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alltooreid · 3 years

Text

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing.

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None!

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . . Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . . Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup @s1utformgg @averyhotchner @widow-cevans @rotinireid

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

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for you and i

Pairings: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: honestly just pure fluff, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, implied smut (nothing graphic) Word Count: 2.2k Summary: A small collection of moments throughout reader’s and Spencer’s evolving relationship that features their song. A/N: this symbol ~~ signifies a time jump.

A/N: i finished my rewatch of bones last night (im hella emotional), and one of my favourite “running gags” from the show is hot blooded being booths and brennans song, and how the writers reminded us of that from season to season. it definitely definitely inspired me to write this. also i did this instead of working on my assignment as a birthday gift from me to me lmao ENJOY

The plane trip back home was completely silent.

Morgan and JJ were catching up on much needed sleep. Emily, lost in thought, observed the night sky through the small window. Rossi was reading, as Hotch worked his way through some case files.

Spencer sat next to you at the far end of the jet. You were listening to music while his nose was buried in a book. Although you could tell he couldn't really concentrate on the words as the page remained unturned for the last fifteen minutes.

“Why don’t you let your eyes rest for a minute?” You suggested, carefully taking out one earphone. “A short nap could be good for you. It doesn’t look like you’re retaining any information anyway.”

Spencer nodded slowly, agreeing with you. He shut the novel in his lap and tilted his head to look at you, his lips pursed into a thin shy smile. “You should get some sleep too Y/N.”

“I’m okay.” You replied. “Plus someone has to keep watch in case the jet gets abducted by aliens or something.” A sly grin appeared on your face as Spencer chuckled softly. He rested his head against the chair and gradually closed his eyes.

You watched him for a moment. Examining his perfect features. Your innocent crush growing by the second - something you would never admit out loud in fear it would ruin your friendship.

When you were about to place the earpiece back in your ear, his eyes shot back open. He sighed heavily.

"I actually don’t think I can.” Spencer said quietly and once again turned his attention to you. His gaze briefly landed on the phone in your hands before travelling up to your face. “Did you know that in addition to aiding relaxation and helping with falling asleep quicker as well as improving sleep quality, playing music before bed can improve sleep efficiency? Which means more time you are in bed is actually spent sleeping.” You raised a curious brow waiting for him to continue, but he just asked: “Can I ask what you are listening to?”.

Instead of answering his question, you wiped the dangling earphone against your blouse and handed it to him. He took it, a little hesitantly, and placed it in his ear - the two of you unconsciously shifting closer to one another.

You could tell by the expression on his face that he didn't know the song currently playing, nor did he particularly like it, but he didn't protest or ask you to skip it. In his eyes, you were kind enough to share your source of entertainment therefore he would never push to change what you were clearly enjoying.

The song ended, another began, and another, and another. Eventually Spencer closed his eyes again. The two of you continued to silently listen to the various songs on your playlist - a wild mix of different artists and genres, definitely showcasing your weird music taste.

Touch Me by The Doors began to play.

“I like this one.” Spencer muttered, eyes still closed. “I didn't peg you to be a rock fan.” You stated curiously. Spencer chuckled softly. “I wouldn't call myself a fan per se, this is just a very good song.” “This is actually my favourite song of theirs.” You proclaimed.

Sinking deeper in your seat, you quietly sang along. “What was that promise that you made?” To your pleasant surprise, the young doctor joined in. “Why won't you tell me what she said? What was that promise that you made?”

Lost in the pure bliss of the moment, you gently rested your head against Spencer’s shoulder. His eyes fluttered open. He glanced down at you and smiled to himself. Yes. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

“Watch it!!!” You shouted and rudely gestured after the vehicle that overtook you out of nowhere, almost sliding right into your car. Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair before placing them on the wheel again. A deep sigh escaping your lips in the process.

Spencer chuckled next to you. “Maybe next time I’ll drive.”

“Sorry.” You muttered, tone of your voice changing completely for a moment. “People are just so fucking stupid.” The groan was full of annoyance, and it only made the young doctor snicker louder.

“How about we turn on the radio?” Spencer suggested. “Cool you down a little since we have another hour drive ahead of us, and I would preferably like to get there in one piece.” He teased. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but didn’t protest.

Taking your silence as a yes, Spencer fumbled with the car radio.

‘Come on, come on, come on, come on Now touch me, babe’

Voice of Jim Morrison blared through the speakers. Instantly, your whole body loosened up. No longer feeling annoyed or angry. Driver’s rage dissipated. The frown circling your features was replaced by a happy smile.

