interview the neighbor

Don’t we all wish to have such caring friend in our lives?!
Hyesung, who went back home after a long tiring day & found delicious food, cooked by his friend, in front of his door. Eric who knew his friend would be so tried after practicing for his solo concert so he cooked & brought food to his friend & didn’t even forget the dessert. Such soo sweet gesture from Eric to his neighbor ♥♥ really friendship goals.
& even when he’s married, Eric always takes good care of Hyesungie :)) 

@sixpenceee, thought this might interest you. This is a metal structure located in Galveston, Texas, close to the Gulf Of Mexico shoreline, called The Kettle House. Not much is known about it, but it’s believed it was built sometime in the 50s, and for over half a century rumors, myths, and urban legends have swirled around the structure. The owner(s) have never been interviewed and even neighbors know little about the man who erected it.

Locals say that someone shows up and tends to the property occasionally, only to disappear again for years on end. They also say that around the turn of the century, the owner(s) removed the rusty old top of the Kettle and replaced it with a wooden roof. Since then, windows have been replaced, air-conditioning was added, and a mailbox was placed out front, despite the fact that, as far as anyone knows, no one has ever lived in it. Locals believe the improvements were made because the city council intended to tear it down.

Some locals also say strange figures show up late at night from time-to-time, and move about the property, appearing to be working.

3

Images courtesy of the Foxfire Fund, Inc.

The 1,500-mile Appalachian Mountain range stretches so far that those on the northern and southern sides can’t agree on what to call it: Appa-LAY-chia or Appa-LATCH-ia. The outside perspective on the people who live there might be even more mangled. Stories about Appalachia tend to center around subjects like poverty, the opioid epidemic and coal, but since 1966 a series called Foxfire has been sharing food, culture and life as it’s actually lived in the mountain region.

Foxfire started as a class project at a Georgia high school — students interviewed neighbors and wrote a series of articles, which turned into a quarterly magazine and then a book, in 1972, with other books to follow soon after. (The name of the series comes from a term for a local form of bioluminescence caused by fungi on decaying wood.) Within the first decade, more than 9 million copies of Foxfire were sold. Today, there are specialized Foxfire books that focus on cooking, winemaking, religion and music.

Read more here.

– Petra

  • What she says: I'm fine.
  • What she means: In Hollywood A.D. movie Mulder and Scully reference the bee incident and real Mulder and Scully look at each other horrified. How did anyone else know about the bee? Were they interviewed for the movie and one of them told? Did they interview neighbors and one saw? Or have Mulder and Scully talked about it and it came up when they were being followed around? How did they know?!
#1302: I Found A Hand Print On My Door

Length: Short

I love windows. I love seeing the world around me, letting the natural light in. I love feeling connected to nature even when I’m inside. When I was a kid, I used to leave my window in my bedroom open all the time. It was so nice to be in my room working on something and still be able to hear the birds and feel the breeze and smell the fresh cut grass. I would sleep with my window up, also. Fall asleep to the crickets and the frogs and the sounds of the night. I loved it.

Then.

I went away to college in the middle of a much bigger city than the one I had come from. I like the city, don’t get me wrong, but the noise and pollution get old sometimes. It didn’t matter, dorm and apartment windows don’t open. Mine didn’t, anyway.

After college, I began working at a publishing agency. I really did love it. The people I worked with were great. Even my boss was laid back and easy to work with. Plus, who doesn’t love to be surrounded by books all day? It was decent money, as well, and I was fairly happy. In my heart, though, I knew I was a writer. I wanted to write, not edit or proof read or spend all day focusing on someone else’s work. I wanted to be doing my own.

Luckily for me, my boss, also a writer, understood exactly what I was going through. She allowed me to work from home and even agreed to read my work and give me comments and critiques. I knew I would never get any writing done in the city surrounded by so many distractions though, so I took all of my savings and put a down payment on a secluded cabin at the base of the mountains.

It was right out of a novel itself, really. Not too big, not too small. It was right on a lake, as well. From my back deck I could watch the sunrise onto the mountain tops as the early morning mist slowly faded from the lake. I could hear frogs and crickets and smell fresh cut grass and morning dew. And I could finally raise my windows again.

My home was full of windows. They were everywhere. The thing that made the house so noteworthy, so expensive, was the panoramic view it offered. What it offered me was a step back in time to my childhood.

The first month that I lived in the house was amazing. I got so much writing done in such a short amount of time. Not to mention, the month was filled with sweet mountain breezes, strawberry lemonade, fresh veggies from my garden, dips in the lake, and lightening bugs. It was the first time I had seen lightening bugs in eight years. I felt so at home.

Unfortunately, that would not last.

I think the first time I realized something was off was one morning about a month ago. I noticed a handprint on the patio door as I was in the kitchen getting my coffee. This, of course, wasn’t alarming to me at the time. I’m not really a neat freak, so I just figured I had touched the door and hadn’t noticed the print I left. I cleaned it off and thought nothing more of it as I got ready for the day.

Keep reading

Stuck Together [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Prompt: “we get stuck in the elevator together and now i have a huge crush on you”

Word count: 1,163

Warnings: light swearing, mention of claustrophobia (not triggering at all, i tried to make this as fluffy and sweet as possible).

