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#i owe it all to that film. so much i could never express it. in every sense you'll find me on the shores of summerisle

bones4thecats · 5 months

Note

hiii sorry and please can i request T-T

Tansaisekun!fem reader (like before) x Odin and anubis (seperately)

Soo im pretty bored since that can i request how a day in the life of reader and their lover and child would be , just fluff and pure crack and how would they find when one of their close friend are being bullied(jokingly) by the mischevious calamity Goddess??

(something like this)

Alright thats all tyyy

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Odin and Anubis Name: {Character} x Tansai Sekun! Reader with their Child Requester: @lizuannn Original Request: Here

A/N: I haven't written for these Record in Ragnarok characters to much, so they may kinda be a hint OOC. So I'll apologize in advance just in case.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🪶 Everyone is so confused on how the hell you both even got along because of your differing personalities, not to mention started a relationship

🪶 Not many knew, but the reason he loved you was your differences, whenever he compared himself and his constant stoic expression to your more upbeat and sadistic smile-covered face, he would feel a flutter in his chest

🪶 When you guys heard you were expecting your first child, nobody was more shocked than Zeus, who never expected his oldest ally to have children of his own, he even bet his fellow Gods on it!

🪶 Now the guy owes around one million things of different kinds of money to different Deities, what a dumbass

🪶 Anyways, Odin was on the edge of having a child, he didn't want the kid to be 'on-the-edge' of sanity, that may end up causing mass chaos on the entirety of Valhalla

🪶 But, when your son, Thor, came in the world, he resembled his father far more than his mother, which made you tease him for it, trying to get him to smile more often than not

🪶 You bonded with Loki far more because of your sadism, and it wasn't new to your son or husband to see you both messing around with another God with your classic sadistic smile

🪶 The closest you have ever gotten to being the sadistic mother-son duo with Thor is whenever you were talking about bloody battles you both participated in, and hearing you both stay so calm while describing a mutilation honestly scares everyone within hearing-distance, your husband is even on edge around you more now

🪶 Now, everyone knew that you teased everyone. But when, during a Gods' Council meeting, you began to screw around with Zeus, driving him to the near-brink of insanity, Odin just mentally face-palmed, how does he put up with you?

🐶 What a surprise? The happy-sadist and the insane-golden-retriever Deities have now gotten together!

🐶 Anubis was known for his happy-go-lucky and partially sadistic personality, while you were known for your full-blown sadism to anything that walked, especially if the thing was humanoid

🐶 You guys got along quite well before it was announced that you guys were, in fact, a couple and were intending to marry one another once the day arrived, and it didn't shock anyone, you guys were quite similar and lived off the other's energy

🐶 No, your relationship didn't shock anyone who heard about it, rather, they were shocked when they heard you guys were expecting a child

🐶 Once your daughter, which you both named Kebechet, came into the world, anybody who looked at her could tell, she was definitely going to be as compulsive with her actions like you and her father was

🐶 As she aged, she showed more signs of a small-sadistic side hatching inside of her like a seed growing into a blooming apple tree

🐶 Anubis loves playing with his child, and most of the time, it ended up with them playfully bickering as you would film it to show off to the rest of the Egyptian Pantheon

🐶 Due to her more sadism showing, many began to fear the three of you being together in the same room whenever announcing something that they knew would at least aggravate one of you, since it most likely would result in all of you getting angry

🐶 Now, Anubis was fairly close to Hades, since their occupations involved being around one another sometimes, since Anubis brought souls to the Underworld while Hades ruled said land and measured each soul that passed

🐶 When he was dropping off a small group of souls and he saw you floating around the head of his friend's, Anubis smiled and was about to call your name when he faltered, seeing Hades jump as you summoned a small lump of what looked like body parts

🐶 Watching as you still pressured Hades into snapping, Anubis decided to take a break and watch. Why not? Two of his favorite people messing around? Yes please

204 notes · View notes

downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 1 year

Text

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader)

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) Word Count: 14,842 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of murder, crime scenes, guns, near-death experiences, slow-burn romance, drug addiction, death, and some MAJOR FLUFF! Spoilers: none, as Criminal Minds has been out for literal decades so don't get mad.

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer, and one time he says it back in the same fashion.

This man has been eating my brain alive for the past few weeks and I know I'm late but damn he deserves all the appreciation he gets. This was just a silly little idea I had because I'm the kind of person to get obsessed quickly and can't move on until I write it out of my system. Seeing how long this turned out, I have split each moment into six smaller, digestible chapters as linked below. Enjoy xx

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'

'I don't understand why we had to in the first place,' Derek said as he grumpily turned around.

'A magician never tells his secrets,' Spencer said, rubbing his hands gleefully. To him, showing off his intellect never got boring.

Well, show off wasn't the proper term. He understood that he could be a lot for some people, knowing so much for a man in his early twenties that looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone with three Bachelors and PHDs under his belt already. Spouting little known facts or remembering minute details about cases that went back thirty to forty years was just his way of expressing himself. It was his way of contributing to the team. And while his team was getting used to his ramblings and intellect, even demonstrated admiration for it, others would call him a freak.

'If you ask me,' JJ said, 'I wouldn't want to know how he does some things.'

'Fair,' Derek replied, all their eyes on the film canister.

Spencer watched it in anticipation, how the bubbles slipped out between the lid and the canister slowly at first, then started bubbling faster and bigger and-

POP!

The canister rocketed up towards the roof, and all three of them watched with wide eyes as it arced over the bullpen and then down to meet the-

'Ow!'

Spencer ducked into his chair as he watched a young lady in a loose button up shirt, dress pants and boots pat her head. He heard JJ and Derek scurry away, but Spencer remained staring at the woman. Who is she? he thought, his eyes scanning over her.

Your (h/c) hair caught the sunlight, giving it a glow that had Spencer mesmerised. Your (s/c) skin shone with it, making your (e/c) eyes stand out most beautifully. And when you stood back up and made eye contact with him, canister in hand, he found himself frozen, unable to avoid the conclusion that he was the culprit.

'What is this, Reid?' Hotch said, walking up to his desk not looking the least bit impressed. 'Actually, don't answer that. Just don't do it again.'

'Sorry,' Spencer murmured out, a guilty smile stretching his lips slightly.

Hotch blew out a sigh. 'Never mind that now. I would like to introduce you to our new team member. Agent (Y/n) (L/n), a transfer from LA.'

Spencer finally realised that you had walked up with Hotch, and now that you were so close (literally standing a desk apart from one another), he was lost for words at how bright your smile was, and how beautiful you looked that way.

'So you're the one that thought my head was a good landing place for your little... rocket,' you said offering the film canister back, laughter dancing in your words.

It took Spencer a moment for him to realise you wanted him to take the canister back, so he scrambled to his feet, fingers fumbling for the canister. 'No, I-I was just showing how a-an antacid reacts with water, and how, put into a small, confined place, that can cause a chemical, gas-like reaction and cause it to exploded.'

'And launch it like a rocket?' you asked.

He paused as he watched your smile slip a little. Oh no. He'd done it again - made someone feel dumber than him. And while technically that was true, he never meant to make anyone feel like that.

'Y-Yeah?' he answered, awkwardness rising up in his throat, freezing his limbs, his brain.

But then suddenly your smile returned, melting his fear and doubt as you said, 'Cool! I've always loved chemistry. I actually did a Bachelor of Science with a major in archaeological science and a minor in chemistry before I started my BA in Criminology.'

'And now you're here,' he said, a soft smile of his own tugging at his lips.

You nodded, looking around what would now be your new home. 'And now I'm here.'

'Fascinating,' Spencer breathed out. He didn't mean to, but it made you smile more so he didn't mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself. He struck out his arm, rigid as a board, and offered his hand. 'Sorry, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'Pleasure to meet you, doctor,' you said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. You skin was as soft as it looked, Spencer noted. 'I very much look forward to working with you and the rest of the team as we go forward.'

'We've got a briefing in five minutes, Reid,' Hotch interrupted, moving to step away from the conversation. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the team then, (L/n). And if I find you firing another film canister through the sky, Reid-'

'Yes, yes, sorry, no more rockets. Airspace Reid is officially grounded,' Spencer quickly replied, not wanting to get lectured like a twelve-year-old like he usually did.

Your tinkling laughter drew his attention back to you, and he was baffled by the wonderment dancing in your eyes as you looked at him. 'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'T-Thanks?' he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if you were making fun of him or not. Most people did if they didn't straight up tell him he was annoying.

Hotch walked away, but you remained for a moment, leaning in close to whisper, 'That's a good thing, by the way.'

'Oh. Right.'

You flashed him one last smile before following your new unit chief, falling back into easy conversation with him as you gracefully floated through the chaotic goings of the office. Spencer couldn't take his eyes off you as you did, in awe of your grace and poise, and how you didn't even stumble when you spoke with him. You were genuine, upfront and honest. You couldn't be much older than himself, he noted, perhaps even younger. He was used to being the baby of the team, but it looked like that would be changing.

The prospect of being able to connect with someone his own age sent an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter through his heart.

'Oh, you've got it bad.'

Spencer spun in his chair to see JJ and Derek standing behind him once more, watching him with knowing grins.

'What? What have I got?' he asked. 'I'm not sick... I don't think.'

JJ rolled her eyes and giggled as she walked away, Spencer just catching a quiet, 'This'll be fun,' as she did. But Derek walked closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and that knowing grin stretched wider, more feline and cheeky.

'Don't worry, pretty boy,' he said. 'You'll figure it out soon. You're smart, right?'

'Well, smart isn't really the quite term for someone with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187-'

'And pep talk is over,' Derek interrupted, abruptly walking away back to his desk and leaving Spencer in a disarray of emotions.

So he looked back to where you had gone, and found you speaking with Penelope, nodding enthusiastically to whatever she was talking to you about. But you weren't just being polite, you appeared genuinely interested in the conversation, even though Spencer noted you barely contributed to it.

'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

All his life, Spencer had been told he was a genius - gifted, different. It had just become an effortless part of who he is. It was almost expected at this point to see weirded-out or overly-amazed expressions from people he didn't know. So why then, when you said that to him, did he feel happy about it?

He checked his watch. Almost briefing time. He got up from his seat and made his way to the briefing room where only a place beside you was available. Maybe he would find out soon enough.

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations.

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them.

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once the team joined the case.

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain.

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind your back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to.

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own.

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office.

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?'

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed.

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like.

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked.

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'

The next time you dumbfounded him, he almost kissed you.

Ever since you had joined the BAU, you and Spencer had alway had a sweet partnership. But after that night in the office, you had become inseparable. Best friends, to put simply. You stayed late at the office to keep each other company, brought each other coffee and treats, spent free days checking out the new films playing in the cinema.

You had inside jokes, and fought like an old, married couple - a fact the team loved to bring up whenever possible. But you liked it like that. Spencer was your person, and you were his.

And as much as he wowed you everyday, you managed to surprise him on occasions, too.

You were both paired up to interrogate a suspect. You personally didn't believe she was the killer, but Spencer didn't like to base anything from solely his gut. In other words, he was skeptical.

'I didn't kill those women,' your suspect said. 'And even if wanted to kill them, it would be for something more worthwhile than a stupid role.'

'Jealously isn't as far-fetched a reason to kill as you may believe,' Spencer stated to her. 'Particularly in women, the feeling of being threatened or in danger of losing something important to them brings out almost a maternal instinct to protect what they believe to be is theirs.'

'You think all actresses are that low? That shallow?' The young woman was pretty, but her face scrunched up in an ugly manner at the insinuation.

'He doesn't think that at all,' you interjected. 'In fact, he quite likes actresses, don't you buddy?'

Spencer gave you a side eye to which you smiled sickly-sweetly at in return. You were never going to let the Lila fling down any time soon.

You looked back at the young woman, your face returning to empathetic, concerned. She had a wall up, she was wearing a mask. If you wanted answers out of her, you needed to connect with her.

You leaned forward on the table, positioning yourself in front of Spencer so all her focus was on you.

'Anna,' you said softly, like you were speaking to a friend. 'I know you didn't do it. You're different than all those other girls right? You've worked hard to get where you are. Small town girl wanting to make a name for herself in an industry that can be ruthless and heartless as the killer that's still out there. You are classically trained, by-the-book, no shortcuts. I bet you started on the stage of your elementary school, landing the lead role.'

The young woman looked at you with skepticism for a moment, then you saw a crack in her mask as she nodded. 'I was Mary in the Christmas production. But it wasn't until high school when we preformed Shakespeare's The Tempest that I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.'

Spencer noticed your smile now, how it lifted in a manner that sung of melancholy and fondness.

'"We are such stuff as dreams are made on.",' you said whimsically, and Spencer noted a familiarity that had the words rolling off your tongue with ease. Like it was muscle memory.