‘Can't you see that I am not afraid?’

Stopping at a red light, you looked at Spencer who was lightly bopping his head to the beat of the music. His gentle curls bouncing with his every move.

“You know, the universe is telling us that this is our song now.” You noted. The young doctor met your gaze, and the grin present on his face made your heart skip a beat. A faint hit of nerves cascaded through your body as you anxiously waited for his response.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders slightly. “It’s a good song. The universe could have wished us a lot worse.”

As the light ahead turned green, and you were driving once again, the two of you burst into the chorus as loud as you possibly could: “Now, I'm going to love you! Till the heavens stop the rain!”.

The bar was filled to the brim with people wanting to unwind after a long week of work. That included the BAU team.

“One more for the road!” Morgan exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. He motioned to Hotch for assistance and the two of them briskly walked off in the direction of the bar. “While they’re gone, I’m gonna hop to the loo.” Penelope chimed. “I’ll join you.” JJ spoke up and they hurried off.

Spencer sat beside you, shoulder pressed lightly to yours. He was sipping on the remainder of his drink and you were about to open your mouth to say something, engage him in conversation, when you heard it. The song. Your song.

Your head instantly snapped up at him and a mischievous grin spread on your face. By the time Spencer realised what was going on, you were up on your feet grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him onto the self-made dance floor.

You began to sway along to the music. The alcohol currently flowing through your veins definitely made you that much braver. It also gave Spencer the confidence boost he needed to join you with no objections.

Despite the questionable looks you were undoubtedly receiving, the two of you jumped around like kids. Singing the song out loud to one another. It was as if the world around you disappeared. Like you and Spencer were the only people left in the bar.

‘Till the stars fall from the sky’

And when the night concluded, when everyone said their goodbyes, Spencer continued to hum the melody of your song as he waited with you for the taxi. It was then you chose to make the first move - colliding your lips with his in a carefree kiss.

They were softer than you ever imagined.

All at once, the attraction between you two and the tension that built up over the years burst. You grabbed onto his jacket pulling him even closer. Suddenly, the cold night air didn’t feel so cold anymore. It was hot, burning like a flame. Your body was on fire and so was his.

Spencer’s long arms wrapped around you, trapping you in the fire. One of his hands moved lower down your back, while the other tightly gripped your hair. The sensation that he felt was unimaginable. He always imagined what you would taste like, although he never expected anything would happen. He imagined how your body would feel against his. How your lips taste. But this, this exceeded all expectations.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He said in a smoky voice after pulling away, his hands now holding your face. “That’s what I was going to say.” You managed to whisper before his lips landed on yours again. Your heart pounding hard inside your chest, it felt as if it was about to explode.

Spencer huffed as he placed a heavy cardboard box down on the ground. He straightened himself, flattened down his crinkly t-shirt, and turned to you with a smile. “That’s the last of it.” He stated proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

“My hero.” You ambled towards him and pecked his lips. “Thank you.” His arms made their way around your waist, pulling you in close. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead before glancing around the room.

“I can’t believe we’re officially moved in together.”

“It’s been a longtime coming.”

“That it definitely has.” Spencer smiled kissing you. He let his arms fall and shuffled around to start unpacking.

Having planned ahead, you removed a speaker from your handbag. You quickly set it up, connecting it to your phone, and pressed play to ease the process that would carry on into the night.

Starting with the kitchen, and the more fragile items, the two of you made your way through the new apartment.

Hours passed. It was getting quite late as tiny yawns continuously escaped your lips. However, the hard work was paying off because space started to feel more and more like home.

You decided to finish up for the night - tomorrow was another day. Yawning, you leaned into the arms of your boyfriend. Spencer kissed the top of your head and began to sway you slowly from side to side.

Right on queue, the guitar intro you both recognised well began to play through the speakers. You smiled into his chest before breaking free from his embrace.

‘Yeah! Come on, come on, come on, come on Now touch me, babe Can't you see that I am not afraid’

Sharing a knowing look, you both started to dance. Not wanting to disrupt any neighbours you both chose not to sing along like you usually did. Instead, you mouthed the words in sync as if you were competing in a lip-sync battle.

‘What was that promise that you made? Why won't you tell me what she said? What was that promise that you made?’

The two of you circled happily around one another. It wasn't long before the air guitars came into play.

And as the song concluded, Spencer cupped your cheeks. “I love you.” He muttered, gazing deep into your eyes. “I love you too.” You replied smiling.

