dock sides

Valentines Day Dates with the crows

Kaz & Inej:
- Kaz leaves a note by Inej’s bed before she gets up with a note that says Come to the rooftop. It is not signed, but she could pick out his handwriting 
- He has a bundle of black roses for her. Inej does not know where they came from. Ketterdam flower shops did not sell black roses.
- She gives him a knife, not unlike her own. For some reason he still uses the knife he ever had as a child. He smiles at her
- He still calls her wraith, but there is something different in his voice, love perhaps
- They sit and talk quietly, watching the sun rise over the harbor, and they watch the couples wander around Ketterdam
- Kaz occasionally attempts to compliment her. The first few times sound…less like compliments but they get better as the day progresses. Nonetheless he is still an awkward teenage boy in the end
- After a few hours they get down and wander the shadows of Ketterdam
- They end up at the docks on the richer side of Ketterdam. Kaz tentatively puts his gloved hand in Inej’s as if to test it out. She smiles at him
- They eat mediocre noodles and drink hot chocolate at a small restaurant in the South end of town. It had been one of the first places he had shown her when she arrived in Ketterdam.
- The two continue to wander around, looking into the windows of random shops, and reminiscing about little moments they had together, such as Kaz showing Inej where the generous shopkeepers were, or Inej showing a grudging Kaz how to braid
- When they get back to Crow Club he stops her and pulls out a small object wrapped in a red handkerchief. It’s an obsidian crow necklace
- Kaz pulls down his shirt to reveal a matching necklace. Inej can’t help but smile. Tentatively, she hugs him. He hugs back, but immediately lets go. She doesn’t push it she respects his boundaries
- They end up on the roof, eating the Crow Club’s signature bread and end the day with a shot of expensive whiskey. Inej rarely drinks,  except when with Kaz. The flowers sit on Inej’s bedside table. 

Wylan & Jesper:
 -  So much food oh my god
- Both ended up getting one another chocolate
- Wylan got Jesper a box of the fancy chocolates he used to have as a child, because he wanted Jesper to know more of his life than just the trauma he went through
- Jesper had somehow managed to hand craft a flute out of dark chocolate for Wylan
- The walk downtown and hold hands the entire time and casually joke about buying each other stupid little trinkets
- They go to a nearby bakery and each other boxes of pastries they think the other will like
- The pastries turn into their lunch
- Wylan has a fancy dinner prepared for them at his manor, with a hearty selection of meats and liquor for both of them to choose from.
- In the middle of dinner, Jesper pulls out a box. He gives it to Wylan. Inside is a ring with the Van Eck family crest on it.
- “This is yours, it belongs to the firstborn Van Eck of each generation” he tells Wylan, “I nicked it back before you showed up, figured Van Eck would want it back but no, it’s my honor to give to you, my prince”
- Cue Wylan blushing and almost crying
- Jesper learns Wylan’s alcohol tolerance is incredibly low
- They slow dance in the main hall, which is decked out in  
- They cuddle together on the couch. Wylan eventually passes out in Jesper’s arms.
- When he wakes up, Jesper carries Wylan up to the balcony, stopping along the way to allow Wylan to throw up. He smiles sympathetically. He himself had been in that position many times
- They sit on the balcony and watch the stars. There is a shooting star. Wylan leans over and kisses Jesper as it passes.

Nina & Matthias:
- Matthias had never celebrated Valentines Day in Fjerdia so Nina insists on going all out
- She buys him pink and white roses and some “inexplicably” end up braided into his hair. There is also a yellow tulip in the mix. Matthias assumes it got there by accident
- Nina constantly flirts with Matthias
- He responds by grumbling, blushing, and “grudgingly” saying I love you
- They go out for waffles. Matthias is initially reluctant to indulge himself but eventually caved in and ate double the amount Nina did
- The two teasing one another about coffee orders(Matthias takes his black and Nina thinks it’s disgusting, but she takes it with plenty of hazelnut creamer and sugar and he thinks it’s the devil’s semen)
- Nina wants to take him out to dinner.
- While Nina is prepping to go out, Matthias finds a small bakery and buys Nina a giant box of moon cakes.
- Matthias is in a midnight blue suit and a black tie that Nina tailored for him as a gift. It compliments his hair well
- Nina is in a gorgeous red and white silk dress
- Dinner turned out to be a nice upscale bar with plenty of good food and mead
- Both get drunk
- Nina also manages to go through 7 margaritas
- Somehow Nina convinces Matthias to sing Karaoke with her
- It turns out he can sing, quite well. Everyone is surprised. Nina is absolutely in love. 
- They sit at a booth in the corner of the bar with plate of various appetizers sobering up a little
- After a few hours, the two begin to head back to Crow Club. Halfway there, Nina stops and stares at the moonlight glistening off the water. It is beautiful
- Matthias leans in and kisses her. They kiss under the moonlight before heading back, hand in hand.
- They immediately pass out in Matthias’ bed once they return. Everyone else, save for the few, lonely drunks, was long asleep.