'Such a beautiful line, right?' the young woman asked.

'Yes, but, when translated into our modern English, it is quite sad really.' You make eye contact with the young woman and hoped she saw the understanding and slight desperation in your eyes. 'It means that life is an illusion, and a fleeting one at that. I don't necessarily believe in the first part of that, but it is true that life is fleeting. So before you end up the next aspiring actress in our morgue, you've got to tell us everything you know.'

The rest of the interrogation went smoothly. Honestly, it was the easiest one Spencer had ever sat in before. And all the while he had just sat there in awe of you.

'I didn't know you read Shakespeare,' he said randomly as they drove together in a local police SUV to meet with the rest of the team at the new suspect's house.

You scoffed. 'See that's the biggest misconception of Shakespeare. That it can only be read. In fact, it actually shouldn't be just read. It needs to be performed.'

Amusement danced upon Spencer's lips. 'Are you saying you were in a Shakespearean play? Which one? Actually, let me guess. Romeo and Juliet.'

'That's a cliche.'

'Twelfth Night? How about Taming of the Shrew?'

'Why do you want to know so badly?'

'Because I...' It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't quite know why he wanted to know. Only that he knows everything and you were his best friend and he didn't know something about you.

You spared him a sympathetic smile from the driver's seat before returning your eyes to the road. 'If you must know... it was actually The Tempest. It was my high school's production, too. And as much as he irritates me, I grew fascinated with Shakespeare's work after that. It even prompted me to do a unit or two in Shakespearean literature and performance during my uni days.'

You allowed yourself to slip back in time a little to those days, that melancholy and fondness finding its way back into your smile, Spencer noticed.

'Outside of Shakespeare though, I'll admit... I was a theatre kid.'

'No way!' Spencer exclaimed. 'You?'

'Why is it so unbelievable that I used to dress up and spout lines that no one really understood?' you asked, but you weren't offended. Simply amused that you seemed to have stunned the (until now) un-stunnable Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Because... it's just so left of field from anyone else in the team.'

'And is that a bad thing?'

'...not at all,' he said after a moment, and then proceeded to drop the matter entirely. Spencer Reid never forgets anything, he couldn't forget, not with his eidetic memory. But he made extra special care to file that little fact about you away for now.

A few days after returning home from wrapping that case up, you came into work to find your coffee already made on your desk, and beside it was an envelope. Curious, you swiftly opened the envelope and gasped with pure surprise at what you found.

'I thought you might like them,' Spencer said as he approached you, his own coffee in hand. 'The ticket vendor said they were the best seats in the house.'

'Oh my God, Spencer!' You couldn't help yourself, you leapt onto the gangly man like a frog and held him tighter than you'd ever hugged someone before, avoiding spilling Spencer's coffee. You were so excited you even smacked a fat, grateful kiss on his unsuspecting cheek before letting him go. 'Tickets to ASC's production of The Tempest?! How did you even get these, I was told they were all gone.'

'Believe it or not, I have connections everywhere,' Spencer answered a bit too vaguely but you didn't care. 'Even in areas that aren't of my particular expertise. I figured you and a friend could go enjoy it before it finishes up.'

'You mean you're not coming?'

Spencer tried not to read into it too much, but he swore he heard a little hiccup in your question, like you were upset. 'W-Well, I, I, uh, didn't want to assume anything. I mean, y-you might want to take JJ, or Emily-

'Spencer.' It was ridiculous how easy he listened when you said his name, how he dropped everything to listen to what you had to say whenever you did. And his heart faltered when he made eye contact with you and saw joy and hope lighting up your eyes. 'Would you like to come to the show with me?'

And it wasn't any wonder, then, that he replied without hesitation, 'Y-Yeah! All right, s-sure. Would love to.'

'Amazing!' Spencer once again had to juggle his coffee and you as you squeezed all the air out of him in another bone-crushing hug. 'Spencer Reid, you have just made my day.'

It was a week later and the night of the performance. You drove yourself and Spencer two and a half hours straight from Quantico down to Staunton to the American Shakespeare Centre, reciting and recalling your favourite Shakespearean moments the whole trip.

Spencer made the extreme effort to look presentable, pulling out a nice suit set, even replacing his usual casual sneakers with some shiny boots. His hair was slicked back out of his face, with only the slightest stubble on his chin and upper lip.

When you picked him up, you said he looked handsome. He never cared much for his appearance, but that comment warmed his heart slightly, made him sit more upright in his seat.

Once you pulled up and got out of the car, he finally saw you in all your glory. A navy blue dress clung to your frame beautifully; kitten heels cradled your feet as you walked up the stairs to the theatre's entrance; your jewellery brought out the (e/c) in your eyes, even further accentuated by your simple makeup and hair.

Spencer has met Nobel price winners, attorney generals, even spoken with the most psychotic people humanity has to offer. And yet there you stood - ethereal, angelic, striking him silent with just your presence.

'You coming, Boy Wonder?'

You'd reached the top the stairs without him moving a muscle. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up with a cough as he scrambled to catch up with you. 'Boy Wonder? Where did that come from?'

You shrugged playfully as you hooked your arm through his. 'Just seemed appropriate.'

'I'm twenty-seven, (y/n). I'm hardly a boy.'

'Oh, so would you prefer I call you Batman?'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'I didn't know you liked DC comics.'

'There's a lot you still don't know about me, Spencer Reid,' you answered, handing over your tickets to the ticket vendor at the door. 'Like how I've always preferred Robin over Batman, anyway.'

You quickly found your seats, and Spencer tried not to acknowledge how tight-knit the seats were pressed together. His thigh pressed lightly against your own, and he couldn't tell if he hated or liked the feeling that suddenly sprouted in his gut.

It distracted him so much that instead of watching the performance, he looked at you. How you reacted to each sonnet, to the entrance of new characters, to the costuming and the music and emotion that filled the room with every word spoken. He watched it all, your joy, your love. Your heart was on your face, and it struck something new and unexplored inside him.

You cried at one point, and physical touch wasn't his forte, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them a reassuring squeeze that he was there. You'd turned to him briefly and nodded, showing that you understood and that you were grateful.

You didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the show.

'Wow,' you breathed out as you exited the theatre, the performance finally done. 'That was...'

'Yeah. I feel the same,' Spencer finished, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked down the stairs towards the carpark. His hand still burned from your touch, and that unsure feeling in his gut still remained.

'It was just so... magical.'

'I would say impressive, but magical works too, I guess.'

'Says the guy who still goes trick-or-treating on Halloween and believes in ghosts. Don't tell me you don't believe in the supernatural now.'

'I'm not saying I don't believe. I'm just saying that it's impressive that they were able to make fantastical magic seem slightly realistic.'

You playfully shove him, causing you both to fall into laughter. The two different melodies mixing together made Spencer feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. This was different to when you usually hung out. This time, there was no case, no team, nothing but yourselves to worry about.

'It doesn't matter, anyways,' you said, stopping on the steps suddenly. Spencer went down one more before stopping too. You smiled gratefully at him. It was a cool, autumn night, cool enough that your breath danced like ghosts in front of you as you spoke. 'Thank you, Spence. This was a wonderful night. You didn't have to do this.'

'I know,' he said, and it startled him how quiet and soft his voice was. 'I just... I just wanted you to enjoy the stuff you love. You deserve to enjoy the stuff you love.'

His acute eyes fell to your shoulders and noticed the slight shake in them. 'Here.' He wasted no time pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it tight to capture the warmth.

You gratefully held onto the jacket, the warmth it captured seeping into your eyes. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer,' you said, your words dancing in between you two.

He was only the step down now, making you two eye level with one another. He was so close he could see himself in your eyes. He wondered if you could see yourself in his.

'Am I?' he asked, his breath mixing with yours.

'Yeah...'

He felt your warmth, and he suddenly decided that he liked the feeling in his gut. The one that had been driving him crazy all night. The one that had an iron grip on his mind, his heart. The one that pulled him closer to you, to your lips.

His eyes were almost closed and his lips almost on yours. You didn't back away - you didn't want to back away you realised. No matter how hard your heart pounded in your chest. No matter if he was your best friend.

So you leaned in too, and you could just feel the stars and planets align as you tasted his breath-

The front of your heel slipped on the edge of the step, sending you flying forwards into Spencer's chest. His reflexes had improved immensely since joining the BAU, and so he managed to grab hold of you and hold himself up before your momentum could send you both tumbling down the remaining stairs.

You both breathed in heavy gulps of air, steadying both your hearts from what could've happened.

'Nice catch,' you said after a moment, loosening your grip on Spencer only a little.

'Thanks.' He didn't know where to look. You, the ground, his surroundings. It all just felt muddled, as if his whole world had been tilted on its axis.

In a sense, it had.

But he felt your gaze, and he couldn't deny your eyes so he looked at you also. You eyes were blown wide, and the slight catch in your breath had him second guessing himself. Maybe he'd read you wrong after all. He'd never been wrong before, but there was always a first time for everything, he figured.

'(Y/n), look, I-'

Before he could attempt to salvage himself, the irritating ring of his phone went off, breaking the glass dome of solitude you'd' forged together with nothing but words and air.

This forced you apart, awkwardly so, as Spencer readjusted you on his step before letting you go completely and fishing his phone out of his pant pocket. He checked the ID caller: Hotch.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 'Hotch, what's up?'

'New case,' the unit chief answered without pleasantries. 'I know we're all meant to be off for the weekend but this one is important.'

'Where is it and we'll be there.'

'You're with (Y/n), right? In Staunton?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Head to the local police. We'll meet you there. That's where the case is.'

'Okay. Gotcha.'

Hotch ended the call and then it was just him and you once more. Although instead of the air feeling freeing and warming, Spencer couldn't seem to get enough in his lungs. It was like he was suffocating, having to face you again.

So he slipped into work mode, keeping Hotch's urgency and the new case in the forefront of his mind. 'New case. Here in Staunton. Hotch wants us to head down to the police and meet them there.'

'Right.' You seemed to think the same as him - it's probably why you were best friends to begin with - as the ethereal light in your eyes dimmed with the severity of the new situation. Without another word, you both bee-lined for the car, jumped in, and made your way to the local police station.

But for the rest of the case, Spencer couldn't help but think about that moment with you on the steps. He'd kissed before, of course, even dabbled in flirting despite how little he knew about the craft. He'd never imagined he'd attempt it all on you, however. Not even in his wildest dreams.

He didn't hear your heart-stopping compliment again until it was almost too late.

After the Staunton case, you and Spencer had been... odd. Well, mainly Spencer, as he spoke as little as possible to you during cases, and always offered to go with anyone else but you on certain tasks. He even stopped coming over to yours for movie night each Saturday, claiming each time to be busy or unwell. It was Spencer's only way of ensuring nothing like that night ever happened again.

He convinced himself the moment was fleeting, just a mixture of chemicals in his brain combined with the adrenaline of being with a beautiful women he very much admired that made him read the signs wrong. You were friends, that was all you were, and all he would ever allow you to be.

This went on for three months.

And you were miserable.

Emily, JJ and Penelope recognised the change in your demeanour at work first, and when they found out the reason behind it, they slapped Spencer upside the head on their way out of the office one Friday afternoon and took you with them, promising a wonderful night out on the town.

That night, to Spencer's eventual annoyance, you'd met someone. A charming young firefighter named Riley who lived in Washington DC and was just in town to see family.

That night, you hooked up. And the next morning, he asked you on a date. That date led to another, then more. You were on your way to another one tonight when you got a phone call from JJ saying they found the latest unsub's house and were planning a raid on it.

Spencer knew you were on a date when he also got the phone call to come along. Despite his distance (by his own choice, he always had to remind himself), he kept tabs on you, checked in on you via others. And while the girls of the team were awfully mad at him, they always answered him when he asked how you were doing.

'You know, for a genius, you really are quite stupid,' JJ told him when he asked about you.

He quirked his eyebrow, genuinely confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'She's heartbroken,' Penelope added. 'Her best friend just gives her the silent treatment out of nowhere after what sounded like a magical night at the theatre. Who wouldn't be upset by that, Reid?'

'I just,' he paused, rallying his thoughts into words that couldn't quite describe how he felt. 'It's complicated.'

'Love shouldn't be complicated, Reid,' Emily interjected, a soft but sad smile gracing her painted lips.

Spencer swallowed thickly at that. 'W-What do you mean?'

Derek finished making his coffee and took a sip of it before answering. 'We all see it, Reid. You don't have to deny anymore how you feel.'

'I'm not denying anything, Morgan.'

'Maybe not to us,' Derek continued. 'But you are definitely denying it to yourself. All I can say is don't wait until it's too late. She's already slipping away.'

