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libraryofgage · 4 months

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Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #Mini Steddie #the tag for this series #steve deserves good parents actually #night at the museum #natm crossover #natm jedediah #natm octavius #jedtavius #the worship kink was a surprise to me too actually #and then i realized it was v on brand #have fun guys #there ought to be shenanigans aplenty

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deadpresidents · 23 days

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Which President, in your opinion, was the most reluctant to seek the position? Which wound up hating it the most by the end of his term?

I am a strong believer that nobody truly becomes President of the United States "reluctantly". That's not exactly the kind of job that seeks you, especially the modern Presidency.

For a significant slice of American history, many of the people nominated for President acted as if they were being called upon to run when, behind-the-scenes, they were very active in building their campaigns and corralling supporters. Until the 20th Century it was frowned upon to openly run for the Presidency, but almost all of the Presidents wanted the gig.

I'd say that George Washington was probably more reluctant than most of his successors and likely would have preferred retiring to Mount Vernon after the Revolution, but I think he also recognized that he was the guy who needed to be the President that set the precedents. I think Ulysses S. Grant would have been perfectly happy to not be President, but once he was elected in 1868 he also wanted to keep the job. He even tried to run for a third term in 1880.

That 1880 election might have been the one case where the winner -- James Garfield -- genuinely wasn't interested in the Presidency at that point. He had gone to the Republican National Convention to support fellow Ohioan John Sherman (and defeat Grant's hopes for a third term) and gained some major attention after giving a well-received speech placing Sherman's name in nomination. When the candidacies of Sherman and James G. Blaine -- another anti-Grant candidate -- stalled, Garfield became a compromise choice and was eventually nominated on the 36th ballot. Garfield was apparently legitimately shocked by the events leading to him leaving Chicago as the GOP nominee.

By most accounts, William Howard Taft was far more interested in a potential seat on the Supreme Court than becoming President. At heart he was a judge and believed himself to be better suited for the judiciary than the Executive Branch. But Taft turned down three offers by Theodore Roosevelt to be appointed to the Supreme Court (in 1902, 1903, and 1906) because he felt obligated to complete his work as Governor-General of the Philippines and then Secretary of War. But Taft's wife desperately wanted him to become President and by the time of President Roosevelt's third offer of a seat on the Court, Taft was already being talked about as Roosevelt's hand-picked successor in the White House. And, as with all other Presidents, once he had a taste for the job, he didn't want to give it up, running for re-election in 1912 against his former friend, Roosevelt.

Gerald Ford is the only other President who hadn't spent a significant portion of his political career with his eyes on the White House. Ford spent nearly a quarter-century in the House of Representatives and his main ambition was to be Speaker of the House, but Republicans weren't able to win control of the House when Ford was in Congressional leadership positions. But even with Ford being a creature of Congress, he did attempt to put himself forward as a nominee for the Vice Presidency, first in 1960 and then in 1968, and Nixon kicked the tires on picking him as his running mate in 1960. No one wants to be Vice President without seeing it as a potential stepping stone to the Presidency, particularly at that point in history before Vice Presidents were empowered with some real influence within the Administrations they served in.

As for who wound up hating it by the end of their time in office, I think it's safe to say that John Quincy Adams didn't shed too many tears when he was defeated for re-election in 1828. And I'm sure he wouldn't use the word "hate", but nobody can convince me that George W. Bush wasn't thoroughly ready to escape Washington by late-2007. There were times in 2008 when he seemed like he just wanted to hold a snap election like they have in parliamentary systems and go home to Texas. If some Presidential insider published a book that said that Bush asked if he could just give the keys to the White House to Barack Obama in July 2008, I wouldn't be the least bit shocked.

On the other hand, if there were no term limits, Bill Clinton would have been running for President in every election since 1992 (and the crazy thing is that he's still younger than both of the presumptive 2024 nominees). I'm kind of surprised that he didn't make an effort to repeal the 22nd Amendment in the past 20 years. Clinton loved being President and was trying to find something Presidential to do until minutes before his successor was inaugurated in 2001.

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

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Sorry, for these constant ranting about African and black American culture

It just sucks look at history as a black American at times. There no ancient kingdom or empire, like Han, Gupta, and Roman to call back to. No Mythos with great epics like Hellenism or Hinduism where I can see myself in.

No great warriors that might have shared your face and people use as inspiration in media. No great battle like the battle of Thermopylae for people recreate again and again

No great leaders like Alexander the Great, Ashoka the Great, Julius and Augustus Caesar that change the course of history

As soon as January and February ends, seemly everyone forgot your people history.

Will we be remember when mankind enter interstellar?

Sorry maybe my borderline suicidal depression kicking in. Despite all the diversity push, has black Americans done anything beyond fighting slavery and racism? So we still have to hijack other people history and pop culture? Are any of our stories worth being told by media?

Or are we nothing but a sad pitiful group? Ugh sorry for making you my therapist

Check the Nubians and southern kingdom of Egypt there were black Pharaohs and dynasties those are recorded and attested by non Egyptian sources.

As for the Mythos Rome took a bunch of them from conquered lands, much like Greece did, like Babylon and Assyria did, Egypt too, oh and Hindus did the same thing. Easier to keep a population happy if you point out how our gods and your gods are the same guys just with different names.

No great leaders like Alexander the Great, Ashoka the Great, Julius and Augustus Caesar that change the course of history.

They existed, we just don't have any records of who they were, nothing concrete at least, gotta decide for yourself how faithful the oral tradition is.

Or you can treat it like folklore, doesn't mean there's not some truth to it, exaggerated is all.

As soon as January and February ends, seemly everyone forgot your people history. Will we be remember when mankind enter interstellar?

No need to keep them separate, just because a skin colour isn't the focus doesn't mean people forget, stuff like the 'black national anthem' is divisive, it's bringing back segregation saying we have a different national anthem than you. No if you're Americans you've got the one, go start your own country if you want a different one.

Haiti looks like it's about to reset try there.

If you want some heroes that look like you, meet the Harlem Hellfighters

To our eternal shame the US wasn't in the business of giving medals to black soldiers in WW1 not so much in 2 either, France however was.

Sergent Johnson here managed a Coup De Gras for valor in the battle that got him named "The Black Death" it's always the black something isn't it, we back home finally rectified the travesty that had him overlooked for the Medal of Honor in 2015, he more than earned it, wish he could know how many people look up to him now.

I do hope he saw this after he got home at least, I'd have that on my wall lmao.

Legacy section of his Wikipedia page has lots of things on it, but this I think would be the thing I would be proudest of,

In 1919, co-founder of the American Legion Theodore Roosevelt Jr., son of former United States President Theodore Roosevelt, referred to Johnson as one of the "five bravest Americans" to have served in World War I.

One of the good Roosevelt's, and I'm gonna guess this got to him too, since he was still around.

You need a warrior here's one, he led and sacrificed, he's a good one to look up to, refused to let his buddy be taken captive at great personal risk after they'd fought of 12 Germans.

Need another group of warriors, we've got the Tuskegee Airmen.

Made a lot of white (fighter) pilots mad because they were that good at their job, white bomber crews loved them they saw the red taifin on the P-51 their hope for surviving the mission went way up, because they were that good at their job.

Look them up too if you haven't before, check out the movie "Red Tails" Black writers adapted a story by one of them about a damn fine group of pilots, I enjoyed the movie watched it a bunch of time when I was living in Florida because it was on one of the movie channels the hotel I was living in carried.

You've got warriors who fought great battles that you can look up to though, even more so because they knew what life was like back home and how they were treated and would be on their return, and they fought anyhow.

Admirable men worthy of being looked up to by anyone really. At least for this service which is what counts for me right now.

Will we be remember when mankind enter interstellar?

How could humanity forget these men, and so many other incredible human beings that worked for the betterment of humankind in their own ways? __________

As a aside, Max Brooks got together with a artist named Caanan White who I don't know anything about but they did a fictional graphic novel about the Harlem Hellfighters and it looks pretty dang cool, so you may want to look into that at some point too.

#zoomer huey anon

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princessmisery666 · 2 years

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Hate To Love You - Part 5 Under The Radar Mini* Series

*I should probably stop calling it mini at this point🤣

Summary: Bradley was right. A kiss with an ex always means something. You just need to figure out what that means for your future, with or without Jake.

Warnings: sweet Rooster, fluff, slight angst, Jake being a handsome adorable asshole (see picture above), self-doubt, trust issues.

W/C: 2.5k

Rating: M (mature)

Characters: Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress).

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader, past Rooster x Fem!Reader mentioned.

Notes: no descriptions of reader body type or ethnicity.

A/N: I wasn’t entirely happy with the end of part 4; I needed more closure. There’s also another A/N at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: title card made by me // dividers @writercole

Master Lists: Under The Radar // Main

Hate To Love You

After the successful Dagger mission, Maverick demanded you all get some time off. Truth be told, it was needed and welcomed. It had been an intense few weeks, professionally and personally. You all needed time to process and refocus. However, you suspected that essentially it was what Mav required to decide what to do next. He’d been offered another teaching spot at Top Gun, but everyone seemed to realize it may well be that he was done. The three weeks were a breather, time to figure out what he wanted, and Penny also highly factored into his decision.

You had gone home via the avoiding-Hangman-at-all-costs route. A transport had left the USS Theodore Roosevelt not long after they cleared away the stolen F14, and after getting permission from Maverick, you made sure you were on it.

The kiss with Hangman had clouded your mind. Not to mention the gentle smile Rooster had given you after.

Being home was precisely what you needed, allowing you time to figure stuff out. The trip home was a last-minute decision, so it was too short notice for your parents to get time off, but that was a blessing. Spending the days alone and evenings with your parents was just enough social interaction.

The pool beckoned every morning, and before breakfast, you’d swim laps, then spend the day working on your tan until it was time to shower and prepare dinner.

The routine was similar to the last vacation, except Bradley had been with you then. Your parents loved him, and he slotted into the dynamic effortlessly. But after all that’s happened, looking back on those memories, they seem broken. The edges are frayed as if it happened to someone else. You love Bradley. You do. He’s easy to love. He’s the guy you bring home to meet your parents; he’s the guy you should want a future with.

“It was good while it lasted, Y/N,” Bradley said when you had said goodbye on the ship. He wasn’t someone you wanted to avoid. “But we both know, in the long run, it wouldn’t have worked out.” he hugged you so tight it hurt, but you didn’t care. “Sometimes, who you think is the frog turns out to be your prince charming.”

You understood what he was saying; still, it didn’t make you any less conflicted. Jake or Bradley. Rooster or Hangman. What if the frog was just a frog? It seemed Bradley had already decided where you belonged, but you weren’t so sure. You try to replace Bradley with Jake in your memories of being home, helping your dad on the grill, making sure your mom doesn’t do all the cleaning up, and waking up beside him on a lazy Sunday. It works. It looks right. Yet your heart clenches, and you lose your breath when you think of having to explain to them that Jake broke your heart (again) when he doesn’t come home with you for a holiday.

You’ve spoken to Rooster a few times, offering for him to come home with you, as he had a few times before. He declined, wanting to spend some time building bridges with Maverick, but he checked in every couple of days.

So when the shrill ringtone of your phone disturbs the afternoon tanning session and Rooster’s face greets you on the screen, you’re happy for the interruption.

You accept the FaceTime, and it takes a few seconds for him not to be pixelated. “Hey, Huntress,” he says with a bright smile.

“Hey Y/N,” you hear Mav call from somewhere in the distance.

“Hi, guys!”

“How’s vacation going?”

“Good, quiet, relaxing. Yours?”

“Mav’s got me working on his plane,” he rolls his eyes, but his fond smile says he’s more than happy to do it. “I swear saving a man’s life obviously means nothing when you’re back on the ground. The man is like a drill Sergeant.” He laughs and dodges a rag that Maverick throws at him. “What’re you doing?”

“By the pool, deciding what pizza to order.”

His eyes light up with hope, and his voice raises an octave. “So you’re home?”