Rookie Season

Blindspot fanfic. Set somewhere in the time period between the end of Sandstorm and Jane taking up mountain climbing.

I have no idea what this is or where it came from. Welcome to my subconscious, sorry for the mess.

Jane got shot exactly 7 days after joining CIRG as a full Special Agent, and 10 days after graduating from Quantico.

Not that it really qualified as a bullet wound, she decided, eyeing the scratch on the outside of her left arm critically. 

The dock around her was a buzz of activity, now that the drug traffickers had been subdued and their FBI backup had finally shown up to haul the surviving members into custody.

“You okay?” asked Tasha, breathless after dashing across the dock to her side.

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Indiana Jones and the Hand of Vecna

Images for a 1930s based fantasy setting:

Gnomes in oily overalls tending to a sleek steam train.

An orcish professor with bushy sideburns and a tweed jacket is asked for his papers by elvish soldiers with rifles and jackboots.

Elven “art nouveau fascist” as an aesthetic.  Curly stylised trees in bold red-white-and-black.

A dwarven zeppelin pulling in to a giant art deco zeppelin dock carved into the side a of snow-capped mountain.  Dwarves queue up in their finest furs for the trip while a team of conjuration engineers do routine safety inspections on the warded balloons that keep the air elementals contained.

A half-elf P.I. huddling into her trenchcoat as the tiefling mob boss tells her “the devil always keeps his promises” from the other end of a tommy gun.

Originally posted by depplovers

Prompt: “Frankly, my dear, I do give a damn.”
Pairing: With Jack Sparrow
(Note 1: I always do all my reader-insert with a female reader. So, I’m sorry…)(Note 2: You can request a prompt here but there’s only a 50% chance I’m actually gonna do it. No smut or NSFW, please. That’s not my thing.)


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Fireworks - Smut

Originally posted by miscinterests

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Paring: Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Words: 2,972
A/N: Anon requested Stiles fluff turned smut so here ya go! Have a safe and happy 4th of July!!

It was the morning of July 4th and you were a ball of nervous energy. Stiles Stilinski had asked you to “hang out” with him that night, and you were kind of excited. You’d been friends with him a long time, and your ‘more than friendly’ feelings for him had never exactly been a secret. But you’d never really spent time alone with him. Someone else from the pack was always around. This time, however, it was just going to be the two of you. It had been so adorable when he’d asked you. He had stuttered and blushed, telling you he knew a really good spot where you would be able to catch the fireworks show the county had planned. You had accepted right away, hoping you didn’t come off as desperate. He was coming to pick you up around 6, and you glanced at the clock nervously. It was only 12:30. You sighed and flopped back on your bed. What were you going to do for the rest of the day?