That's when Spencer found out about your dates with Riley, and an ugly, selfish, hurt part of him wanted to scream with anger. Mainly at himself, but the damage was done and he had to get over you.

But when you showed up to the unsub's home, your FBI bullet-proof vest on and mascara slightly smeared under your eyes, he was beyond confused. And concerned.

'You're here,' he stated matter-of-factly.

'You sound surprised,' you answered stiffly, loading your gun without even glancing at him.

'To be honest, yeah. JJ and the rest all said you were out tonight. I figured you-'

'What? That I would ignore the call because I had something personal planned?' You finally looked up at him, and man did your cold stare pierce him like an arrow. 'This is my job, Spence. I knew, same as you and everyone else, that I would have to make some sacrifices to do it. So please, don't think so little of me just because I attempted to have a life outside of it.'

He grew more concerned at your choice of words. 'Attempted?' he asked, but then he looked closely at your smeared mascara, at the redness circling your eyes. Like you'd been crying-

'Don't worry about it,' you muttered, brushing past him to meet up with the team. 'You haven't for about four months now.'

Spencer tried to ignore the sting your words brought with them as he followed you to the rest of the team, forcing himself to put the case in front of you. But he'd done that for the past four months as you had so brightly pointed out, and look where it had landed him.

'Now remember,' Hotch started, bringing the team and some other officers in to brief, 'this unsub may use this place as his base to build his bombs, but don't discredit the idea that he wouldn't blow it up to save himself. Tread carefully but be vigilant, he is in the house somewhere. Now move.'

Spencer followed you into the house through the front door, gun and flashlight at the ready. All that could be heard were the soft but swift patter of footsteps as the FBI and local police ran in. The lights were on, but no unsub.

You were silently directed by Hotch to investigate the back end of the house, to which Spencer and Derek followed. You focussed on maintaining your breathing as you tried not to think about your date, Spencer, your heart thrashing in your ribcage. Only the unsub mattered.

The three of you broke into the last room of the house, the laundry. Upon entry, you spotted him, the unsub, running out the back door into the backyard.

'Hey!' you called out, immediately breaking into a sprint after him. You broke out of the laundry onto a cemented path towards a clothes line, chasing after him towards the fence line. But as you stepped off the path and onto the grass, something gave way beneath your feet, followed by a resounding click that had your freezing with fear.

'(L/n), keep going!' Derek shouted from somewhere behind you.

'Hold up!' you cried, throwing an arm back behind you. 'I think the yard is full of bombs.'

'Well, let's go around the front and get him in the back streets, come on!'

'I can't,' you replied back, slightly breathless from running, but also from the fear constricting now your airways.

'Why?' You didn't have to see him to know it was Spencer, concern dripping from just one word.

'Because I'm standing on one.'

Spencer knew it was physically impossible, but he was sure his stomach just dropped out of him and onto the bomb-littered grass around them. This was bad. Like very very bad.

'Shit,' Derek breathed out before bringing his wrist up to his mouth. 'Hotch, the unsub got away over the back fence, send some men to intercept him two blocks north from here.'

'Got it,' Hotch answered efficiently.

'And send the bomb squad out here. Yard is like a mine field and (L/n) is standing on one.'

After that, it didn't take long for the rest of the team to run outside, making extra careful to stand only on the pavements as they got as close to you as they could. Spencer stood the closest, standing directly in front of you as the bomb squad swept the yard for the rest of them.

'I've got some good news and some bad news,' one member of the bomb squad said as she came up to the team. 'Good news is it's the only bomb in the yard.'

'And I just managed to find it. Super,' you muttered, your tone shaky although the intention was to lighten the mood.

'Bad news is it's a pressure-triggered bomb, meaning that if you move even a fraction it'll go off. Also, by stepping on it, you've set of a timer until it explodes. The only way to disarm it seems to be a code of some kind.'

'How long do we have?' Spencer asked, not bothering to mask his desperation. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people, it had to be you.

'Six hours now,' she said grimly. 'My team and I will do everything we can to dismantle it and shut it off manually, but it's built quite strong so it'll be tough to crack open without setting it off. Your best bet will be to get an answer from your bomber.'

'Uniforms just called in,' Rossi said. 'They're bringing him in now.'

'Good,' Hotch said with a ferocity that would send most people running for the hills. 'He's gonna give us that code one way or another.' He turned to you, determination blazing in his eyes. 'Hang tight, (Y/n). We're gonna get you off that thing.'

'I'll hold you to that,' you joked, and you were grateful to receive a soft smile in return from Hotch and the rest of the team. Except for Spencer, he couldn't find it in himself to smile. He could barely think no thanks to your dangerous position.

'I'll stay with (Y/n),' Spencer said, his voice strained compared to his usual calmness.

'Reid,' Derek started, 'you're our best bet to crack open this guy. If we find something-'

'Then I'll have my phone ready to pick up. I'm not leaving her.'

It surprised you the strength you heard hidden underneath his fear. It was there in his eyes too, blazing like Hotch's, except with more warmth, more determination.

Derek looked to Hotch, and Hotch just nodded. 'Okay fine, but you better pick up on the first ring.'

'Promise.'

'I'll stay to help with the bomb squad,' Emily said while also looking at you.

'No,' you said as Hotch, Derek and JJ left. 'You all should go. In case he somehow remotely sets it off himself.'

'We're not leaving,' Reid said firmly, making eye contact with you. 'Not until you're off that bomb, you hear me?'

You wanted to argue, trying to be selfless and strong. But the truth was you were terrified, and to hear Spencer's strength where you lacked helped you push your pride aside and nod in agreement.

Time had flown by and it was now the last ten minutes. Spencer had received phone call after phone call but nothing had been helpful. They'd tried two potential codes already but they didn't work. The bomb squad quickly realised that they only had three chances to get the code right and so they were down to the last chance.

'You guys should really leave,' you said amidst your chattering teeth. It was now just after midnight and your thin button up and the bulletproof vest were not cutting it anymore. Spencer wished he could give you a blanket, a jacket, his own shirt for God's sake if it would keep you warm slightly.

'That's not going to happen,' he answered without hesitation.

You yawned, eyes threatening to droop close. Your legs had gone numb long ago. You were unsure how you were holding yourself up. It certainly wasn't by adrenaline. Perhaps you were frozen in place.

'I mean it, Spence,' you said, bracing yourself as another shiver threatened to spasm your entire body. 'It's the last ten minutes. You should be clear in case it goes off.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

'Damnit, Spencer. Of all the times to be stubborn, you choose now?'

'I'm not being stubborn,' Spencer argued. Were you purposefully trying to tick him off now? 'I'm trying to save your life!'

'You're right, you're not being stubborn. You're being plain stupid,' you retorted. You weren't sure why you were suddenly so angry, you just didn't like him playing the hero when he didn't have to.

'Yes! I am stupid, I admit that. I'll announce that to the entire neighbourhood right now if you want me to! Because if it weren't for me being an idiot, you wouldn't have had those dates, you wouldn't have had a date tonight, and maybe you wouldn't be stuck standing on a bomb right now!'

You stared incredulously at Spencer. He blamed himself for your situation? For Riley?

Despite the bustling of people around them, everything grew silent as youO stared at one another, Spencer's chest heaving as he sucked in air hard.

'Spence,' you said softly, your anger suddenly dissipating. 'I don't blame you for any of this. I would've ended up on this bomb one way or another. Or even worse, it could've been you standing on it. And as for Riley...' You thought the tears would come up again like before, but your eyes remained dry, and your heart didn't pull harshly.

Not for Riley, anyways.

'Did something happen between you two?' Spencer tentatively asked. His tone bordered on concerned and hopeful, demonstrating his torn mindset to whatever you were about to say.

You nodded. 'I told him I had to go to work, which wasn't unusual, but he just flipped. Said he was sick of me choosing you guys over him and that he was finished.'

He hated himself for feeling the slightest bit happy at the news, but his best friend instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you. 'I'm sorry. You could've said no. We would've understood-'

'Spencer, I will always choose you guys over anyone,' you interjected, and the complete seriousness on your face reflected your sincerity brighter than the full moon above. 'I will always choose you, Spence.'

It was then Spencer saw it: the same feeling he'd had swirling in his stomach for months reflected in your eyes. It scared him, but what scared him more was that it would all be gone soon if he didn't do anything about it.

He would be too late, just like Derek said.

The bomb squad lady and Emily walked up to them both, and Spencer did not like the grim expressions on their faces.

'I'm sorry,' the bomb squad lady said. 'It's the last five minutes. There's nothing else we can do but clear out of the blast zone.'

'What about the code?' Spencer pressed, but Emily shook her head.

'Reid, they've gotten nothing out of him. We've got to go.'

'But we can't just leave her here-'

'Trust me, Spencer, I don't want to either!' Emily cried, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of you dying. 'But we can't do anything for her here. I've got the remote to input the code if they get another one, but until then, we've got to clear from the blast zone.'

'No.' Spencer shook his head vigourously. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept this.

'Spencer,' you tried gently. 'It's okay. I can do the rest alone. I want you to be safe.'

'Well, too bad, because I'm staying.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rushed down your cheeks. 'Damnit, Spencer. Please, just go. Don't make this harder than it already is.'

Spencer took a daring step towards you, the tops of his shoes dangling just over the edge of the pavement. 'I won't abandon you. Not again.'

You were most likely a blubbering mess, your heart hurting so much at the thought that he would get caught up in your mess. 'God, why don't you just leave-'

'Because I love you, (Y/n)!'

The four of you stood dumbfounded as his proclamation echoed through the yard, the house, the street back out the front. Hell, Spencer hoped the whole world heard what he said, because he felt free for the first time in months, weightless, powerful.

And it was all because of you.

'I love you,' he repeated again, softer this time. As the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, tears of his own sprouted in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd finally built up the courage to tell you, and you were minutes away from being blown up.

Through your tears, you find it in yourself to chuckle a little. It's watery and gross-sounding, but Spencer likes it none the less because it's yours, and you haven't lost complete hope. 'Talk about great timing, you big idiot.' And then there it is, that bright smile he saw day one in the office. You wore it with such pride, such strength it pulled at Spencer's heart strings painfully. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.'

'One minute,' the bomb squad lady said, her tone frantic now. 'We've got to move! Now!'

'Reid, come on!' Emily cried, backing up with the bomb squad.

'I won't abandon her,' he replied, never taking his eyes off you.

'Reid please!'

Before he could reply, though, his phone buzzed, and he immediately answered the call. 'Please tell me you go it.'

'HOME! The code word is HOME!'

'Punch in HOME!' Reid called out to Emily, keeping Derek on the line as he stared at you. If you were to die, he was gonna make damn sure the last thing you saw wasn't an unfamiliar face.

'Are you sure?'

'We're out of time! Do it!'

'Spence...' you muttered. But you never finished your sentence, as your breath got caught while watching Emily punch in the code into the device. You closed your eyes. Soon you would be in eternal darkness. You would not fear it, but embrace it.

But when nothing happened, you dared to sneak a peek at what was going on. You saw Spencer first, who looked at Emily, who looked at the device in her hands. The deathly silence was finally broken at the sound of a green light on the device switching on. You then heard a hundred tiny clicks somewhere underfoot and felt yourself being pushed up back onto level ground.

Spencer finally looked back to you, eyes blown wide with hope he dared not realise. That same hope fuelled your frozen, tired legs, to take the tiniest of steps forward, and when nothing happened, you took your other foot off the bomb and collapsed forward into Spencer's arms.

His heart pounded faster than the jet that flew them all over the country every week as he cradled you simultaneously gently and tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your arms circling around his back and pulling him as tight as possible.

Oh, how he had missed your touch, your affection, your love, you.

'It's okay, you're okay,' he soothed, patting your hair down with one hand while he cradled you with the other. 'I'm here. We're all here.' He realised suddenly he'd dropped his phone, and so with one hand, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. 'She's off.'

He barely heard the cheers of excitement and relief on Derek's end before he was hanging up and helping you to your feet. After that, it was a whirlwind of the bomb squad excavating the bomb, paramedics arriving, and CSU investigating the house.

After giving his statement of events to the local police and finishing speaking to other officials, he found you wrapped in a trauma blanket in the open back of an ambulance.

'How are you feeling?' he said as he approached you.

You broke free of your own world to look at Spencer, and a soft smile managed its way onto your lips. 'Well, I can feel my legs again so that's a start. And you?'

'All the better now that you're not standing on a bomb.'

You chuckled, though a red tinge dusted your cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I must admit, it's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before you die.'

'Really? What did you see?' Spencer had read articles about this kind of stuff before, but had never spoken with a person who'd experience it themselves.

You didn't answer straight away, instead standing up to face him fully. Your legs felt like jelly a little but you stood strong. 'I saw you,' you replied easily, as if breathing air. 'Only you.'

