertain you. Needless to say, sitting in the dead silence of the Quantico pm with Hotch was not what you were anticipating when you came for your shift tonight. You were only two feet away from him, but you could almost gaze into the sinkhole that sat between you two. Cold and dark, brutally reminding you that you’d volunteered for this abyss when you spilled your guts. You stopped yourself from shifting in your seat as another contraction of hunger pulled at your abdominal muscles. You knew that if someone were looking, they’d be able to notice the decline in your recent performance. You were slower, more zoned out, antsy, irritable. You were good at suppressing those things, confident in your ability to conceal them, but you had a feeling the man beside you could tell. He’d been looking at you all night, analytical and lukewarm, letting the start of a conversation sit just on the tip of his tongue. The silence, though, was taking it’s toll on you. It seemed to morph into a ringing that bounced between your ears like it was determined to slip into your skull and bury itself there. You realized you would take the most awkward conversation over a night of partnered solitude. 

You wrestled with what to say, deciding to stick with your streak of brutal honesty. “Will you ever wanna talk to me again?”

He sniffed, continuing to stare forward like he was expecting the question. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n.” You didn’t know either. 

You took a moment to mentally gawk at his words, tripping over them in your attempt to process the answer and decide how to respond appropriately. “Anger?” You felt yourself ramp up slightly, your hands moving as you spoke. “Resentment? Sadness? I mean… you’ve just been cold and I can’t work with that, Aaron.” You looked at him, mouth slightly open as you laid your helplessness out for him to see. “I need something.”

“I just-” He shrugged, shaking his head while figuring out the words he needed to say. “You can’t expect me to adjust to that information in three days. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.” It was deeper than that. You both held a sort of mutual understanding that these lumps weren’t as surface level as confusion. The woman he’d been infatuated with for years had confessed she lived on the blood of her fellow man, how the hell do you act after learning that?

You tried your hardest to be empathetic towards his situation. You’d lived with this arrangement your entire life, so it was hard to put yourself in the shoes of shattered expectation, but you tried. It hurt to hear him refer to you like you were a different entity all of a sudden - but to him, you were. “So ask me. Ask me any question you can think of. If you want to know something, I’ll tell you. I just can’t stand the silence, Aaron.” You put your hand to your forehead as you relaxed into your seat. “I miss you. I’m the same person I was a week ago.” 

You heard him sigh and shift to be leaning forward slightly. “Do you have a…” He trailed off for a second, searching for the way to put it that would ensure you understood his question. “You know, a bloodlust? Do you feel what the kid is feeling?”

The air solidified in your lungs. Yes, you absolutely fucking did. However, you weren’t going to sit there and profess your never ending homicidal urges to a man who was already struggling to accept your bare minimum. You weren’t going to scare the man you cared for more than you already had. “Um…you could call it that, I guess. I do know what he’s feeling right now, but I don’t live in his mindset anymore. It gets less the more you live with it.” You weren’t lying, per say. It truly did get easier to manage, you were simply omitting the follow up of still being a bottomless pit for the substance. Just because you weren’t enslaved to it anymore didn’t mean the constant possibility wasn’t a part of your very being. 

He looked over at you, and in the dim glow of the street light his eyes seemed fuller, pupils rivaling puddles of tar. “What does it feel like?”

Your lips parted to let out your breath as it elevated slightly. The car seemed to humidify in the moments between his last question and now. Was he actually asking that? “It feels like…this-” Jesus Chist how did you even put words to it? “this constant…pulsing…in your gums.” You thought back to the haze it used to cast over your mind. You could barely think clearly when you first got out, focused on stealing the life force from beneath the skin of others. “Your whole body just fucking aches for it.” The eye contact between you and him was searing past your eyes and sinking into your soul itself. It was different than any way you’d looked at him before, so full of remorse and pure want that you’re surprised he didn’t laugh at your patheticism.

You caught quick movement draped in a shadow from your peripheral and were knocked back into your actual purpose. You and him both exited the car, creeping up to the spot previously occupied by the figure. You didn’t see him, simply felt the force of him pelt past you and crash into your shoulder. You, to your surprise, held your footing and were running after him a second later. Hotch was just behind you, both of you sprinting desperately to catch the boy. But, just like the last time you’d walked this path, the nimbleness of his smaller frame won almost effortlessly against the two of you, and you lost him. This time, you’d lost yourself right after. You felt the nonexistent padding of concrete on the sidewalk bruise your body before you even registered you’d fallen over. The world wasn’t fading, you were very awake and very aware of the pain spreading to your entire right side. You determined - rather quickly - that your legs had just given out from lack of proper energy. The embarrassment of doing this in front of Hotch severely trumped the pain of hitting the ground. 

“Jesus.” You heard the concerned mumble come from him as he crouched down to your level. “Are you ok?”

You said you were fine, but oxygen seemed to adopt the weight of a semi-truck and it got harder to accept the necessity into your body. You simply told him to stand up, following his lead and rising from your position with difficulty you hadn’t faced before. Your legs failed you for the second time, though, and you fell back onto your knees with a small sob of exertion being expelled from your chest. He crouched back down, stabilizing himself on his knees and letting you lean against him when you couldn’t hold yourself up.