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Eddie Vedder Quotes

  • “When it comes to grunge or even just Seattle, I think there was one band that made the definitive music of the time. It wasn’t us or Nirvana, but Mudhoney were the band of that time and sound.“
  • “The best revenge is to live on and prove yourself.“
  • “The love received is the love that is saved.“
  • “It’s an art to live with pain…mix the light into gray.“
  • “I think music is the greatest art form that exists, and I think people listen to music for different reasons, and it serves different purposes. Some of it is background music, and some of it is things that might affect a person’s say, if not their life, or change an attitude. The best songs are the ones that make you feel something.“
  • “Life moves fast. As much as you can learn from your history, you have to move forward.“
  • “You know, punk bands now sell with one record-their first or second record-sell 10 times the amount of records than the Ramones did throughout their career with 20-something records. That’s why I go over to Johnny Ramone’s house and do yard work three times a week, just to absolve some of the guilt.“
  • “Music was your real passion, this thing you held dear even above family. It was this relationship that never betrayed you. Once it became your job-this thing that was highly visible, this thing that became about commerce-that’s when you were holding onto music like it was a palm tree in a hurricane.“
  • “I probably get strangers coming up to me two or three times a week to just say something nice. I get more than my share of compliments as I walk through my daily life. I’m not having to show off or make a point about how good I am at doing something. I think I’ve always kind of been that way.“
  • “Sometimes, whether you like it or not, people elevate you. It’s real easy to fall.“
  • “I don’t need drugs to make my life tragic.“
  • “Playing music for as long as I had been playing music and then getting a shot a making a record and at having an audience and stuff, it’s just like an untamed force…a different kind of energy.“
  • “After the Ramones, it was more about new wave for me than punk.“
  • “Whatever your walk of life is, I think you have to be real about it.“
  • “You know, rock stardom…I have a hard time discussing that because I don’t really accept it. It’s not really that tangible. What’s really bizarre is how it’s used as a thing-you know, ‘He’s the rock star of politics,’ ‘He’s the rock star of quarterbacks’-like it’s the greatest thing in the world.“
  • “I think celebrities suck“
  • “Caffeine. The gateway drug.“
  • “It’s not a bad time to be me.“
  • “If it’s a good cause, I’ll play just about anything.“
  • “At a certain point, you realize you have a responsibility more behind yourself and your need for adrenaline. I’m glad I did things in my 20s that were more reckless.“
  • “I’m trying to break any chain of negative parenting that I might have survived.“
  • “I think that if your approach is one where you don’t want to alienate anybody, you’re going to have to soften the viewpoint or the information that you’re offering to such an extent that it doesn’t have the power to make any difference. You have to take that risk.“
  • “As far as viewpoints, I think I’m more well-rounded and definitely more educated, and probably more hopeful than I used to be. I think when you’re young and you get into a cause, you get frustrated with it within a few years, or six months.“
  • “It’s fun singing with other people who are really good singers. There’s something kind of poignant about braiding a couple vocals.“
  • “I just finished touring, and I’m on a detox thing. It’s a heavy detox, so nothing in my belly except water, salt, and cayenne pepper.“
  • “There’s been times when I’ve been standing in a line at a movie and someone’s hit me with something really heavy about someone really close and how our music has helped them get through it. Even in our darkest moments we try and find something beautiful.“
  • “So my one kid’s 4, my other kid’s 4 months, I’m 44, Barack Obama is the 44th president-it’s all lining up nicely here.“
  • “I just have this deep connection of reality being like…in a way, I feel like a dock worker. I want to stay in connection with my dock-worker side, ‘cause that’s how I grew up.“
  • “you can go down the list of great artists and kind of understand that they are products of their environment. Whether it’s U2 or Henry Rollins or myself or Johnny Lydon, they’re gonna be products of their environment. Whether it’s U2 or Henry Rollins or myself or Johnny Lydon, they’re gonna be products of their environment.“
  • “Our influences are who we are. It’s rare that anything is an absolutely pure vision; even Daniel Johnston sounds like the Beatles. And that’s the problem with the bands I’m always asked about, the ones derivative of the early Seattle sound. They don’t dilute their influences enough.“
  • “I’ve never been a calm, midrange type person.“
  • “I was living on the wrong side of the tracks in Evanston, Illinois, in a home for boys. We had these Jackson 5 records. I really related to their voices-they were about my age, but they were doing it.“
  • “People on death row, the treatment of animals, women’s right to choose. So much in America is based on religious fundamentalist Christianity. Grow up! This is the modern world!“
  • “you don’t love me. If you really knew me, you wouldn’t love me. You love who you think I am. And don’t pretend that you know me. Because I don’t even know myself.“
  • “I don’t question our existence, I just question our modern needs.“
  • “I don’t wanna think, I wanna FEEL.“
  • “ When you’re inside and you have no control and when you’re the 14-year-old version of Frances Farmer, you know, you have reasons to be angry. You have reasons to be angry when your parents, who are very sheltered themselves, make decisions as to what you should experience in your life and what’s normal and what’s not.“

enigmatic-elegance  asked:

Random writing prompt! You don't need to do it, but might be fun: I want to see Batman rook. Even if she may be going that way already. Show me Rook as a criminal vigilante!

So like…..Rook isn’t Batman. Actually. No. I take it back She is. Which is why @autumnal-eclipse is freaking Catwoman. (minus the off-again/on-again romance.)

Anyway, STORY TIME. This is currently a what-if. could happen in the future, could just be 


The shipment was moving into a small dock on the northern side of the Wetlands with five goblins accompanying the packages. The ship had 35 members on the ship, mostly former addicts who were serving time in hopes of getting their fix. While the ship was unlabeled, the presence of a certain vial symbol on the crates would reveal this to be a shipment from the Kabal. It appears that Don Han’cho had made a series of explosives that, if allowed into the right hands, could seriously impact the sewers of Stormwind.

Originally posted by gabedonohoe

Unfortunately, as the ship arrived, the docks were eerily quiet. The captain, a wizened former employee of the Bilgewater Cartel with an eyepatch scanned the docks, looking for the contact, a local Tauren. No sign in the dark night.

He looks toward his first mate. “…..We’re no’ early, righ’?”

The first mate shook his head. “Nope, boss. In fac’, we’re only 3 minutes ovah. Shoulda been somebodeh here.”

The captain looked worried, his hand idling near the handgun hanging from his belt. “….Search tha docks. If ya ain’t see anyone, we’ll ‘ead back, find another delivery person.”

The first mate nodded before drawing his crossbow and signalling for two of the goblins on the ship to follow him onto the dock.

The captain watched from his viewpoint, more on edge. He was used to trouble occasionally brewing, but not like this. This was unusually clean.

“Boss? No sign o’ anything. No bodies. Nobody. Nothin’. Shall we-” Suddenly a gunshot rang out across the dock. “What was that?!?! I….boss. We ain’t alone, boss.”

“Get back here, then! We’re shipping out.”

“Aye, aye boss. I-” Suddenly the comm would clatter on the ground, sending a ringing noise through the comm and the commander to hiss under his breath.

“Get this ship goin’! Ain’t worth our lives.” As he says so, a projectile of Light would fly out of the darkness and strike the mast, splintering it significantly with explosive force.

This was followed by a Goblin, one of the first mate’s counterparts, running for the ship. “Boss! Get tha-” Suddenly something whizzes through the air and removes the goblin’s head, the cold limp body dropping to the ground.