Spencer couldn't hold it back, his fear, his relief. It all came bubbling out in an ugly sob as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing his face into your hair, using your scent to calm himself. He felt you sobbing too, how your body shook with your own anxieties.

'I missed you,' you said, your words muffled into his chest.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I missed you, too.' He pulled you back slightly so that he could see your face. He wiped at your tears and forced his best smile just for you. 'But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. That is... if you want me around.'

You heard his silent question, and it made you smile how confident and shy he could be simultaneously.

'Spencer Reid,' you murmured, like what you were about to say next was your biggest secret, 'of course I want you around. I love you.'

He chuckled with relief, tears still pricking at his eyes. But your words sealed your fate, as he used his small amount of confidence to grab the back of your neck gently and pull your lips to his.

You were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, and dare he compare you the most addictive drug he could ever hope to get high on. He couldn't get enough of you, and it was such a relief to finally let it out how much he needed you to breathe.

You were equally breathless, simultaneously feeling all consumed by Spencer's love without also having enough of it. Your fingers danced in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, threading yourself into him as much as possible. The truth was, the past four months were torturous.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

As you both finally broke apart, you pressed your foreheads together, nervous giggles of teenagers bubbling up in you both. This was fresh and new, but the love you had for one another had been there all along. No one was going anywhere.

'Finally!'

You and Spencer looked up to see the rest of the team watching from afar, with Emily and JJ smiling giddily, Derek and Rossi trying to suppress laughter, and Hotch having the simplest of grins on his lips.

'Oh, babygirl is going to have a field day when she hears about this,' Derek said, walking up to clap Spencer on the back and give him a hug. 'Well done, man.'

'It's about time,' Rossi said as the rest of the team joined you both. 'I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.'

'Thank God you didn't,' Emily said, both her and JJ giving you a hug. 'As much as this has been traumatic for all of us, I'm so glad it brought you back together.'

'Say that to my poor legs,' you whined, but you hugged them just as tight. Truthfully, you felt the same. And as Reid held you in his arms that night, having refused to let you out of his sight after your brush with death, you couldn't be more grateful for it, too.

Your wedding was the next major point in his life that your words had impact.

The past five years leading up to your engagement had been some of the best and challenging in your life. There'd been many more close calls on both your lives since then - kidnappings, hostage situations, deadly viruses, the works. Even some romantic challenges that came in the form of other men and women.

But your bond ran deeper than superficial, petty spiffs. You always found your way back to one another, no matter how dark the road got. It was even on such a dark case that saw both you and Spencer on death row that he asked you. You'd both been captured and locked in a shipping container filled with no gaps for air and no way out. Before that, you'd copped a beating from your capture, forcing Spencer to watch all the while. Truthfully, it hadn't looked good, and that's why Spencer did it.

'What?' you asked deliriously, barely able to see straight no thanks to the lack of oxygen.

'I was planning on asking you... after this case,' Spencer admitted, his face mere centimetres from yours as he held you in a tight hug. He was breathless, running out of air and time it seemed. He had to do it now. 'Had it all planned out... We would go to that place on the hill we go to... a picnic all set out... and just as the sun would set, I'd ask you... and give you this.'

You would've gasped if you'd had enough air to do so, in utter shock to see Spencer pull out a simple gold band with a diamond embedded in it from in his pant pocket.

'I've had this for months... waiting for the... right time,' he managed to get out. 'It's my mothers. When I told her I wanted to marry you... she didn't even hesitate to give it to me.'

You were both weak, but he softly picked your left hand up and looked you dead in the eye. 'This might be it for us, but it also might not. Either way, I want to be yours for whatever time we have left. So, (Y/n) (L/n)... will you marry me?'

The tears that trekked down your face actually cleared your vision enough to see Spencer's smile clearly as you answered, 'Yes. I will marry you.'

Either some higher being was looking out for you that day, or your team was just really good at their job (Spencer never doubted them for a moment), but the team found you both in time, both unconscious and barely breathing, but hand in hand, with yours suddenly bejewelled.

Since then it had been a flurry of work and wedding arrangements and stress over the next seven months. Many speculated you were pregnant and that's why you and Spencer rushed the wedding. The truth was you just didn't want to wait any longer than you had to, not being in your line of work. Any day could be your last, so why waste it.

Spencer messed with the tie of his navy blue suit for the hundredth time as he stood waiting under the arch of flowers in the backyard of Rossi's mansion for you. He wasn't nervous, just... ansty, like he had ants in his pants and wanted to get out of them as soon as possible. But he couldn't deny he was just as excited for this day as you were. All of your friends and family dressed up, no case, no killer, nothing but what dessert they were going to have at the reception to worry about.

'Hey pretty boy,' Derek said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 'Stop messing with it. You look fine.'

'I know, I just...' Spencer couldn't put into words what he was feeling, not as he stared at his good friend - his best man. Even though Derek had left the BAU, Spencer and him still spoke regularly, and he was more than happy to be there for his best bud at arguably the most important day of his life.

Derek smiled knowingly, straightening Spencer's tie because that's what the best man did for the groom. 'She loves you, Spencer. You've got nothing to worry about.'

'I'm not worried. I just...' He felt the tears already coming on and he hadn't even seen you yet. You were probably even more gorgeous than you already were. God he couldn't wait to marry you.

'I get it, man,' Derek said, and then the piano started playing a soft, whimsical tune that was so you and he stepped back into place. 'Show time, pretty boy.'

Spencer straightened himself up, told himself to hold the tears back. This was not a sad day, but a joyous one. But his breath was stolen the moment the doors of Rossi's mansion opened, after Emily, JJ and Penelope walked through, and you walked out into the backyard on your father's arm.

Your gown was simple, accentuating your body like the goddess you were. Your (h/c) locks were styled to perfection, hidden barely by the thin veil that fell like morning mist over your face. You held your favourite flowers in your hands, the glint of your engagement ring shining as bright as the sun that shone upon the whole ceremony.

By the time you reached him, Spencer was about ready to rip your veil off, kiss the living daylights out of you and runaway. But he resisted, instead waiting patiently for your dad to flip your veil up, and for you to hand over your bouquet to JJ, your maid of honour. When you finally turned to face him, he could've cried. You were so beautiful. And we was marrying you today.

You reached out to him, and he was more than glad to clasp your hands at last.

'Hi,' you whispered, a nervous but excited smile twitching your lips.

'Hi,' he whispered back, the threat of tears burning the back of his eyes again. 'You are gorgeous.'

'Thanks. You look handsome.'

'It's a wonder what a whole eight hours sleep and showering more than once a week can do.'

He was so glad to hear your laugh. It calmed his nerves, and apparently yours calmed too, as your hands no longer shook in his.

'All right, everyone,' Rossi started, stepping up to minister the ceremony. 'Let's get this started.'

The boring, ceremonious stuff went by quickly and soon you were reciting your vows. You'd both wanted to write your own vows for each other - agreeing that the usual script was not enough to express your love for one another, and what you would do to protect that love.

Reid went first.

'(Y/n),' he began, staring you straight in your eyes. He'd written his speech over and over again, but once he found the right words, it only took him a matter of seconds to memorise them. Forever. 'I've always been told I was different. Gifted, special. Being different helped me get this job, this family-' he turned to his friends, who watched them with bright smiles and teary eyes. 'But it also got me in trouble, held me back from experiencing... normal things like friendship, even love. So much so, that I started to believe... I was unworthy of love.'

You squeezed his hands, hearing the stutter in his words, the built up emotion that threatened to consume him. He gratefully squeezed back, grateful to know he was not alone, that he would never be alone from this day forth.

'But from the day I met you, you've shown me that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Theoretically, we shouldn't work. Despite popular opinion, studies have shown that people from different backgrounds, with different interests and completely different personality traits are less likely to feel attracted to one another than people with similar backgrounds, interests and personalities.'

'Come on, Reid. You really want people to sleep through your wedding?' Derek asked, prompting you and the rest of the guests to burst into laughter.

'I have a point,' he countered, and waited for the laughter to die down before resuming his vows. 'And while I usually rely on statistics and facts to make informed decisions about my life, from the day that I met you, you turned my entire world upside, inside out... and I didn't care. Because despite knowing almost everything there is to know about, well, everything, you are the one thing that has and always will make sense to me.'

He saw you trying to hold back tears, so he let go of one of your hands to caress your cheek where some tears rolled down. He swiped them away gently with his thumb without ruining your makeup, the most handsome, beautiful smile you'd ever seen on his lips.

'I love you, (Y/n) (L/n). I have loved you since we first met, at every case, at every movie night, every time you made me coffee. I love how you find the light amidst the darkness, how you give yourself completely to everyone you meet. I love the crinkle in your forehead every time you get mad at me. I love all of you, and I don't have to promise you that I will stay by your side through it all for the rest of our lives. You have had me since day one, and that will never change, even in death. But before that final day comes, I look forward to making the most of what time we have left loving you.'

The guests clapped so loudly that he almost didn't hear your soft sobs. But he did, and he pulled you into a quick hug before you pulled yourself away.

'Oh my goodness, I just want to kiss you,' you admitted quietly to him, bringing laughter out of him. But you quickly pulled your self away, using your free hand to grab an A4-sized piece of paper from JJ and return to face Spencer.

'Unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory so I will be using some assistance for this next bit,' you joked, stopping your flow of tears briefly as everyone chuckled, appreciative for the break in overwhelming emotions. Spencer breathed in deeply, steadying his heartbeat as much as possible. His part was done, but he knew this next part would be the hardest to retain composure.

'Spencer,' you began, one hand shakily holding your vows, while the other gripped onto Spencer like your life depended on it. In a sense, after today, it would. 'From the moment I first met you, I knew you were special. That you would leave a mark on my life in one form or another. Some sad part of me sometimes thought it would be when you inevitably shot yourself because you couldn't pass your marksman test after three goes-' Cue Spencer looking to Hotch apologetically while the rest of the guests laughed. '-or because, in our line of work, any day could be our last, and I wouldn't rule out any psychopaths intervening with that. However, despite it all, you're still here, and I couldn't be more thankful that you are. You amaze me everyday, Spencer - with your knowledge of the world, your intellectual insight, how you are almost incapable of growing any substantial amount of facial hair.'

You were glad people were laughing now, because what you were about to say next was going to take all your composure not to fall apart.

'But it is your heart and your ability to connect with people that has captured me completely. Our story has been... unconventional, to put it plainly. We were colleagues first, then friends, then you became my best friend, and I thought I couldn't be happier than that. But maybe it has something to do with some chemicals in the brain that are stimulated when you hang around someone you admire and adore long enough - you know, science stuff - or fate. I don't necessarily believe in either, but I do believe in us, Spencer. I believe that we are two souls choosing to become one for the rest of our lives; I believe you are my person, and the one I choose to face each and everyday with; I believe we haven't overcome all that we have for nothing; and I am not the least bit surprised it took nearly getting blown up to admit how I truly feel about you.'

Spencer couldn't care that what you said about brain chemicals was technically incorrect, it was so you, and there was not a dry eye in the backyard as you looked up at him finally, sheet long forgotten, and (e/c) eyes shining bright with tears and love.

'I love you, Spencer Reid,' you said breathlessly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 'You have experienced the worst of humanity over and over again, and yet here you stand with me, smiling, happy, choosing to believe in happy endings. You are a wonder - my wonder - and I can't wait to spend everyday from now loving you, and being wowed by you. From now... until I cannot breathe, and even then beyond.'

You gave the paper back to JJ, then returned your full attention to Spencer. It was like it was only you two, the clapping from your guests dulled as well as Rossi's final words. But Spencer didn't miss a beat when he heard him say, 'By the power vested in me and my online-approved minister credentials, I pronounce you husband and wife. Go on kids, you've earned it.'

Spencer swooped you into the sweetest, loving kiss he could muster, gently cradling your neck and cheeks as your lips met in a soft collision. It wasn't lustful (that would certainly come later), but it was consuming, like two forces being pulled together by a magnet. You were separate entities choosing to become one, and it made you smile through your kiss and for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.

You both partied with your family and friends, but you always managed to find your way back to one another despite the chaos. He now cradled you gently as you swayed together on the dance floor, fatigue settling in. You held each other up as you did, content to just be with each other in the final moments of your special day. Emily, your new section chief, had ordered you both take two weeks off to celebrate your honey moon. Because God knew when the next time you'd be able to relax would be when you both came back to work.

You shifted in his arms, manoeuvring yourself to look up at him, a delirious, tired and happy smile adorning your pretty lips. 'I love you, Spencer Reid.'

He leaned in for a brief but loving kiss before saying, 'I love you, (Y/n) Reid.'