A/N: I had this prompt on my list for over a week, and first it was going to be a Daveed fic but I’m Lin trash so - no surprise here. I wanna thank the @hamwriters crew, @manuelmiranduh and @hamilbye for their recent works and our talks because they really got me inspired to write during this week that has been one of the most stressful weeks of the last few months. Anyway, I hope y’all like it! <3 

askbox | masterlist


The sound it made wasn’t pretty. As the light in the ceiling flickered, you lost your balance for a second when the elevator stopped going up. You muttered “fuck” before taking a deep breath.

It was an old building, the elevator had broken down before, but this was the first time you were in it. With a stranger. Honestly, you didn’t know many of your neighbors: New York has something that makes people more independent, but also lonely at the same time. The man placed his headphones around his neck and looked at the elevator panel while you pressed the emergency button.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Heya hey can you do one where you and shawn break up but only for like a day then make up sex hahaha thaanksss

Here you go, It took awhile to perfect.
Summary: You and Shawn have a fallout but he still shows you how much he loves you.
Requested: Yes

Didn’t Mean To Hurt You

I ran a hand over my face and took a deep breath. Shawn paced back and forth on the other side of the room, anger practically seeping out of him.

“It wasn’t like that, Shawn.” I said, taking a seat on the couch.

“Then what was it like Y/N, because that’s what it looked like to me!” He rose his voice. I started to massage my temples, feeling a headache coming on. At the moment Shawn is half angry and half insecure. He’s insecure because my ex-boyfriend dropped me off at home. He’s angry because he tried to kiss me after walking me to the porch.

“He was just driving me home! How was I supposed to know he’d take it differently?” I shouted back.  

“I don’t now, Y/N. Maybe you wanted him to kiss you!” Shawn semi-shouted. My head snapped up to him. His brown eyes looked into mine. I could feel a mixture of anger and frustration boiling inside of me.

“You know what, if you don’t trust me, what are we even together!!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

“I don’t know, Y/N!! I don’t know.” He shouted back. I back tracked. Not only because of the words that came out of his mouth, but because I’ve never heard him yell that loud before.There was a moment of silence as we stared at each other. “I think we should take a break.” I felt my heart shatter as he broke the eye contact.

“I have to go. I have an interview in the morning.” He said grabbing his coat and heading out the font door. I stood there in shock. How could he say the very words I thought we would never say? Yeah, I was mad at him, but I wasn’t going to say it. My body went numb as I sank to the floor. I brought my knees to my chest as the tears slipped down my face.

The next morning I woke up on the living room floor. I closed my eyes replaying the flight I had with Shawn last night, causing my heart to ache. I stood up and stumbled into the kitchen. I grabbed a glass, filling it with water. I stared at the glass before drinking out of it.

I remember the day Shawn and I bought these glasses. I remember the day I accidentally dropped a glass on the floor and Shawn carried me to the living room because he didn’t want me to get hurt.

I felt the back of my eyes start to sting. I tightened my grip on the glass and threw it on the floor, causing it to shatter into a million tiny pieces. I started to throw all of the china on the floor, remembering all the times we had in this kitchen, including some steamy ones. I want none of it. Everything we worked on is down the drain.

I ran my hand threw my hair and let out a sob. If I didn’t take that stupid ride, Shawn and I would still be together. I leaned against the counter looking at the mess I made. It only made me feel worse.

I hear the front door open and my favorite worried voice call my name. I didn’t answer.
I heard the footsteps getting closer and closer. Finally, he walked into the kitchen and looked around. “What-“ He looked up at me and that that’s when I broke. I hopped across the shattered glass and ran for the bathroom.”Y/N!” He called behind me. I made it to the bathroom and closed the door, locking it.

“Y/N, open the door.” He said turning the door knob. I slid my back down a wall.

“Go away, Shawn!” I yelled. There was a pause.

“Have you been crying?” He said through the door. I didn’t answer. “Y/N, just…let me in. Please.” He sounded hurt.

“Just leave me alone.” I heard Shawn sigh.

“I can’t do that, baby.” I got up and opened the door.

“You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to just hurt me and then call me ‘baby’.” I said looking into his brown eyes. He looked exhausted.

“I know, I’m sorry, just let me explain.” He said. I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms. He took a deep breath. “Y/N, you’re bleeding.” I looked down at my hand.

“I didn’t even notice.” With that Shawn made his way into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit. I stood in the door way as he grabbed my hand and poured the alcohol on it. I let out a hiss.

“Sorry.” Shawn said with a smirk. I couldn’t help but stare at my now ex-boyfriend as he focused on putting the band aid on my hand.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as he cleaned up.

“I came back to get my guitar for my interview, but the neighbor told me that she heard some noises in here this morning so…” He said closing the cabinet and facing me. I looked down at the ground to prevent from staring at the face I fell in love with. “I never meant to hurt you, Y/N.”

“It’s a little late for that. I have to go clean the kitchen.” I said turning around, but Shawn grabbed my hand before I could make it out the door and pulled me to him, smashing his soft lips against mine. I felt my heart flutter like it always does when he kisses me. After a few minutes of making out, we both pull away.