The captain’s eyes widen as the object whizzes by and returns to what appears to be a dark figure in a metallic cloak, clawed fingers surrounding the handle of the blade. The armor seems to resemble that of Maiev, except for the dark blue shade and the bright blue eyes. 

Originally posted by zillvs

The captain aims their pistol at the individual. “don’t move!”

The helmed figure cocks their head to the side, almost seeming amused despite the featureless helm. It quickly moves toward the target, the plate-like armor barely slowing her down. 

The captain would quickly unload his firearm at the target, but the bullets barely puncture the armor, pinging off in various direction. Another goblin would attempt to aim a rocket launcher at the target. As the rocket flew toward her, she would ‘blink’ out of existence, only to reappear in front of the goblin and ram a metallic boot into their features.

As she does, one of the dwarvish members aims a rather nasty shotgun at the ‘Warden’, looking for a chance to fire buckshot inbetween the plates. Unfortunately, an arrow pierced the upper arm and exploded, leaving a rather bloody stump and a chance for the warden to shoulder check them into the side of the boat. 

The next few moments were spent in such a fashion, as the members on the top of the deck attempt to assail the woman who wears plate like a cloak, only to love limbs, legs, lives.

At this point, the captain has officially shit himself and is attempting to get below deck, where the rest of his men are, but his Wormhole generator. 

Unfortunately, before the goblin can get through the first doorstep, a clawed gloved claw grabs the back of his shirt and drags him toward the glowing blue helm.

“Planning on leaving? I hope not. I was hoping for a chat.” The voice was heavily distorted, and yet not even a thousand digitizers could hide the millennia of authority layering her voice. The goblin yelps and reflexively swipes at the woman’s helm, only for it to break on there. “I-I-I-I-” He was a gibbering mess. 

The elvish huntress’ gaze bores into him. “Not a conversational partner I see. Well. you can still deliver a message for me.”


At Grimy Goons headquarters, a portal would open, and an unconscious goblin would be tossed through. He was in terrible shape, but a note was attached. It read 

“Send shipments like this to the Alliance again, and I will make a personal visit. -Artemis”


The next day, Dwarvish investigators found the ship abandoned. 12 dead via either arrows to the body, bleeding out or , 22 locked below due to a sealed door, and a note attached to the ship wheel.

“Weapons destroyed. All members chargable with smuggling or assault, according to Loch Modan statute 23.2. Do with what you will. A+E”


The Warden-esque figure wipes her blade off before looking over to Eclipse. “….Think that will send the message?”

Eclipse cough-laughs. “Maybe….or it will just get them to act again. They’ll want blood now

“Good. I’ll provide plenty…of theirs.” 

With that, the Warden would sheathe the moon blade. “Get back to the temple, Eclipse. You’re late for your next sermon.”

THe elf freaks out a little before nodding. “I will…I……see you there?”

“Doubtful. I have questions for some people. And I’m sure Masnira will want to revel in stopping opposition”

“….Of course. Good luck, R-Artemis.”

“…Goddess protect.”

And with that, the Warden blinks out of view, leaving Eclipse, the former agent, current vigilante alone to use her hearthstone to get back to Darnassus quickly.


(there, @enigmatic-elegance! Now, two notes. First off, the game never establishes the armor style of Wardens, but I suspect plate based on design. but it could be leather. Second, in this scenario, Rook has left the agency and brought the vigilante she trained with her. She would also be maintaining an information brokerage, but certain assignments, like this one, would require her personal touch. any questions?)

A Wizard’s Misgivings: Chapter 2

click here for the masterlist and here for chapter three

summary: Dan Howell’s entire family has been in Slytherin, and there’s no doubt he’d supposed to end up there too. Phil Lester does’t exactly know what to do when he finds himself liking boys, so he’s usually just horrendously mean to them.

word count (for this chapter): 3.5k

tw: phil swears, dan kind of almost drowns but hes never in real danger

edit: CHECK OUT THIS AMAZING ART BY @vegapancakes (after you read the chapter bc spoilers)

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continued from ( x )

It was at the sound of saccharine sweet words said in polite manner that pulled her attention from her children to the owner of the ship which they currently occupied. Arms fell over her chest in an attempt to hide the fact that she was out in public with no support for her breasts, though the gown was tailored well enough to fit her curves that it was noticeable from well away.

❝ I’d be grateful if you could help us, ❞ Lisa answered before demanding her kids to come down from the ship in a demanding voice only a mother could possess. Within moments, bare feet thumped against the plank and came to a stop beside her mother, both girls dressed in oversized night gowns.

Surely by clothes alone the lady pirate could see they were far from home and completely out of place on the docks of this side of town.

❝ It seems as if we’ve been taken from our home, ❞ Lisa’s hand pressed against her forehead as an impending headache rumbled behind her eyes,  ❝ Where are we exactly? ❞

anjelleshadow  asked:

Sabo - Zinnia :'D

Zinnia- Memories

“Remember when…?” Sabo is always asking now that they have met again.