Without another word, Spencer’s lips crashed against yours. Both your heads tilting hungrily from side to side to vary pressure. Hearts hammering loudly. Your hands made their way up his muscled back as his hands traveled down your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Why don’t we move this party to the bedroom?” He suggested, his face still only inches away from yours. You lifted your hand, and brushed some of his light curls away behind his ear. “I do believe I read somewhere that it is considered bad luck not to christen the bed on the first night of living together.” You stated giggling.

Spencer raised an interested brow. “What else does the article say?”

“How about I just show you.” And like that, your lips were on his once again as he blindly led you to the bed.

“And now ladies and gentlemen we would like to bring out our newlyweds, Dr. & Mrs. Reid, to dance their first dance as husband and wife. Let’s give them a hand.”

Spencer turned to you, that warm kindhearted smile you loved so much circling his lips. He offered you his hand. “Mrs. Reid.” You took it gladly. “Dr. Reid.”

He led you to the middle of the dance floor and swiftly wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you close, while the other hand intertwined itself with yours. Music started to play and the two of you swayed elegantly from side to side.

“I have a surprise for you.” Spencer whispered in your ear before briefly pulling apart and twirling you around.

Suddenly the music stopped. Sounds of disappointment echoed through the watching crowd as you shot your husband a quizzical look.

A melody you knew all too well filled the space.

Your mouth parted slightly in shock as Spencer let his arm fall from your waist. He spun you around once again and began rhythmically banging his head to the beat of the song. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight before joining in.

Excited screams echoed through the crowd as they cheered on. Even though you heard them, you knew people were watching and documenting this moment, you felt as if there was no-one else around - déjà vu.

Spencer pressed his forehead lightly to yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. His lips twirled into a smile. A big smile that you reciprocated. Feeling as if you were on cloud nine, you looked deep into each others eyes and whole heartedly sang along with the song. Your song.

‘I'm going to love you Till the heavens stop the rain I'm going to love you Till the stars fall from the sky For you and I’

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fanficbitch · 3 years

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Aaron Hotchner// Touch

A/N: Four times you and Hotch touch on accident. And one time where he makes it on purpose.

It had been harder than you thought to restrain yourself from your boss. He was just so sexy and mature. It was hard to resist. You wondered if he picked up on your stolen glances from across the bullpen or the coffee runs you made just for him. He was special to you and there was no denying that. And sometimes you thought that he felt it too.

1. I take a sip from my morning coffee, then try to rub the tiredness out of my eyes. We literally just got back from a case and the next morning we have a new one. The whole team sits in the conference room except Hotch. He’s kind of important so we have to wait for him.

“You know here and there,” Morgan says. “A day off would be nice,” he says and we all laugh. Just then, Hotch enters the room and we all quiet down. The only seat available is the one next to me so he takes it. Feeling his presence so close makes the hair on my arms stand up. I let out a slow deep breath to calm myself down, then turn to JJ to listen.

“We are heading to Seattle to examine the disappearance and reappearance of three semi-professional athletes.”

“Reappearance?” Rossi questions.

“Yes,” she says. “All of the athletes have turned up dead near their places of practice.”

On the screen, JJ shows pictures of two young women and one young man. “Well victimology seems pretty similar aside from attacking two different genders,” Morgan says.

“Yes, they’re all in their mid-twenties. One soccer player, one basketball player and one football player,” Prentiss observes.

I almost open my mouth to comment, but Hotch adjusts in his seat which causes his left leg to push against my right. I immediately expect him to pull away and apologize, but he doesn’t. He leaves his warm, muscular leg pressed up against my small one.

As JJ continues to present the case, I try to make eye contact with him to confirm what is going on, but his eyes keep avoiding mine. It leads me to the conclusion that maybe it was just a mistake. But the hopeful side of me wants to believe more.

2. After a long case in Santa Barbara, we have a long flight home. I think that everyone is asleep but me. Since I am still semi-new here, I adjust myself to get up to explore the jet alone. At least that was the plan, until the person next to me starts to stir.

Hotch was in the window seat when I boarded the plane and I slid into the seat right next to him. We talked briefly, along with Reid and Morgan who sit across from us, but they all fell asleep soon enough. I find it hard to sleep on the plane, usually Hotch does too so we talk, but not this time.

I glance over at him and appreciate him sleeping. It’s different to see him calm and relaxed. That is something you never see from him. Just when he seems to have settled down from his shifting, he moves his head so it is resting on my shoulder.