“Y/n.” The shame of your current situation kept your eyes from his, only looking at him when he forced you to. “When was the last time you ate?”

You just shook your head, weakly trying to free yourself from his hands but failing. “Patrol’s been so high I just couldn’t - “ You sniffed slightly, gasping lightly as breathing became harder to do than the chase you just gave. “I couldn’t get out.” 

He muttered ‘ok’ under his breath a few times, seemingly coming to terms with something, looking around in all directions before rolling up his shirt sleeve. The implication of the action registered instantly and you began squirming away from him. Mumbling words of disagreement that you knew he could hear.

“I can’t, Aaron. I can’t drink straight from the source - I can’t stop.” You felt your lips tremble as you recalled the feeling of impending doom clashing messily against the rush of excitement that coursed through you at the possibility. You hadn’t known that specific cocktail in years, you thought you’d go the rest of your life without feeling it again. “I can’t - please.”

“Well -” He started, pulling up his pant leg in search of the small switchblade he started carrying after being disarmed one too many times. “If we don’t do this, you’ll lose consciousness. That means they’ll take you to the hospital on an IV and you’ll have to explain why none of the nutrients are helping you.” You were so fucked. He was right, a rock and a hard place didn’t even break the surface of your situation. This was hell.

Your vision went blurry as the water in them doubled in quantity. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t.” Bastard. 

“Aaron-”

“You’re practically catatonic, Y/n.” He let energy surge through the response, saying it more as an exclamation than a statement. “I’m not watching you die and I’m not letting you out yourself to some random workers because you’re scared. You need blood.” He positioned the knife away from any major arteries and dug deep, exhaling slightly at the sting. Softening his voice, he looked to you again, and moved his wounded wrist slightly closer to you.“Just let me help you.” You watched it run off his wrist and swore you felt the impact of the drops as they fell like a phantom pressure lighting up your skin. He was breathing heavy, you didn’t know if you were breathing at all; only being able to gauge the depth of your existence by how badly you needed what he was offering. You hadn’t felt yourself accept the invitation, only tasted the poison of it all once it bypassed your lips. You wondered if this was how Eve had felt when she succumbed to the serpent. If so, you didn’t blame her. You would have condemned all of humanity for this feeling too. It hadn’t ever felt this personal, this euphoric. You fed on strangers, never on someone who held as much importance as him. This trampled the idea of simply knowing him, this was a bond you could never backstep. It was done, and it was terrifying. The warmth he always seemed to emanate infested in you from the inside-out, beaming through your entire body and fending off any destruction being done by the famished vines winding around you. He held you against him as it happened, safe and welcoming, and it made a heat line your stomach with such intensity that it teased the idea of burning right through you.

He wallowed in the feeling for a few minutes, only stopping the exchange when he felt his head become too heavy for his neck to hold. “Enough, enough.” His way of tapping out, the words making you detach immediately with a slight gasp that prompted your panting breath. You realized he was panting too, eyes slightly wide and skull resting uncomfortably against the brick wall that sat behind him as he recovered. You assumed your face was painted with the horror that was flooding your system, but he couldn’t see the extent of the expression in the darkness surrounding you. “Does it always-” He was cut off by the approaching vehicles of your team and other officers. It was time for a shift change, and you felt a small sob intertwine with your exhaling breath and extend to the air around you. With your newly acquired strength, you got up and limped to the closest cop car. You forced away the urge to cry as you asked the officer to take you home, claiming an urgent need to check on your pets. Just add lying to an officer to your list of sins committed in the last 24 hours. You watched your team congregate around the still bleeding Hotch and bit your tongue. His actions had been so instinctual, so automatic in the way he rose to the occasion. He’d given you something nobody ever had, and you weren’t sure you would ever be looking at him again. 

–

In the week that had dragged by since then, bodies were being found significantly less than they were. You’d successfully halted all interaction between your boss and you - which is much easier said than done - and had essentially treated him as though he didn’t exist. It hurt him - visibly - and you despised being the one to instill such a wounded haze to his eyes, but you couldn’t help it. No amount of oral hygiene procedures could singe the taste of him off your tongue. If you let the thoughts linger in your mind too long, you could almost feel the flow of his blood cascading down your throat. It threw you so effortlessly back to your freshly escaped fledgling days that it fucking horrified you how badly you wanted it. You really should have assumed that consuming the blood of someone you treasured would dramatically increase the craving. You weren’t prepared, not even slightly, and that would certainly manifest into some less than work appropriate advances should you acknowledge your boss again. 

The lack of frequent bodies unfortunately didn’t reduce the amount of cops on the street, but you’d managed to slip back into your routine. It was about ten times harder than it used to be to both evade officers and find people outside but you were fed, and that was all you chose to focus on. You had left tonight’s guy under a park platform a couple blocks over, having to resort to unconventional means when hiding them post-theft. You hadn’t stopped your search for the boy, having been out every night since it started. Sometimes on the clock, sometimes off - always trying to think outside of the box. Clearly, that all proved futile, as there was a boy sitting on your front steps practically consumed by the surrounding shadows when you arrived home. You simply continued your trek, stopping maybe five feet away and giving him the space to control the situation. He looked up at you, pulling down his hood and standing to his full height. He was practically gleaming in the dim porch light, his skin seemed to reflect the moon in a way only rivaled by the finest china. 