Luffy starts asking back, “Remember when…?” after not too long. They turn it into a game, trying to be the first to mention all the obscure memories, all the obvious memories, all the good memories and all the bad.

“Remember when we shared sake cups?”

“Remember when we fought that giant tiger?”

“Remember when Ace had his first narcolepsy attack?”

“Remember when Porchemy thought you would rat us out?”

One day Luffy and Sabo are playing the Remember When game, when Luffy says without thinking, “Remember when Ace went out to sea?”

It isn’t until Sabo’s grin drops, face overtaken by surprise, that Luffy realises Sabo wouldn’t remember it because he wasn’t there for it.

Luffy’s about to apologise and take it back and ask a different Remember When, but then Sabo’s lips quirk up shakily and he says, “I don’t. Remind me?”

Luffy blinks, but then he gets it and he grins. And he tells Sabo all about how he and Ace ran all the way to the docks side by side, laughing the whole way, and how Ace climbed in the boat and waved-waved-waved all the way to the horizon, and how Dadan didn’t stop crying for a week!

At the end, Sabo is grinning even bigger than he had been before. He asks, “Remember when I met Koala?”

Luffy laughs and laughs and grins and says, “Remind me?”

hc that Tim is constantly misplacing his notes and such, so he’s always jotting things down on his hands, but he only writes down key words/numbers/phrases or even little pictures and it’s honestly like a code that only he understands?

“Tim,” Bruce glanced at his son who stood beside him going over some files, “did you get the location of where the next weapons shipment is coming in?”

Tim nodded absently, his brow furrowed in concentration as his eyes flickered back and forth over the material. Bruce waited -a little impatiently- for the kid to give him the intel. Tim finally shifted, sticking his hand out in front of Bruce’s face.

“Uhm…” Bruce leaned back slightly, staring blankly at the jumble of scribbles all over Tim’s palm. “I don’t know–”

“East-side docks, warehouse number eight, at 3:25A.M.” Tim murmured, flipping a page in his file. Bruce looked at him, then at his hand, and back, before rolling his eyes and typing down the information.

literally all of this is @killianswench‘s fault. this is the longest one shot I’ve ever written (almost 12k, dear God, how) and I had such a fun time doing it. massive love to my cupcake @high-seas-swan for saving this from becoming a Hot Mess. 
modern lt. duckling based off of this perfect graphic.

worth the risk, worth the guarantee.
ao3 | ff

“How many of these do you even have?” Emma asks, poking at the side of his combat boot with the toe of her Converse.

He doesn’t need to see her to know she’s smirking. He doesn’t even need to take his eyes off the fretboard to shift his legs so that he’s managed to trap her foot in between the two of his own. She makes a small sound of annoyance but it’s all he gets in retaliation and he quietly thanks any deity listening that she’s in a good mood today. He doesn’t think he can handle more bruises on his legs, if he’s honest.

“You very well know I only own one pair, Swan.”

“How do they always look so clean?”

He glances up at her shoes, the sides of which are dirt ridden, a stain on the shoelace which could be from the ketchup she spilled on the floor two weeks ago. “I clean them,” he gives her a pointed look before adding, “unlike some people.”

He’s known Emma for the better part of his life. (And really, it’s been better because she’s been in it, as cheesy as that makes him sound.) They’d moved to Storybrooke in early October, four suitcases between his mom, Liam and him. He didn’t understand much of it at the time, but they told him it was for the best, that they were going to make a new life here. Emma had been his first - and for a long time, his only - friend in school, had for some reason chosen him to spend her days with and been practically glued to his side since. Not that he’s complaining. When you’re five years old and a cute blonde in pigtails holds your hand to tug you to the slide, it’s not something you fuss about.

And when said cute blonde turns out to be a spitfire of a teenager who’s one of the most important people in your life, that’s when you start believing in miracles.

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can you write an imagine where the reader and reid’s kid gets kidnapped by an unsub and they basically team up and go full mama-bear-over-protective mode and kick the crap out of the unsub and save their child?

Consider this done!  But before you continue…this is formulated just like any other angsty case story, complete with one-on-one insight between the child and the unsub.  Please proceed with caution.

Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!

“But Hotch-!”

Holding his hand up as your face flickers between your boss and the television screen, Spencer finally comes back to reality as he steps in between you and Hotch, his face stern and his eyes cold.

“You want us off this case?  You’ll have to kill us,” he growls.

“The two of you are too emotionally compromised-”

“Of course we are!  That’s our son up there!”

Motioning to the screen, the video being stilled on your frightened son’s face, your clenched fists begin to tremble as tears well in your eyes.

“The unsub has made this personal,” you say as Spencer continues to stare down Hotch, “Up until this point, it’s been all girls he’s taken.  All the girls he believes he has fathered, He’s challenging us because he knows we are on to him.  Let us play his game,” you reason.

“And we will find him,” Spencer adds, “whether we do it under your command or whether we skirt around in the shadows.”

Slipping your hand into Spencer’s as Hotch toggles between the both of you, Morgan finally steps in from the sidelines and puts his hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

“We’re wasting time, boss.  Your godson’s in danger.”