I sit as still as possible so I do not disrupt this moment. Sure, it is probably by mistake and if Hotch actually knew he was doing this he would be terribly embarrassed. But for me, this is a dream come true. There’s no way I’m walking around the jet now.

3. My cell phone lets out a ring on my desk and I pick it up without looking at the caller. “Hello?” I ask as I flip through paper work.

“Y/N?” a voice asks and I can immediately tell it’s Penelope.

“Yeah, what is it Pen?” I ask.

“I need you to come down to the bat cave right now,” she demands.

“What, why?” I ask.

“Too much to explain, I just need you down here right now!”

“But-,” I try to contest.

“Right now!” she shouts.

“Okay, okay,” I say then push back from my desk. “Can you at least tell me what it’s about?”

“It’s about the Kaiser case,” she says and my heart rate picks up. That was one of my first cases at the BAU. It haunts me to this day because the killer escaped from my custody.

“Oh my god,” I whisper then pick up into a run. I’m looking down at my feet so I don't trip in my heels. But I end up missing a barrier right in front of me and by the time I see his black dress shoes, it’s too late.

I collide into a tall, hard body with such force that I push him and me to the ground. My head falls right in the center of his chest with a loud thud. Despite just falling on a person, I appreciate their built chest. However, I don’t lay there for long. I quickly pick my head up to see who I fell on, and when I do, my heart stops. I ran into my one and only boss, Aaron Hotchner.

I make brief eye contact with him. I try to read his face which is mainly giving off confusion. I quickly push myself off his body and onto the floor. “Sir, I am so so sorry,” I say as I help him up.

I expect him to release the full wrath of hell on me. But instead, he gives me a small smile. “It’s alright,” he tells me. “Just be careful,” he warns me then carries on to his office.

4. I hum lightly as I finish my paperwork. I have been putting it off for a while, but it has gotten to the point where I literally had to do it. I’m surprisingly in a great mood. We haven’t had a case at all the last week. I love working on cases, but it’s been nice to have some time to calm down.

“Why are you so smiley?” Emily asks as she walks up to my desk.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “It’s Friday, we’re in town, we’re getting drinks tonight. Things are just going my way,” I say.

“Well it’s good to see you happy,” Emily says.

I finish the paperwork with one last signature then stand up. “And now I’ve finished all my work!”

“Get it girl,” she says as I head to Hotch’s office. I run up the few steps then knock softly on his door.

“Come in,” he calls and I do. I let out a shaky breath as I see him in his suit. He looks so good.

“I finished the paperwork from the last case,” I say. He holds out his hand to take the files, but when I hand them to him, my fingers brush against his. It is very brief, but we both notice it. I quickly yank my hand back which causes Hotch to give me a small smile.

“I won’t bite you,” he says.

“Oh, yeah, I know,” I say quickly. I almost leave, but decide that I want to ask him a question. “Are you coming out with us tonight?”

“I think so,” he says. “I usually reserve my Friday nights for time with Jack. But I have seen Jack everyday this week and he’s starting to get tired of me,” he chuckles.

“Great, I’m looking forward to seeing you there,” I say then slip out of his office before he can respond.

5. Things are becoming kinda blurry. I am a few drinks in and they are definitely hitting me. I sit at a table with the rest of the team who are all having a blast, even Hotch. I keep an eye on him and notice that he is nursing a beer.

Morgan who sits next to me, places his hand on my thigh. “Do you wanna dance?” he whispers.

“Oh, hell yes,” I whisper back then take his hand. Morgan and I are both aware that we are nothing more than friends. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t have a little fun here and there.

Morgan wraps his arms around my waist while my arms go around his neck. I rock back and forth with him and all I can do is laugh. “What’s so funny baby?” Morgan asks.

“I’m just having fun,” I explain then squeeze him closer. We dance for what seems like forever, but deep down I know it can’t be more than 15 minutes.

Things are getting more dizzy. But I am sober enough to feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Hotch. He makes brief eye contact with me, then turns to Morgan. “You mind if I steal her for a little bit?” he asks Morgan.

“She’s all yours,” he says then backs off.

Hotch takes my right hand then places his left hand on my waist. When he touches my waist, I expect to freeze, but instead I just melt into his touch. Everyone else around us is grinding and humping. But Hotch leads me in a slow dance. I place my head on his chest as we rock slowly. There are so many words that are racing through my mind, but since I’m drunk, I decide to stay silent.

After a few moments, Hotch whispers in my ear. “I’ve been wanting to ask you to dance for months,” he says and my heart feels warm.