“Yes,” you answer cautiously, suspicious of his behavior. The viewing angle changes, and he’s plainly typing a message on his phone. “Wanna know what I’m wearing too?”

“I mean, this is a video call you could just show me,” he shrugs, flashing a cocky half-smile.

The doorbell rings within the house, and you sigh, not wanting to move. “You need to get that?” Bradley asks.

You shake your head. “It’s probably a delivery. They’ll leave it on the porch.”

“You should answer it,” he says, and it’s apparent he knows something you don’t.

“What are you up to, Bradshaw?” You question, reluctantly slipping off the sun lounger.

You tiptoe across the hot tile floor, rushing to get to a shaded spot. When you straighten up again and look at the phone, Bradley earnestly says, “don’t be mad at me, okay?”

“Mad? Why would I…” your question is interrupted by the back gate opening, and Jake fills the gap. Not only does he have the audacity to have shown up unannounced, but he’s also let his beard grow in the few weeks since you’d last seen him. It looks good, and you can’t help but clench your thighs together at the thought of the burn it would cause. “Shit.”

“Hey, Hangman,” Bradley calls loudly.

“Bradshaw,” says Jake. He smiles shyly, looking down at his feet, and you're not sure if it's infuriating for the ambush or undeniably adorable that they’ve teamed up.

You drag your gaze away from Hangman and focus on your phone. “You know this whole not thinking, just doing, thing, really only applies in the air, Bradshaw,” you admonish.

“Still love me, right?” he asks, but his grin tells you he knows the answer already.

“Always. Just not sure I like you very much right now, though.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “You’ll forgive me.”

“Probably.”

He winks, “Give him hell,” before ending the call.

The bird song is the only sound. Jake stares you down, and you don’t know what to say or do. His eyes shimmer in the sunlight, and it’s quiet for so long you start to wonder if he’s just a mirage.

“I kissed you,” he states.

“You did.”

“You kissed me back.”

“I did,” you agree, nodding.

“Then you ran away.”

“Technically, I flew.”

“Now that I’m here, looking at you, I think that was probably a smart move. After everything I’ve done, you should run for the hills and never look back. And maybe if I weren’t a selfish man, I’d leave you alone.” He steps closer, not quite crowding your space but close enough to lift your free hand and interlock it with his own. “But I am a selfish man. I’m not strong enough to walk away from you. And I sure as hell don’t want you to be smart.”

“Well, I haven’t kicked you out yet,” you say and give him a glimmer of hope. “So maybe the glare off your perfect damn teeth and stupid fucking face has fried my last brain cell.”

He laughs, you're mad at him, and he deserves it. But the anger is simmering, not boiling like it used to, and he knows if he plays this right, he can melt that hard exterior. “Well, I’m gonna keep smiling and hope the glamour doesn’t wear off.”

Damn him. That smile should be a federal crime. “I’ll just close my eyes,” you say, and childishly you do it, squeezing them shut.

“I’m not the boogie man,” he chuckles, “the logic of if ‘I can’t see him, he can’t see me,’ doesn’t quite work.” You ignore him and squeeze your eyes tighter. “Besides, I know I’m as clear as day in your mind, probably have been since that kiss.”

You scoff and roll your closed eyes. “Please, it wasn’t that good of a kiss, Jake.”

“Ah, it’s Jake now, but it was Seresin for so long before that ‘not that good of a kiss’.” You can hear his arrogant smirk, and you’ll be damned before you admit that it makes your stomach flutter when it appears in perfect HD in your mind. He steps closer, chests pressing together, and his hand caresses your cheek. Despite your best efforts to resist, you lean into it, and his breath ghosts over your lips, “I call bullshit.” before he presses his lips hesitantly against yours.

His fingers dance across your bare stomach and take hold of your hip. As his tongue prods your bottom lip, you put your palm flat against his chest and push him away.

“No, Jake,” you say, shaking your head and taking a step back.

“I’m ready, Y/N.” He sounds so confident, and he feels it. His expression is stern and determined. “I’m ready to be the man you need me to be, the one you deserve, someone worthy of you.”

“Bradshaw, give you some pointers?”

It’s a harsh comment to make but not undeserved, and he can see that a part of you hopes it stings. “Actually, yes,” he admits shamelessly. “I knew if I was going to come here to beg you for a chance, a real chance, I’d need all the help I can get.”

You growl under your breath and turn away from him, marching toward your sun lounger and the bottle of water you left there. “It’s not as easy as flashing me that stupidly-perfect-fucking smile, Bradley giving you a play-by-play on how to not be an asshole and grow facial hair, Hangman.” Somehow calling him by his callsign stings more than the previous comment. “I don’t trust you.”

He follows a few steps behind. “I know I have to earn it.”

“It’s not something that happens overnight.” You take a long pull on your water, watching him closely for any sign that he hasn’t thought this through. Jake doesn’t like to lose in any aspect of his life, so maybe you're just another challenge. A competition with himself to see if he can get you to back down.

“I know, and I’m willing to work on it, whatever it takes.”

“I don’t want to look like a fool again when I forgive you.”

His grin spreads impossibly wider, confusing you as to what the hell is going on in his head that he’s suddenly smiling like the villain in a b-rated movie.

“What?” you ask.

He crowds your space, hands slipping around your waist. “You said when you forgive me, not if.”

“Urgh,” you groan and push against his shoulders, “you're insufferable.”

He doesn’t budge a millimeter, “I know what it's like to lose you, it was too close a call, and I don’t want to go through it again. So you can call me whatever you want, give me shit, hate on me, break my nose again, hell, you can even compare me to Bradshaw. But I’m not giving up, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s gonna take a hell of a long time to prove you mean all of that, Jake,” you tell him quietly. Unable to hold his gaze, you drop your eyes and step away from him to take a seat on the sun lounger.

“I know. Believe me; I know how bad I screwed up,” he implores, rushing to sit opposite you. His knees cage your legs in, and he takes your hands in his. He waits a beat for you to look at him, but you don’t. It’s hard to think logically when he’s looking at you with such honesty and vulnerability. He uses the gentlest of touches under your chin to bring your eyes level with his. “I didn’t just come here on a whim. I’ve thought this through, Y/N, probably too much. I’ve driven myself a little insane. And maybe you’ll be insane if you decide to give me a chance. But nothing sounds crazier to me than standing on the sidelines and watching someone else make you happy.”

“You talk a good game, Seresin, but that’s what you do. You say all the right words, make promises just so you can break them, it seems.”

“That’s not me anymore,” he promises.

“How do I know that? How do I know it’s not all just smoke in the air, and when I get too close, you’ll set off a missile and shoot me down. I can’t deal with that again.”

“You won’t have to. I fucked up big time, and as little as you want to believe it, it was because I was scared. I didn’t want to fall for you. I didn’t want to fall for anyone. I never wanted to be that person who had someone waiting for them, someone they had to get back to. It clouds your judgment when you’re up there, and you know it. I didn’t want anything that could hold me back from missions or make me hesitate cause I’m afraid of leaving you alone. I was - am - terrified of losing you, whether it’s a mission or you making that smart move and running for the hills.” he pauses, looking deep into your eyes, and smiles softly. “But it’s worse knowing you’re right here,” he squeezes your knees, “and I’ve still lost you. I’m done being afraid. I want to take the risks with you. For you. For as long as you’ll put up with my shit. I love you.”

Tears fill your eyes, and he takes it as a small victory.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to mess this up.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I hate you.”

“The only thing you hate is that you love me.” he cocks his brow, daring you to deny it.

“Just kiss me and shut up.”

There’s no hesitation this time. Confidence and determination give way to passion and yearning as the kiss intensifies. He’s right. You hate that you love him.

A/N: This is not the end. At least not for me. I don’t believe in a nice speech, and all is forgiven. Trust is earned, not given. Therefore, there will be a few mostly fluffy off-shots of Huntress making Jake work for it. Though I am determined to keep them under 1k words, I have ideas for at least 4 so far. I don't have a timeline for these posting but happy to add you to the series tag list.

Part 5.1 - Found That Lovin' Feelin'

Thank you for getting this far 😍truly. Whether you've commented/liked/reblogged or simply just read it, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my ramblings.

#top gun maverick #Jake Seresin #top gun: maverick #hangman top gun #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x you

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todaysdocument · 1 year

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Mathilde Wichmann, former Immigrant Inspector, explains the work undertaken by female boarding inspectors at Ellis Island (p. 1, 4, 6, 8), May 26, 1903.

Record Group 85: Records of the Immigration and Naturalization Service

Series: Subject and Policy Files

File Unit: Reports of Boarding Matrons, Ellis Island

Transcription:

New York, N.Y. May 26, 1903

Hon. Theodore Roosevelt,

President of the United States,

Washington, D.C.

Sir:

Believing you desirous of securing full enlightenment on the work accomplished by the Women Immigrant Inspectors at the Port of New York, and furthermore, knowing that our detailed reports have not come to your personal attention, although our work has been criticized as a failure, I take from this opportunity of sending you a full report of our work from February 11th to May 14, 1903.

In the absence of more detailed instruction, we have worked along the line of the need expressed by you when you consented to our appointment. We think that the actual results in the exclusion of unqualified aliens in the prevention of disaster to individuals who are choosing our country for their own, are sufficient to justify the continuance of our work, especially as it is evident that many of these results could be accomplished only by women.

In grouping these cases, I have tried to arrange them to show (1) those where it is obviously improper that a man, unless he be a physician, should have anything to say in the matter, (2) those

[page 2]

EXAMPLES OF WOMEN ALIENS REQUIRING THE ATTENTION OF WOMEN INSPECTORS.

(Attention necessary which only women should give)

S.S. Pretoria, March 22nd [underlined]

Young woman pregnant by steward from S.S. Bluecher. He deserted the Bluecher, as she was leaving New York to meet the girl coming on the Pretoria. She was held to be married.

S.S. Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, April 1st [underlined]

Young woman who was married and pregnant by man she was traveling with. She was detained and married to him.

S.S. Kroonland [underlined]

A young girl unmarried pregnant by man of forty, who had left his wife in Germany. He could not remain in Germany because of girl's condition, so he was bringing her to Kansas, where they were to live together as man and wife. They were both deported.

S.S. Kronprinz Wilhelm, April 14th [underlined]

Young women who was pregnant had been intoxicated most of the way from Europe, and had no definite address in the United States. She was detained for special inquiry.

S.S. Pretoria, May 2nd. [underlined]

A young unmarried woman who was pregnant. Her conduct had

[page 3]

EXAMPLES OF WOMEN ALIENS REQUIRING THE ATTENTION OF WOMEN INSPECTORS.

(Attention necessary ascertained by personal investigations which men either [underlined] do not [end underline] or [underline] cannot [end underline] or [underline] should [end underline] not make; or discovered by confessions unlikely to be made to men.)

S.S. Kronprinz Wilhelm, Feb. 19th. [underlined]

Young girl came with a man who deserted her when the ship docked. She was taken to Ellis Island until her brother could be notified of her arrival, he not knowing that she was coming on the Kronprinz.

S.S. Cedrick, Feb. 21st. (underlined)

A woman had been passed by Inspector as having $5. Inspectress learned that she had only 15 cents.

S.S. Heckla. [underlined]

Woman with $5.65 in her possession wished to leave ship to go with man she had met on shipboard. She was detained until called for by friends.

S.S. Rotterdam, Feb. 26 [underlined]

Two women confessed to disorderly conduct on shipboard. Both claimed to be married, but did not wish to return to their husbands. It was later found that the man one had lived with was not her husband. This woman was summoned, and they were married. the other woman was discharged by the Board of Special Inquiry as being res

[page 4]

S.S. Kronprinz Albert, March 26th. [underlined]

A young woman had embarked as maid to saloon passenger. She had been enticed away form her employer by two men, each of whom wanted her to go with him. Finally one of them repaid her passage money to her employer, and expected to take the girl with him to a hotel in New York. When he found the girl could not go with him on these terms, he consented to marry her.

S.S. Kensignton, March 27th [underlined]

Man and woman held to be married. (Woman likely to become a public charge.)