“What did you mean?” He was as timid as a mouse, looking at the ground as he spoke. “You saw me that night in the alley and you said you knew what was happening. What did you mean?”

You couldn’t say you were surprised your father didn’t inform him of your existence. Knowing the man, he would most likely deny your relation if questioned directly. “I’m like you, buddy.” You slowly let the bag on your back swing forward to a place of accessibility, grabbing the vial of the inky substance and flashing it slightly before returning it to your bag. “I’d offer you some, but I can’t imagine you’re needing it.” You swung it back to rest behind you again, settling the straps comfortably on your shoulders.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused but apprehensive, as though the motion might upset you. “You live on that?”

You chuckled at his innocence, barely being able to comprehend the pure dichotomy you were talking to. You understood it fully, but such a sweet boy holding such intense homicidal capabilities was an absurd notion. “Took me a while.” You nodded as you confirmed his question. “But yeah, about two of these a week.”

Disbelief quickly befriended the features on his face. “You aren’t…hungry?”

You looked at the boy with undiluted sympathy, you knew the feeling he hinted at well. If you were him right now, you’d have probably lashed out in a jealous rage at such an ability to control consumption. You hadn’t believed it was a livable amount until you’d contained yourself within it’s limits. “A little, I won’t lie to you. But it’s well worth it to avoid killing someone. You get used to it after a while.” He simply looked down, and you realized you might have made him slightly guilty with your wording. In an eager attempt to pivot the conversation, you told him your name, hoping to get a proper introduction from him.  

“I’m Daniel.” You crouched down after he said that, wanting to open him up a little more by shrinking below his height. “You know my dad?”

You smiled at the ignorance, it wasn’t often somebody didn’t know exactly who resided on your family tree. “I do. He’s actually my dad too.” You preyed with everything in you that you were coming off as comforting, docile. You wanted him to trust you. “How old are you, Daniel?”

“Twelve.” Jesus Christ. 

You tried not to let the shock ricochet along your face. You wouldn’t earn his alliance by being wobbly, you needed to be a dependent structure for him to lean on. “You’ve got me beat, kid.” He tilted his head, the meaning of your statement lost on him. “I was seventeen when I got away. Quite an impressive thing for someone your age.” Praise, you hoped, would solidify you as a place he could receive affection. He definitely wasn’t getting it from your father. 

His eyes went wide, lips parted as you saw his head lean forward in response. “You escaped?” His breathing sped up, microscopic, something you wouldn’t have noticed had you worked in a different profession. “How?”

You felt the bottom of your stomach rip and release every ounce of hope you ever carried. Something wasn’t right. “How?” You questioned him rhetorically, mentally pleading that he wasn’t about to confirm your suspicion. “Are you still with him?”

He nodded his head with such casualty it broke your heart. You knew it was all he’d ever known, but seeing him have such peace with his predicament was a sight made of pure devastation. “Yeah.” He sighed out the response. “He says there’s no use in running away. That if I decide to just stay out one night, he knows how to find me.” You notice his averted eyes, a sudden embarrassment becoming evident in his stance. “I’ve…kinda been too scared to see if that’s true or not.”

“Why don’t you come in?” It took all the effort you had to suppress the desperation begging to penetrate the look you were giving him. “I can protect you, Daniel. He’s not as tough as he pretends to be.” In all honesty, you didn’t know if that was true. He’d never sent you out on hunts when you were younger. He gave you any indulgence you wanted, absolutely trampling your hunger cues and making you a nightmare on anyone with a pulse once you finally broke out. You figured it was a fail safe for if you were ever on your own. He couldn’t have you, but you would start piling bodies and would eventually be put down when they traced it back to you. You didn’t understand his game plan here. Why did he suddenly want a high body count? Had he been starving Daniel out just to set him loose like some feral bull? 

He frantically shook his head, stepping away from you slightly and waving you off. “No, I need to go back.” He started tearing up, remembering the true reason he’d stepped foot on your lawn at all. “I need you to help me, Y/n.” He swiped at his nose as he bit back the tears. “You have to get rid of him.”

You felt your own eyes go watery at the ask. “I’m gonna get you out of there.”

He chuckled, light and short, puzzling you for a moment at what he could be finding humor in. “It’s not even about me.” He looked down. “I just wanna stop hurting people.” 

You covered the tremble in your lips in a pathetic attempt to mask the sadness that poured from you at his declaration. “I’m so sorry.”

He returned his head to the safety of his hood, refusing your apology with a shake of it. “It was nice meeting you.”

You stared at him, every instinct you had sparking with the urge to shield him. Absorb him into the atoms that made you up and let live through your screen of security. But you couldn’t, so you just sniffed, reigning in any emotion that slipped from your grasp during the conversation and sealing it back inside. “I’ll see you soon.” And then he was walking away, turning slightly to offer a wave before resuming his role as part of the abyss around you. Only one thought remained in your head - You were gonna kill your dad.