“You hungry, boy?”

As little Dale looks up from his teary-eyed stare, he focuses in on the man in front of him as he slowly shakes his head.

Remember, never eat food a stranger gives you.

As your voice echoes in his head, your son can’t help but wince at the hunger pangs raging through his abdomen.

“Come on,” the unsub coos, “Just a little bite?”

As the scary man holds out a bite of a sandwich, Dale’s little lip starts to quiver as he shuts his eyes, tears running down his cheek as he swallows hard.

“No, thank you,” he squeaks.

Always be polite, no matter how someone treats you.

As his father’s voice echoes in his head again, he yelps as a burning sensation peaks on his cheek as his body goes careening to the ground.

Crying as he curls up in the floor, he feels his overly stretched bladder finally give way, his pants soaking themselves in his urine as he cries into his arm.

“Fucking mess,” the unsub growls as he opens the door to the cell, “Fucking ANIMALS!”

And as the unsub slames the cage door shut, with little Dale curled up in the corner, hungry and dehydrated, he cries out softly for his mom and his dad, hoping that their voices echoing in his head will still ring true.

And no matter where you are in this world, your father and I will always come for you.


“He was in his home, and now that he’s strayed from his path we can assume he is emotionally and mentally broken,” Rossi states.

“Or maybe he’s just playing the game better,” Spencer offers as his voice wavers.

“No, sweetheart,” you coo as you grab his hand, “look at the video.”

“I don’t want to look at that damn video another second,” he whimpers.

“Then close your eyes and recall it,” you say as you cup his cheeks within your palms.

As Spencer closes his eyes, your thumbs running themselves across his tear-stained cheeks, you take a deep breath as you begin to walk him through the video.

“Alright, now…remember the last video of the little girl that we got?” you ask.

Feeling him nod his head, you sigh.

“Remember how steady the picture was?  Almost as if it were on a tripod, until the very last scene where he would turn to cut the camera off, giving us a glimpse of his face?” you prod.

Watching his lip quiver killed a part of you inside.

“Remember how his voice was steady…like an even drone?” you whisper.

As a tear leaks out from under Spencer’s eye, you sqipe it away with your thumb as your legs begin to lock up.

“Now, recall Dale’s video,” you command.

Watching Spencer’s reddened eyes fly open, he turns his head towards the team as he begins rattling off differences.

“There was no turn at the end.  You know, the video just stopped!”

As your colleagues look on him in confusion, he takes a deep breath and gets himself going again.

“The video just stopped!  See?…which means he probably did have it on a tripod this time.  We can’t be for sure, but if he did it means his hands are no longer steady enough to hold the camera.  Coupled with the fact that his voice was wavering and emotional, not like the drone we are so accustomed to hearing with this case, and the fact that he actually allowed Dale to speak to us…i-i-it wasn’t a taunt!” he exclaims.

“It was a breakdown in his ability to ground himself in reality,” Hotch finishes.

As his optimistic glance pans over to Hotch, his face slowly drops as the realization that you had concluded before the video was even over finally hits him.

“We have to go…we-we…we have to go now!” he yells as he scrambles for his stuff.

Running for the door as your teary-eyed face follows his desperate and shaking body, he holds his arms out as his eyes widen.

“Well!?” he yelps.

“Spencer, we don’t-”

Shaking your head as your whole body gives way, your knees come out from under you as Spencer lunges, his arms wrapping around you as you sob into the crook of his neck.

“See, this is why we’re so good together, Y/N,” he murmurs into your hair as he strokes your back, “You keep my mind grounded when emotion wipes my intelligence.”

“We don’t know where he is,” you sob, your entire body giving way to your pent up fears and frustrations.

“But I do,” he whispers, “See, when you can get my to ground my intelligence, I’m an unstoppable force.”

Looking up at him as he smiles back down at you, he kisses your forehead and whispers, “And you are my immovable object.”

“Where do we need to go, Reid?” Hotch asks.

“The warehouse docks on the north side of town.  Come on.”

And as Spencer helps you to your feet, his knuckles wiping away at your tears, you reach for your gun and coat as you throw it around your shoulders, following your unstoppable force at the heel as you grit your teeth.

I’m coming for you, Dale.


Yelping as the unsub grabs little Dale by his hair, his father’s voice echoes in his head again.

Never fight against someone stronger than you.  Let your body move as it should.  Eventually you will have your turn.

Whimpering as he starts screaming at the man, the unsub grabs his arm and wrenches him towards his face.

“Your parents may be smart, but I’m ruthless,” he growls as he picks the gun up off of the desk in the room.

As Dale’s eyes grow wide with fear, a small whimper escaping his lips, the unsub wheels back around as he takes the boy firmly around his neck, hoisting him off of his feet.

As Dale begins to thrash and scream, the unsub drops him to the ground.  Standing to his feet, Dale picks up his tiny little foot and stomps down on the unsub’s toe as he balls up his tiny little fist and jams it into his groin.