“I’m glad you finally did it,” I whisper.

#Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner #aaron hotchner imagines #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #Derek Morgan #penelope garcia #jennifer jereau #jj #Emily Prentiss #Spencer Reid #david rossi

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ssa-dg · 3 years

Text

Walls are Built to be Knocked Down

Overview: this takes place in season 7 episode 2. You joined the BAU after the death of Emily and JJ’s departure. However when they both come back, everyone is shook up.

TW: mentions of drugs, murder, rape (it takes place in the episode). Adult themes

Relationship: Spencer Reid x (female) reader

Word count: 3352

Author’s note: so I have been wanting to write another short story about Spencer but couldn’t get myself to do it. Glad I got inspired by episode 2 of season 7. This is when Spencer is still mad at JJ about Emily. The unsub is the one who is neuro-divergent and is obsessed with his brother’s wife. If you have any suggestions on how to write a better Spencer Reid, I would love that. I struggle with writing an accurate Reid because he is supposed to be so smart and I’m the type of person who has been told she’s “dumb” so it’s an insecurity of mine. Give me advice if you have any just be nice. P.S. the formatting on this is so weird. I don’t have my laptop rn because it’s getting fixed and the mobile version of this app sucks lol

You and Spencer were never really good friends. You two were good coworkers and you always got along well, but it took Spencer a lot to let people behind his wall. So when you joined the team from the whit collar unit, after Emily’s death. You could tell everyone on your new team was grieving, and because you didn’t know them all that well you didn’t pry. Though slowly each member let things slide to you about their grieving. You didn’t expect that to happen but you weren’t surprised. You were always a reliable person, old friends would come out of nowhere just to talk to you about their problems, or random people in cabs, on the subway, etc. You just had that air about you, one that was dependable, nonjudgmental, and understanding. Your family called it your superpower.

So when Emily turned out to be alive and JJ and Hotch knew the whole time, the team was stunned. You didn’t fully comprehend the travesty of what they went through but you understood the pain and relief that accompanied them. Knowing they probably had 100 million different conflicting emotions swirling in them you suspected they’d be going through “it” the next months.

As JJ walked into the BAU with Prentiss talking about how she had passed all the qualifications to finally become a profiler, JJ saw Spencer come out of the elevator. “Hey, where have you been?” JJ asked him, “I wanted to do brunch this weekend”

“I had to deal with some stuff with my mom,” he flipped through the pages in a file to avoid eye contact with his friend, “have you seen Y/N?” he finished.

“Uh, she’s at her desk I think,” Spencer sped off to your desk. “He hates me,” JJ finished.

You sat at your desk looking over case files when Spencer came rushing up to you. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you and looked around.

“What’s up?” You asked expecting there to be a reason he came to your desk.

“Nothing just wanted to say hi,” he saw JJ and Prentiss go into the round table room.

“Well, hi,” you laughed and followed his gaze to your two co-workers. “Ahh, I see,” you said out loud.

His head looked down at you,” what do you mean ‘ahh, I see,’?” He was obviously annoyed by your statement.

You raised your hands up in surrender, “nothing, nothing. Shall we go?” You stood up and tilted your head towards the conference room. He nodded his head.

When you guys walked in and you went to sit in an open seat next to Morgan, Spencer lightly grabbed your elbow and pulled you the opposite way and had you sit between him Emily and JJ. You just looked at him knowing what he was doing. Although you gave him a glare to indicate you didn’t like being manhandled by him, you secretly enjoyed it. You were unsure why it did it but it created a feeling in you that you were not ready to associate with your coworker. He just gave you a bit of a ‘don’t-say-anything’ glare and looked back down at the file. You rolled your eyes and felt Prentiss looking at you. You shrugged your shoulders as if to say ‘I don’t know why he just did that’.

In walked Rossi and Garcia, “look master of all things Italian, I am having a Fellini festival at my house this weekend and I must serve the beautiful food of his country.” Garcia insisted.

“Maybe you should show a Disney movie and stick with burgers,” Rossi responded, still a bit offended by the pig substitute.

“You know, Rossi, you could always give Penelope a cooking lesson,” Derek suggested.

“I could help,” you spoke up from across the table. Everyone looked at you confused, “You all act like I’m not Italian. I used to go back there every summer to visit my extended family,” you rolled your eyes and defended yourself.