#aaron hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch angst #slowburn #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x chubby reader #aaron hotch x fat reader #aaron hotch x plus size reader #vampire au #multiple chapters #aaron hotch x y/n #x chubby reader #x fat reader #x plus size reader #aaron hotchner

[rookie-chenford]

Don't Do This- Part two of Was It Worth The Risk

Description: @looby1302 This is the second part to 'Was it worth the risk'. I ended it here, because it is getting quite long, but also I wanted to do like a separate one for the months that their apart, if this makes sense lol.

Words: 2202

Warnings: I don't think there are any, but if you see any, please let me know and I'll add them.

Three days later...

Lucy groaned at the sound of her alarm blaring. She reached over and grabbed her phone, turning off the alarm. After placing the phone back on her nightstand, Lucy lays there, her arm on her forehead as the memories of their breakup resurfaced for the umpteenth time. She groaned at the memory and the tears falling down her face. Exhaustion was taking a toll on her body from the restless nights. 

A knock on her door pulls her from her thoughts. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat. "Yeah?" She croaks out. 

Tamara opens the door and stands in the doorway. "Hey, you doing okay?" Lucy props herself up. 

"Okay, as I can be, I guess." She sniffles. 

Tamara walks into her room and scoots Lucy's legs over so she can sit. "You going back to work today?" 

Lucy sighs. She doesn't want to, but she knows she can't avoid Tim forever. "I don't want to, but I need to." Tamara nods. "I mean you could always skip today and go back tomorrow." She smiles. 

Lucy chuckles lightly. "I wish, but I can't avoid Tim forever." 

"You still haven't talked to him about the baby situation?" 

Lucy groaned. "No. I don't even know what to say. I know we need to talk, but I honestly don't even know where to start. I mean, a baby won't change our situation."

"Just talk to him when you feel like it. I mean you do have like 7 or 8 months to talk to him." Tamara shrugs. 

"I know, but I do need to talk to him sooner rather than later. I mean I know he's not going to abandon his kid. We just have to figure out how to work this new dynamic, I guess." 

Tamara stands from the bed. "Alright, well, if you need someone to go with you to doctor's appointments," Tamara points at herself with a smile. "I'm your girl." 

"Thanks." Lucy smiles. "Go get ready for school or you're going to be late." 

"Yes, mother." Tamara mocks and laughs as she exits Lucy's room. Lucy shakes her head and chuckles. 

Walking into the station, she avoids as many people as possible and heads into the locker room. Lucy gets dressed and waits for everyone else to leave, giving herself a moment to give herself words of encouragement. She takes a deep breath and heads out of the locker room and towards the roll call room. Before she can open the door, Nyla is calling for her. 

Lucy lets go of the door handle and heads towards her. "What's up?" 

"I have a friend who needs a partner to go undercover with. You in?" 

Lucy thinks for a moment. She would love to go undercover and put her skills to use since she hadn't been on an undercover op in a while. But she no longer had herself to worry about. "I-I would love to, but there may be a little problem." 

"If you're worried about Tim-" 

Lucy stops Nyla before she can continue, not worried about Tim for the moment. "No, uhm, I'm not worried about him." 

"Then what's there to worry about?" Nyla questioned, not sure why Lucy was so hesitant. Usually, Lucy would jump for joy at an undercover opportunity. 

Lucy groaned and looked around. "Can we talk somewhere a little more private?"

Nyla still looked a little skeptical but nodded and told Lucy to lead the way. They headed towards one of the empty observation rooms. "Alright, spill. What's going on? You would have jumped at an opportunity to go undercover without a second thought." 

Lucy wrung her hands together, trying to form the words to spill out of her mouth. Nyla waited patiently, knowing this was unlike Lucy. "I, uhm, I'm-I'm pregnant." Lucy whispered. Nyla's eyes bulged out of her head. "What?" 

"Yea, I found out a couple of weeks ago." 

"Well, damn, congratulations." Nyla smiled. "But you don't have anything to worry about. I was pregnant with Lyla when I was undercover. You have to be a little more careful. But you and Niko, who you'll be going undercover with, are just going to be running drugs for now. Niko is trying to build rapport with the people he's in with, hoping they'll let him further into the group and find out who's supplying the drugs. But, at any point, if you want to leave, you say the word, and we'll pull you out." 

Lucy considered it for a moment. She could do it for a couple of months and then regroup once she was farther along in her pregnancy. "Okay, okay, I can do that." 

"Are you 100 percent sure?" 

"Yes. 100 percent." 

Nyla nodded. "Alright. I'll call Niko and we'll get started once he gets here." 

About an hour later, Niko shows up in the observation room with Lucy and Nyla. They review the details, what is expected of them, and how checking in will work. 

"One more thing," Nyla pauses, looking at Lucy and then turning back to Niko. "She is pregnant. So, if you feel the need to pull her out, you do it, whether she fights you on it or not. We've also gone over the risk and if it starts to become too much, she'll pull out." 

Niko nods, a little surprised at the news. "Okay. Well, as long as you're all good, I'm good." 

"I'm good." 

"Now that we're all on the same page, you both need to go get your affairs in order and then meet back here." 

Lucy left the observation room and went into the locker room to get changed. She quickly changed and headed out toward the parking lot. She barely made it out the door before she ran into Tim. Lucy quickly sidestepped him as he reached out. He quickly dropped his hand, sadness washing over his features. 