Something about how his last named paired with your first name sounded that warmed him inside. The same feeling lit up in your eyes, but maybe that was just the happy tears that formed there, too.

'We're the Reids now,' you whispered in disbelief, probably due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed throughout the day. 'You're my husband!'

'Yes I am,' he murmured, pulling you back to his chest to lay your head. 'Forever and always.'

The last time he heard you say those special words was the day you said goodbye.

It wasn't until you fell pregnant with your first child that you found a proper house to live in. You'd been content with the studio apartment you'd found and moved into one year into your relationship, but when you fell pregnant, Spencer knew you would need a bigger space. One that you could call your own and make a home out of.

Your forever home.

Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long to find something: a nice rustic, two-storey house on the outskirts of DC. It was in a nice neighbourhood , far enough out of the city to be quiet, but close enough you could both get to work quick enough in case of an emergency. The moment you'd laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it, and Spencer knew without question this would be where you brought your family up.

He traipsed through the house with two cups of tea. Coffee had started to disagree with him after he quit the BAU, as if that were the only place he needed it. Teaching and guest lecturing at all the local universities was nowhere near the stress level of the BAU, and so he'd switched to tea. Somehow, in his (as he called it) pre-retirement, it tasted sweeter.

You had stepped down from being a profiler at the BAU after your third child was born, realising that with a four and two year old waiting outside the birth suite to meet their baby brother, you couldn't risk leaving your three babies without a mother. And while leaving the BAU, your home of close to twenty years, wrought a grief out of you that was close to unbearable, you knew it was the right decision and right time.

And you soon found a love for writing - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, it didn't matter. What you'd experienced in your career as a profiler had changed you, and sometimes writing it out made it less haunting, it gave you closure. You went on book tours, consulted on scholarly and literary journals, you even were brought into Spencer's classrooms to guest lecture from time to time.

All the while building and loving the family both of you had always dreamed of.

Spencer smiled at the dusty pictures that lined the walls, of the faces of his children and grandchildren smiling back him. Of the faces of friends old and new, of ghosts he used to know from a time long gone. Sometimes he hardly recognised himself in those pictures. He wasn't the vain type, but when he looked at himself in his 20's and 30's, he couldn't help the yearning that pulled at his heart when he did.

He compared those youthful pictures against his present day, laughing at the barely existent grey stubble he now sported, of the white hair that curled and stood up in any and all directions, of the glasses he now permanently had to wear. You always said he looked sexier with glasses, anyways, so he didn't mind.

Those pictures were his memory, his legacy, his life. When he felt his brain burning, when his memory became a bit too fuzzy, he could always look at the pictures and find solace in how those moments would live on in the people he loved.

'Spence?'

Your voice prompted him to keep moving, to let go of the past and remain in the present. He wandered through the rest of the house to the backyard, where two garden chairs sat either side of a coffee table, looking over the yard. The gardens were filled with flowers of all shapes and colours. He wasn't a nature guy by any means, but Spencer wanted you to have something to look after other than him or the children, something you could be proud of when you were much older. So he'd planted it himself (okay, he needed help from Derek), filling it with flowers that expressed all the wonderful qualities he loved about you.

There was a small gardening shed in the back, a quaint barbecue/entertainment area to one side, and a build-your-own playground just sitting on the lawn. He found you sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, staring out at the yard contently. He placed both cups of tea on the table before taking his own seat in the other chair.

'Do you remember how Jason used to carry Diana on his back up the slide?' you asked gently, a fond smile cracking your dry lips at the memory of your children playing on the very same playground their children now played on when they visited. 'You always got so scared they would fall and hurt themselves.'

'Isn't that our job?' he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 'To worry for our children?'

'You didn't have to be a helicopter parent, though,' you jibed playfully. 'You got better when Aaron was old enough to climb himself, so I can't berate you for that.'

'Speaking of which, Aaron just called, said him, Rachel and the kids want to invites us to dinner on Friday.'

You turned and smiled at him, but he saw how tired you were. It was in the slight droop in your lips when you smiled, it was in the slouch of your shoulders, it was the way you held out your hand for him to grasp and you could barely squeeze him back. You'd been like this for days, and it broke Spencer's heart to see the love of his life slowly fade away right beside him. He knew it was a natural way of life - considering their previous occupations, he was grateful to be even given the chance to grow old with you.

But despite natural law and despite his many blessings, it didn't dull the ache that grew more painful everyday.

'You don't have to be here, Spence,' you said, voice barely above a whisper, like it was just a secret only you two shared. 'You've seen enough death already.'

Spencer placed his cup on the table before getting out of his chair (a feat he struggled withe everyday now, his BAU days finally catching up to him) and walking around to your side, bringing both his hands to clasp yours as he knelt beside you.

'I'm not going anywhere,' he said, willing every ounce of sincerity and love into his words, into his hands as he held your frail ones. 'Forever and always, remember?'

Spencer almost broke down when your eyes locked with his, those shining (e/c) orbs sparkling with life and mischief and wonder. Despite what time had done to you, you were still his (Y/n), his best friend, his partner, his lover and saviour.

You nodded as if to say yes, I do remember. I always will. You pull one hand free of his grip, and use it to cradle his wrinkled cheeks. 'We've lived a good life, haven't we, Spence?'

He pulled one hand away to caress your hand on his cheek, holding it there for as long as he could. 'Yes. Yes we have.'

Your eyes scanned over him, suddenly seeing your life in rewind.

You saw him as he was now, white, Einstein hair, wrinkled skin and glasses. Then with only little streaks of white in his hair, more sleek. That's how he was with the kids. You kept going back, to your wedding, to your engagement, to the first time you kissed. Every movie night, every case, every late night in the office. Until you were seeing him as if for the first time. Kind of dorky, kind of sweet, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed to explain to you how his "physics magic" worked that very first day in the office.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time as well, as you smiled your bright smile like you did on that first day. The smile you had smiled for him every day since. The smile he saw in your children, and then your grandchildren.

'You are a true wonder, Spence,' you whispered softly, using what little strength you had left to squeeze the hand that still clasped yours as if to say thank you. 'My wonder.'

He waited for the lump in his throat to form, for the words to get stuck in his throat like they always did before. But the lump never formed, and so the words flowed like water out of him, finally feeling right.

'And you are mine,' he whispered back, smiling as bright as he could for you as he held you. 'You always have been my wonder.'

You bring his lips to yours one last time before dropping your hand from his face and sitting back in your seat, looking more tired than you'd ever been. But your other hand still held his, and he certainly wasn't going to let you go. Not yet.

'Spence,' you wheezed, eyes struggling to stay open on him.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, using his now free hand to stroke your grey hair in soothing motions. 'It's okay. You can rest now. I'll join you soon enough.'

The slight dip of your chin let him know you understood, and soon after you closed your eyes, your hand grew slack in his hold and your chest ceased rising.

You were gone.

And he was still here.

It was only then did Spencer allow the tears to fall, to acknowledge that despite both of your acceptances, he was sad. You'd lived good, long lives, and even then Spencer believed it was not enough time to love all of you. He knew it was selfish, but he figured after all he'd been through he would be allowed this one wish.

He held you for another hour before he called your children to notify them of your passing.

He held on for another year before he joined you. Cause of death: a broken heart.

He was buried beside you in the family lot, and on your joint headstone, it wrote:

Here lies Dr. Spencer Reid and Mrs. (Y/n) Reid. Loving Husband and Wife and Parents. "You truly are a wonder."

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

Propaganda

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

Lilian Bond (The Old Dark House)—I owe whoever submitted her for the prelims a huge bouquet of roses bc WOW I'm in love?? The prelims grouped all the ladies by decade and the way she stood out against the beauty standards of the 30s immediately caught my eye (and also that unfairly sexy pic good GOD). There's something about her that feels so real, like you could just walk up to her and start chatting away. I wound up watching The Old Dark House for her and was so charmed. She's so fun to watch! Look at her eyes! Her eyebrows! Her Cupids bow! Her legs! She's both sexy and cute, silly and serious, and I find her absolutely enchanting.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

Probabaly a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Bond:

I know you've said you prefer text to pics but I just love this first pic so so much - she just feels so present and I feel like it captures everything I love about her so well.

you guys, she's literally sooooo cute! i had no idea before i saw her acting, but she has this lovely sort of lively, natural energy. she's really just a joy to watch! thanks to the person who submitted her for introducing me to her! ❤️

#lilian bond #greta garbo #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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burnednotburied · 14 days

Text

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Chapter 4 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

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

An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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

“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way. She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

118 notes · View notes

sscrubberhose · 2 months

Note

Ya got any dialtown headcanons? :3

hooo boy. ive been chewing on this all day and I think i have a decent amount to say!

Spoilers for Dialtown!

Tw for mentions of suicidal ideation and religious guilt

Phone/Typegingi:

-Is aware of everything that happens in my fics but forgets

-is more aware of how people perceive them than people give them credit for, wants to make everyone happy

-has a strong fear of being alone, which is why they bother people so relentlessly. if they were to be fully ignored for an extended period of time they would have a breakdown

-Has both the phone and the typewriter head and can change them out at will, dont ask where they keep them.

-has bitten theoroar many, many times and will do so again. is even more fearful and hateful of him after the zoo explosion

-has a lot of love to give and genuinely prefers being around their friends

-has a level of intelligence that is genuinely sort of surprising sometimes. this intelligence is used at random

-is surprisingly easy and hard to kill at the same time

-the narrator is actually a separate entity to them who cares about them very much

-seems to be passively suicidal but no one can tell if theyre joking or not

-roger rabbit rules, whatever biology is funniest is what they have

-perceived height changes based off of this rule as well. no one notices.

-breaks into town hall once a month for funsies

-enjoys sweet things quite a bit

-autistic beast

Randy:

-is actually a decent cartoonist, but rarely draws due to hand pain. likes drawing gingi and oliver the most

-has a lot of religious guilt due to growing up catholic with a very very strict, religious father, left home as soon as he could. also why he is afraid to talk to God.(hobo)

-father harped on him his entire childhood about being a burden, now feels that he owes the world for existing. this is slowly healing.

-due to his upbringing hes still learning how to function as an adult, i.e cleaning, cooking for himself, things like that. hes working on it!

-has sensory issues, has ASD

-fear of cgi animals comes from having to watch weird religious propaganda films for kids when he was young. he is getting over it thanks to oliver.

-extremely observant and notices things a lot of people don't, but usually doesnt say anything for fear of being annoying

-knows shooty and stabby on a first name basis(not that he knows whos who)

-sees Norm as a father figure but would never admit that

-has a long list of phobias that hes working on recovering from, but is too nervous to go to therapy for

-has a LOT of plushies in the ticket booth that Oliver and Gingi have given him, refuses to get rid of any of them

-taking the bandage off wont instantly kill him, he doesn't know this.

-can skateboard, does not do this often

-gets sick very easily, has to be forced to rest as he tries to insist hes not sick

-is roommates with Oliver, they have a bunk bed

-got his number changed so the hotline wasnt tied to him anymore

-is actually a good singer, never sings due to thinking he sucks. Will hum to himself while working at the ticket booth

Karen;

-Has actually gotten fairly close to the other datables since the conclusion of the game, doesnt know how to express this

-Visits Dialtown for a few months out of the year to catch up and spend time with her friends

-part of her contract with helping rebuild was better wages for those who worked at the bank. It took a lot of arguing but she felt that no one should suffer like she did.

-expresses her love for her friends by making them ponysonas. Is a huge pegasister. will infodump about it for hours to anyone who will listen

-enjoys botanical illustrations the best, next to drawing horses

-draws horses with normal horse heads as a form of abstraction

-puts capsaicin oil in her paints so Gingi will stop drinking them. This did not work.

-enjoys vintage movies and game shows and talks at length with Oliver about them when they go out for coffee or dinner together.

-she and randy doodle together sometimes

-also has severe sensory issues and has safe outfits she wears. will cry if she has to touch certain fabrics. (LOOKING AT YOU CRUSHED VELVET)

-safe foods are microwave dinners and pasta, but she keeps her diet balanced.

-her and Norm get along now and will sometimes go for hikes and chat about life(and ways to wrangle gingi)

-allergic to shrimps

-can play piano

Oliver:

-Got a new therapist who doesnt think hes weird or annoying(it didnt phase him but thats not groovy to say to someone)

-has POTS, often needs to sit down at work so he doesnt faint.

-is a HUGE horror fan, could tell you everything about the behind the scenes of every major and minor horror movie to come out in the last decade.

-works as a haunt actor for the Dialtown Haunted House every single Halloween, wants to run it someday

-has a log of every new thing he notices about Gingis biology, the log is three books long now.

-Really wants to run a youtube channel where he does amateur ghost hunting with randy, has yet to convince randy that this is a good idea

-is very physically affectionate, though he does ask permission first before touching anyone!