S.S. La Savoie, March 28th. [underlined]

Fifteen-year old girl expected to meet a man sent by her sister, a variety actress in Chicago. She knew nothing about the man. Could not even identify him. He was to have a letter in his hand, and she was to wear a white bow on her waist so that they might know each other. The girl was detained for further investigation.

S.S. Umbria, April 5th [underlined]

A young woman had embarked with the intention of going to La Grange, Ill., where she had relatives. She had met a young man on shipboard who had persuaded her not to go to Illinois, but to go to Philadelphia with him. In spite of his protests, the girl's ticket for Illinois was bought, and she was sent on the evening train.

#archivesgov #May 26 #1903 #1900s #immigration #Ellis Island #women's history #pregnancy

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robotonthemoon · 4 months

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Beginning of Learning

I've been meaning to write this for a while. As I have previously mentioned here, I am told that market socialism would be a pretty good fit for me. Learning has been a journey that has taken me from some pretty deeply modern republican and libertarian views. I just wanted to share a bit of that journey. I'll put a break here because this will be long.

I am going to be completely honest here: the rise of Trump and his cult of personality has been a major force in driving me away from the party. I cannot stand the man and have never voted for him, even when he was unopposed in the 2020 primary. I just can't fathom how people can hitch their wagon to a guy who has been bankrupt that many times and couldn't sell alcohol, red meat, and gambling to Americans; as though he were some kind of business genius.

But this isn't about him. My journey started before his rise. And it didn't come from leftists telling me "hey, you should believe XYZ" even if I have since learned a lot from left leaning folks. No, my education really started from examining historical figures from the republican party.

"Labor is prior to and independent of capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor, and could never have existed if labor had not first existed. Labor is the superior of capital, and deserves much the higher consideration."

Sounds like something a modern union organiser would say, doesn't it? And yet that was President Abraham Lincoln in his First Annual Address (December 3rd, 1861). Now Abe does go on to state that capital is deserving of its own protections, but he started with and emphasised the greater value and importance of labour.

"It is better for the Government to help a poor man to make a living for his family than to help a rich man make more profit for his company."

And this is from President Theodore Roosevelt (brace for it because I will be mentioning him again). These sentiments really helped push me away from notions of corporate superiority. I fully endorse labour rights and unions now, and can certainly understand where the argument for workers owning the means of production would come from.

Not much of a segue here, but I wanted to mention that if it weren't for health problems (and to a degree concerns about being outed as queer back in the late 90s and early 2000s) I would have considered military service. Probably the Coast Guard. I have a lot of respect for the good work the coasties do, especially the rescue services. Repelling out of a helicopter in the middle of a storm to pull someone out of the ocean is just... heroic.

That said, while I think we need to take better care of our service people, my attitude toward the role of capitalism in respects to the military were very much changed when I read President Dwight Eisenhower's Chance for Peace speech (April 16th, 1953).

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. The cost of one modern heavy bomber is this: a modern brick school in more than 30 cities. It is two electric power plants, each serving a town of 60,000 population. It is two fine, fully equipped hospitals. It is some fifty miles of concrete pavement. We pay for a single fighter with a half-million bushels of wheat. We pay for a single destroyer with new homes that could have housed more than 8,000 people. . . . This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron."

This famous section in particular really struck me. He warns us about the military industrial complex. How our priority cannot be military might at the cost of the citizenry. Then I considered this in light of the Bush/Cheney administration findings (at the time, the current value may be different) that the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program (SNAP, aka foodstamps) created something like $1.63 in economic stimulus for every dollar spent. A 63% gain on investment is excellent, in addition to helping people! Frankly, I feel like that means we'd do well to just eliminate means testing and give benefits to anyone who asks for it. Reduces bureaucratic overhead and waste while providing more economic benefits. Win win. And on the argument of taxes being put to this purpose:

"Taxes are what we pay for civilized society" Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. (supreme court justice, republican)

My father is a bit of a hippie. He raised me with a lot of talk about saving the environment. Some of that sank in, but I must admit to having periods in my life where I thought along the lines of "screw it, just pave everything". Not anymore. I am strongly in support of environmental protections and restrictions on industry to protect nature. Here's where Teddy Roosevelt comes back in.

“We have become great because of the lavish use of our resources. But the time has come to inquire seriously what will happen when our forests are gone, when the coal, the iron, the oil, and the gas are exhausted, when the soils have still further impoverished and washed into the streams, polluting the rivers, denuding the fields and obstructing navigation.”

Now, Teddy was saying this is the very early 1900s, more than a century ago. I wish we had listened more aptly.

“Defenders of the short-sighted men who in their greed and selfishness will, if permitted, rob our country of half its charm by their reckless extermination of all useful and beautiful wild things sometimes seek to champion them by saying the ‘the game belongs to the people.’ So it does; and not merely to the people now alive, but to the unborn people. The ‘greatest good for the greatest number’ applies to the number within the womb of time, compared to which those now alive form but an insignificant fraction. Our duty to the whole, including the unborn generations, bids us restrain an unprincipled present-day minority from wasting the heritage of these unborn generations. The movement for the conservation of wild life and the larger movement for the conservation of all our natural resources are essentially democratic in spirit, purpose, and method.”

How could I not be moved by this? There are many other quotes by Roosevelt that I could share on the subject of conservation, and I encourage people to look into them, but I will refrain from posting them here because I've already gone on at length.

"This country will not permanently be a good place for any of us to live in unless we make it a reasonably good place for all of us to live in."

One more good Teddy Roosevelt quote to end this with. I hope I have succeeded at least a bit in explaining what started me on the road I'm on now. I'm still learning, and I'm sure I have a ways to go still. I will state, because this is the internet and I know the arguments that could come from this, that I am not claiming these men were perfect. In fact I am quite certain they did plenty of terrible things. I acknowledge that. But that doesn't mean I can't also respect the good they did.

I still consider myself something of a conservative, but my understanding of what that means has changed greatly. Perhaps I am completely mistaken, and I am far more a leftist than I recognise. I believe in slow but steady economic growth and long term outlooks. In building a solid economic base by prioritising workers. In caring for people, rather than judging and discarding those who cannot work. In protecting the environment (the EPA was even started by Nixon) rather than ruining it for next quarter's financial gain.

Not the modern neoliberalism, anti-regulation, profit first thinking that pervades the current right wing. I wonder if Ike is spinning in his grave to see the sort of fascy candidates the party puts forth nowadays, given he commanded forces against their ilk in WW2.

If you have read this far, I thank you for your patience. I know this may draw some people's ire. If you are on the right and feel the need to shout at me, I ask that you learn and consider more of our past. And if you are on the left, I ask you to remember that an imperfect ally is not the same as an enemy.

Have a wonderful day, genuinely. Thank you for your time.

#socialism #wildlife conservation #labor unions #learning #progressive politics #politics

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rabbitcruiser · 8 months

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National Teddy Bear Day

The teddy bear is one of the most popular toys for children, and holds a special place in many adults hearts, too. This lovable stuffed animal has a day all of its own, Teddy Bear Day. It gives a chance for people to get teddy out of the cupboard and make him the center of attention.

It’s an ideal time to get together with others for a teddy bear’s favorite activity, having a picnic, as immortalized in the classic song, ‘Teddy Bear’s Picnic.’ This was written in 1907, shortly after teddy bears were first manufactured in Europe and America. The American toy bears were named Teddy, in honor of President Theodore Roosevelt, who had refused to shoot a small captured bear on a hunting trip. Many teddy bears have become famous over the years, including Paddington Bear, Rupert Bear, Pudsey Bear and, of course, Winnie the Pooh.

Learn about Teddy Bear Day

In a world where everyone seems to be larger and louder than yourself, it is very comforting to have a small, quiet companion

Teddy Bear Day has been created so that we have a specific date whereby we can pay tribute to one of our favorite childhood toys. Most people reading this will have fond memories of playing with a teddy bear when we were younger. In fact, some of you reading this may even have your favorite childhood teddy bear today. It may be tattered and even missing an eye or some stuffing, but it will be the most precious teddy bear in the world to you!

On this date, we pay tribute to this amazing childhood toy, which has stood the test of time. It does not matter what new crazes or toys come onto the market, they will never surpass the global popularity that the teddy bear has attained. With every decade that passes by, we still see children clutching onto their teddy bears, and it is a beautiful sight to behold.

This is because our teddy bear is usually the first friend that we have. It is the first ‘person’ that we share all of our thoughts and experiences with. We even cuddle our teddy bear when we go to sleep at night because it provides us with comfort. It is only right that we take a day to reflect on just how amazing teddy bears are, right?

History of Teddy Bear Day

It’s too bad we’re not all teddy bears. More stuffing would only make us cuter and cuddlier.

To understand the history of Teddy Bear Day, we need to roll back the clock to something that happened more than 100 years ago. In 1902, Theodore Rossevelt was the President of the United States. During this year, he refused to shoot a bear cub while he was in Mississippi hunting. The incident spread around the country via the national news. There was even a cartoon of the event that was published in the Washington Post by Clifford Berryman on the 16th of November in 1902. It became a classic right away.

Morris Michtom, a store owner in New York, was inspired by the cartoon and he decided to create a new toy. He then sent a letter to the President, asking Mr. Roosevelt if it would be possible for the new toy to be called “Teddy Bear.” The rest, as they say, was history.

Since then, there have been a lot of famous teddy bear characters, and this toy has become loved by children all over the world. No matter their upbringing, culture, or any other differences, one thing that all children can agree with is that there is nothing quite like the comfort and friendship that a teddy bear provides.

We have since seen the famous teddy bears from Briton, like Paddington and Winnie-the-Pooh. You also have the famous Care Bears series. In the United States, Radar, a teddy Bear from Sesame Street that belonged to Big Bird, hit the screens. Of course, Garfield, a lasagna-loving cat was also a big hit in the United States, and consequently around the world. Plus, we can’t forget Fozzie Bear from the Muppets either!

Our love affair with teddy bears has not ended. You only need to look at the new releases on TV and at the cinema to see that new teddy bear characters are being invented all of the time. In recent years, we have seen the Ted films become exceptionally popular. While aimed at adults rather than children, these films are still based on the premise of teddy bears being a best friend. Ted may be funny, but he is lovable, as all teddy bears are. If you have never seen the film, which stars Mila Kunis and Mark Wahlberg, we would definitely recommend watching it on Teddy Bear Day if you want to have a good old laugh!

How to celebrate Teddy Bear Day

There are a lot of different ways that you can celebrate Teddy Bear Day. One option is to dig up your favorite childhood teddy bear and take some photos of it. Share the images on social media and encourage your friends, family members, and followers to share images of their favorite teddy bear from when they were a child. Even if people do not have any photos of their bear, they will enjoy sharing stories of how they used to take their teddy bear everywhere with them.

Another fun way to spend this day is to go out and buy yourself a new teddy bear. Even as an adult, there is something cute and comforting about having a teddy bear in your home. As time has gone on, there have been a number of different companies that have popped up that enable you to purchase your own teddy bear.

You are able to choose the different fur and other unique characteristics that really make your teddy bear your own. If you have children, this is definitely a fun way to spend the day, but it is also fun and exciting even if you do not have any kids. After all, who does not love the idea of building their own teddy bear? If you are a particularly crafty person, you could even make your own teddy bear from scratch.

There are lots of different instructions online that enable you to do this, and it will be a fun way to spend the day. Plus, there is something amazing about having a teddy bear that you have made from scratch. It makes it feel even more like a real friend and companion. It is your own, and no one else in the world is going to have the same teddy bear as you. That is pretty amazing! Make sure that you share photos of your creation across social media if you’re the sort of person that uses Instagram and such like. We bet all of your followers will be super impressed!

Source

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recycledchicken · 2 years

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A Historic Moment in Gaming (Chapter 2)

Part 1 / Part 2 (You are here!) / Part 3

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/40814790/chapters/102965613#workskin)

Summary: The museum is restless and the exhibits have gone stir crazy. Larry Daley can only think of one solution; buy a Wii.