“I was stupid and Insecure. I’m sorry and I’ll say it as many times as you want, just please give me another chance.” Shawn whispered against my lips. I smiled and brought his lips back to mine, deepening the kiss as he placed his hands on my waist.

He gently pushed me up against a wall. I tugged on his shirt as he flung it over his head, bringing his lips back to mine. My hands traveled down his abs to his v-line, causing him to let out a moan. Shawn grabbed my hand and broke the kiss before I could go any further.

“Let me show you how sorry I am.” He whispered in my ear, his breath landing on my neck. I bit my lip and closed my eyes. I nodded my head and he tapped my thigh, signaling for me to jump. He carried me all the way to our bedroom and laid me down on the bed.

He brought his lips to mine, kissing me with nothing but passion as he started to grind himself against me. I let out a soft moan as he moved down to my neck, kissing around my soft spot. He tugged on my shirt, asking permission to take it off. I nodded as he continued to suck on my neck, driving me crazy.

Once Shawn took off my shirt, he threw it somewhere in the room and brought his lips back to my neck. He started to suck harder on my soft spot, running his tongue over it after. That’s when I realized he’s giving me a hickey.

“You’re mine.” He whispered against my neck. I bit down on my bottom lip to prevent moaning Shawn’s name. Soon, his hands started to roam around my body, slipping into my pants. I sucked in a sharp breath as he started to rub me through my underwear.

“You like this baby?” He whispered in my ear, rubbing me harder. I replied with a moan, draping my arm around this neck. “I need to hear you say it babe.”

“Yes.” I moaned. I heard Shawn curse under his breath. “I need you. Please.” I begged, bucking my hips, but Shawn held them down firmly.

“You want what, Y/N?” He asked cocking his head to the side, rubbing me a little faster. I let out another moan. This boy knows what he’s doing to me.

“Your fingers.” I panted. I saw Shawn smirk as he moved my underwear to the side and started to pump in and out of me. I arched my back and bit down on my bottom lip, holding back a loud moan.

“Damn baby, you’re so wet for me.” He started to go faster, causing me to bit down harder on my lip. Shawn rested his forehead against mine, occasionally pecking my lips. “You know Y/N, you don’t have to hold back your moans baby girl. I want to hear them.” Shawn adds another finger and starts to curl them inside of me, causing me to let out a really loud moan.

“Shawn!” I say digging my nails into his bare back. He hisses in my ear.

“Am I hurting you baby?” He asks. I shake my head, breathing heavily.

“Faster.” With that Shawn pumps into me faster and I let out a whimper. His left hand is holding my waist down as he uses the right to pleasure me. “Deeper.”  He went deeper, bringing a whole new kind of pleasure. “Don’t stop. Right there! Don’t stop!” I moaned. Shawn picked up the pace. I let out a loud moan as I dragged my nails down his back. He hissed in my ear again followed by a string of curse words.

Suddenly his phone starts to ring. He grabs his phone out of his pocket with his left hand using his shoulder to hold it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He says placing his hand over my mouth but still pumping into me. I try to stay quiet but it feels so good. “Um..yeah.” I let out a moan. “I just had to check on her. I wanted to make sure she’s ok.” I let out another moan.

” I actually don’t think I’m gonna make the interview.” He says smiling at me as I arch my back. I’m so close, but I’m trying to hold it back while Shawn’s on the phone. My breathing quickness and he gets the hint. “Just reschedule it.” He says speeding up to finish me off. “Just do it, Please. I gotta go. Bye.” He says grabbing his phone with his left hand. “Ok baby, you can let go.”

With that my high washes over me, my vision going white as I let out a loud moan. Shawn pulls his fingers out of me and licks them. He lays beside me as I catch my breath.

“Who was that?” I ask weakly. Shawn pulls me close to him and kisses my forehead.

“Manager.” I take a deep breath and move to straddle him, catching him off guard. His bulge in prominent under me. He gives me a confused look.

“I wanna reciprocate,” I explain. Shawn smiles and places his hands on my waist.

“God, I love makeup sex.” He says bringing his lips to mine.

ice-whisper  asked:

AU where Len is the pyromaniac

another one for the short fills. hope you enjoy!

ao3 link

—-

“Hey,” a gentle voice is saying. “Hey. Can you look at me?”

Len doesn’t want to. He just wants to stay here and luxuriate in the glorious feeling of relief he felt. All that tension, all that anger, all locked away deep inside, it needed to be let out - and now it was.

It was -

Wait.

How long has he been here?

Len blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel crusty and sore like he’s had them open too long. He’s dissociating again, most likely.

“Hey. You with me?”

Mick.

Len feels the hot flush of shame. “I did it again,” he says dully. “Didn’t I?”

And he’d tried so hard not to, too…

“Yeah,” Mick says. “It’s okay. You couldn’t help it.”

Mick’s the best, but Len doesn’t deserve him. They’d met in juvie - Mick had saved Len’s ass in juvie, more correctly, and in more ways than just the shiv that’d been heading Len’s way - and Len had made him promise they’d team up again when they were adults. And Mick had kept that promise, tracking Len down years later when he’d finished out his juvie-to-prison term and some of his mandatory probation period, the part before his conviction had been overturned, and between the two of them, they’d scraped up enough for an apartment.