As the unsub groans and buckles over, Dale takes off for the door, throwing it open as he scurries up the stairs.

“FBI!  Come out with yo-”

“Morgan!” Dale squeals.

“Oh my god, Dale!” Morgan roars as he holsters his gun and charges the little boy.

“Are you alright?” he asks as he takes a good look at the boy, seeing the swollen eye and the marks around his neck and arm.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he says as he takes the crying boy in his arms.


Hearing you yell from the end of the hallway, Spencer and you drop your guns and go careening towards Morgan and Dale as Morgan sets the little boy on his feet, his tiny, spindly arms outstretched for his mother and father.

But as the child runs closer to his parents, his face burying into your bosom as you wrap your arms tight around him, you feel your blood begin to boil as Spencer places kisses on his head.

“Baby?  What’s-?”

Pulling your son back as you survey his face, Spencer’s jaw unhinging as his face reddens with anger, the two of you look at each other as Morgan comes trotting up beside the three of you.

Placing your hands on your knees as you shoot up from the ground, you feel Dale slip his hand into yours as he whines for you not to leave.

“I’ll just be right back, honey,” you coo, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Stay with him,” Spencer commands of Morgan as the two of you stride down the hallway, your bullet proof vests clattering to the ground as Hotch runs up behind you all.

“Where are they going!?” Hotch breathes.

And all Morgan had to do was motion to Dale.

“Oh, no…” Hotch mutters as he hears a door burst open down the hallway.

“Mr. Buster!” you exclaim, your arms outstretched in a taunting manner as the man rears back with his filthy smile, “How nice of you to join us,” you threaten.

“And here we are,” the unsub says, his stature standing tall at a whopping 6 foot 3 inchs.

“You hurt my son,” Spencer growls.

“He pee’d on my floor,” the unsub shrugs, sloppily motioning to the cage as your eyes fall upon the shackle hooked to the floor.

And that’s all it took.

“Toooop!” you yell as you begin running towards the man, your legs heaving you off of the ground just as Spencer goes diving under you, his legs kicking out and around the back of his legs just as your chest careens into the man’s face.

Feeling yourself hit the ground, the unsub’s nose cracking under the weight of your body dropping on his face, you feel Spencer scramble as you straddle his chest, your fist rearing back as he connects with his face.

“That one’s for his eye!” you yell.

Feeling Spencer wrench the man to his feet as your body goes toppling off of him, you hear another crack as Spencer roars, “And this one’s for his neck!”

“This one’s for his arm!” you yell, cracking the heel of your foot into the middle of his back as he groans, hitting his knees as he plants his hands onto the ground.

“And this one’s for all of the little girls who you thought were yours,” you hiss, rearing your foot back and cracking him so hard in his stomach that he sputters blood as he coughs for air.

You were just pissed off because the sperm donor center called and told you your samples were worthless,” Spencer says as he grabs the man’s hair and careens his head back to look at him.

“Well, guess what?” Spencer spits.

“You are,” you finish as your fist cracks across his temple, knocking him unconscious as Spencer drops his head to the ground.

Huffing and puffing as your haggard bodies turn towards the door, you see Hotch leaning up against the frame of the door with his eyes closed.

“Am I good to open them?” he asks.


“Mom!  Dad!”

As you see your son jumping off of the back of the ambulance, his small frame running towards the two of you as fast as his little feet will take him, the two of you drop to your knees and outstretch your arms for him as he barrels into the two of you, throwing an arm around each other your necks as you and Spencer bury your faces into him.

“I knew you would come!” he exclaims as he smiles into the two of you, your trembling arms holding him close as the two of you silently sob into his bruised and battered frame.

“We will always come,” Spencer says as his voice wavers, his hand gliding over Dale’s face as he pushes his massive head of hair back from his eyes.

“Always,” you whisper as your thumb lightly swipes over the bruise on his cheek.

“Mom?  Can we go home now?” Dale asks, his eyes big and pleading.

“You know I never could resist those puppy dog eyes,” you say as you smirk towards Spencer.

“Under one condition,” Spencer says as he holds up his finger.

“Ice cream is involved,” Spencer states.

“Ooooh, yeah!” Dale yells as he throws his arms around his dad.

“Can I get chocolate!?” he yelps.

“Yes, you can,” you say as you stand to your feet, helping Dale onto his father’s shoulders as the two of you turn back towards the team.

“And could I get sprinkles?  Oo!  And could I get it in a waffle bowl!?” Dale rattles off.

And as a chuckle rises from your throat and leaves your lips, you reach your hand up as Dale places his tiny hand in yours, your graceful fingers curling around his entire hand as you find yourself saying, “You can have anything you want.”

The Stowaway (Closed Starter for khanfanrp)

Cat leaned against the wall of the narrow alley. She’d lost her sunglasses, and now, with her yellow-green feline eyes making her mutation obvious, she just couldn’t afford to be seen. The streets were still too crowded. Most people wouldn’t notice if she kept her eyes downcast, but a few would. A few always did, and out of the few, at least one would be willing to start something, and…it wasn’t that she couldn’t defend herself. She could defend herself exceedingly well. But that would only make it worse. Someone would get an image or a vid of it, and there would be another “dangerous mutation.”