A buzz had spread across the museum.

No, I am not referring to that one time where a hive was discovered in the Western Diorama and the miniature cowboys attempted to tame the swarm as if they were flying fuzzy horses.

I guess you can say they weren't very friendly neigh-buzz.

Neither am I talking about the time where a fire-drill happened and most of the exhibits treated the buzzing alarm as the end of the world.

Since the night of Larry’s break-down, rumours had spread from exhibit to exhibit; they all knew he had come up with some sort of solution to stop everyone causing anarchy around the museum, but what the solution was they didn’t know.

So, when Larry emerged from the security office carrying a large brown box, his closest friends were eagerly waiting for him at the front desk.

“What have you got in that there box, sonny?” Theodore Roosevelt asked. He was standing next to Sacajawea, their hands interlocked.

Larry momentarily frowned. Two wax figures could find love, but he couldn’t?

“Well,” Larry shook off his divorced-dad mentality and slipped into his previous salesman identity that he had used during his television appearances.

“It is something that is going to change your life.” he grinned.

Sacajawea’s eyes widened. “Is it new clothes so we don’t have to wear the same thing every night?” she asked hopefully.

Larry’s grin faltered for a split second. “Uh, no.”

Octavius padded to the edge of the information desk and stared up. “You have discovered a new tablet that allows us to roam around during the day?”

“Still no.” Larry’s smile had become forced. When he saw Teddy about to open his mouth, Larry quickly interrupted him.

“But!” he shouted a little too brash. Teddy shut his mouth, slightly offended.

Larry internally sighed. He didn’t want to disappoint them even more. Besides, the Wii would still impress them, right? You could play ‘Animal Crossing’ and ‘Kirby’s Adventure’ on that thing. Or so he was told. Nicky was more of a gamer than him. Although, not to toot his own horn or anything, but Larry was the Wii Sports Tennis Champion of the family.

Well, that was a self-proclaimed title.

Larry added some enthusiasm to his voice as he lowered the box onto the desk.

“It's actually a-”

“Woah there, Gigantor!”

Larry swiftly lifted the box back into the air. Under the shadow of the box, Jedediah stood protectively in front of Octavius. His hands threateningly hovered over his gun holders.

“Watch where you’re puttin’ stuff!” the cowboy miniature hollered. “You nearly flattened Octavius.”

He paused before adding. “And me.”

Larry put the box onto the floor and then held up his hands. “Sorry, Jed. Didn't, uh, see you there.”

“That's what all you big people say!” Jedediah huffed and pointed a gloved finger. “And what do you need a box for, anyhow? I was promised humiliation at his finest!”

“Humiliation?” Larry asked. He blinked and looked around. No one else seemed surprised at what was just said.

“Uh, okay. Well,” Larry said. “I don’t know who promised you that. But you’re in for a surprise, because inside that box is a-”

Octavius smirked and nudged Jedediah. “Doesn’t he mean, ‘Urine’ for a surprise?”

“Whoo!” the two miniatures laughed and high-fived each other.

“Phew, awh’ man,” Jedediah wiped a tear from his eye. “Sometimes it scares me, y’know? - How much ofa’ comedic genius I am.”

Octavius leaned towards him. “But that was my joke.” Jedediah waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, well, we’re a team. All your ideas are technically mine.”

Larry raised his hands in desperation. “What is going on?”

“Oh! Oh!” Jedediah whispered loudly to Octavius. “Bet he’s going to do it into the box!” They both giggled like high-school bullies. Larry looked around for an explanation, but none was offered.

“Does anyone want to, I don’t know, kindly explain what is going on? Is this some sort of funny inside joke? A little inside joke that the nightguard isn’t allowed to know?” Larry asked.

“Why,” Ahkmenrah said calmly, pouting his lip and glancing at the ceiling. “I merely said to everyone you were going to present your ‘Wii’ to us.”

“And you explained what a Wii is, right?” Larry interrogated. Ahkmenrah couldn’t meet his eye.

“You explained what a Wii is, right?” Larry repeated in a strained, panicked voice. His mouth was agape. He thought Ahkmenrah was a good-hearted prince. But despite 4,000 years to become wise he had not lost his teenage immaturity.

Oh, Larry would not forget this.

Before Larry could explain himself, Teddy unhooked his arm from Sacajawea and stepped forward.

“I, for one, find your decision most brave, Lawrence.” He placed a hand on Larry’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “Back in my day, to show my authority, I would hunt and kill the most dangerous animals I could find.”

He shook his head and chuckled softly. “But I never would’ve had the confidence to relieve myself in front of an audience to affirm my leadership.”

“Thanks, Teddy, but I'm not-”

The president had already made his way back to his partner. Sacajawea slipped her hand back into his. He put his mouth to her ear.

“Must be a modern thing.” he whispered.

“Or maybe he’s finally snapped. People cope with stress in strange ways. And he’s been under a lot of stress.” she whispered back. They both looked at Larry with similar sympathetic expressions. Larry felt a vein bulge on his forehead.

He took a deep breath, held for five seconds and then let out a slow, loud sigh.

This was a technique he and Ahkmenrah had taught the Huns and Civil War Mannequins in an attempt to subdue their anger and decrease fights. The Mannequins may not have mouths, but it was the thought that counted. Actually, it greatly distressed them and made them even worse. Larry theorised it was because they realised, they couldn’t breathe. Or talk. Or scream. Even theorising didn’t help the situation as the topic of screaming sent Ahkmenrah into a tizzy.

Speaking of Huns, Atilla was stood next to Ahkmenrah, watching the amusing situation play out. Lately, he had been very adamant on leaning the English language and would only nudge the pharaoh when he struggled to understand what had just been said. His warrior pride made him a more independent learner.

“Well, there has been a... misunderstanding.” Larry swallowed. “But what's in here is going to change your-... It's going to stop you guys stop making a mess of the museum.”

Atilla placed Jedediah and Octavius on each of his shoulders. Larry put the box onto the desk.

Larry let a few seconds go by to build up suspense. This was a technique he used to help sell his inventions when he-

“Oh, good God, man!” Octavius shouted out impatiently. “Open it up already!”

Thank you for reading! I really enjoyed writing this!

#night at the museum #fanfic #larry daley #natm octavius #ahkmenrah #natm sacagawea #natm jedediah #natm teddy roosevelt #natm

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inej-ruination-ghafa · 2 years

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PLAYING WITH THE BOYS - B.B

PART 16; MY HEART IS WORKING OVERTIME

Warnings: mentions of death, ptsd, flying,

Summary: Robin gets up into the plane for the first time and she realises that it's a lot more then she expected it to be.

Wordcount: 1.5k

Robin sat in the plane and she didn't know what to think. She looked around the controls and knew exactly what to do but it all felt foreign after years of not working here.

But muscle memory brought all of it back as she began to turn it on, knowing exactly what she needed to do and how to do it.

Last time she was in a plane she had a pilot that she didn't really know and before that she had Allana.

She'd never really had another pilot that wasn't Allana but she trusted Payback with her life.

She closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for the mission ahead. She had to trust that she would make it.

Trust was something that she always struggled with. She had been struggling to trust Bradley and now she had to trust Payback to make sure she made it back.

She needed to make it back so that she could start this new life with Bradley where they didn't have to split up again.

Robin took a deep breath as she opened her eyes, knowing that she was ready for this mission.

"You ready Dime?" Payback asked and she nodded her head.

She took a deep breath, "Ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

The sound of everyone talking in the other jta confirming take off was blurred to her and she didn't really care.

She heard Bradley's voice through the headset and it was a comforting sound to her. At least she knew that she was going through this with him.

"Dagger four ready for take off," Payback said with confidence in his voice.

A few seconds later they heard Hondo in the controls room doing the job Robin should've been doing, "Dagger Four you're clear for take off,"

They began their journey to the uranium plant and Robin could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

She should be scared that she was in the air again but she just felt that rush of adrenaline. She had missed that freeing feeling.

She could see the other planes in front of her and the clouds either side and remembered not how much she loved the flight.

As they began to approach the uranium plant, she flicked a few switches and turned them off of the radar for anyone else but the USS Theodore Roosevelt.

Robin took a deep breath in, looking at the entrance to the canyon as it grew closer and closer.

The team that had Maverick, Phoenix and Bob started their journey into the canyon and Robin knew they were going soon.

"Dagger two, timer set," Bradley said and she took a deep breath.

"Dagger four, timer set," Robin said as she flicked another switch in the back.

Robin just had to sit here no for the next two and a half minutes and do nothing, praying that everything was going to go well and that her and Payback would follow Roosters lead.

They were about thirty seconds in when she realised that their plane wasn't fast enough to get through in two and a half minutes and that Mavericks plane was going too far ahead.

"Roos, we've got to speed up," Robin said into the headset and she knew he understood.

She also knew that he was afraid of failing this mission. Before, it was just his life on the line but now that she could be hurt by this, his worry seemed to have increased ten fold.

The headset was quiet and he hadn't sped up yet.

"Rooster, we've got to go right now. Are you with us?" Maverick asked through the headset.

Robin was panicking, knowing that if he didn't speed up right now then it could all go poorly. But she also understood how fear could affect someone flying and the effect that ptsd could have on a person up here.

If she could hear him right now, she would have heard him mutter under his breath "talk to me dad," as he prepared to go faster.

There was another uncomfortable beat of silence between the word and then Maverick spoke up again, knowing how serious this was.

"Don't think kid, just do it," Maverick said.

It seemed to be the encouragement that he needed because he began to speed up along the canyon.

Robin took a deep breath as she realised this was going to go go plan.

She looked down at the clock and ralsied that they only had a minute and a half left to get through the canyon and they had to pick up speed to catch up with the timing.

They began to approach the first ledge and Robin knew that this was going to be the make or break moment.

They went into the inverted twist up onto the first ledge and made it over irh clean precision.

She overheard Maverick and rhe others talking over the radio, his team had managed to set the first bomb into the bunker and they were flying out now, preparing for the second miracle of heading up in the ten g climb.

Robin took a deep breath as they approached the first miracle that the group if three were going to have to perform.

"This is your moment to shine Dime," Payback said and she chuckled.

Robin began to flick buttons and with one hand on the gear stick she began to focus the laser.

It was difficult though because the laser wasn't built to be controlled manually and it should be controlled from a comms ship.

She was taking a little but too long, feeling a flush creep up her neck as she struggled to control the laser. Maybe their faith in her was misplaced.

She took a shaky breath and realised that the time was rocking down before they had to leave or else it would be a crazy dogfight to the end.

"We need to hurry up Dime," Bradley said as the group approached the end of the canyon.

"Give me one more goddamn second Rooster!" She exclaimed. She poked her tongue out between her teeth as she focused on the task at hand. She finally managed to center the laser and called out to Bradley, "Now!"

He nodded to himself before pressing the button, sending off the first missile into the bunker.

Everyone held their breath as they hoped that it would go in and it did. The three cheered to themselves as they realised they had done it and they headed towards the steep climb.

Robin was still shaking from nearly not being able to do the laser but she was proud of herself.

It felt like she had forgiven herself for everything that had happened to Allana and for the first time in seven years she was at peace with herself.

She could almost feel the relief from everyone that it had worked as the explosion blasted behind them.

She was pulled out of her little daydream of the explosion working as she realised that Bradley was heading into the steep descent.

He made it over and they began their climb, beginning to gain the g's.

Robin held her breath as they went up. She was worried about what could happen if the two went into g lock.

As they began to go up she could feel her heart racing and she wasn't sure if it was because of the panic or if it was because of the amount of g's that they were gaining.

All she could think about was the sound of the plane crashing as she fell to the ground and the pain shooting through her leg as she broke it in three different places.

She just took a deep breath as they approached the top, knowing that she had to trust Payback and she did. She also wanted to come home to Bradley so they could start their lives together.

Payback seemed just as worried. The last time that anyone tried this climb Coyote went into g lock and passed out, nearly killing himself.

He kept going. He had promised Bradley that he was going to look after Robin for him.