An apartment that Len keeps burning.

Keep reading

A Partner (Jumin x MC)

Investigation!AU: After being assigned to a new case, you arrive at the crime scene, and find your new partner.

Word Count: 1111

So, this is the new AU! It’s going to be a bit darker in a sense? I suppose it’s a bit self-explanatory with the themes regarding crimes. Anyhow it won’t be a constant every day posting unless requested. It’ll be every other day so there will be a regular prompt for those not comfortable with this subject matter. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and have a lovely day! Thank you!

————————————————————————————————————–

You stepped out of the cab, giving brief thanks to the driver as you stepped out, walking past the victim’s home, and along the trail beyond their home.

Just before the home was drenched in police cars, spilling in and out of the home for evidence of one of the crimes.

Your first visit would be within the woods.

A gentle breeze drew past you as you made your way down the cobblestone path, leaves occasionally crunching beneath your shoes.

The trees began to overlook over you as you came deeper within, more voices filling your ears, and the drop of people rushing in and out, proof of evidence overflowing in their arms. 

You slipped beneath protective tape rounding tightly about the surrounding trees.

And you were met with the scene.

One of the two.

Just beyond the trail, there was an older man, gray lining his messy hair that curled onto his aged features. 

A bullet hole was engraved on his stomach, dark blood managing to seep through the thick fabric of his suit.

“Detective MC?” 

You were snapped from your thoughts as the commissioner approached you, reaching out a hand. “Call me Eun.” 

You returned the handshake, giving a faint dip of your head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“As to you,” He sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I”ve heard very good things about you.” 

“You have? I’m flattered.” 

“No need to be modest, honestly I’m sure many others would love to have your position.” 

“This is the dream isn’t it?” 

“To some,” Eun said, furrowing his brow at the prospect. “Anyhow, I hope you’re aware that for this case you’ll have a partner?” 

“Yes, I was told this in phone calls.”  

“Well, I’d like you to meet him.” 

He called to another man examining the body, gesturing him to come over.

He towered over you, an odd coldness glossing over his coal eyes, wavy sooty hair wavering over his face. 

Yet somehow everything about him warmed for a moment as he saw you, even his gaze softening in an almost kind manner.

He seemed almost in awe as he stared at you, approaching carefully as if you were a figment of his imagination. 

“This is Detective Jumin Han. Your partner for this case.” 

“Jumin,” You nodded, soaking in the name as you reached to greet him. “I’m MC.” 

“That’s a lovely name. I look forward to working with you.” 

“As do I.” You turned to the commissioner, giving a small smile. “We’ll take it from here. Thank you.” 

Eun departed to the home with a wave, leaving just the two of you.

And the numerous other investigators. 

“So from what I know we’re looking at a government official. A justice, right?”

Jumin cleared his throat, having to break away from his mesmerization of you.

“Yes-yes. Justice Gyeong Kim. Inside is Prime Minister Kwan Choi.” 

“There was an eyewitness as well?”

“Two, to be exact,” He stated. “The mother Eunji, and their son, Yoosung.” 

You let out a small sigh, glancing back at the house.

“Story from both of them is an intruder arrived, shot Choi and raced out. When Kim went after the intruder, a fight ensued and Kim was ultimately shot and killed.” 

“Is the son still here?”

“At the house. I haven’t spoken with him. I figured it would be better for us both to go.” 

“Did anyone see the intruder?” 

“They’re interviewing neighbors now.” He folded his lips. “From the few accounts they’ve finished…no.” 

“That sounds like a great start.” 

“Absolutely,” He pointed to the makeshift road, continuing. “Now, the most likely scenario here is the intruder was escaping along the trail and as they and Kim fought, it was derailed shortly off the path.” 

“But going along the path is no different than essentially giving a treasure map with an ‘x marks the spot’.”

“Desperation isn’t known to make people geniuses.” 

You thought, tipping your head curiously. “How would you act desperate?”

“Depends on the motivation don’t you think?” 

“Well, in this context.” 

“I imagine I wouldn’t have pursued them. I would’ve protected those with me. And while I can understand the motivation to go after and prevent these from happening again, there are higher chances of losing than winning.” 

“Well, you’re younger and stronger. Kim was older and average built for someone his age. You would’ve had a very good chance of winning. Kim…not so much.” 

“Perhaps that’s what makes it an act of desperation,” Jumin turned to face you, leaving you feeling oddly comforted. “Not knowing nor caring whether you’ll win or lose. It’s purely an instinct, a desire to protect.” 

“I don’t doubt that Kim had the best interest. He did good work in the government and was a wonderful family man. But something about this…”

“What?”

“It’s just that most would call the police. Even desperate and terrified people the first thing they do is call for emergency help.”

“Do you think Kim contemplated?”

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.” You shuffled, huffing. “We’ll have to ask the family I guess.” 

“I suppose so.” He shrugged. “but I wouldn’t be too worried, this won’t get us out of paperwork.” 

You laughed lightly as you began to turn and head for the house, Jumin following beside you. “Oh, was that a joke? I heard you were pretty stoic.” 