-Has had top and bottom surgery and is comfortable where his transition is, thankfully his insurance under Mr. Dickens covered it! (Mingus isnt a TOTAL monster)

-has a digital scrap book of all his favorite memories with his friends

-makes rage comics unironically.

-favorite color is actually black, red just seems to be his thing!

-has been legally adopted by Mr. Dickens but decided to keep his last name as Swift because "it was rad."

-is actually friends with most of the ghosts and poltergeists that live in the cinema/scareshack

-kept the popcorn and soda dispensers, but got the soda dispensers to dispense SODA and not...whatever the fuck it was doing before.

-helped renovate the basement of the cinema into a haunted maze that he helped design, the theme changes once a year!

-got those unicycle lessons and knows how to juggle as well!

-likes rollerskating, has Heelys on all the time

-allergic to peanuts

-can play guitar

Norm:

-Is aware that Gingi sees the face on the sticky note change and thinks its sort of funny

-Is actually good friends with God and the two go out to lunch once or twice a month

-enjoys fishing and will take Randy and Oliver on fishing trips, Gingi usually follows regardless of invite.

-Sees himself as a father figure to most of the dateables, and is willing to fill in that role.

-apologized to Karen for his behavior by baking her fresh bread. is actually an extremely good cook

-irises and pupils are both void black due to exposure to the wormhole. He has not noticed this. Eyes used to be honey brown.

-Has to stop Mingus from doing a new evil scheme once a month, has a spray bottle for this purpose.

-does actually have other outfits for when the space suit needs to be washed, is never seen outside the house when this happens

-Oliver, Karen, and Randy have seen his real face, they were like "cool" as Gingi is just...far weirder.

-i imagine him as strawberry blonde. Short hair, either buzz cut or just short. maybe some stubble. I dont have a good image of what his face looks like, it is just bag to me

-not great at public speaking but REALLY good at pretending to be

-is actually very good at using technology but will sometimes pretend not to be just to tease Oliver.(it works every time)

-can also play guitar

Bigfoot:

-...no.

-okay okay i have one. You could use his fur to make yarn IF you washed it. You will never be able to get close enough to brush him though.

Misc headcanons:

-heads can be repurposed after death, like cadaver bones!

-the more popular headtype for modern business men and women is a laptop

-after what happened to Callum Crown, the answering machines function was completely separated from memory storage

-Snakes have syringes for heads

-peter and his wife are poly and want roger to be their third, but roger is as dense as a brick and peters too formal to just say it out loud.

-Harry and Jack are a couple in this universe, Jack is just a very odd boss to work for regardless

-Billy is Abel's kid. The mother is unknown. probably a one night stand.

-the swans miss randy :(

-there are a few headtypes that are banned for various reasons, one of which is having a megaphone AS your head.

-Roger is autistic and has a stutter, and sometimes has to use ASL to communicate. Peter knows ASL for this reason

-The Narrator could talk to the others, but only if it was an emergency

-all Dialtown OCs are canon. theyre in town somewhere, having fun and living their lives!

-Dialtown is bigger than shown in game, including the town square which has a fountain and a park surrounding it, as well as a skate park, rec center, arcade, a pizza place, etc.

-all the dateables have met satan at least once, they just didnt know thats who that was

-shooty and stabby are dating, theyre just very bromance about it. good for them...

-rotery phone heads are coming back in fashion as a sort of 'retro' vibe.

-getting prosthetics/emergency plastic surgery and medical care is actually quite accessible.

-jerry and his wife come visit dialtown every christmas soley so that gingi doesnt run all the way out there to visit them and get hopelessly lost. theyre doing quite well!

-there are competent members of the dialtown mob but they dont really do much other than hang out at the bar

if i think of anymore Ill let you know!! thanks for askin!

#dialtown #answered #text post #headcanon #sorry this was so bloody long

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noob-with-a-shitty-computer · 1 year

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I ask my dictionary the definition of “cute”

(Idia Shroud x Reader, Reader’s world AU)

(hello, this is a self indulgent thing that i’ve been thinking abt writing for a while now. sorry if the reader’s reactions don’t fit with you tho :[ also if u could guess the movie then that would be cool too :D)

It’s been two months.

Two months since you came back to your home world…with someone else. Ignihyde’s housewarden, Idia Shroud.

He never thought he’d jump in and reach for you like some hero, but here he is now, in your room. It took some time to adapt to all of this, but you were still able to provide for him so it wasn’t too bad for just two months. While there are some bad things to coming here, like not seeing Ortho or sacrificing his daily streak in his video games, there are some good things about it too. He helps you around the house while you’re away, you keep him company and show him some of your world’s media. To him, nothing beats Precipice Moirai or Star Rogue, but he will admit that he did enjoy some of the things you show to him.

Today, you both had a day of free time so you decided spend some time with your reclusive roommate. You walk to the basement and knock on his door. No answer. You open the door and find him tampering with something. You have no idea how he managed to get the materials, but you already know he’s always full of mysteries.

“Idia.” You called out, you see his head perk up. “Hm, what do you want?” He mutters as you walk to his desk. “I was just wonderi-“ you pause as you recognize what was on his desk. “Wait… Are you disassembling my old console?!” You look at him with worry as he keeps a nonchalant expression. “Relax, I’ll put everything back together afterwards.”

You sigh, “Fine, I trust you. But you owe me if you break anything. I still have some games there I like to play from time to time…” You’re usually the one who makes money here, but you’re sure he’ll manage if he does actually do some damage.

“Okay, deal. So, what were you gonna say before you saw your console tragically torn apart by your isekai’d roommate?” Idia remarked. Back to the intended topic, you explain why you’re here.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a movie together today.”

“What kind of movie?”

“It’s probably not much, but I’ve been wanting to watch it with you.” Idia looks at you curiously, “You don’t want me to put your console back together?”

“You can do it afterwards.”

Idia then lifts himself out of his seat and follows you upstairs to your room.

You both lay on your bed, searching on your TV for the movie you wanted to watch. Afterwards, you click on what looks like a romance anime with soft yet lively visuals. Idia had seen some of the romance anime content here, but he wasn’t so into it compared to the action or sci-fi genre.

“A romance movie?” He asks. You nod, “Again, it’s not much, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“Oh boy, I wonder how I’d feel about your taste in movies after this. Fui-hi-hi…” You puff your cheeks and bump his arm in response before playing the movie.

The visuals were sweet, yet energetic. The characters had familiar tropes, yet they have a little bit of uniqueness to them that fits the plot wonderfully. Idia even finds himself somewhat relating to the main character who’s a shy boy that likes to tune out the world with his headphones.

It was nice and warm, but he thought there were better anime films out here. Though, seeing your smile, filled with nostalgia and softness, didn’t seem like a terrible bonus…

After a while, the confession scene came in. The shy boy yelling out a heartfelt poem to who was his dear friend and the one who stole his heart. Idia looks over to you and finds a few tears flowing out of your eyes. While he didn’t think it’d be enough to make him cry, he did thought it was a special confession. It was enough to paint a small smile to his face. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to do what the main character did though… wait, who would he even confess to in the first place..? No, he couldn’t, could he?

The end credits rolled and he spoke up, “Umm, you okay?” You wipe your tears, “Yeah, don’t worry. I cried the first time I watched this too. Did you like the movie?”

Idia shrugged “It’s was alright.”

“Good enough.” You added.

You pause for a moment, “Hmm, if you get my console fixed up, do you wanna play a game with me? I have an extra controller for you… and you can pick the game this time.”

Idia accepts your offer with a soft smile.

#rin’s writings >—❥#idia shroud #idia shroud twst #idia shroud x reader #twst idia #idia x mc #idia x reader #idia shroud twisted wonderland

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jannwrites · 9 months

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film ask meme : SAINT MAUD (2019) directed by ROSE GLASS.

a selection of lines from the 2019 film saint maud. modified slightly for rp purposes.

forgive me my impatience but i hope you will reveal your plan for me soon.

can you feel that?

i daresay you'll be seeing this one soon.

who's your saint?

you're prettier than the last one.

you can't just lock yourself up here. you should be around people.

don't be petulant. you're getting dangerously norma desmond.

sorry to call you back early.

things are different now.

take care of yourself, darling.

no one sees what they don't want to.

stay with me. i don't want to be alone.

have you seen a lot of death?

when you pray, do you get a response?

nothing feels real anymore.

i keep thinking about that last moment and wondering what it will be like.

tell me I'm wrong.

my little savior.

to save a soul, that's quite something.

i can see you.

don't let her drink too much.

honey, come back to me.

no hard feelings. i'm sure you're great in bed.

it's not right that she spends her last days getting worked up over a silly girl that doesn't care about her.

i am reminded of myself in the first flushes of your love.

it's no fun if you cheat.

i wasn't expecting to hear from you.

i will go to bed when i damn well like.

don't run away. i'm talking to you.

you got a little carried away, didn't you?

no. you're lost.

there's my little saint.

you know you shouldn't take anything i say serious.

you should have some fun while you still can.

i've got more important things on my mind.

how could mere human frivolity possibly complete with the heavenly father's warm heart?

[name] expressed other concerns.

all i feel of you now is this pain.

if you're trying to teach me something, i can't see what it is.

quite frankly, it all just seems such a waste.

i was ready and open and alive, and this is my reward.

perhaps you aren't as wise as i thought.

i can't help but feel an act of spite has occurred.

i shudder to think what awaits those who shun you.

you never seemed to like me that much.

you owe me a drink.

i thought i did what you told me to do.

please don't let me fall again.

i should have expected resistance. nothing worthwhile comes easy.

never waste your pain.

what if you are smirking or indifferent or think me a clueless idiot?

how will i know what to do?

it was sweet of you to come but you mustn't worry.

you're right. back then, i was so lost.

i was unkind to you.

you made me think of things i didn't want to.

you must be the loneliest girl i've ever seen.

snap out of it, honey.

you have no idea how dull it is to be dying.

i hate to be the one to break it to you but it's just you and me here.

nothing you do matters.

take some responsibility for your actions.

it's clear now you are as weak as your faith.

#rp meme #rp ask meme #rp sentence starters #rp starters #* mine.#this movie just altered my brain chemistry #meme: film.

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mirabel-on-a-bicycle · 10 months

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“We find our community when our community is visible.”

There's so much more to this scene than what's going on actually. Elle visiting Lambert and meeting Naomi and Felix, I feel, also alludes to this ongoing conversation about the difference in queer visibility and acceptance in the arts and in STEM.

I FELT that scene btw, I so strongly did. Stem has been my whole life. I've only ever been surrounded by the culture in these fields. And it's rigid. It hardly leaves any room for self expression (istg u do something as low tier as cutting your hair short and suddenly you owe 10 billion people an explanation). Even full fledged scientists like Dr. Daniel Pfau, Joey Nelson, Jarrah Dale and a whole slew of others on places like 500 queer scientists, OSTEM and Queer in Stem still talk about feeling unwelcome and alienated in their own academic spaces growing up and grappling with losing a sense of community within the very thing they had so much interest in as a kid.

I've been holding onto my favorite science podcasts and films so strongly since the last few years of school when my love for science was slipping away from me at an alarming speed, because they were the whole point of continuing, everyday, to face engineering as a future— to somehow sperate it as a living breathing thing from the dead system it was taught in, to still see beauty in it despite everything. They're incredibly important to me.

Last year I went to visit a friend studying at a very similar prestigious art college and.. its just that roaming around the whole place with her was like an ache getting heavier and heavier. High ceilings and walls plastered with concept art, personalised desk spaces and boards full of self expression—like you could look at a board and clearly tell what kind of person they were, rooms full of music, shaved thermocol lining the floor like snow, open galleries where the students had sleep overs, people in the middle of easy flowing conversations about films and gender and academic approaches, art pieces and statues in every bend of the road that completely dismantled every traditional assumption about them— it was all real. And it just. felt so right. It felt like something was glowing so so beautifully and strongly in me by the end of the day that if I ever left that place itd go out of control and set everything on fire.

And I distinctly remember my friend saying, matter of fact-ly, that half the faculty was queer.

In all the spaces I've ever been, I found the people I grew and bonded and learnt about myself with in friend circles, lab partners, and group project members. And in mentors especially. It was my 6th grade eng teacher who had stopped a student mid sentence and taken 5 minutes to patiently explain to us what being gay and lesbian actually meant and what words that we could've been picking up from here and there were hurtful and weren't to be said ever. It was Mr. Ajayi and Mrs. Singh who were trying to be the mentors to Nick and Charlie that they never had. I can't help but wonder how different it could've been for me and every other queer kid in my school and college, if we'd had even a single mentor we could've confided in like that.