He has been on a mission with Rooster and the two have become friends. He didn't want to let anything happen to her.

They made it over and they both took a deep breath as they realised they had made it over safely.

They watched as the SAMS began to launch and Robin took a shaky breath, realising that this was real and this could be it.

It was going to be a dogfight out.

Series Masterlist Part 17

A/N, the updates are going to be a bit slower than intended but I will definitely finish it by September and im really excited for whats coming up next.

Taglist:

If you want to be added just message me or send me an ask or comment, I don't mind

@n3ssm0nique @sparrows-corner @littlewhiterose @serrendippity @clairejpg @marytvirgin @uglyratlmao @daniekay7190 @callistoluvssleep @hockeypuckspost @sydneejean @ipractical-joker @storyteller-le @mmkkzz @theforevermorereject @anolddayslover @rosemarytownescarter @dcamelia @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @maggiescarborough @pulisvertz @srry-itshockeyszn @nickie-amore @schoollover @commxnderwolffe

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yhwhrulz · 2 months

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Today's Daily Encounter Tuesday, March 19, 2024

Christians: "The Most…" – Part 2

"Nobody cares how much you know, until they know how much you care." (Theodore Roosevelt)

In continuing our series from yesterday, today we will see another area where Christians should strive to excel in. This is not to say that it will be an easy task, but we ought to be aware of and practice these areas daily.

In addition to being the most generous, Christians should also be the most understanding and compassionate. We are to be imitators of Jesus Christ and be compassionate towards others without judgement. Jesus continuously spoke of this in Scripture, and we would be wise to adhere to His Word. The Bible says, "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."1 In our broken world today, I can't emphasize enough how important and needed this is. We may think differently than others, but that does not mean we cannot be kind and patient, just as Jesus is patient towards us when we make mistakes or stray from his will. His Word says, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort we ourselves receive from God."2

Jesus understands and can relate to us, as he experienced many of the things that we experience. Jesus wept, suffered pain, he was tempted, experienced poverty, loneliness, and rejection among other things. When we fall short, he looks on us with eyes of compassion. When the woman caught in adultery was brought before Jesus, everyone was determined to stone her to death. And although the Pharisees were using this as a way to trap Jesus and use this against Him, His answer and act of compassion on this woman was what brought her to a place of forgiveness.3 When we suffer or experience difficult seasons in life, Jesus understands and comforts us. In the same way, we are to look on others with compassion and understanding. We never know who God is going to bring to Himself through the compassion we demonstrate towards them.

Suggested prayer: Dear God, thank you for your understanding and compassion towards me. I fail often and fall short of your glory, but you surround me with your grace and bring me to a place of renewed intimacy with you. I pray that you would give me a heart that overflows with compassion towards others. That I would be a listening ear without judgement. Our would needs you and I ask that you help me be your presence amongst those I encounter daily. Thank you for hearing and answering my prayer. In Jesus' name, amen.1. Colossians 3:12. 2. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. 3. John 8:1-11.

Today's Encounter was written by: Crystal B.

NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ, please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

Daily Encounter is published at no charge by ACTS International, a non-profit organization, and made possible through the donations of interested friends. Donations can be sent at: http://www.actscom.com

ACTS International P.O. Box 73545 San Clemente, California 92673-0119 U.S.A.

Phone: 949-940-9050 http://www.actsweb.org

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ledenews · 9 months

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Dolph Santorine: 'Exactly What Is a RINO?'

When I hear a politician or pundit refer to someone as a RINO, I can’t help but question the intellect of the person slinging the RINO label. It’s a catch-all phrase that means you can’t seem to articulate your point of disagreement. It’s a mini tantrum, and the beginning of a childish argument. Just like “He’s stupid,” or “She’s an idiot.” Neither of these assertions are likely true, and it reflects poorly on the accuser. The political term RINO been around for more than a century, likely originating as a slander against Theodore Roosevelt by critics who didn’t believe he confirmed to longstanding Republican ideologies and the Republican platform. History clearly shows the issues that led to those accusations were much more complex than the simple RINO label they were trying to pin on him. This simplistic term, RINO, is, however, having an unfortunate resurgence since 1990. It’s been used excessively by the extreme right as a weapon against those who choose to get something done instead of the deadlock that results when ideologues stand on extreme policies that are far from good for most of the electorate. Exactly what is a RINO? I’m not sure, and more often than not the people using the term are too intellectually lazy to provide a solid definition. RINO can mean almost anything, but most commonly, it’s an insult to another member of your party who has an opinion different than yours. The person making the accusation likely holds an unpopular single-issue position, or wishes to commit fraud by calling the other person a RINO and providing little or no evidence to back up the statement. The U.S. Capitol is one of the most popular tourist attractions in the continental United States. I sincerely believe this is disingenuous at best, especially in regard to our elected officials. They make many carefully considered votes on a wide range of issues, but if one loudmouth disagrees with what’s in a tiny subpart of a bill, then our duly elected official whose been serving us faithfully for years is a “RINO” and needs to be publicly flogged and replaced by an extremist the accuser disagrees with regardless of the replacement’s capability to serve the people. Your single issue should not be a litmus test for candidates. I recall a time not that long ago when the Democrats controlled the U.S. House, and our congressman negotiated for us and delivered more for West Virginians. We all knew he did the right thing since we were going to get a bloated, expensive piece of legislation, and there was not a thing the Republican minority could do to stop it. He negotiated a better deal for the average West Virginian. It also effectively ended his career because of low-information voters who are the RINO class. I would prefer to be represented by a politician with whom I agree most of the time, as opposed to one I disagree with nearly all of the time. So, it’s time for us to go after the “RINO Hunters” for what they are and challenge them for facts and not let it affect those of us who make well-formed decisions. There’s a corollary to RINO that I’m seeing right now where candidates are aligning themselves with up-ticket candidates. I think that’s a recipe for disaster, especially since you never know if the horse you hitched your wagon to is about to head over the cliff. If that happens, your loyalty may be a liability. Candidates, run on your vision, not on, “I’m better because I support this national candidate.” Be your own person. Articulate your position and show your passion. If you have a clearly defined good reason to deviate from the party platform, it’s really acceptable and should be encouraged. Discourse makes all of us better. The upcoming primary election in West Virginia is already showing signs of being brutal. Many good men and women who have served us well will have their political aspirations crushed, and there is no guarantee the replacement will be as good, or for that matter, a Republican. Negative campaigning is not going away. Don’t let trivial, meaningless acronyms like RINO damage your prestige. It’s time to put a stop to the RINO hunters. Ohio County resident Dolph Santorine Read the full article

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mrsmaybank · 3 years

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Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me.

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all. Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak.

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame.

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red.

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie.

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true.

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along.

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it.

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted.

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.”

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles.

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-”

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.” Spencer heard you say.

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.”

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?”

He smiled, “Yes.”

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.”

“You went to Columbia?” he asked.

“I just graduated.”

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself, “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.”

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.”

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.”

Your eyes went wide, “12?”

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.”

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.”

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare.

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

“Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did.

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.”

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said.

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier.

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.”

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

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team.

In the bullpen:

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato.

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear.

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk.

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back.

On the jet:

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board.

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.” He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book.

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances.

Even in front of you:

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring.

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!”

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…”

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer.

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?”

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.”

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

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

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name.

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth.

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile.

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness.

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?”

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.”

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him.

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass.

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.”

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.”

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

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

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music, and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated.

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it.

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves.

“It feels great.” You nodded.

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.”

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.”

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--”

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

You and Spencer just understood each other.

#drspencerreid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminalminds #reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #Spencerreid #spencer reid reader insert #spencer x y/n #reid x reader #spencer reid #professor reid x reader #professor reid #season1 reid

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januaryembrs · 3 years

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CLIPPED WINGS | 2

CHPT 2. WOLF IN DOVE’S CLOTHING

Laszlo Kreizler x female!reader series [SEASON ONE ONLY]

description: Laszlo needs to walk the dark path of the sick person murdering all the young boys. In order to catch their killer he must enlist the help of one.

length: 3.5k+

main masterlist clipped wings masterlist

ꜝ Trigger warnings for this chapter only ꜝ this chapter is rated MATURE/17+ as it will include, VIOLENCE & MURDER OF A CHILD, mentions of minor prostitiuion - canon to ‘the alienist’, depictions of injury, blood, foul language, drug use/drugging, death, murder etc. Please only read if you’re comfortable with the mature/gory/explicit themes present in Alienist, which is rated 17+. OUTDATED VIEWS/TERMS TO DESCRIBE MENTAL ILLNESS.

As promised, Laszlo was ready well before Sara even arrived. The curiosity bug had been gnawing away at his brain well into the night and by the time morning rolled around, he was practically shaking at the thought of someone like you being open for him to analyse silently the way he did best.

You were latched well into his brain at this point. He felt almost as if he had a new muse, a new project to delve into, and he couldn’t be more excited in the most taboo, almost forbidden way possible considering you were a murderer after all.

But it near fizzled out when he realised they were not headed towards Nightingale Women’s institution, and instead towards the prison on the other side of town. Seeing the confusion written clear on his face, Sara decided in the midst of their small talk to relieve him of his troubles. Knowing Laszlo, he would have soon begun asking her the questions she could sense were bursting their way out of his chest.

“I wrote to the warden at the asylum about speaking to her in person concerning her crimes,” The woman’s voice hesitated after the last word, almost as if she had just admitted it to herself that was exactly what you had done, “They said they’d allow such a thing is under the condition we had the protection of guards and a fortified room. The only ones they were happy for us to use are in the penitentiary.”

“Are there no guards at the institution?” Laszlo asked, mind racing at the new information. He had no idea if you were stable or not, but he didn’t need to be the expert alienist he was to hazard a guess that a men’s prison would not be good for your wellbeing.

“Some, but not enough apparently,” Sara said bitterly, crossing her hand into her lap and staring out the window of the carriage. She shared the same thought as he did, Laszlo deduced from her tone.

“She is a criminal, Sara.” He reminded her, watching her face for any reaction that gave hint to how she felt knowing her seemingly good friend since she was young had slaughtered so many grown men. The woman said nothing and Laszlo didn’t push her for an answer. He had probably struck a nerve, but it was a necessary warning she needed to heed if they were to enter a confined space with someone like you; someone so vicious.

The two rode in silence after that and it wasn’t long before the huge concrete building came into view and the carriage began slowing down. It was certainly different to Nightingale, Laszlo mused to himself, and again he found his thoughts leading back to you. How would you feel coming from an almost quaint manor home to this hunk of rock which housed some of the worst criminals New York had come across? High off opiate or not, the Nightingale Institution seemed like a breath of fresh air compared to this.

He didn’t have long to dwell on his thoughts however as Sara’s footman soon opened the door and waited politely to escort them out, though there were clear nerves in his eyes as he dared a look at the huge jail they stood outside. Sara thanked him and led the way to the front entrance where a burly, red-faced man in a guard uniform stood with the newly appointed Commissioner Roosevelt, who seemed solemn as the two approached.

“Theodore?” Laszlo asked, slightly taken aback that the man was there. He had been under the interpretation it would be just he and Sara visiting you today, though he supposed a serial killer being transported to his prison for questioning wouldn’t go unnoticed by someone as highly ranked as Roosevelt. He also, upon contemplation, guessed Sara would have had to contact the Commissioner to help her pull some strings in order for this inquisition to even be possible.

“Laszlo. Miss Howard.” The Commissioner greeted the two with a low tone and a nod respectively. “I trust you understand the gravity of what it is you’re doing today,”

The warning mixed with something close to anxiety was clear in Theodore’s timbre and he looked between the two as if to search for any hesitation. This was dangerous and his reputation hung in the balance if anything were to happen to either of them or, even worse if you were to escape, so he sure hoped they knew exactly what it was they were proposing.

“I’m quite sure of this, Commissioner Roosevelt. I have faith in your men to keep us safe,” Sara said, the compliment clearly a way to ease the man’s nerves. Theodore nodded, still uncertain, but opened the door for them to enter the penitentiary nonetheless.