“I’d like to think that people just don’t appreciate my humor.” He gave the tiniest smile. “But I’m glad to finally find someone who does.” 

“You could’ve fooled me as a comedian.” 

“Really?”

“Without a doubt. Especially now,” You grinned. “situations like these are when people need lightheartedness the most. You know, a little light to the darkness.”

His eyes became painted with a tender sort of care towards you, his lips stretching a bit more as he nodded in agreement. 

“I couldn’t agree more.” 

Superhero Baking

first - previous - Rossi’s Camera Roll - next

“We need more red!” Henry demanded from inside the grocery cart, point accusingly at the shelf’s contents. Jack nodded solemnly in agreement, grabbing the tubes of icing with stoic precision that could only be learned after seven years of mimicking the serious movements of his father.

Auntie Penelope was more than happy to take care of Jack and Henry. Hotch and JJ were nearly back from a prison interview in a neighboring state, so the bubbly tech analyst had leapt at the chance to spoil her two favorite boys. Her kitchen had been woefully unprepared for the pair’s monstrous appetites, and she’d taken them to the store to rectify the truly tragic circumstances. Their cart had been so far filled with various berries, baby carrots, a couple apples, a frozen pizza, and the necessary ingredients for sugar cookies. Plus decorations.

“Alrighty, boys, do we need anything else?”

The pair considered for a moment. “Ice cream,” Jack stated.

“Lead the way,” Penelope said. Jack raised his arm and charged forward dramatically, with Penelope pushing Henry in the grocery cart not too far behind. Henry was excitedly peering through plastic, giggling with the happy innocence of a child.

Penelope missed this. The constant state of tumultuous joy was contagious, brightening her mood instanty and automatically, no matter how stressful the situation. The children had been through so much, especially young Jack, but their high spirits and resilience against the tragedies they’d suffered was beyond inspiring. How could she not spoil them?

It’s not like they demanded much anyway. Beyond the occasional snack, the children were terribly low-maintnence, to the point where Jack might outright refuse sweets before a proper meal or at least a healthy snack. Imagine! A seven year old turning down sweets! Penelope was appalled.

Nonetheless, she was going to make sure they had fun.

That’s why they loved her so much, after all.

-

Penelope didn’t know what else she expected when asking what kind of cookies they wanted to make. She wasn’t a profiler, but she was surrounded by profilers every day, and it really shouldn’t have been as much of an intuitive leap.

“Superheroes!” Henry giggling with Jack nodding vigorously in the background.

“Alrighty then, my mighty warriors!” Penelope rolled up her sleeves with a theatrical flourish. “It’s time to make cookies!”

Penelope Garcia had baked cookies from scratch before. She’d even baked cookies from scratch with children before. But she’d never experienced such a disorienting combination of careful craftsmenship and chaotic creativity. She could’ve sworn if she had written a code to measure out the exact amount of flour, it would’ve been outdone easily by Jack’s steady hands and Henry’s perfectionist streak. If she wasn’t so awestruck she would have laughed at their parent’s traits shining through so clearly in their respective children. Jack delicately emptied the measuring cup into the mixing bowl after Henry had successfully moved the half dozen grains preventing perfection. Satisfied with the proportions, they both looked to their aunt with nearly identical doe-eyes and enchanting smiles.

She couldn’t help but grin back.

Lulled into false security by their adorableness, Penelope hardly registered what she was doing when she handed over the mixer. In an electric whirr, the air suddenly thickened with flour and sugar and whatever else they’d put in. The boys giggled giddely at the chaos that they reined on the kitchen, oblivious to Penelope’s look of shock as seemingly every surface became cakes in white powder.

She burst into laughter at the boys’ dirty faces before merrily adding the wet ingredients. It wouldn’t be long before they got the cookies in the oven. …But maybe it’d take a while to get the kitchen clean again.

-

We’re finally in D.C. -AH

Are the boys in bed yet? –AH

Penelope barely heard the ding of the message above the roar of the two children’s playing. She fumbled for the phone, glancing to make sure whatever superhero antics they were participating in kept them far away from where the cookies were on the cooling rack.

She winced as she saw the message.

Not quite yet. They’re excited for you to come home. –PG

Hotch undoubtedly saw through her vague reply, but it’s not like he could do anything about it. And when Jack and Henry ran up to her, clinging to her legs, she found she didn’t care anyway.

“Are they ready yet?” Jack asked impatiently.

“Well, why don’t we go see?” Penelope paused. “I need my legs back, please.”

“No, thank you,” Henry politely refused, wrapping his limbs even more tightly.

Penelope hefted her feet forward, dragging the mutated growths on her legs until she made it to the counter, only partially feiging fatigue. She tapped the cookies lightly—they seemed cool enough for icing. She beamed down on them. “They’re ready! Go get the decorations!”

Jack and Henry had bolted to the pantry before she’d even finished her sentence. They returned with armfuls of post-baking goodies and looked up expectantly at ther aunt. “Well, go ahead!” she encouraged. “Go crazy!”

Oh, they did. Henry was making webbing designs and red blobs that were presumably Spider-man, but she wasn’t about to insult him by clarifying. Meanwhile, Jack was working very intently on his own creation.