“Oh my gosh that would be amazing. That would be like- that would be like the iron chef meets the BAU,” Garcia looked back and forth between you and Rossi. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you and looked at him. His scrunched up eyebrows and set jaw told you that he didn’t know that about you or maybe he forgot. You just smiled at him, and tilted your head like it was nothing.

“And we could do it at your house,” Garcia looked over at Rossi.

“I don’t have a house. I have a mansion,” he laughed.

“All right let’s get started,” Hotch instructed.

Everytime JJ talked at the round table, Reid couldn’t even look at her. He kept his gaze down and you saw the muscle in his jaw bone tighten as he clenched his it. The victims were girls who all looked the same, helping a bit to narrow down the victimology. The dump sights also helped narrow down the geographical, although nothing was ever set in stone right off the bat. Everytime Spencer spoke you could tell there was hidden meaning beneath it all directed towards JJ.

On the jet you dug in deeper into the case. You started to notice Spencer stuck close to you, as if you were an extra layer of shielding from JJ. He sat next to you and when JJ spoke he’d either look down at the files in his hands or at your files in your hand. “Dave you and I will talk to the parents.Y/LN head over with us to the police station, and get us set up. Go over what they have and talk to the detectives. Morgan and Prentiss go to the disposal sites. JJ, you and Reid to the abduction sites,” Hotch ordered. JJ gave a soft smile to Spencer and you felt him tighten up next to you, and look away from her. Her smile faded into concern and annoyance and looked at you for help. You just shrugged unsure how to help.

Once you collected all the information on the crime board at the station you helped out Hotch and Rossi at the coroner's office. Then you got the call that there was a third victim. There he burned the woman’s tongue with sulfuric acid. As you, Rossi, JJ, and Reid looked over the body. The quips JJ and Reid were throwing at each other was escalating quickly.

“— instead of dealing with it. He’s acting out,” JJ looked up at Reid as she spoke about the unsub but also meant it for Reid. If looks could inflict pain, the look Reid responded to JJ with would have seriously injured her. Spencer walked off in anger. JJ looked around for help, or maybe back up. You looked at her giving her ‘I’ll take care of it’ look and went after Spencer.

Once you caught up to him and tried to talk to him he wasn’t having it. He quickly dived into perfecting the profile and ignored all conversation about anything else. He was reinforcing the walls he built around himself.

Now back at the station, you all delivered the profile to the police force. Spencer was still not looking at JJ.

Once the profile was delivered Spencer went into the room where the BAU was working out of, JJ following him.

“Spence. Look we gotta talk about this,” JJ insisted.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he responded.

“I get it, okay? You’re disappointed with the way we handled Emily,”

“Listen I have a lot going on alright,”

“You know what I think it is, you’re mad that Hotch and I were able to hold our micro-expressions at the hospital. And you weren’t able to detect our deception,” JJ finally getting angry and defending herself.

“You think it’s about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend,” the tears beginning to well in both of their eyes, “and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“I couldn’t,”

“You couldn’t or you wouldn’t,”

“I couldn’t,” she shouted and defended herself.

“What if I started taking dilaudid again. Would you have let me?” he asked.

“You didn’t,” she answered, confused why he was asking.

“Yeah, but I thought about it,” he confessed, and hurt even more that she didn’t realize how low he actually was during that time.

“Spence,” she called out as he tried to walk away, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late, all right?” He walked away from her.

“Reid,” Emily called for him and looked back at JJ.

You followed Spencer out the door. You knew it was risky to seek him out right now but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to try and help him. You couldn’t explain the pull he had on you right now but you usually followed your instincts and they hadn’t let you down yet.

“Spencer, wait up,” you tried to catch up to his long strides.

“Are you here to tell me off, or ask me to apologize to JJ? Because if so, don’t waste your breath. I’m not going to,” he angrily twirled around to you, which made you stop yourself before running into him.

“I wasn’t — I wasn’t going to say that. I know why you’re mad. And I think the way your acting is justified, maybe a bit immature but it’s justified,” you answered.

Spencer looked confused at your response then angrily he said “why am I acting this way then? Why am I so justified?” He was testing you in some way. If you said the wrong thing he’d yell at you too, and he would build that wall around himself so high no one would ever be allowed in again. He was hurting and right now he felt like hurting others was the only way to feel like he was in control.