No one knew why the mutations had started, people born different, with strange powers. They were a young colony planet, barely getting on their feet. Was it something in the atmosphere, the water, the soil? Scientists were searching, but it didn’t much matter to her. What mattered was that she was one of them, and people didn’t much like mutations. So she would wait until just before dusk, when the streets were clear. After dark was even more dangerous. Her eyes glowed green in the moonlight like an Earth cat’s.

It was while she was waiting that she caught the scent. She couldn’t place it. Human, male, lavender soap, calm demeanor. But something underneath it. Different. She could sometimes scent other mutations, but then it was usually obvious, someone with fur or something like that. This…she didn’t know what it was.

She leaned out from where she was hiding and watched the man pass. He looked ordinary, a bit tall, dark brown hair. Perhaps he walked a bit quicker, more purposeful that the rest of the people strolling down the way. But that was it. Different. She slipped out of the alley and followed, keeping behind, moving almost silently. It was something she was good at. She could track him mostly by smell without getting close enough to be noticed. He was heading for the docks. That was interesting. Was he from off-world?

It was harder to stay hidden inside the docking bay, but she kept to the shadows, behind the shuttles and smaller craft that lay waiting there. The man was headed for a medium-sized ship, just small enough to be docked planet-side. Was he leaving? Who was he? What was it about him that was just that tiny bit of different, but impossible to place.

She watched him open the airlock and step through, and waited until the last second to sneak through, moving faster than an ordinary human could, hopefully giving herself enough time that he wouldn’t notice her behind him. As soon she was through she hid behind a bulkhead.

She didn’t know who he was, or where he was going, but she couldn’t imagine it wasn’t better than here.


> RICCIN: Lead a dungeon crawl.





HH: [|| I am not reading all of that. ||]

HH: [|| You know I am not reading all of that. ||]

HH: [|| Are they here yet. ||]



OA: three


HH: [|| So. What I’m getting from that is. ||]

HH: [|| They’re not here. ||]

HH: [|| Amazing. Thanks. ||]

HH: [|| Don’t text me again until they arrive. ||]


HH: [|| Do I really have to repeat myself. ||]

HH: [|| What am I thinking. Of course I do. ||]

HH: [|| Leave me alone, Riccin. ||]

HH: [|| If it helps. ||]

HH: [|| Think of it as an order. ||]

There’s nothing left to do but wait.

Liyiji calls this town Lang Kheh. Up north in Temasek, it’s just Southport, because that’s all it was, originally: one long dock along the coast, a docking house for the train and warehouses where they stored the Empress’s goods. Just another stopping point in the long chain of supply that keeps the depots running, and wrigglers too daft to hunt from starving right off.

As far as you’re concerned, that’s all it is now. The hill above is pockmarked with hives, filled with the debris and scars that come from cohorts of trolls living here, but they’re not proper hives, the way you find 'em in the city: they’re clustered, lop-sided, with no uniformity or grace to 'em. Time and sun and salt has worn all the cocoon white, but it’s an ugly place.

If the Empire just razed it, it wouldn’t be a waste. Southport ain’t the sort of place you’d rest your feet at, not willingly, but the fact remains it’s the only place Liyiji’ll dock at anymore, this side of the continent. “People actually know their place in Lang Kheh,” he’d said, droll, but the both of you knew what he really meant. It’s a port town, all caught up with its rail and it’s dock. No one looks twice at a fucker in Southport, just on account of the fact they don’t have the time.

And yet Liyiji’s still hiding in the bilge like a wriggler, stressing over the fact someone unfamiliar might lay eyes on him all the same.

Your boy has got to be the most wretched waste of hue.

At least you won’t remain in this dock forever, wasting away up top while Liyiji molds below. There’s a flash of white among the crowd, and by the time you’re pulling up from your slouch, Pheres has emerged. The two caps atop his rack are shining brilliant pink-and-green in the moon’s light, but for once, he’s wearing something practical: black and grays, with his hair tied back and proper boots instead of sandals. And apart from the caps, not a shred of white at all.

He looks like a proper lowblood. It isn’t a bad look, if you ignore the two strays trailing him like a couple of fleas.

It’s tempting to let him stall in the crowd and see how long it’ll take him to pick out Liyji’s ship. It’s one of the fifty or so docked, but most of these are barges or bigger, not your blue brother’s little skimmer. Still, you haven’t seen Liyiji the entire time you’ve been here, only the bare-faced bastards in the crowd who won’t even throw a look your way. Maybe they would’ve if you’d hollered, but you haven’t. No need to add to Liyiji’s snivelling down below by drawing actual attention to his lot.

Nah. You’re ready to go.

“Fourprongs!” Your psionics can’t stretch as far as to jerk him your way. But luckily, you’ve got a voice that’ll work just as well. Folks are turning to stare at you, the flap-eared ones pricking their ears and the rest just gawking, but you pay 'em no mind. “Dysseu! Get over here!”