Penelope laughed out loud when she saw it, nearly coming to tears. Well, they did say they wanted to do superheroes. She supposed she should’ve known Jack would’ve wanted to make a cookie of his favorite superhero. The figure in a jagged suit was certainly striking, and no doubt Rossi would enjoy the recreation of Hotch, not to mention the Unit Chief himself. No matter the scolding she would get for keeping those boys up so late, it was all worth it to be able to see Hotch’s expression as he sees his son’s artistic rendition.


Anonymous: Hey, you know the “put gerard back” vine? You know the cookie with the suit? Could you write something based on that?

My mind immediately went to adorable Jack fluff (and where there are cookies, you know Penelope has a hand in it), but it wasn’t until I was nearly done writing this that I realized this might’ve been much more funny with a couple of drunk BAU members struggling to draw a suit on their cookie Unit Chief. Alas, this is what we’re left with. 

I’m sorry this one is so late! 

Tag List:

@blakendores, @bookofreid, @criminal-minds-fanfiction, @dontshootmespence, @fallen-angel77, @hannnamarie999, @hurricaneharleyhusky, @illegalcerebral, @imagicana, @jkqueenly, @klazomaniacnutter, @mostprolificserialkillerever, @philcoulsonismyhero, @reiding-and-writing, @romeoandghosts, @spencersolves

All You Need Is Love: Chapter Four “I Want to Hold Your Hand”

A Love Story Told by The Fab Four / Inspired by “Across the Universe”

Spencer Reid: a genius, hardworking, dedicated FBI profiler. Persephone “Percy” Jacobson: a passionate, brilliant, ambitious FBI specialist, and the newest member of the BAU. Spencer doesn’t believe in soulmates. Persephone doesn’t believe in happy endings. Told nonlinearly, watch as time, each other, and The Beatles, proves them wrong.

Chapter List

~~~~~

A/N: So glad you are all enjoying this series!! In a perfect world, I will have chapter five up sometime late next week, but I am currently in tech for a show I’m ASMing so I might not have time to write it. I’ll make sure to keep ya’ll updated!

Listen Here

~~~~~

Oh yeah I tell you somethin’

I think you’ll understand

When I say that somethin’

I want to hold your hand

Keep reading

The Adventures of FBI Stiles - Part One

Stiles wants to thank Rafe a thousand times over and he wants to throw him in the nearest pit of hell for all the shit he’s had to put up with since he was offered the ability to work with the FBI. Sure, he was used to skirting the law, hell it felt weird when he WASN’T. But this was the FBI for fuck’s sake. And okay, there were a lot of people involved in the application process, and things easily could be lost or messed up, but on the chance that he got found out, Stiles could go to prison. Guantanamo Bay at this point, for all the things he’d seen on FBI time.

Not to mention all the people that he’d come in contact since he got his official FBI badge. Would he drag every one of them down with him too?

Okay, okay. So maybe he could convince the big guys in charge that it was all on Rafe for this? He was the one who said he could help Stiles in to the FBI. He never said it would involve ILLEGALLY entering the agency without the usual four years of college, the strenuous background check, and security clearance.  

Well, the security clearance was a work in progress. Even just the basic clearance takes about 60 days and he’d only just been in DC for a month. He may have been given the account info of his superior so he can access the more top-secret databases. (Top Secret clearance can take up to 9 months, and there were important baddies Stiles had to help catch. Legal channel could wait, apparently.)  

For the background check, god, the favors Rafe must have had to use to interview Stiles’ neighbors and practically everyone in Beacon Hills about him, and NOT make him sound like a psychopath or serial killer … The FBI personnel file on Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski was wrapped in blackmail, secrets, lies, and NDAs of all involved so that Stiles looked as wonderful and sought-after as possible.  

On paper, he was the well-behaved son of the Beacon Hill’s sheriff. Glowing school record; salutatorian, right below Lydia Martin, of course; edited compliments from Finstock (the original of which Stiles found and vowed to frame in the future). Every interview of neighbors and acquaintances (especially nosy Mrs. Carson) were nice and normal. Comments from the staff at Sarah’s Café was void of any mention of supernatural events or odd mentions of him having bruises constantly and blood always showing up on his clothes when he’d show up at their diner at ridiculous hours of the night. He looked so stellar, Stiles didn’t know if anyone would believe he was the same person as his file.

*     *     *     *     *

By the time Stiles was leaving Beacon Hills after the Ghost Riders disaster, Rafe had already begun processing Stiles’ FBI application. (He still thought about finding someone to complain to and demand recompense for his pain from that nightmare)

Sometimes Stiles had to stop asking questions, because the whole goddamn town was a disappearing act for three months before he left. That almost definitely meant that Rafe had people working on him getting in to the FBI for a while.  

Thankfully Scott’s dad had realised that there were things that went bump in the night and the rag-tag group of teenagers and Derek were actually trying to fight off those creatures.  So it was only slightly surprising that Stiles was offered to work with agents on the more supernatural cases. Stiles may have tried to ask about the X Files division a bit to enthusiastically as soon as Rafe told him the news.  

