#derekchristophermorgan

[detdanville-blog]

@derekchristophermorgan

“So what are you trying to say exactly?”

[derekanthonymorgan-blog]

I followed because A) Derek wanted to interact with your Spencer. And B) reading all of your threads gives me inspiration for my own Derek muse?? Like... You are so fucking perfect and reading all of your threads makes me hear Derek's voice in my head and it literally gives me more inspiration to write him, so thank you for that!

Tell me why you followed me and what made you stay.

YOU ARE A PRECIOUS FLOWER. It’s been decided. <3<3 Seriously though, thank you so much, darling. I’d say you literally have no idea how much this means to me right now but considering we’re talking on Skype, you probably have some of one. Seriously. Thank you. I’m glad I can help inspire you because your Derek is amazeballs. So. Yep.

[ethimologie]

derekchristophermorgan:

Send ‘College’ and I’ll generate a number 1-57 and create a college-verse starter.

17. We live in halls opposite each other and I keep seeing you changing through your window.

Derek knew he should have said something sooner. Should have gone over and knocked on her door the first day he watched her get undressed and into her pajamas. But he was a young adult male, and the fact that he had this much access to a girl’s private life was more than he was willing to let go of right away. Sure, it technically made him a peeping Tom, but if the girl wasn’t smart enough to realize people could see into her window, then it was her problem.

Besides, he mused, when was he ever likely to actually run into her on campus? It was so large, they were hardly destined to cross paths.

And then they did. Derek was walking down a path towards his next class–or more, running, because he was late–and not paying attention to where he was going. He didn’t bother to look up until he was hitting someone and papers went flying everywhere. He started to apologize hastily, but cut off when he looked up and saw who it was.

“Oh, um.. hello,” he stuttered, unsure of what to say. Hey, you’re the girl I see changing clothes every day from across the hall. That didn’t sound like it would go over very well. Yet he still felt the need to somehow let her know that he could view her for his own entertainment, even if it was likely to get him on her bad side.

“You, um. You live in Marin Hall, right?” he asked, picking up papers and checking to see if they were his or not, and handing over the ones that weren’t. “I think I’ve seen you there a couple times…”  

Irritation rarely hit Taissa, but considering the fact that she’d been carrying a stack of notes and worksheets she’d meticulously ordered that morning, she didn’t exactly appreciate the fact that they were now scattered all over the pavement and grass. She’d just been on her way to the bookstore to get a folder to secure them in, but it seems that now she’d have to start from scratch. Furthermore, she hadn’t heard an actual apology from him. She’d stumbled and almost hit the floor as the other student collided into her, and with a sigh she bent down to begin picking up her papers, easily separating them from his. 

“I do,” Taissa replied, glancing up with a subtle frown as he mentioned seeing her around Marin Hall. For one, she’d never seen him in her life. She wouldn’t be surprised that he knew her though; many of her dormmates made a habit of bringing in male companions even though it was very much against the rules. “Someone’s boyfriend, then? Brother?”

[brokenagentjareau-blog]

Derek

❝Would you slow down! I would like to get to the crime scene in one piece thank you very much! ❞

[id-iosyncrasies]

"Bite me."

Spencer throws his hands up and gives Derek an absolutelyincredulous look, eyebrows raised. Okay, he gets it. He screwedup. And it’s obvious that the fact that it had been an accident is going to get him absolutely no-where. Maybe Derek shouldn’t haveparked his motorcycle so close to Spencer’s car?

It didn’t even look damaged but Spencer knows how fiercelyprotective Derek is over that death-trap.

He purses his lips together, hands lowering, and his retort isequally mature: “Bite yourself!”

[id-iosyncrasies]

In reply to this answered ask.

The surprise writes itself across familiar features. It reveals itself in the upturn of his brow, the line of his mouth and the pinch of his eyes; Spencer sucks his tongue to the back of his teeth and he's suddenly and overwhelmingly worried that he's said too much too soon. Children are a big step for any relationship — and, well, with their careers — is it really logical to adopt? Add to that that they're a pair of homosexual men. A great portion of adoption agencies make it deliberately difficult for same-sex couples to adopt despite the fact that the number of children without a permanent home grows every year in the U.S. Of course adoption isn't the only option but finding a surrogate would likely have its own share of challenges and maybe he should have just kept the idea to himself, maybe he should have tried harder to find contentment in the reoccurring dreams of a dark-haired boy with Derek's smile. Maybe.