"I've been looking for you. Can we talk?" Tim was hopeful they'd be able to talk since they hadn't after the breakup. 

"I, uhm, not right now. I've gotta go," Lucy said, a little guilt washing over her. She turned to walk away, but Tim grabbed her arm, pulling her back. Lucy pulled her arm out of Tim's grasp, and he quickly dropped his hand. 

"What do you mean, "not right now," Lucy? I have been looking for you everywhere so we could talk. You dropped huge news on me days ago and haven't said anything since. We need to talk," He pleaded. 

Lucy scuffed, her eyes casting down at the concrete as she kicked her foot at an imaginary rock. "Yeah, well, I had something special planned to tell you, but you ruined that." Tears brimmed her eyes as the memory of her planning on telling Tim they were having a baby came to mind. 

A pang of hurt hit Tim in the chest. "I'm sor-" 

Lucy held up her hand, stopping him. "I don't need your apologies, Tim. Now, I gotta go. We'll talk later." She turned and walked to her car. 

Tim sighed as he walked back into the building, heading straight to Grey's office. He knocked on the door and waited for Grey to wave him in. He waved him in as he was finishing up a call. 

"What can I do for you, Bradford?" He asked after hanging up the phone. 

"Where's Lucy going?" 

Grey raised an eyebrow, confused about why Tim was asking. "She didn't tell you?" 

"Tell me what?" 

Grey sighed. "She's going undercover." 

Tim went pale. His world crashed around him as the word undercover passed Grey's lips. "What do you mean she went undercover?" Tim thought of all the worst-case scenarios that could happen while she was undercover. Their baby. How could Lucy put their baby in danger? "She's pregnant! How could you let her go undercover while she's pregnant?" Tim's voice was laced with anger now. 

Grey held up his hand. "We know. Her and Nyla talked about it and Nyla made sure Lucy was going to be okay. Nyla will keep extra tabs on Lucy throughout this operation. If at any point her partner, herself, or Nyla feels like she needs to be pulled out, she'll be pulled." 

Tim was at a lost for words now. He stormed out of Grey's office and headed towards Nyla's desk. Nyla saw the anger on Tim's face, but she wasn't phased by it. "Here we go." She muttered. Angela looked up, a confused look on her face. Nyla nodded her head, telling her to turn around. Angela turned to look and saw a furious Tim heading towards them. She turned back to face Nyla and raised her brow, wondering what was going on. 

"How could you make Lucy go undercover?" He seethed. 

"Lower your tone. I didn't make her do anything." 

"She's pregnant, and you didn't stop her," he accused. Angela's mouth hung open. The news of Lucy's pregnancy took her by surprise. "Lucy's pregnant?" 

Both Nyla and Tim ignore her. "But you sure didn't stop her." 

"Tim, I asked her multiple times if she was sure, and she was adamant about doing it. Communication and check-ins this time around are different. She can pull out in a week, a month, or two months; it doesn't matter. As soon as she says the word, she's being pulled out. The same goes for if her partner or I feel she needs to be pulled; she will be pulled." 

Tim storms off, and Angela hollers for him, but he ignores her. He can't believe Nyla let her go after finding out she's pregnant. He heads towards his shop, needing to drive around and try and take his mind off things. Just as Tim opens the driver's side door, it's pushed shut. He turns and looks at Angela, fury in his eyes. "Back off, Angela." He barks. 

"No, Tim. You can't go out on the streets like this. You need to calm down." 

"I'm fine," Angela scuffs. "Yeah, you sure do look fine. Your jaw is clenched, your shoulders are up to your ears, and there's fire in your eyes. But yeah, keep believing you're fine." Tim rolls his eyes. "What do you want me to say?" 

Angela ignores his question. "Are you driving, or am I?" Tim hesitates but pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them over to Angela. He rounds the shop to the passenger side and gets in with a huff. Angela looks over at him before starting the shop and driving off. 

They're silent for a while, listening to the radio as calls filter through to other shops. Angela is the first one to break the silence. "What's on your mind?" Tim thinks about it for a moment. Everything is on his mind, and he doesn't know where to start. "Everything," he says. 

Angela snorts. "Obviously." She pauses to wait, seeing if Tim will say anything. He doesn't, so she continues. "So," she drags the word out. "Lucy's pregnant?" Tim looks out the window. "Yeah." He whispers. 

Angela's eyes soften a little as she looks over at him for a brief moment. "How do you feel about it?" 

Tim shrugs his shoulders. "I mean, I'm excited." He pauses for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I just, I don't know. I don't know where this leaves us. I don't know if she'll ever let me be in the baby's life. We haven't talked since the breakup and I don't know what to do." 

"You know Lucy would never keep you from the baby. Just give her time. You'll both have some time to think while she's undercover. While she's undercover, go to therapy." 

Tim scuffs and rolls his eyes. "I can't even believe she went undercover." His anger was starting to bubble up again. "She-What if she gets hurt?"

"It's a possibility, and she knows that. But Tim, you also have to trust her and her instincts. Lucy wouldn't just go undercover without weighing her options. So this has to be something that won't put her in complete danger." 