It was actually quite a quick thing, because one minute Team Good Guys finally defeated the Big Bad of the Month (the semester, really at this point), and the next Stiles was told there was a spot at the FBI waiting for him if he wanted it. It was really only after Stiles was packing up the most helpful magic books and clothes that weren’t flannel and screen tees, did Rafe decide to mention that bringing Stiles on as an agent involved all kinds of illegal actions. Yet, because of unexplainable and gruesome crimes reaching dangerous levels and Stiles’ extensive experience, the people in charge of “It’s Not the X Files, Stiles” Totally the X Files were willing to do whatever it took so Stiles could work for them.

*     *     *     *     *

After a decent flight and barely a second of reprieve in the almost swanky hotel room, all paid for by the lovely people at the FBI, thank all the deities that shine upon him, Stiles had to report to some random business building to meet the people in charge of his fate.

He had another X Files joke on the tip of his tongue the moment he entered the right room, but was instead intimidated in to sitting down in the nearest chair by the angriest, buffest guy in a suit he’d ever seen.  Perhaps he had a history in the military, maybe a bodybuilder. Definite possibility of both.

“I have been fully briefed on you Mr. Stilinski,” the man glowered at him. Well, that was DEFINITELY not a good sign. Stiles’ eyes went comically wide in concern and slight fear.  

“Yes, I do mean fully.” The man showed no signs of letting Stiles speak any time soon. “Agent McCall has used resources in extreme measures to help get you here, and my people speak very highly of you. I have seen what you can do.” Stiles began to open his mouth to respond, but the man didn’t allow him. “My people have our ways. As soon as Agent McCall found our office and informed us that all unexplained events had not only been explained but handled by you and your friends, we began doing what we could to keep an eye on you. You aren’t the easiest group to keep track of.”

Despite the importance of the situation, Stiles was already getting distracted by his surroundings, specifically the stacks and stacks of papers covering the handful of tables that filled the room. It was a pavlovian response of sorts; whenever his father had case files strewn across the dining room table, he did whatever it took to get as much info as he could when his dad wasn’t looking. So being surrounded by manila folders, envelopes, and the occasional photo peeking out of the papers, they were all just calling his name to be looked at.  

He had started running his hands across the papers the moment he sat down, but he was about to reach for one of the files, when he thought better of it. “Can I…” he thought twice about waving a folder in the guy’s face. “If these are above my clearance, this is severe cruelty to my curiosity,” Stiles flailed his arms in the general direction of the mountains of paper.  

“Technically everything you do and see here will be above your security clearance.” The man looked both smug and severe at this, which only made Stiles want to mentally swear louder. “The legal aspects of your work will be handled by me and the rest of the team. You will be officially documented as an intern with us, but will act with the capacity of a fully-fledged agent.”  

Stiles spluttered in surprise. “You actually trust me with that much power? Didn’t you just say you were fully briefed about me?”

“With the amount of cases and depth of research you will have to go through to solve them, you’ll want all the resources available to you.”

“Hey Giles!” A voice started from the hallway, getting closer to the room. “You even tell the kid what our division is, or are were you planning on shrouding us in a shadow mystery for a few more hours?” Someone with frazzled hair poked their head in to the doorway, eyes quickly narrowing in mock annoyance at Giles (if that actually turned out to be his name, Stiles might have to rethink his life choices. And maybe sharpen a stake or two.) “You know we got a shit ton of cases to solve by the Winter Solstice so if you could hurry this up, that’d be great.” The door quickly opened the rest of the way, and they more or less swooshed in to the room, now clearly panting. And maybe smoking a bit? Yep, there were definitely singe marks and wisps of smoke throughout their clothes.

They quickly walked over to Stiles and patted his shoulder. “Actually no, scratch that. There’s a dragon manifesting itself in the relics library and the ghost of Hannibal haunting my ass, so I’m gonna steal our illegally acquired prodigy here and get to work on saving the day. You know where the timer is, I’m trying to beat my personal best of the week.” Trying to keep track of what was happening, Stiles hadn’t realized he was being whisked away by the crazy scientist type agent.  

Halfway out the door, as his brain restarted, Stiles halted. “Wait, what are you timing? Are we saving the day or working on your lap time?”  

Scientist Agent smiled so brightly as they answered. “I’m trying to beat my personal best. Current winner is when I stopped the rise of zombie Hitler, a coven of witches planning on killing all readheads – no really, they were close, I was a bit slow on that one, and solved an argument between two different culture’s angels of death. In between breakfast and lunch.”

God, okay. What kind of lives do these agents have? “That must have been quite the morning,” Stiles eyes couldn’t get wide enough. Maybe he could pick the team’s brains for their adventures and knowledge on different creatures. Good thing he had a copy of the bestiary encrypted and hidden in his suitcase. If he could just ask a few questions about the crazier days, he’d probably put the whole Hale library to shame, he’d have to find a larger file system to hold it all, he could…

“What? No. Just a slightly shorter morning. That was just last week. And I’ve been trying to get as fast as the rest of the team. I’m one of the slower ones when it comes to saving the day. That’s why I’ve got the timer.”

Shit. What kind of abilities did Rafe think Stiles had? They know he’s human, right? And this division of supernatural crime fighters expected him to what, be able to do what they couldn’t do?  