But then Derek's surprise is fading, giving way to a small smile and deliberate clarification. Spencer rolls his lips together and nods, his eyes focused solely on his. Derek's voice is soft and understanding, albeit slightly teasing and it's that — that hint of humor — that tells Spencer how serious he really is. Derek wouldn't feel comfortable joking about it if it's something he's on the fence about. Relief rushes through him and his stomach is no longer a swarm of ants. He shifts, sitting up in bed more so that he can properly look at his lover. He props himself up against the headboard, his position mirroring Derek's.

His fingers twist around their quilt, a hand-me-down from Derek's mom.

“I... I might have a few ideas about that,” he admits, averting his eyes and tugging at a loose thread. He blows out a sharp breath and then looks back to Derek, his eyes burning into his. “Did... did you know that 62% of children adopted privately are placed with an adoptive family when they're newborns — or less than one year old?” His fingers tighten around the quilt and the words continue to come in a rush, the faucet turned. “And that the odds of a child being adopted decrease drastically each year after that? The most significant jump is when they turn ten; some studies have shown a 67% decrease in prospective parents... and — and bi-or-transracial children make up less than 30% of those successfully adopted — ” he stops, quite abruptly, and smooths his hands across his lap, grounding himself by focusing on the small bumps of knotted thread. He blinks, all too aware of his rambling — Derek always has this look about him when he goes off on a tangent, even if it's one that he can follow, and Spencer knows that it isn't necessarily a bad or judging look but it's a look nonetheless and he kicks at the end of the quilt, finding it difficult to sit still. “I mean, I know — I know adoption isn't our only option. We could find a surrogate, too, but —“ he stops and tries again, “I'm serious about this, Derek. I... I want a family.”

                                            “ With you.”

[suitbadgetie-blog]

Keep Me Sane

Derek Morgan had been the one who drove him home from the hospital. He had made sure that Hotch took his pain medication, and he helped change the bandages around his abdomen when he was still in too much pain to move. 

And he cooked. Prior to Foyet, Aaron hadn’t known that Derek to cook, but every night there was something warm and homemade on the table. It was the only thing worth dragging himself out of bed for. Morgan’s presence slipped into the house and nestled in the places behind family photos and between the cracks in to sofa cushions. And Aaron didn’t mind.

Derek was home the first time Aaron showered alone. He was the one that came running when Hotch had shouted, and later, he was the one who sat on the toilet to keep him company because the bathroom was terrifying when he was the only one in it. 

Aaron Hotchner fell in love with Derek Morgan over the course of silent evenings and college basketball games and the chicken pot pie that the darker skinned man made every saturday. 

And then Foyet killed Haley and Aaron killed him and if that wasn’t enough, four little words on the autopsy made his world come crashing down even harder than it had been already.

The subject is HIV+

[vicariousphotographer]

Distant Memories

   Another victim has been found. This time, it was a young man, around his mid-30s, who had been doing the innocent act of running errands for his mother. He had no reason to die such a gruesome death. From what was taken from the crime scene, he must have been ambushed with a heavy blow to the head. That didn’t appear to kill him, however. Red marks at his neck indicated strangulation though judging by the blood smears from the end of the trail to further down, he had been crawling towards desperate escape before being killed. A horrible tragedy, indeed. 

   The mother was greatly distraught and horrified by the news. She had thought nothing of it when her son had been tardy, assuming that he was held up by traffic or the like. Even more devastating was the fact that they could find no traces of the killer, just like before. 

   The murders had the same M.O apparently, with the victim ambushed in an isolated area, left with the false hope that they would survive before being struck with the final blow. While the blows were different in nature, from blunt force trauma to a bullet to the head, the patterns in how they were killed and when they were killed, which was usually during dusk or at night, were the same. Plus, the victims held similarities, such as having a seemingly normal life. Some were raised in an upper middle class than others but other than that, they were no other differences. 

   When the news of the B.A.U arriving to investigate, the victim’s mother had came forward to offer some aid for them. She claimed that she knew someone who was able to ‘see’ the 'imprints’ of tragic events and relive the past. The person’s name was Henry Townshend and he happened to live in the same apartment as her and the victim, Townshend living a floor above in Room 206.