Tim scuffs and rolls his eyes. "I just- I won't get to go to appointments and just be there for her. I won't get to hear the baby's heartbeat. I can't even ask her how everything's going. I don't know how long she'll be gone." His voice cracks at the end. Angela was just about to speak up when Tim's phone rang. He groans and pulls it out of his pocket, his breath catching as Lucy's name pops up on the screen. "It's Lucy." He clears his throat and answers. 

"Hey." 

"Hey, I've got to be quick, but I just wanted to let you know you're stuff is in a box by the living room. I know you know, so keep an eye on Tamara for me, please."

"Lucy, don't do this." 

She sighs. Their conversation pauses for a beat. "It's already in motion. I gotta go." She rushes. 

"Luc-" Before Tim could get anything else out, Lucy hung up. "Dammit." He whispers. Angela placed a reassuring hand on his arm. She knew this would be hell on him; all she could do was be there for him. 

#chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie #chenford imagines #lucy chen imagine #tim bradford imagine

[devilry-revelry]

Not to be a ghoul fucker on main buuuuuuut—

(I really genuinely wish this would have come out 5-10 years ago.)

#Fallout #fallout tv series #I also wish Mr. Ghoul was a little more gross? #not because I’m like Mmmm gross ghoul #but because there was an opportunity and they avoided it

[moongothic]

I keep on seeing people mention how they want to see another Davy Back Fight during the Final Saga, and while I'm 10000% sure we won't see another Davy Back Fight

Unironically

I think a Davy Back Fight between the Strawhats and Cross Guild could be fucking hysterical

Especially because like. Buggy could totally challenge Luffy intentionally, desperately hoping that either Luffy will save HIM from Crocodile and Mihawk, OR that Luffy ends up taking Croc and Hawk into his crew if he wins

(Sidenote, DBF is normally only about exchanging crewmates and stealing pirate flags, but could you imagine if Buggy could demand to have Luffy's copies of the Road Poneglyphs if he won? Hell, I imagine Buggy could probably get away with innitiating the challenge regardless because once it's on, it's on, and surely his men would be so riled up Croc and Hawk would know there'd be no way to stop it anymore even though Buggy's not the true boss. But just to keep Croc and Hawk from trying to murder him on the spot Buggy could maybe suggest taking the Poneglyph copies as if it were a part of his plan from the begining)

And you know if Buggy challenged Luffy into a DBF Luffy might just accept??? Because it could be fun (in Luffy's mind)??? And it could be kind of on-brand for him to jump in on a challenge like that???

And yes

The idea of Luffy winning against Cross Guild in a DBF, resulting in fucking Mihawk and Sir Crocodile joining the Strawhats would be fucking hysterical man, and that alone makes me kinda want it

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Cross Guild #It's just that between CrocHawk and Buggy I honestly don't think Luffy would want Buggy on his crew #See: Luffy calling Buggy a loser #I mean I don't think he'd want Crocodile on his crew either #I could see Zoro being like ''hey let's grab Mihawk it'll be funny as hell'' and the others maybe being cool with it #And I could imagine them taking Galdino and Daz Bones too before even considdering Crocodile #Also hey this is where we once again get to the ''how does Luffy actually feel about Crocodile right now?'' question #Because. Under circumstances like these. I could see Luffy choosing Crocodile for his crew. #If for no other reason than *Oda being able to make it as funny as fucking imaginable* #The thing is that Cross Guild is an Evil Organization Under A Yonkou and not really a Pirate Crew??? #See: Chairman Buggy and not Captain Buggy #But??? I mean the opportunity for comedy could allow for some bending of the rules??? #I just think it'd be hysterical man #Mainly because it'd be humiliating for Crocodile and Mihawk and arguably they'd slightly deserve it after bullying Buggy so much #ALSO we could avoid having Cross Guild fight the Strawhats entirely and that'd be cool lmao #But alas. As much as I'd love the leisure of a funny arc like this. Don't think we're gonna get one. But it could be so funny