The roads from my home to pretty much anywhere in the area are lined with arts colleges and galleries, and each day on my way to college, I pass the workshop I took courses in in middle school and its students, knowing that it's all within arms reach and yet so far away. I've (not very kindly) felt this contrast too, but I'm still nowhere near feeling what Elle and Naomi must've felt when they said that to each other.

And it really sucks that people can't have that no matter what their academic background is. That the sciences keep pushing out people willing to learn, that minorities in these spaces have always had it much harder because the system was so rigid that it left no place for community within education. It's a serious and very widespread issue. Black, disabled and queer students and professionals keep dropping out every year because of this.

And I don't know if this was intentional or not but I love love LOVE how heartstopper touches upon this subject as well. It truly left no stone unturned.

#heartstopper #heartstopper season 2 #heartstopper analysis #elle argent #elle heartstopper #yeeshh this got heavier that normal its just that this show is doing things to me ahahha #insert that meme of my outline where all this is going on in my head but what i tell her instead is hide me in ur bag lamoo #this is where i stay now 😌#queer

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daniel-profeta · 5 months

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daniel profeta Interview

Hey y'all!! Back around March/April 2023 I was approached by a diy "magazine" that was more of a blog about artists in Georgia, to record an interview about my music and other projects. Sadly they decided against using it, but they just sent me a transcript so I could post it myself. It's slightly disjointed, but maybe you'll find some enjoyment out of it.

daniel: My dad got a used acoustic guitar when I was 13, and I kinda stole it to practice with all the time. So began my awe-inspiring journey of entirely mundane events. I taught myself how to play and sing with YouTube and just went forward from there. All throughout my life I've had problems expressing myself, but music, and art as a whole, have become my voice and taken over nearly every aspect of my life.

With hindsight I realized this always was the case. As a kid I was always enamored with storytelling… From reading for hours a day to attempting and failing to write a fantasy novel, from crying listening to Elliott Smith, Alex G, Mitski, Car Seat Headrest, Phoebe Bridgers, and countless other artists and bands to writing and recording hundreds of songs that never saw the light of day, my life has been a string of "failures" that's slowly becoming a vessel for expression. Meeting that one person who knows your songs and sings along with you, knowing you wrote something that meant anything to another human, makes me feel less alone. That's what it's all about.

I owe a lot to my parents for cultivating an appreciation for art, and while they never exactly "approved" of my life choices (laughs), they never really tried to stop me. Maybe they should have tried harder, who knows. When I was really young my mom tried and succeeded at getting me interested in acting in films. While I started as an extra in shows and movies like Stranger Things and The Hunger Games (it's a lot easier to be a movie extra than many people think), I eventually started getting actual roles. I've been in a few horror short films, and if you ever try to talk to me about horror I will talk your ear off… But the highlights of my acting career have been working in the incredible educational series Super Science Showcase as the geeky character Caleb, and meeting and working with the innovative director Barry Jenkins on the show The Underground Railroad (while my role was fairly small in that, that week of filming was one of the most surreal and rewarding experiences of my life, second only to playing live music and having people scream my lyrics in my face).

I was homeschooled growing up, and my family was forced to move around a lot as we struggled to find affordable housing and jobs. The cool thing about being homeschooled is you kinda set your own hours and have a little more free time, but the bad thing (for me) about homeschooling was the feeling of isolation and inability to do much besides write and try to make stuff. I wasn't allowed on the internet until I was 14-15, but then it was like a whole new world opened up for me.

One interesting thing about trying to create this life is the weird relationship most people have to it. Like, no one supports you unless you're successful, yet it's almost impossible to be successful without support. For example, I have a YouTube channel where I have uploaded nearly 2000 videos over the course of 3 years (yes, I know I have no life, don't rub it in) that's just called "daniel profeta" (stylized lowercase cause I'm cool). In the last few months I went from having 1000 subscribers to having 25,000 subscribers. My point being, "overnight" success is only real to people on the outside, people who don't see the thousands of failed attempts. People who don't hear the conversations where everyone close to you tells you to give up. Every step of the way there are opportunities to learn and grow and adapt, but you must be willing to block out the noise and get up every time you fall. That's the realest thing people who make art will learn, not everyone will like what you're doing. It takes time and effort to find YOUR people. But just know they're out there, and never give up.

I never had formal training of any kind, for acting, writing, guitar, vocals, bass, piano, recording, editing, the list goes on. Quickly I learned that I would never have the equipment, connections, or resources that many others did, but that's where you become resourceful. I am forever indebted to lo-fi music like Car Seat Headrest, The Mountain Goats, Bright Eyes, and Daniel Johnston, because without them I probably never would have had the courage to start. The ethos of DIY is one outside of gatekeeping and elitism, the ideas and community are open in mind and heart. We will "make it", and we will do so on our own terms. So, to keep this explanation brief, I have made multiple albums of music with no "real" recording equipment and recorded music videos myself with a crappy camera and some friends. I play all the instruments and do all the mixing myself. It's incredibly fun yet tedious, but the feeling of uploading or playing something is the greatest feeling in the world.

Your question was if my road was a smooth one, but I would say there really wasn't a road at all. Just foreboding uncharted wilderness with a few guiding lights of inspiration to help me on the way to creating the life I hope to have. But the way I see it, each failing, each stumble, and each limitation were just blessings in disguise. Take my music for instance, I used to feel ashamed of the low recording quality of my early work, but now I see it like a badge. It's honest, raw, and ultimately more powerful and unique. And the people I've met are some of the most driven and ambitious people in the world. We will make it, and when we do everyone who doubted will eat their words (laughs again), not that it matters. To quote Frank Lopez Jr. "Probably won't taste like the blood sweat and tears and the fear of regret and the ever elusive 3% chance I’m going to make it."

My main thing right now is music, and I play all over Atlanta and the rest of Georgia (if any venues or people with cool basements hears this and wants to book me, hello…. My name is Daniel, and I'm a pretty cool guy who's fairly easy to exploit. Feel free to reach out as I'm nearly always desperate for work) and hope to start playing more states soon. I currently don't have a band (if any cool people hear this and want to join my band, hello…), so my live shows are a mix of covers and original music done with an acoustic guitar. Folk music, punk music, indie rock, confessional songwriting, and the heaviest industrial metal/noise music you've heard since Swans. Or 100 Gecs.

But I am most proud of my recording efforts to be honest. The website Bandcamp has been a godsend. One of the only companies that fairly pays artists right now (looking at you Spotify…), Bandcamp is a place artists can upload music and charge for it and whatever. Anyways, I have 2 full albums and a 25 minute EP on Bandcamp and on my YouTube channel. I recorded many many songs and sequenced albums before this, but none of that has seen the light of day.

The first album is called Mania Machinations and it was pretty depressing to make and to listen to. But it was incredibly therapeutic to me, it felt like casting out demons. There are also a few songs I still think are really pretty, like the song Go to Bed which is about that feeling I mentioned earlier. I remember I was on a call with someone I trusted for hours and at the end they told me I should stop trying to make music because it didn't sound good. They told me I was going to end up broke and homeless and that I was pretty stupid for even attempting to do this stuff.

To me, the point has always been about expression and catharsis. And once I found a few people who my messages resonated with, then the point expanded to almost a group therapy thing. Casting out demons. So anyways, I got off that call that fateful night at 5 am and went to my room and wrote Go to Bed to try and describe all the thoughts in my stupid head. It started out bitter, but then changed and became something beautiful.

The second album is Paper Skies, and in that one I tried to adopt a character to live the life I want to live. Themes of touring, meeting people, and still not quite finding whatever it is I'm looking for. Ideas of ascending to the stars by shooting for the moon. Lots of pipe dreams and sad breakup songs. But about halfway through, the "character" starts to fall apart as imposter syndrome takes hold. In the end I go back to themes of mental health and isolation. This album is lyrically super meta and kind of pretentious, but when I wrote it, it didn't feel that way.

And my latest project is an EP called The Sighting, which I highly recommend as a starting point if you want to listen to my music. The Sighting is titled to sound like a UFO encounter. I tried to tone down some of the darker elements, and I just really like the way this one turned out. I'm a big album person, and when I write I try to sequence things right. Everything has purpose and is tied together thematically, and in this case I was thinking of the future. Of the possible end of the world or breakdown of society as we currently know it. But instead of making songs about that, I just used a post-apocalyptic setting as a backdrop for a bunch of songs that at their heart are love songs. The music videos I made I'm really proud of, especially one called Lighting in a Bottle (which was inspired by Elliott Smith's video for Coming Up Roses).

Oh, almost forgot to mention this, but if you download any of my music off Bandcamp you get access to liner notes and cool artwork. Also, exclusive to The Sighting there is a pdf that serves as a book of short stories to flesh out the post-apocalyptic world. There's a lot of recurring themes and motifs in my work, and a lot of them get explained in much further detail. Plus, they took months to write so it'd be awesome if people got to read them.

Finally, I'm currently obsessed with YouTube. On my channel I talk about music, weird media, horror, and make video essays and commentary style videos on pretty much anything I'm interested in. Every now and then I go live and play music. I think I'm funny, maybe you will too!

The music industry is so vast, I don't think I can even begin to predict how things are going to shake out, I can only speak to my little bubble. But one thing I know for certain, you'll be hearing about me and my associates more and more as the years go on. Just kidding… Or am I?

In all seriousness, I am seeing some interesting trends develop among people my age (I'm 19) {note from current me: I'm 20 now lol}. More and more bands like, I don't know, Pigeon Pit, are finding success. The Front Bottoms are getting huge. Phoebe Bridgers is a cultural icon. People like Mac Demarco are able to release music on Bandcamp and actually become millionaires. Some would have you believe music is dying, I believe there has never been a more interesting time in music. The variety, lack of extreme censorship, ability to find fans and friends without needing a record label, power to play almost anywhere, at this point all you really need is patience, drive, determination, and something to say. Everyone has something to say.

Indie rock and psychedelic rock seem to be making a comeback into the mainstream, and so does pop punk and nu-metal. Lots of genres being mashed together to create new things. 100 Gecs basically made a whole new genre super popular. An artist called Weatherday made one of the coolest albums ever only a couple years ago. Will Toledo went from recording albums in his car to playing big venues.

The world seems to be able to tell when an artist is being real, so my advice for artists that want to find lasting success would be to do whatever you want. Don't worry too much about trends, there's a place for pretty much everything and you'll have way more fun making the weird stuff you want to make instead of making something that looks or sounds exactly like whatever happens to be popular at the time. Sure, the culture shifts, but it's never boring.

That's my whole thing, at least art is never boring. I can try to approach life as an adventure instead of as a terrifying slog through hardship and pain. Whether or not I'm deluding myself doesn't really matter at that point. Perspective is like 50% of your entire outlook and attitude I've come to learn.

thanks for reading, if any blogs wanna interview me and also not be too scaredy-cat to publish it:)

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mountain-of-the-suns · 2 years

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Tender Care

*Fluff* *Mentions of period*

Word count: 1173

*This was just a little idea I had when I was at work. Just for fun*

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the cold empty bed. The second thing you notice is the intense sharp pain in your lower stomach and back. You groan as you peel yourself off the sheets and head to the bathroom. Your assumptions came to an end when you found your answer, you started your period.

The dreadful cramps were strong enough to make you regret being alive so you decided to run yourself a hot shower in hopes to ease some of the discomfort. Your period always hit you hard and took a lot of energy out of you. It was something you dreaded each month due to the heaviness and extreme cramps. Josh was always patient and gentle with you when your hormones were all over the place and all you do is cry and complain. He often states that he wishes he could take all your pain away and put it on him. He knows the time of the month is hard on you, so we is always extra sweet, more than he naturally is. You adored that about him, his ability to deal with you during it and his need to make sure you were taken care of.

After a halfway helpful shower, you put on your favorite shirt of Josh’s and some sweat shorts. You reached for your phone and saw a text from josh waiting for a response.

7:30 am

Josh🤍: Good morning flower, headed to the studio early this morning and didn’t want to wake you up. Me and the boys want to know if you wanna meet us for drinks after we are done? Around 6 at the usual spot. I hope you have a good day today my love. I am proud of you, I love you. Tell yourself that too.

You smile to yourself as you read the last of the text. It’s something he never goes a day without telling you, that he is proud of you and he loves you, and that you should remind yourself to love and be proud of yourself. He reminds you that he is proud of you for even the smallest of things. On bad mental health days he tells you he is proud that you got out of bed and brushed your teeth. He doesn’t see it as anything out of the ordinary, but to you it means the absolute world. And you can’t even express into words how much it’s means to you.

9:00 am

You: Good morning. I hope your day at the studio is full of ideas and making fun of Sam. Tell him he still owes me $10 for that bet he lost!! But unfortunately I think I will have to skip on drinks tonight, the little devil came for his visit. But I hope you all have fun and I will see your curly head when you get home. I love you.