There was a lobby area that seemed pleasant almost, certainly cleaner than Laszlo had been expecting of a prison. The walls were bright, the stone floor mopped, though the place still had a bitter coldness to it that had Sara bundling her hands under her coat.

They followed Theodore past the front desk, through a large set of double doors and down a short row of steep, concrete stairs where the temperature only dropped even further and darkness swallowed them. As the steps levelled off and Theodore unlocked another set of heavy doors for them to pass through, Laszlo realised this was where they kept the inmates.

That was when the smell hit. The damp, almost mouldy scent mixed with human urine nearly made Laszlo retch. He saw Sara choke a swallow and raise her scarf over her nose in a menial attempt of covering it. Some of the prisoners in their cells began shouting and banging against their bars to get their attention, one of them yelling such vile things about Sara that his guards began beating him with their batons and ordering him to watch his mouth.

They could tell Theodore was rushing to get them out of the room with the criminals as he picked up his pace, walking around the outskirts of the cells and to the exit that seemed to mask the putrid odour the second they passed through it. Then came the final corridor. Being half underground, there was very little means of lighting other than a few torches and two tiny rectangular windows high on the left wall, yet even they were so covered in mud and moss that they did a very poor job of letting the sunshine in. It left the hallway looking like something from a nightmare, as though every step they took to the doorway on the other side had them closing in on a monster.

When they’d reached the heavy wooden entrance, armed with enough bolts to keep a wild animal at bay, Theodore used the thick metal knocker once and a loud boom reverberated from its drum against the door. A small panel at eye height slid open from the other side and, with one look at the Commissioner’s face, the door was opened.

He led them into the room which seemed to be simply four stone walls, damp and smelling just as muggy as the rest of the building had. There was a single wooden table in the middle, thick oak which seemed to be a partial source of the horrid smell as it was clear the wood was rotting from the slimy, green algae sprouting in between the joints. There was one guard standing against the back wall and the other, who had opened the door, stationed next to it. Both straightened upright in attention as their superior entered. Three chairs sat on the side closest to them, clearly prepared for their arrival, and on the other side sat a woman. You.

Arms crossed over your chest, you seemed to have been wrestled into a leather jacket of some sorts that fastened your hands behind your back. Your face was freshly dirtied on one cheek, telling Laszlo you had at one point been pinned to either the wall or the floor of the filthy building they stood in, seeing as Nightingale Institute had been nothing but pristine when they had visited. His eyes trailed from your arms, over your face to where your lip seemed to have been split and was bleeding slightly.

It was then he saw your eyes and he almost drew back. He had seen the eyes of the deranged and mentally ill. He had looked into the face of people who had no concept of their own actions no matter how twisted they may be. He had seen a boy just that morning who had killed his family dog and his eyes held nothing but childlike innocence, a boy who needed to be taught right from wrong.

But you looked at him with a coldness that he knew was the murderer in you. The thing that made you capable of slaughtering those men; it was in you and it was staring right at him.

The crying, drugged woman was gone and what remained was akin to a starving wolf staring down a wounded lamb.

He was surprised to see Commissioner Roosevelt actually joining them, assumingly who the third chair had been for. Sara sat in the middle, leaving him and Theodore to occupy her sides.

It seemed every person in the room had inquiries perched on their lips. It impregnated the air; questions both from them but also you no doubt wondering what the hell you were doing here. It was Sara and you who broke the silence, seemingly at the same time.

“What happened to your face?” Sara asked as you said:

“I took the plea deal.”

You both went quiet for a moment, taking in the words that had overlapped your own. You opened your mouth to answer her question when the guard stationed behind you responded for you.

“She refused to be put in the jacket. We had to use the necessary means.” His gruff voice sounded and the three people sitting opposite you watched you scoff, turning to look over your shoulder at the man. Laszlo saw the fresh bruise mawing the back of your neck as you did so.

“I’d hardly call four grown men against a little woman ‘necessary means’” You snapped and it was then your eyes moved to Theodore, “I took the plea deal, just like you said. You can’t execute me now that I’ve been pardoned for reasons of insanity.”

“Well, are you?” Roosevelt asked and Laszlo noted that he kept his distance from you, leaning back in his chair and taking the one closest to the door. It wouldn’t surprise him if he was afraid of you, Laszlo himself had his reservations. Seeing the seemingly new woman in front of him that was so different to the trapped bird he had envisioned not the day before made his stomach flip, and yet he had a million of his own questions practically knocking against his teeth. “Are you insane, Miss L/N?”

You smiled wryly and both men noted how Sara straightened at that look. You were not the girl she remembered. The girl she remembered, so happy and sweet to every living creature you came across, wouldn’t have killed seventeen men and mutilated their bodies so violently as you had. A sly look like that didn’t do anything except remind her of the sinister nature you could behold.

“What do you think I am, Commissioner?” You taunted, almost too comfortable to be in the situation you were in. You, a prisoner with a life sentence and supposed madwoman, were taunting the almost Captain of the entire New York Police Department.

Laszlo was stunned.

But he hadn’t missed the almost desperate undertone you’d held when you had spoken to Roosevelt. The way you had the smallest, blink-and-you’d-miss-it, flicker of fear in those cold eyes told Laszlo everything he needed to know. You were scared you were being sent back to the hangman’s noose. It told him there was still feeling in that cold demeanour of yours, still humanity. And just like that, the questions that lingered around you mounted up even further.

“I think you’re of perfectly sound mind, Miss L/N, though I’d argue Doctor Kreizler here could deduce that to a much more professional degree than I could. I believe you were when you killed those men.” Theodore said, clearing his throat slightly and looking at Sara. The pair of them had a silent conversation, where Sara nodded her head for him to continue.

What came out of his mouth next shocked you, that much was evident by the look of unfiltered surprise your expression contorted to.

“It is because I believe you’re of sound mind that the three of us have agreed you’re a huge asset to this case.”

You had only heard rumours of the person terrorizing New York while you were inside the Nightingale Asylum. In your opiated state of mind, you had only caught the bits and pieces of the nurses’ conversations as they had been trying to force-feed you soup of some bland sort. Little boy murdered. You had heard. Something about a bridge or a tower of some sorts, you couldn’t quite remember seeing as the whole thing had been in-between moments where the sleep overcame you and you were dragged into slumber once more. The nurses had sounded close to tears, though, that much you knew.

“What do you mean?” Your voice sounded small, the confusion evident. You were sure when they had dragged you to this awful smelling, cold penitentiary that you were set for death. But now suddenly, you were needed on a murder case. The irony didn’t add up.

“Sara informs me you had a nightly job at the brothel, is that correct?” Roosevelt questioned you, and your eyes narrowed at the woman who looked almost sheepish to have been speaking about you to the Captain of the police. Laszlo himself drew back at the revelation. That had been missed from your file, for obvious reasons.

“I worked behind the bar, if that’s what you mean,” You corrected him with a steely voice, knowing how his comment must have had other interpretations to the other man you guessed to be the Doctor that Roosevelt had been talking about. He was no doubt here to assess your mental state, seeing if you could be trusted to give them accurate information.

But something about those brown eyes, the way they softened yet searched your face with intrigue was so familiar, as though you had dreamed of him not so long ago. He had a soft face. You remembered him, from where you weren’t quite sure, but you knew that softness.

“What has that got to do with the case?” You pressed, confused as to how you seemed to be involved considering you’d been as good as locked up for the past year and a half since you’d been caught. There was no way it could have been you, nor would it have been, even if you were on the other side of the Institute's walls.

“The victim murdered worked in the brothel, a boy named Georgio Santorelli. Perhaps you knew him?” Laszlo spoke up, and it was then your attention was fully on him. He seemed much less confrontational, accusational, than Roosevelt and didn’t behave like he was walking on eggshells like Sara. His presence was calming in fact, as was his voice.

“Georgio?” You echoed sadly. Obviously you had known Georgio, or Gloria. He was one of the smallest boys there, and for that you’d always found yourself watching over him from afar. The men that came in were always so brutish, so aggressive, and you hated the sight of every single one of them. Knowing he had been the one who was murdered stung in a way you hadn’t felt in a while.

“You knew him?” Laszlo’s controlled tone was back, and an essence of pity lingered in his three short words. Empathy and understanding was something you had long since been forbidden, seeing as you now were branded with the title of a serial killer so the world didn’t wish to give you any comfort.

But he imparted it to you anyway and you could only wonder why.

“Of course I knew him,” You spat, but Laszlo sensed it was from sadness not resentment towards him, “I brought him breakfast every morning because his mother was struggling. I would have never hurt Georgio, never even dream of hurting any of them.”

“We don’t think you are the one responsible for this killing, Miss L/N,” Laszlo started, and he looked at his companions as if to confirm with them he was along the right track, “We simply wish for your insight into how someone is driven to killing another the way you did. Georgio’s murderer seemed to have replicated, either knowingly or unknowingly, how you disposed of your victims.”

You laughed, which startled the three people facing you and Laszlo’s brows furrowed at the sight of the coldness returning to your eyes when he’d mentioned your crimes. That seemed to be a raw nerve, he noted. “I can assure you Doctor Kreizler, my motives would be very different to this new murderer on the loose.”

“Do you care to elaborate?” Sara stepped in, and there was a newfound bitterness to her tone that made your eyes narrow on her. The men watched you stare at one another, sensing the tension in the air as you tilted your head in challenge.

“No, Miss Howard. I don’t. I wish to say nothing more to you, infact.” You snapped. Leaning back in your chair, arms beginning to ache from where they had been bound in place for so long. The three visitors seemed to sigh at the same time, realising you were now uncooperative to their proposal. It was at this dejected sound that a spark lit in your eyes, and you observed each one delicately.

Your eyes moved from Laszlo, who was already staring at you with the intrigue that had been there since he stepped into that damp-smelling room, to Sara who was looking at her lap gloomily, and finally to Roosevelt who was signaling to the guard behind you that this session was over.

Just as the guard had moved to lift you out of your seat, your legs unsurprisingly weak considering you had been drugged on a bed for the past week, your voice grabbed the attention of the trio once more.

“Wait.” You commanded, and for a moment everyone stopped, the guard included. You were left half dangling from how heavy handed the huge man behind you was and, as Roosevelt gave a dismissing wave of his hand, you were unceremoniously dropped back into the seat with a short bleat of ache at the impact. “You want my help catching this murderer, yes? You want to know what it is that makes someone do the things I did?” The three of them nodded almost synchronously, hooked on your every word as you looked back at them earnestly, “Get me out of this cell, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Better yet, release me and I’ll help you catch the sick bastard myself.”

With your proposition, the room went so silent a single hair dropping to the floor could have been heard.

--------

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So our girl is bargaining herself out of jail. as. she. should.

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mysoftboybensolo · 3 years

Text

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 8: The Confusion

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, angst, kidnapping.

The next few days was one of the most tense anyone in the group had ever had. Unlike their other cases, the person they were on the look out for hadn’t done anything note worthy to the police and therefore not worthy of police involvement. So, it was left up to the team to handle this themselves. It was Laszlo who came up with the plan, each of them would take turns going to the opera with Evelina was a guard, and Sara would protect her from the safety of her home. It was agreed upon, particularly at the insistence of Evelina, that no one at the opera would know, as it was seen to be for the best, for if they knew, it could arouse suspicion and possibly frighten Winston away.

The first day Lucius and Marcus watched over her, and though they would have done whatever was needed to be done to help, they were glad that they were replaced by John. Out of the three men, John was the more intimidating one, and if any scuffle were to happen, he’d be the better fighter. It escaped no one’s eyes when they noticed John at the opera, and the rumors slowly grew of his reasons why.

These rumors had yet to reach the ears of the doctor, who during the day kept an eye on both his children and Evelina, then in the evening visiting her and Sara, checking in for any signs of disturbance. Sara got to see firsthand the kind of meetings that Evelina and Laszlo have had when she’d go to his office, and she began to wonder. Is it possible that a soprano and an alienist would be a love match? It seemed silly at first, but she couldn’t help but to wonder.