[brittlebutch]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

#N posts stuff #like even if you think alex was lying throughout the entirety of season 2 and he was waiting from the Moment jay showed up #JUST to kill him (Which again i don't think makes much sense when he could have killed Tim & Jay immediately instead of #breaking Tim's leg. anyway) EVEN IF alex spent that whole time lying it doesn't actually change the fact that he would have at least #been Pretending to Ask For Help and if he wasn't lying then he was Literally Asking For Help and it doesn't Actually matter #what intention Alex had because the text is Ambiguous about Alex's honesty during season two; what isn't ambiguous is the way #other characters (specifically Jay) respond to him; like yeah - S2 Brian/Tim were never in one million years going to help Alex with shit #so sort of any argument that brings up Tim as someone who asks for/offers help is borderline meaningless in this era of the series #Jay had the 'opportunity' to help Alex (and i'll get back to that in a sec) but DIDN'T - Jay wasn't Interested in actually offering Alex #'help' bc Jay is ultimately curious about Answers and 'Offering Help' and 'Getting Answers' are two Wildly conflicting goals #Jay thinks Alex has answers and when Alex doesn't Offer these 'Answers' to Jay on a silver platter Jay gets pissed off and paranoid #and starts Stalking Alex bc he thinks it's 'Suspicious' that Alex won't give him the Answers (that Alex probably doesn't Actually have) #ANYWAY. ultimately this post is about how it's absurd when people argue #that individual character choices could have made a difference in the way this series played out - specifically wrt Alex #because EVERYONE in this WHOLE series are being affected by influences outside of their control ; including Brian Tim and Jay #so it's silly when people are like 'if ALEX had just made a different choice For Himself this could have all been avoided' WRONG. #bc Ultimately there's not really a way to 'help' someone else out of this situation - Tim tried and failed Repeatedly #the comics proved he even failed with Jessica - like MH isn't a horror situation where you can kill the big bad #'getting help' is a meaningless argument - what would successfully helping or getting help even look like? anyway. #the sub argument of this post is that Alex's biggest 'sin' is that he doesn't perform emotions the way other people want him to #like Alex is a character with a kind of flat affect - instead of LOOKING scared or grieved he LOOKS bored or angry #and everyone judges him based on that - so Alex is 'Suspicious' he's 'Lying' he's 'Guilty' but all of these deductions are predicated #on the belief that Alex isn't reacting to his circumstances the way a 'Normal' person would - so it MUST all be an act and so he's guilty #so everyone treats him like he's guilty until the end of season two when he's like 'Fuck it FINE i'll be guilty then' and so it goes #not a self-fulfilled prophecy but being Cornered Into a prophecy and then Blamed for it - SAD. anyway

[trensu]

I wish there was more steddie time travel fics. Where steddie travels back all the way to season one. Maybe both or one of them. Actually both because the comedic potential. Like Steve and Eddie trying to change things and save the day. And anyone who sees them sneaking around thinks they are in a secret gay relationship. Nancy has this whole theory that her boyfriend is gay and sneaking off with Eddie Munson. Reason why he's being distant and hiding things. And on one hand she's not wrong, because steddie has so much unresolved sexual tension that one is oblivious to and the other is to afriad to admit to. But on the other hand is she way way off.

okay tbh, as great as that would be, i don't think everyone would immediately jump to the gay thing. if this is during steve's kingly days, he's got enough sway and popularity that people would bend over backwards to prove he's a Normal Straight American Boy.

what i think would be more likely, considering he throws those parties and is a good athlete, people would assume he's either developing an addiction on something OR taking steroids. nancy would be SO worried about it because omg steve, do you know what drugs do to your brain? how are you going to get into college if you keep doing that stuff??

meanwhile, steve is touched by her concern and also like...just going along with it? What is he supposed to do? That explanation makes WAY more sense than the whole Upside Down nonsense that they're trying to prevent. So now you've got Steve--who can do a mean kegstand but has literally never even considered doing anything harder than that because DUH the hard stuff would fuck up his body and he's an ATHLETE--trying to pretend he's got to get his Drugs so he has to cancel his plans with Nancy and go see Eddie RIGHT NOW. Because of Drugs. No other reason.

But we all know Nancy is a stubborn bastard (affectionate), so she'd definitely use her investigative skills to find out more. She'd track down this Eddie Munson guy and give him a piece of her mind. Now, this Nancy is still pretty mild and is lacking guns because the UD stuff hasn't hit her yet, but Eddie remembers with crystal clarity his Nancy and her weapons proficiency and reacts to past Nancy accordingly. As in, he immediately apologizes for anything and everything and promises not to do it again, please don't hurt him.

Now Nancy is confused as to why this big bad leather and chain wearing drug dealer is practically cowering before her. She starts to suspect other stuff is going on because the pieces aren't adding up. Eventually she figures out what's happening and joins Steve and Eddie because while they're both creative and skilled in their own ways, they're not really that great at the actual investigating bit of the plan-making process.

It's only then, when she's spending more time with the two of them together, does she start to catch on to the way Eddie looks at Steve. She remembers the rumors that go around about Eddie, so she's not too surprised because Steve is stupid hot and really good in bed, like, so good, the things that boy could do with his tongue will stay with her always. What does catch her off guard is the way Steve reacts whenever Eddie does something that edges around flirty (but still has plausible deniability). He doesn't get disgusted, he gets confused and ruminates over it. It's curious (though if nancy were honest to herself, she'd admit that she's never really understood all the romance stuff and it's never particularly appealed to her). If there were more time, she'd probably study them more.

But there are more important things happening, so she's going to leave them to deal with that mess on their own.

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #trensu tells stories #trensu replies #this definitely got away from me #also i actually don't read a lot of time travel fics #or time loop fics #i wouldn't say i actively avoid them but they're usually the last thing i pick if i have other options #idk why #because there are really good ones that i've loved #but the concept itself never piques my interest THAT much #anyway #i think your idea is really fun and you should definitely write it up if you're so inclined #(did i take this opportunity to push my aro!nancy agenda? yes i did bc she screams aro to me and there's distressingly little fic with that

[thebirdandhersong]

this would be torturous if it weren't so funny :)

#translation: i am focusing on the funny part because if i dont it WILL feel torturous #it is like one of them 1930s comedies where a girl who's doing her best (me) is doing her best to NOT run into boy #because you know you DO have to take measures to guard your heart when things are going off the rails. (i'm not happy about this but i know #it's good for me to at least not seek out every opportunity to see him.) #but who KEEPS running into boy because she keeps trying to not do it #today was the third or fourth time this week i think. Lord help meeeee #i had a >:O moment last sunday when i was congratulating myself on avoiding a 'coincidental' meeting i usually seek out #and was opening the door to leave and bam he was on the other side. i could've wept with hysterical laughter. #the waiting room chapter