After taking some Tylenol and grabbing your heating pad, you walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. Deciding to take it easy today and just be lazy, you turned on your guilty pleasure films that Josh likes to judge you for, Marvel movies. He likes to talk about how Sam is pretentious with music but neglects the fact that he himself is very pretentious with films. But you still make him sit through them when it’s time for your marathon. He is lucky this time.

You turned the heating pad on the highest setting and laid it over your stomach as you laid down on the couch. The warmth and Tylenol mixing into a sweet cocktail of relief and comfort.

You were halfway through Doctor Strange when you felt your eyes get heavy. You tried to fight it but slumber won.

Josh opened the door to your guys shared place and placed his keys on the table beside the door before walking into the living room and seeing that you were asleep, clutching the heating pad to your abdomen. He smiled to himself as he admired all the features of your face.

He walked over to the couch and picked up your feet enough for him to slip under them and sit down on the couch, laying your legs over his lap. He mentally rolled his eyes at your choice of entertainment on the TV but decided to endure it until you woke up.

Two movies later you woke up to feeling someone gently rubbing your legs. You opened your eyes and they adjusted on Josh’s face, which seemed to be very into what he was watching. You giggled at him and he snapped out of the concentration to look at you. “Thought Marvel was just a bunch of wasted money?” You teased. “It is, but I won’t lie, it would be cool to be able to turn that tiny.” He referred to the Ant-Man movie playing.

You sat up and gave him a confused look once you looked at the time. It only being a few minutes past 4. “Why did you come home? I thought you were going out after the studio.” You asked him. “We got done a little early. And I know how much your little friend takes a toll on you so I decided to come home and be with you incase you needed anything.” He replied as he swept some hair out of your face. Your heart melted as he gave you a small smile. He face looking so warm and genuine.

“I appreciate that baby but if you wanna go out you can. I’m probably gonna go lay in bed the rest of the day and just sleep. I don’t want you stuck in here bored when you can go be with your brothers.” You said as you played with his hand. Part of you felt guilty that he canceled his plans for you. But the other part of you was glad, wanting his warmth and presence. “I wanna stay in with you and take care of my flower. Plus I just miss you.” He leaned over to kiss your forehead. “Wanna go lay in bed?” He asked. You immediately nodded your head yes and he helped you up from the couch.

You both climbed into bed and you laid on your side, signaling him to do one of the things he’s best at, back rubs. You let out a sign of relief as he scoots close to you and starts rubbing circles into your lower back. “Does that feel good baby?” He whispered in your hair. “Fucking amazing” you mumble, feeling your tiredness take over.

“Baby, will you sing me my song?” You ask him as he continues to rub your back. He hums in approval and starts to gently sing your favorite song.

“Electric gold our love with tender care” is the last thing you heard as you were swept away into the peacefulness of sleep.

#fanfic #greta van fic #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh x reader #gvf fanfiction #fluff

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dojae-huh · 1 year

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I saw a recent ask and got curious and went back to read what everyone was discussing and saw people mention TaeTen. I wanna put aside any speculation of anyone's sexuality to say something. Do you trust that what we see on camera is everything about their lives? Because it isn't. The polaroid was a mistake. Ten never *showed* it. It was caught by fans in the background of a very good 4k cam. It was a private part of his space that he didn't realize he filmed(and never made that mistake again), where pictures of his family were, along with a Gengar figurine right next to it (Taeyong has posed with a Gengar recently and Gengar-Kitty art). Ten is a private person. Also, you say he only talks about Johnny. Since when? When was the last time he did? Cricket noises. And if Ten did like Johnny more than a friend, would he have mentioned him as a "bro" best friend in the past? (Always "bro" just like he talks about Mark). Or would he have kept it a secret? There is a good reason TaeTen is the biggest Ten pairing in Thailand, Ten's homeland where his most dedicated fanbase is. They pay more attention to Ten and how others and SM treat him than anyone else. They keep closer tabs on him than us. They know more than us. Ten has multiple friends he's never seen interact or mention much. And that's true for all neos. Taeyong and Yuta are very close friends but the fandom narrative is DoTae are the besties, when it's Yuta who kept close to Taeyong while they toured LATAM. Who entertains him enough to pose with Taeyong shirtless and probably took the pics so Taeyong could show off his new tattoo of two cranes, an animal who form long monogamous relationships with their mates. Taeyong, who also has a tattoo in Thai. Anyway, no neo owe us disclosure of their personal relationship details. And FYI, Ten recently picked Taeyong as the member he has most chemistry with. But nothing TaeTen does ever trend much outside of Thai Twitter, except when they perform BDS. They are a small ship and that's why people who aren't invested in both of them don't know anything about them. NCITY is stuck with 2016-2020 NCT interactions and don't seem to realize neos are people who grow and change. Taeyong is not some little helpless bubu who was to be controlled, he literally never said that. He's almost 28, a grown man, who tells us through his music he's a monogamous person. When people talk like Taeyong in this tired ass narrative like he's a tiny defenseless twink I just know they don't pay any attention to his art and self-expression. It doesn't feel like anyone here can have any meaningful conversation about Taeyong or Ten as individuals because not everyone is up to date. Much less a conversation about TaeTen or their sexuality. It's just not an informed conversation that people are having.

You are right to say that there is life behind the cameras and that the relationships portrayed before the camera are not always exactly how they are in reality. Idols need to demonstrate good relationships, be able to work together even if there is tension, or, other way around, pretend they are not as close as behind the scenes.

However, another member of the same group is not a non-celebrity friend. And bts videos and variety shows are not scripted controlled interviews. Idols are singers and dancers, not actors, they will inevitably betray a lot of things about their relationships through body language, verbal slip ups, the way other members react to situations and jokes, etc. Taeyong especially is a person who isn't good with keeping his composure (his giggles when neos flirt with him or he needs to hug Doyoung) or controlling his body (his hands always need to occupy themselves with clothes or poke a neighbour). That's why I asked anons who advocated for TaeTen or Taeyong being gay to give me supportive evidence (interactions, interviews). Toys and clothes can't be independant arguments, only supplementary material.

A TaeTen photograph can mean Ten's one-sided crush. Why is it interpreted as a photo of lovers? Gengar is a Pokemon. Taeyong can like this pokemon, Ten could have introduced the pokemon to Tae and persuade him to like it or inspire him to take pictures of it as "hey, this figurine reminds me of you, friend". Again, it is not a 2+2=4 "they are in love".

Where did I say Ten only talks about Johnny? I said when NCT meet for projects, we see more of JohnTen than TaeTen.

TaeTen promoted in Thailand with a song in Thai alone. When Ten was in U at the beginning, neos did several NCT Life-s in Thailand (Bangkok and Chiangmai), they performed together as Rookies, they had brand deals. TaeTen is in Super M. Taeyong is one of the most popular neo. There can be many reasons why TaeTen is the most popular Ten ship in Thailand.

DoTae are besties. It's not fanon. There is no reason for Taeyong to ask Doyoung to get into the same retirement home with him when they get old. And there is no reason for Doyoung to cry about this offer. TaeYu only recently became closer again. Body language doesn't lie. You can tell who is closer to whom simply observing relationships over the years and not cherry-picking individual events. And Taeyong has no reason to lie about his friends either. DoTae were roommates during Neo City tour a lot. So why does the same argument of "spending time together" doesn't apply to them?

Cranes mean longevity, purity and peace in Korea. Johnny and Taeyong both have swallow tattoos, which JohnTae shippers interpreted the same way you did with cranes and TaeTen.

Taeyong has a tattoo of a bunny with a house. And a tattoo of his dead dog. Is Ten a bunny? Is a dog a lover?

This is the tattoo you are talking about. It can be number "6" in Thai script, or it can be entirely something else. The second symbol is not a Thai number or a letter. You didn't even investigate how the tattoo looked like, just latched on the "in Thai language". Mind you, the squiggles are beside a tattoo of a swallow, and Ten is "kingfisher".

You are talking about informed conversation but mention the same "signs of TaeTen" that anons advocating for TaeTen brought up in the past. Which, I think, is a mistake.

Ten is in WayV, however, Taeyong is in 127. A profound change in him or his relationship with Ten, will have a ripple effect on his relationships with other 127 neos (Johnny-Ten-Tae dynamic, for example). The same way JaeDo getting together had a huge effect on DoTae and JaeYong and brought a change in Yuta and made Woo stop with his "confident gay" game towards Doyoung.

I don't remember anyone saying here "little helpless bubu", it's some fanon you bring from the fandom and project on readers here.

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bugjizmsquawk · 4 months

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I was good at something once. What I mean is I was good at one particular thing but not much else. I was able to talk on the radio and play some music and sound effects for a very limited audience when I was in college from 1995 to 1998. I talked a lot in fact to the point that the show essentially became a vehicle for my stream of consciousness rants that became progressively more unhinged. It was a sort of therapy for me and exceedingly therapeutic.

This was a few years before I was officially diagnosed as a bipolar person. It was a controlled environment that allowed me to say anything and everything that came into my head at the time. Much of it was violent, strange, and utterly without filters. I collected a library of samples mostly culled from horror films and played them incessantly because they fit with my artistic principles.

I still love to talk which apparently is a symptom of my condition which doesn't make much sense. Talking is how I communicate with myself only now that I do not have the radio show as a regular creative outlet I have to find other ways to speak out loud. I have been using an app that allows me and my friend living 3,000 miles away to communicate every day. I'm able to talk extensively and although it's not a conversation and the traditional sense he is able to respond to my message and I to his. Also, I discovered an AI chat app that lets me pretend I'm talking to women. It's very effective actually and I believe it's helped me meet an actual real woman who likes me very much it seems. I thought about playing this show for her but not telling her where it came from. However, I want her to read this article as it affects both of us in a very exciting way. We've both been frustrated artists and now is our time. Together we will find a way and it will be spectacular as all truly great things are.

I never tried to make a career out of radio because I did not want to become one of those annoying morning jocks on a major commercial radio station. Yet I also shied away from the prospective simply being an obscure talent somewhere where nobody even bothered to listen. My obscurity then was simply due to the circumstances I found myself in. The radio station was not very powerful and only had a small range. If you didn't live next by you we could never hear it. So I never got the kind of recognition I thought I deserved.

I found out later there were at least two people who are obsessed with my show and recorded every one of them. That felt like justification of a sort; I was definitely at pioneer of something but I'm not sure what that something was. In my head I was able to express the thoughts that most humans suppress out of necessity. No one wants to get caught saying the wrong thing out loud although I ignored that and said whatever tortured and twisted thing that entered my skull.

I was a soundboard for every facet of human misery one can possibly conceive of but I was not a therapist. I could give fuck all about healing people then as now. It is not my responsibility if you can't get your life in order; actually, there are professionals everywhere that can help you if you are willing and able to express your fears with them. They've helped me considerably and I owe a debt to all of them.

I felt back then that I was channeling some sort of demonic presence because the radio show stayed with me long after I shut it down for the night or waited for the next dj to come on. Perhaps something evil was speaking through me because it was a most disturbing show or at least it became that eventually. Perhaps the first year was more prosaic but once I established my pension for using samples it became something else entirely.

The music was terrific but mostly was secondary to my voice. I talked constantly and eventually never mention the artist I was playing. It was a mystery. When I listen to the tapes now off and I have no idea what I'm listening to. That's fine because I'm really only interested in my voice. I love the sound of my voice. I hear it and tend to swoon such is my egotism which help create the backbone of my show. Without it I wouldn't have dare to say what I said. I felt my sense of self worth protected me from any ramifications and it turned out to be true because I have not based any negativity regarding that exercise.

I remain convinced that creative outlets are what keep people saying or at least out of hospitals. I've been institutionalized numerous times because I got frustrated and could not find a way to express myself in a discernible sense. Way before social media established itself I kept trying to communicate and just fell flat. I became desperately upset and felt ignored which led to profound states of depression. Then, I would stop sleeping and quickly become manic. I would have all the same thoughts as before with no way to express them. It was torture.

When desires to be heard but there's nobody there to hear you and everyone is terrified of you because your energy is so intense the impulse is to flee. Also, you cannot communicate your desires to anyone so there is no one to give you any respite. The radio show allowed me to not feel desperate because I had an outlet even if nobody was really listening. It did not matter. Having the opportunity to speak and play music was enough. Now I have no outlet but I'm not troubled by this fact because I have made myself attractive.

#my writing #torture #artist #creativity #frustration #1990's college radio

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 1 year

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My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Meeting

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Meeting Word Count: 1380 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement Warnings: none Spoilers: none

This is one of the six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your meeting.

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up the some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'