The smell of smoke was getting stronger, and yep, he just heard a lion sized roar blended with the sound of paper rippling.  

“You know how to calm down book dragons, right? This one’s in a rarer dialect of Arthurian Welsh, and whatever monk copied this did a really bad job. But it shouldn’t take too long. God, you’re lucky today’s apocalypse is so easy.”

Oh fuck.


(A/N): Sorry for the late posting, had some terrible car troubles. I should have this up on AO3 soon. Check back for new updates on this as 6B continues 

info on this story HERE 

Planning.

Pairing: SamxReader, Crowleyxdaughter!reader
Word count: 2,485
Co-aurthored with : @reigningqueenofwords
Warnings: Smut, mentions of past abuse, swearing, NSFW gif,
Original post date : April 15, 2016.

Chapter 6 of ‘She’s Leaving, Dean’.



After enjoying the silence, you turned in his arms, so that your stomach was on his crotch. You rested your head on his chest, looking up at him. “What’s on your mind right now?” Despite knowing him so well, his mind still remained a mystery.

“You mean other then how lucky I am to have you?

You laughed. “Yes, other then that.”

Sam thought for a moment on how to compose his thoughts. “I’m thinking about us, our future, how I know that no matter where we are, I’m home.” He smiled. “Because you’re my home.”

Keep reading

5

2015 MTV Movie Awards

Best On-Screen Duo

  • Bradley Cooper & Vin Diesel – Guardians of the Galaxy
  • Zac Efron & Dave Franco – Neighbors
  • James Franco & Seth Rogen – The Interview
  • Channing Tatum & Jonah Hill – 22 Jump Street
  • Shailene Woodley & Ansel Elgort – The Fault in Our Stars
Memories Fly

Author: @jkqueenly

Part 8 to the In Plane Sight series. As the team flies across the country they make some interesting discoveries and some powerful memories come back to haunt members of the team.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

Tags after the cut

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The rest of the 5 hour flight to LA was dominated with chatting and individually going over the case with a coffee in hand.

Aaron looked at the files over and over, not quite seeing anything, wondering what would happen to Jack if someone like Foyet ever came to collect a debt again.

He knew Jess would take Jack in, give him a home and a loving family, but images of the white roses on dark wood filled his mind. He remembered the open mouth of the earth, waiting to accept his love into that eternal sleep. Despair tugged at his heart again, the panic and pain and filling him like it did then.  He never wanted to put his family through that again.

“Hey, guys,” said Morgan. He turned his file across the table to show a highlighted section of text. “Look at this. The M.O. doesn’t match. The Beast doesn’t shoot his victims, he strangles them by hand after beating them within an inch of their life.”

“So what, is this another hitman? Surprise Southam with a hitman he wasn’t expecting?” Rossi asked, sitting up to the table and peering at Morgan’s notes.

“I thought that too, with how precise the shots are, but the report says there was a ton of foreign DNA on the body they haven’t identified yet. If this was a hitman the body would be a lot cleaner, there wouldn’t be any DNA.”

“A good hitman was never there,” Y/N  mumbled.

“What?” Aaron asked, her voice bringing him back to the present.

She looked up, surprised someone heard her. “A good hitman was never there. It’s something my dad used to say. He was in the FBI, too. He worked with the O.C.U. mostly.”

“Like father like daughter,” said Rossi, smiling kindly.

“I didn’t know your father worked with the FBI,” Aaron whispered, leaning closer to Y/N.

“Yeah, uh… he–He died.”

Aaron could tell from Y/N’s face her father didn’t die from old age. “I’m sorry.”

“He uh… he was helping Agent Gideon on the Bale case and…” Y/N swallowed. “It was a long time ago, I try not to dwell on it.”

It was like a train had dropped from the sky, landing squarely on the table in front of them. The following silence was so heavy even JJ and Prentiss, who were chatting on the couch at the other end of the plane, looked up at Y/N as tears dropped into her lap.

“Sorry,” she said a moment later, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “We’ve got work to do.”

She didn’t speak the rest of the flight, even though Aaron wished she would. When it came to delegating before landing Aaron struggled to find a place for her, knowing now that each part of the investigation would cause more pain than the last.

“Morgan, you and Rossi should go to the Southam house and work on victimology. Prentiss, I want you and JJ at the station with the media and I need you to interview the family, friend’s, and neighbors. Garcia?”

“Fingers and thumbs at your command, Sir,” Penelope said, displaying her digits to the camera.

“Did agents interview passengers and staff from the plane at the New York airport?”

“They did indeed, the stewardess and passengers near the Southam’s assigned seats were interviewed first, but none of them could describe any of the Southam’s. The New York people don’t think the family even got on the plane.”

“Ok, call Reid, see if he’s willing to cut his vacation short and have him meet us in LA when he can, we could use a little statics.”

“Aye aye Captain.” Garcia closed the video conference.

“Y/N, I need you with me to meet with Southam’s undercover team, figure out if another hitman had it out for him or his family.”

She nodded, “Ok.”

There was a tightness in her voice, but Aaron knew she would be able to focus on the case once they got started. She always could.

Originally posted by haidaspicciare

Keep reading