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Are you aware that I'm-a-gay-fish and Zu ship dr//m/are ?/genq

okay so it took me a while to answer this but i finally found the words to so here goes; yeah i do know, and i totally understand if you don't ship it, neither do i, but there's nothing i can do about it?

they're allowed, so long as they don't harm people, to do whatever they want on their own platforms. and before you ask me if i support *ncest, would you actually ask someone if they support toxic relationships and murder whenever they ship two unhealthy killers with mental problems? because that's funnily enough what most people do around here! you can say it's not the same, and that they're romanticizing it, but i can personally detach myself from fiction enough to realize that while this concept depicted in their art shouldn't be recreated in real life, that doesn't mean they actually engage or support people that do that irl- they asked zu the same question so many times, and frog doesn't either and i've known gayfish for three years! you're well within your right to stop associating with them or distance yourself from their content but i myself won't.

i know fiction affects reality to a degree, don't twist my words please, but if you're too young to consume that kind of content with a nuanced perspective or is triggered/affected by it then as long as they tag their content properly then you can unfollow, block and move on. i have a habit of following and reblogging people's works before looking at their bios and before i know it find myself having to choose between two sides i don't belong to and i frankly don't want to! anti this or proship that- in this online era you have to adapt by keeping your cool and curating your own online experience and viewing people in black and whites is stressful, painful and dangerous for everyone involved. i don't even reblog the content you probably have a problem with, and i'm honestly still scared of the response i'll get-

i will not blame or hate whoever unfollows or blocks me for this, it's to be expected, but please don't think about it like some bad vs good guys dilemma? sometimes thought provoking morally grey ambiguous stories with messed up characters spark more positive discussion and healing than people looking into it because they suffer from the same delusions and want a justification-

like realistically, in my blog, most ppl here are basically shipping two literal skeletons with magic in their bones who are sometimes almost the exact copy of one another, and who theoretically have a very similar dna, and sometimes they make shipkids, which, if you know anything about *ncest, is one of the main reasons why you shouldn't bang your siblings - mostly from a moral standpoint because that's so gross i can't even think of it, but also because any offspring would suffer greatly from physical and mental diseases hidden in their genetic code- like. you could argue it's not the same but it's sancest for a reason. and even when they're widely different sanses, you wouldn't think fell x sans is wrong (at least in this specific community) but really we've all just gotten numb to how weird that sounds. trust me, there's a reason we don't talk about our ships to outsiders HHH

TL,DR: so while i greatly encourage you to block people and content you don't want to see/associate with, including me! i hope i made it clear why i, personally, don't care about dreammare and whoever ships it.

#thank you to anyone who made it this far and gave me a chance to voice my opinion :') #sorry this is long but i want to make it as precise and close as many holes as i can with my arguments before i receive an ask about it #it's fine if you do btw i wanna clear any doubts and i know for a fact a loot of you will either leave or be conflicted and trust me i know #it's the whole reason why i was avoiding this conversation! i kept on hoping everyone was on the same page but we're not and that's okay #truthfully i can only hope that the people who'll leave this blog after this take the opportunity to question the fics and media they like #-in the future. don't force yourself to enjoy something you don't but nothing is as cut to the point as 'this is gross stop talking' #for the record you won't see me reblog any dreammare or anything about it because i don't even like them like that so why would i HHH #also i'm sorry but zu is quite frankly the sweetest person i've ever met and frog has been supporting ME for as long as i can remember!! #they're such a big part of this blog and the reason for it's existence so i'll choose them and my principles over faking a view i don't hav #have an amazing day everyone and thanks again for passing by muah muah :'D <333

[whentherewerebicycles]

a bunch of people have already registered for my mentoring workshop! unfortunately this means i have to plan and host a workshop aaaaaa

#i want to think aloud through it on here at some point #but i think i am going to structure it around the theme of cultivating student autonomy #because i think one of the primary goals of mentorship is to prepare students to be self-directed learners who can set realistic goals + #evaluate their own progress + reflect on what they've learned and what they still don't know #+ take initiative without sitting around waiting for someone to tell them what to do next #so i think we will do some thinking around like #when we have a student we think of as really capable or driven what qualities and behaviors do we observe in that student #and maybe ill also share some of the research on intrinsic motivation + self-direction + locus of control #which i think is all really interesting esp in light of the contemporary College Mental Health Crisis concerns #and then we will look at a range of tools + structures + strategies that i think are useful for fostering student autonomy over time #and maybe leave them with some core principles/guiding values that i think are useful when you are trying to like #avoid jumping in and doing stuff for kids #or solving their problems for them #idk i need to think through specifics a bit more #but i feel like on this campus #people do a lot of 'workshops' that are really not interactive at all #it's just someone talking from slides #and i kind of want to show off my ability to structure more engaging workshops #but idk. gotta think about how to do it well #and how to build in lots of opportunities for like crowdsourcing strategies too