“You feel betrayed. You understand why Emily had to fake her death. You understand why no one on the team was allowed to know but you don’t understand why JJ was in on it and how she kept her cool. You don’t understand how she could watch your heart break over the loss of a loved one and stand there with the knowledge to save you from all your grieving. JJ is your best friend, you trust her and love her. And best friends are supposed to help take away the pain, and you feel betrayed and taken advantage of because of that,” you finished. You could tell by the look he gave you that the wall he was building was not prepared for you to hit it so hard it cracked. His face went from openness and feeling seen, to defensive and angry at you not giving him a reason to yell at you. “You want her to understand and feel the pain she caused you. which might be why you are acting out? But when the time comes you’ll forgive her because you know deep down what you need JJ and her friendship and eventually you’ll remember all she did for you. Right now you’re hurting, but the way you get rid of that pain isn’t about being mean or hurting her, you’ll need to remember your love for your friend. And find it in yourself if you can forgive her. Am I right?” You asked him, but you already knew the answer. He let out a sigh and looked down at you. He looked at you for the first time in all his time of knowing you. You understood what he was going through more so than his closest friend, and even more so than some of his teammates who had known him for years. How could he have overlooked you for so long. He quickly looked down at your lips and the tension between you two changed. The breathing between you two became heavy and noticeable. He turned quickly and stormed off.

Eventually you all caught the unsub and saved the young girl. This time on the plane though Spencer sat in the back. He spread his stuff across the table indicating he didn’t want anyone to sit there. You took the hint, and even though you had never been close to Spencer other than him using you today for an emotional defense, you felt a coldness being away from him. A coldness, you didn’t even want to know where it would lead you.

Emily walked back to him after a short time on the plane. You could tell what she was doing and thought it was a good idea. You looked at them and analysed their behaviors. You saw the shift in them as Emily laughed for a second and from the back of Spencer you saw him move in his seat to avoid the subject. Emily leaned in as she began to explain her side of what had happened. Spencer was still mad, but by the way his shoulders sloped he was more tired than angry.

You got dressed up in one of your favorite black dresses with knee high black boots and a fancy long coat. As you pulled into the parking lot, you were a bit self conscious about what you were about to do.

You walked up the steps, found the door you were looking for, and knocked lightly. You heard some shuffling around and then heard the door unlock.

“Hey,” you spoke softly as you took in Spencer standing before you. He quickly looked you up and down and smiled, “what are you doing here? I thought you were helping Rossi teach the others how to cook?” He asked.

“Well I was, but I thought my friend might need me more tonight,” you softly smiled at him. “I was wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat,” you shyly asked, “or if you have plans, we can do something another time,” You looked at his attire and enjoyed the blue sport coat he was wearing, along with the colorful shirt under it. His hair was brushed with a light amount of product in it. It was like he was ready to go out.

“No, I was actually going to go to Rossi’s,” he admitted and you knew what that meant for him. It was more than going to Rossi’s, it was actually forgiving JJ and Emily.

“Well, I can take us, if you want,” you offered as you jingled your keys in front of him.

He gave a soft laugh, and nodded his head as he grabbed his stuff from his apartment.

“I just need to stop somewhere real quick to pick something up,” you added.

When you showed up to Rossi’s you were obviously late. But the smile on everyone’s face as Spencer walked in the room was worth it. You walked behind them with your arms wrapped around Derek and let everyone take in Spencer. You quickly handed Rossi, the cannoli’s you made and brought for desert.

After everyone said hello and got to cheers their wine glasses, it was time to cook. Instead of you cooking, Rossi decided you needed to help supervise. As you reminded everyone what the texture of the pasta had to be, and how the pancetta should look like cooked, you felt yourself always catching Spencer’s eyes and smiling.

“What’s that about?” Emily asked from behind you.

You turned startled by her, “what do you mean?”

“You and Reid, you guys came together and now you won’t keep your eyes off of each other. So what’s going on?” She asked.

You shook your head, “nothing is going on. I just gave Spencer a ride,” you responded.

“Uh-huh,” Emily skeptically looked at you. You rolled your eyes at her. Once you knew Emily wasn’t looking you slipped a glance at Spencer again and saw him smiling and laughing at something Garcia said. You couldn’t help but smile at them.

“I should say thank you,” you heard JJ say behind you.

You turned and looked at him, “why?” You asked a bit confused.

“You brought Spencer here, and he’s talking to me again. I can’t help but think you had something to do with that,” she answered.

“I didn’t do anything. He came to that conclusion on his own,” you responded.

“Well, either way, thank you for being there for him. I know he has a hard time opening up and trusting people,” she whispered. You nodded your head unsure how to respond. Out of everyone on the team you knew JJ and Emily the least as they weren’t on the team when you joined and had just returned.