After four days of no sign of Winston, John and Laszlo wondered about what to do, and Laszlo decided that he would talk once again to Roosevelt and if he couldn’t move him, then he himself will go to the opera with Evelina and see if it will lure Winston out. Somehow, Evelina found out and after the rehearsal the next day, Evelina hurried to John and asked, “John, is it true that Laszlo is going to watch over me tomorrow?”

“Well, yes.”

“Why?”

He looked at her confused, “To watch over you.”

“No, I mean…John, please convince him not to. I am sure that Winston is very jealous of him, and I fear that if he sees Laszlo with me, something dreadful will happen.”

“But perhaps it will do us good. If Laszlo is what triggers him, then it will mean an end to this.”

“Not at the risk of Laszlo’s life. Oh, please,” she asked, her hands gripping his jacket desperately, “Convince him not to!”

He looked down at her amazed. “If it really means that much to you.”

She released her hands from his jacket, looked away and blushed. “I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

He nods, then says, “Listen, why don’t we get a little lunch? I think it’ll do us both some good.”

He takes her to a small café where they enjoy a cup of tea and cakes and begin to relax a bit. “Oh, I think that was terribly romantic, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” she says, after he tells the story of how he tried to woo a girl from his college years.

John chuckled, then said, “Laszlo calls me a hopeless romantic, sometimes as if it is a hopeless flaw.”

“Then it is a flaw we share.”

“Funny, we both…” John stopped short, a quick glance of fear of revealing too much, then distracted himself with a sip of his tea.

Evelina smirked and finished his thought. “Two romantics, in love with cynical people.”

John looked at her and a wash of relief overcame him. At last, someone he could speak of his feelings on the subject to. “How could you tell?”

“You’ve hidden it quite well, but I’ve seen it in your eyes, they just glow when she comes into view, or even the mere mention of her name, you light up.” She bit her lip, then asked, “How could you tell with me?”

“Oh, at first, I hadn’t been sure, but then when I saw that you hadn’t run off after his probing, I only thought of two things, either you are a mad woman, or a woman in love.” They chuckled, then John, very seriously asked, “Do you think that there is any hope for me? I mean, is there in any way, I might be able to win her over? She never seems interested, and yet she is.”

She takes a moment to consider her words, then she speaks. “I think perhaps Sara is worried what it will mean. To her, love and independence cannot mix. It must be one or the other, but she doesn’t realize that she can have both. If the man loves her enough to understand her need of freedom, he will earn her eternal love, and I think you could be that man.”

“And I think you could very well be the woman to bring happiness to Laszlo. If he allows himself to have it.”

She couldn’t help but to smile at the thought. Yes, John thinks she could make Laszlo happy, but he did not confirm whether Laszlo felt the same. But nevertheless, it gave her some courage and thought she might do something about it.

Sara and Laszlo walked around the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of this man. Evelina gave a detailed account of her brother; age 27, tall and slender, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp features, and full mouth. The most distinct feature, she said, was faint scars down the left side of his face from where she scratched at him when fending him off. They walked around the city every day and didn’t seem to be any closer.

“He is around here, I know it,” Sara said, “He would never be too far from where she could be.”

“Yes,” Laszlo agreed, “The predator never loses sight of his prey.”

“I better return home; Evelina said her rehearsal is half today and I should be there to meet her. What time is it?”

Laszlo reached for his pocket watch, but out fluttered was a handkerchief and he quickly snatched it back, as if hoping it would not be seen. But Sara saw and her mouth fell open at the sight. It was a white handkerchief with lace edging and embroidered blue bird. That was where it went, and Sara had read plenty of stories to know that such a gesture was always fueled by romantic feelings. Laszlo was in love with Evelina. Of course, it makes so much more sense now. Of all the times he spoke of Evelina, how awkward and unsure he was around her, which he never was around anyone else, for he was perhaps one of the most confident insecure men she ever knew. And yet, around Evelina, Sara could see his wall slightly lowered for her, which he never did unless someone took whacks at it at first.

“I um,” Laszlo stumbled with his words, “I have to go, meeting Roosevelt now. Goodbye.” He hurried off, avoiding any words with Sara. He heard his heart pounding in his ears knowing that Sara will put the pieces together. To help distract him, Laszlo hurried to his meeting, hoping to convince Roosevelt to help in their case. Theodore Roosevelt is a good man, but he is also a practical man. “My friend, there is barely any proof that this man is after her, or rather that there is any man after her. Any one from her building could have taken her knickers, it may not even be her brother. With her profession, it is not hard to see her dealing with this kind of thing. And if I were to assign an officer to every woman who has been accosted by a man, I’d have not only no men left, but I’d have to hire more!”

“But regardless, whether it is her brother, suitor or some pervert off the street, she should not be intimidated by anyone and feel frightful of stepping out of her door. Please Theodore, I am just asking for some protection for her.”

He thinks about it, but he shakes his head. “I am sorry. Give me some concrete proof and then I’ll see about assigning someone. I appreciate that you are doing this as a favor to John, but even he must know my limits.”

Laszlo looked at him confused. “John?”

“Yes. I mean after all, for all the times they spent together, it’s clear he has an interest in her. And I must say, what a handsome couple they make,.”

Laszlo stared at him, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest, and gulped. “Do they?”

“Of course! You can tell she clearly favors him above all others. Why, as I was heading over here, I saw them at a café, and you should have seen how they were laughing and going on. It does make sense, when you think of it; both are artists, he with a pen and she with her voice. It is a good match, I think, and he better make the proposal soon if he doesn’t want to lose her.” A knock at the door interrupted them, and Theodore sighed. “Well, I better be going. Good day, Laszlo.”

Laszlo barely acknowledged Theodore as he became lost in his thoughts and insecurity. Walking back at the institute in a daze as he thought over everything. He had been terribly mistaken, as it seemed to be his curse, in matters of the heart. He had felt certain that her frequent visits were because of growing feelings, but it had to have been because she wanted to be kind to the old man who saved her from abuse. Yes, that had to be it. And he was the fool to allow his heart to be taken by someone too good for him. This heartbreak was awful, and once in the safety of his office, he grabbed a pillow and screamed a painful aching sound into it.

Sara worked at her typewriter, working on the paperwork of this case, when she felt a presence. Turning in her chair, she sighed as she saw Evelina sitting on the couch, a pensive look on her face, as if it was a matter of life and death. “I didn’t hear you come back.”

Evelina jumped at the sound of Sara’s voice, but relaxed and offered a small smile. “I only just came in.” She bit her lip, then asked, “Sara, may I ask you a question?” She patted the spot next to her, allowing Sara to sit beside her. “Have you ever been in love? I mean, really and truly in love?”

Sara was stumped by the question. Unsure of how to answer that question. “I-what do you mean?”

A slight smiled appeared on her lips as she continued. “I only ask because, well, because I need some advice. I am in love. You see, at first, I thought it was just a little infatuation, that perhaps because he rescue me, I had developed feelings that weren’t really there. Then as I got to know him better, I found that he is brilliant, brave and good. Oh, I know he isn’t perfect, he has his faults and everyone knows it, but deep down, he is a fine man, one of the finest men I have ever known. He cares a lot more than he lets on and I know it comes from a place of hurt so that is why he shields his heart. But it didn’t stop me from loving him. I know I do. What would you do, Sara? What would you do if you were me?”

Hearing her words, Sara felt convinced of who she spoke of, and pushed down her own feelings of disappointment and pain. Then her thoughts shifted to Laszlo. Poor Laszlo. He no doubt will be crushed to find out her true feelings, but like the gentleman he can be, he’d never say anything if it means another’s happiness. “If you truly love this man, you must tell him. And I am sure that John will be happy to hear of your feelings.”

Evelina looked at her puzzled then shook her head. “Sara, I am not speaking of John. Oh, do not get me wrong, he is a fine man and a good friend, but how could I even think to have feelings for him when it is clear he adores you and you him?”

Sara shook her head. “Um, that is not, we are not…No.”

Evelina chuckled and gave her a look. “Keep telling yourself that, Sara.”

Sara then gave a puzzled look and said, “Forgive me, but if it is not John, then-” she stopped herself and remembered who else was there to save her that night. “Laszlo. You love Laszlo!”

Evelina nodded. “I know that to many it is a peculiar match, but they don’t know him as I do. He is brash, closed off, and such a dear!” She says the last words with such adoration.

Sara tried to bite back a smile, but she couldn’t help it. “Has Laszlo ever said anything to you?”

“No. I think perhaps he sees me only as a friend, but I swear, I’d see him looking at me in a certain way, says a word, or perhaps touch me in a way that makes me wonder if he feels the same as I do. But I think it’s only my vain desire for him to reciprocate.”

Taking her hands, Sara smiled and with confidence said, “Evelina, I can safely assure you, you are not wrong. Laszlo does feel the same, I know he does.”

“Has he said so?”

“Not in the exact words, but everything else he does and says have told all I could ever know. Whenever someone mentions you, his eyes just have a certain glow in them, and I’ve never seen him be so at peace with himself and the world until you came.”

Evelina’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really. And I think you should tell him now. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste another second and let it all out. And I guarantee you, he will do the same.” Sara ran a friendly finger down Evelina’s face and smiled. “You two will be very happy, I know it.”

Sara walked Evelina out and hailed a carriage, watching her get in and instructed the driver to stay until Evelina returns back to the house. Evelina popped her head out of the window, took Sara’s hand and smile. “Would you like to know something Sara? When you said about his eyes having that glow? I noticed the same in John’s eyes when he sees you. Just thought you’d like to know.” And with that, the carriage raced off to the institute.

He had not expected to see her, for the plan was for her to go from the opera house back to Sara’s and if she were to ever go out, it would be accompanied by another. And yet, here she was, standing in his office, looking radiant, excited, and happy. She looked so happy, why wouldn’t she? She just spent the afternoon with John Moore, handsome, charming, able bodied John Moore. What more could a woman want? And he felt his heart crack at the thought, and he silently began to berate himself for daring to hope that he could be loved, for once in his life, to have someone love him back. Such a foolish hope, really, a waste of a dream.

“I presume you had a pleasant day with John.”

“Yes. Today has been enlightening, to say the least.”

“Yes, I am sure.” He fiddled with his bad hand, then suddenly became insecure and covered it with his good left one. “Evelina, I feel that as we have gotten close in a few short months, I feel safe in saying this.” She looked at him with such tenderness and joy that it sent a quiver through his heart and he thought he couldn’t go through with it. “John is a good man, can even be a great man with the right kind of woman beside him. He has some rather unfavorable habits, the brothels, the drinking, and gambling, but he would gladly give it all up. For you.”

He did not notice her hopeful expression turn to confusion, then hurt. Why was he saying all this? Was Sara wrong in her assumption?

“I think it would be a rather nice match, truly. And I can only see a promising and bright future for you both.” The next words he had to turn away, for this was the hardest part. “And I am sure that with everything in your life, you’ll not be able to see me as much. Oh, we will see each other at parties and at the opera, but I think that it would be best that you do not come to see me as much as you did. Certain professions leave rather damaging marks on those through association and it would be best that before any damage is done, that we agree that we should not see much of the other in the capacity such as this.”

Evelina stood, blinking to hold back the tears. “I see. Well, thank you, doctor, I shall take your advice. And you needn’t worry anymore of seeing me. In fact, I may even let you know when I shall be performing, so you need not bother coming. Good day.” She hurried out before he could say anything and once out of the house, she began to cry. She cried through the carriage ride back to Sara’s house and then ran in and up the stairs, sobbing terribly.

“Evelina?” Sara and Tessie looked at each other and hurried up the stairs, finding Evelina across the bed, sobbing into a pillow. “Evelina, dear. What happened?”

“He doesn’t feel the same! You were wrong, Sara. He doesn’t feel the same at all!”

“But what did he say? Evelina?” She continued to sob, and Sara turned to the maid and asked her to make a strong cup of coffee. As she waited, Sara continued to try and soothe her friend and figure out what happened. She tried to encourage Evelina to drink, but she nearly destroyed the cup when she pushed it away. “Evelina, please, tell me what happened.”

Evelina looked up and managed to say through the tears, “I went to tell him what I felt, but all he did was go on about how John and I would be a good couple and tried to warn me of his bad habits. Then,” fresh tears appeared but Sara continued to rub circles on her back, trying to calm her, “He said that we should not see each other anymore. He said that certain professions can be damaging to others.” She threw her fist down on the bed in hurtful anger, “He was talking about me! My profession as a singer is damaging to him! I bring shame to him but won’t even say the words! He couldn’t even look at me when he said it! He doesn’t feel the same, if anything, I think he hates me! Oh, God, how can I bear it?”

Sara looked down in shock. No, she was certain that Laszlo felt the same, Evelina’s handkerchief was the definite proof. Why would Laszlo say such things to her? “Evelina, I know I am not wrong and I shall get to the bottom of this.” Removing herself from the bed, she turned to Tessie and said, “Stay with her and try to calm her down. I’ll be right back.”

“What shall you do, Miss?” Tessie asked after her.

“I am going to knock some sense into that man, even if it means I must do so literally.” And down the stairs she went in a flash.

Laszlo had been holding this book for ten minutes, staring at its pages. His eyes looked over the words, but his mind couldn’t register their meaning. He replayed the interaction, trying to find the mistake. Perhaps it was the truth that made it difficult for her to accept, or perhaps it was how he said the words, but he couldn’t quite understand why she made that comment of warning him ahead of time when she would perform. She never struck him to be a volatile person, so if she was angry, she could have said so.

A powerful bang resonated in the room, making Laszlo jump and look up. It was Sara, the door swinging back from the force she gave it, her face a calm fury.

“Sara, what is the matter?” He got up, setting the book aside, and moved closer, “Are you hurt?”

“I am not here for myself but for another. Someone who is hurt and therefore I share her pain.”

Laszlo removed his glasses. “I am afraid I do not follow.”

“What happened just now with Evelina?”

“Um, I tried my best to encourage her pursuit of John, but I supposed I over shared of his past as she was solemn as she left.”

Sara shook her head. “Oh, men! How on earth did we ever allow you lot run the world? You hurt her terribly! The poor girl has been a sobbing wreck. I only managed to get her to calm down enough to tell me what happened. And even when I left, she was still a mess.”

The thought of her being hurt because of his carless words broke him and he cursed himself for his bluntness. “My intentions were never meant to hurt, but to encourage and to warn. I would never dream to hurt Evelina, it pains me now to think my words made her even shed a single tear.”

Sara took a deep breathe, as if to try and calm her fury, then spoke. “Laszlo, do you know why she came to see you?”

“Because of John.”

“Because of you! If you weren’t so filled with self-loathing and pigheadedness, you would have realized that she is in love with you!”

Laszlo wasn’t sure if what he heard was correct, he couldn’t be. Evelina in love with him? “What would make you say such a thing?”

“Because she told me so herself. When she did, I encouraged her to tell you, as I know you love her. No, don’t deny it,” she quickly cut him off, “I’ve seen it in your eyes, in your voice and manners, and if that wasn’t enough, I saw that you carry her handkerchief over your heart.” Laszlo’s hand instinctively reached up to the spot where he had safely tucked the material, and he felt his face grow warm at being caught. “Admit it, you love her.”

“Yes,” he softly admitted.

“Deeply.”

“More.”

“Then I beg you, come with me and let us clear this all up.”

“No. Even if what you say is true, she deserves someone better than me. She’s young, beautiful and entire life ahead of her. I’d only weigh her down.”

“Laszlo, do you realize that you are about to give up a chance to find happiness? Here is someone who loves and adores you and yet you refuse to believe it. Even if you refuse to think of yourself, think of her! She thinks you not only do not love her, but that you don’t want to be associated with her anymore due to her being in the opera. She thinks you outright despise her and that she brought shame to you by mere association.”

Laszlo was mortified beyond belief. So that was why she made that comment and stormed out of here. His words were never to imply she brought shame to him, but rather the other way around, that he would bring shame to her. “Yes, I must fix this.” He slipped his jacket on and followed Sara out the door, thinking only of Evelina. He tried to rehearse what he’d say to her, the proper words to correct his mistake. He just hoped that he was not too late.

When they arrived, Sara climbed out then froze. Laszlo looked out and was going to question Sara’s hesitation, but noticed that her door was ajar. Pulling out her pistol, Sara and Laszlo carefully entered the house, looking around. In the den, Sara noticed Tessie laid across the floor. Laszlo went to her and took her pulse. “It’s alright. She’s unconscious.”

“Evelina was in her room last I saw her.”

Laszlo felt a surge of panic as he ran up the stairs, skipping a few steps, and barged into the room. “Evelina? Evelina!” The room was empty, but there clearly was a fight as the sheets were pulled off the bed, a vase was shattered and scratch marks on the doorframe.

“Laszlo!” He hurried down the stairs, hoping that Sara had found her, but instead, he saw her holding up a note. “It’s addressed to you.”

Curious, he took the letter and nearly torn it in half opening it. He recognized the handwriting, the same that smashed through his window.

Dear Dr. Kreizler,

Though we have never met, you and I have a score to settle. You see, we both have something in common and that tie is Miss Evelina Lind. I urge you to meet me in the cellars of the opera house, in the prop rooms. I expect you alone, for this is a party of three and it would be dreadfully rude to invite others.

Sincerely,

Miss Lind and I shall be waiting eagerly of your arrival.

Winston Lind.

Laszlo felt his blood run cold. He has her. And it was his fault.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl @flutterskies @sokoviandelights, @cazzyimagines, @rumblelibrary, @fictionlandslanddreams, @violetmuses and @barnesxnobles. If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know!

#daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #the alienist #laszlo kreizler #fanfiction

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hotchnersbiitch · 4 years

Text

Date Night

A/N: Hey guys! This is the last request in my inbox, so send me some more! I love writing for you all!

Request: @bucksgoat

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Category: Fluff

Warning: none

Word Count: 1,446 ~ 5min 47sec

The BAU has had what seemed like nonstop cases all month, you were tired and burnt out just like everyone else. You also were missing your husband; yeah you guys work together every day but you can't remember the last time you two were able to just lay around and read books together. You just wanted a break. You were pretty disappointed this morning when Spencer got a call saying that there was a new case, you were hoping today would only be a paperwork day because Spencer had reservations at a nice restaurant for the both of you.

“This isn't fair.” You mumbled as you and Spencer got dressed for the day.

“I know love, I’m sorry.” He says slipping on his converse before throwing his messenger bag over his body, you put on your shoes and grabbed your bag before you both left the house getting into the car. You sighed and rested your head against the window as Spencer drove, you were just so bummed out, all you wanted was one day to relax and be with your husband.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks placing a hand on your knee as he drove and you just shook your head.

“No, I’m so tired Spencer, cases have been back to back for weeks now. I just want one day where we can just relax and have a normal life for once. I miss you.” You say, almost on the verge of tears, you were just so upset. You love your job, you really do but it just gets so tiring after a while. Spencer frowns and pats your knee lightly.

“I know baby, I’m tired and I miss you so much as well. But we got to do our jobs, we will get a break soon enough.” He says in a comforting voice, you just nod taking Spencer's hand into your own bringing it to your lips and kissing it gently.

“I love you, I’m sorry our date got messed up,” Spencer says as he pulls into the parking garage of the FBI.

“I love you too, it's not your fault,” you say as you get out of the car making your way inside with Spencer. You dropped your stuff off at your desk as you made your way into the briefing room with Spencer close behind you. You could instantly tell everyone felt the same way you did, the vibes were just off, everyone was worn out. You let out a sigh and sat next to Spencer as Hotch started informing everyone about the case. You were hoping this was going to be an open and shut case so you could come back home and have a break. The case was located in Manhattan, New York which luckily wasn't too far away from headquarters. The short plane ride to the location was quiet which was unusual for the team, they were always talking about something whether that be the case, their personal lives, or even telling stories from when they were younger. But you were all tired and not it the mood to chat, the entire ride you just laid your head on Spencer's shoulder as he looked through the case file. You were pretty sure this would be an easy case to solve, at least you hoped so. Once the team arrived they went straight to work, you helped work on the profile with Morgan and Prentiss while the rest of the team went to talk to witnesses and survey the crime scenes. After JJ lead the press release on the nightly news there wasn't much left to do until tomorrow, Hotch called it a night and everyone went to the hotel. You walked into your and Spencer's hotel room, Hotch allowed you two to share since you were married. You walk over to the bed and plopped down, you were exhausted.

“No get up, we're going somewhere,” Spencer says, you look up and shoot him a very confused look.

“Where could we possibly need to go Spence?” you ask with a small chuckle.

“You’ll see come on.” He says grabbing your hand pulling you out of the room and into the lobby.

“Spencer, where are we going?” You ask a little bit more sternly.

“You'll see, just bear with me okay?”

“Okay.” You mumble as you get into one of the SUVs with Spencer.

“I got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” You question, you honestly had no clue where Spencer could be taking you, he just nods his head and starts driving. You only drove for a few minutes before Spencer parked the car, he hurried to get out and open the door for you, he was always such a gentleman. You were now both standing in front of a beautiful white building that was lit up with spotlights.

“Where are we, babe?” You ask with a smile as you wrap your arm around his.

“We are at the American Museum of National History, I've always wanted to come here and were here now so I thought why not. It'll make up for our missed date, I know we're on a case but I just want to spend this time with you, even if it's just for a few hours.” He says with a small smile, you blush and look over at him with a giant smile on your face. He was truly the sweetest person you've ever met.

“Spence, this is wonderful baby. Thank you so much, this is so sweet of you.” You say wrapping your arms around him before placing a loving kiss on his lips, he gratefully kissed you back before pulling away.

“Let's go, I paid extra for night access, there will hardly be anyone here and we can just enjoy the exhibits without all the people.” He says as you walk hand and hand up the steps into the museum, he hurriedly handed the teller the tickets and grabbed a map before walking into the main building. You gasped, the first thing you saw way a gigantic skeleton of a T-Rex, you and spencer loved to go to museums and you've seen a lot of great things but never something like this.

“Wow babe, this is... incredible.” you mutter as he leads you around the museum.

“This museum alone as over 33 million artifacts Y/N, can you believe that? That's just so incredible. And many of the taxidermal animals you'll see, like the elephants, were hunted by Theodore Roosevelt himself.” Spencer rattles off, you could listen to his facts all day, it honestly made this 100 times more interesting. He knew more stuff about the exhibits than even seasoned historians did. You and Spencer walked around for what felt like hours just admiring the exhibitions, sometimes it was quiet you two would just soak in all the beauty that was around you, and sometimes Spencer would be giving you an entire history lesson on a certain object. You were so happy, you felt more relaxed than you have in weeks. You and Spencer eventually ended up in an enormous completely glass room, in the middle of this room were giant models of the planets, the moonlight coming in from the glass it was stunning.

“Wow” Was all you could stay as you and Spencer looked up admiring the work. You felt your heart swell up with so much happiness you could cry, you wrap your arms around Spencer's torso and pull him into a hug in which he greatly accepted. He kissed the top of your head and held you close to him.

“Thank you so much, Spencer. You have no idea how bad I needed this,” you mumble pulling away slightly to look up at him, the moonlight was hitting his face in all the right places, he looked beautiful.

“You have no idea how much I needed this too, it's like all my stress has been washed away. I’m so glad we get to do this, I know it's not home and I know were technically still on the job but all that matters is that we are here. Together.” He says before leaning down kissing you, you kissed him back with so much affection. He pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much,” Spencer says in almost a whisper you smile softly.

“I love you more.” You whisper back, Spencer pulls you back into his arms looking at the exhibit again. You were so content, you wished you could stay like this forever, you know you couldn't so you made sure to absorb all the love and memories you were making on this very special night.

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