As the finishing touches were put on everyone’s pasta you took a seat at Rossi’s big dinner table. You were used to sitting next to Garcia and Rossi. You expected the same people to sit near you but Spencer was quick to steal the seat where Garcia usually sat. You looked up at the young doctor standing over you as he placed a bowl of pasta in front of you. His smile told you everything. The weight of his anger had lifted and he felt rejuvenated. You gave him an odd look as he placed his glass of wine in the spot next to you. He just gave you a goofy face back. You ignored it, but you couldn’t help the feeling bubbling in your chest as you over thought him picking the seat next to you instead of next to the others like JJ, Emily or Derek.

You felt bloated after your meal but it didn’t really matter to you because you felt loved. With your Italian heritage, eating and sharing moments like this is where you felt most loved. This was no exception. You loved this BAU family that you were a part of. As the night went on and moved from the dining table to outside in Rossi’s backyard. You crawled into a loveseat couch and Spencer followed and sat next to you. You pulled a blanket off the back of the seat and draped it across you both. Spencer smiled in gratefulness.

“Say Grazie to the wonderful Y/N, for making and bringing the cannoli,” he announced and brought out the delish Italian treat.

“Oh my gosh I love cannoli,” squealed Garcia. Each person grabbed one and a silence fell over the group as they ate their cannoli. You couldn’t help but snuggle into Spencer a bit as the night moved forward and the talking kept going.

Slowly people left. Hotch was one of the first to go as he had to get back to Jack, then Derek and Garcia, next was JJ and Emily, and you and Reid.

The drive back to Spencer’s was filled with music theory facts, as the two of you got on the subject because you played your favorite songs playlist. One by one you each played songs that mean something to you. You enjoyed hearing the songs that made Spencer Reid, Spencer. They were all over the spectrum of music from classical to pop to indie to folk. You two sat in the parking lot for about an hour before you felt yourself yawning often.

“I should go so you can get home,” Spencer noted sadly.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right,” you agreed.

“Unfortunately?” His right eyebrow was raised flirtatiously.

You blushed, “yeah, I had a fun night with you.” You looked down in embarrassment.

Spencer moved to place his hand on yours. He hesitated for a second then covered your hand. “I had a fun night too,” he admitted. You looked up at him and smiled.

“Good, because I still owe you a dinner,” you added playfully.

Spencer pulled his lips in and bit them, then let them slide out into a soft smile. “I look forward to it,” he responded.

He waited at the apartment complex entrance for you to pull away.

The memory of tonight would be one you cherished for a long time.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #david rossi #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #derek morgan #criminal minds season 7 fanfics #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #ssa-dg

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olivinesea · 3 years

Note

Oooh fun! Okay, do you have any headcannons or thoughts on a dyslexic Hotch? I feel like I never see dyslexia with any characters really, and I like the idea of him with it. And if you do and you want to write something about it, a dyslexic Hotch with the team (and them being the supportive and protective family they are?) Thank you! ❤️

I hope you have fun, wherever/whatever you’re doing!!

I love this so much!! Thank you :) okay I don’t have much personal experience with dyslexia so hopefully I get this decently accurate. The biggest thing that surprised me when I was doing a quick search is that it isn’t actually a matter of reading words or letters backwards? It’s more an inability to connect letters to the appropriate sounds or to break words up into component parts; a general phonological awareness struggle.

So, as with many things, it seems to me to be a matter of slowing down, learning at your own pace. This ties in nicely with so many of my other Hotch thoughts, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Idk what this is, it’s neither headcanon nor proper story but hopefully it’s something like what you were looking for:

When he’s a kid he gets called a slow learner due to his undiagnosed dyslexia. It was much less common to get that kind of diagnosis back then in general and I am sure his dad would have hated the idea of his son needing any kind of extra help. So he’s slow to speak, slow to learn how to read, has difficulty with numbers, absolutely hates being called on to read out loud because it’s actual torture and the other kids have no hesitation about laughing at him. So he becomes withdrawn, labeled a “bad kid,” stops trying because, fuck it, he never gets any kind of support, who cares right? It’s always a fight at home, he starts hiding his work, lying about his grades. This works for awhile bc his parents are distracted by other things. His problems are much bigger than grades by the time they do notice.

However, while he hates school and the way people talk about him and his struggles, like he isn’t even there, he discovers that he doesn’t hate learning. There’s a small library in town where he found he could hide out, no one bothering him for hours if he just sat still for with a book open. He was good at sitting still, at being invisible. But eventually a librarian notices that he’s always got the same book open, some sort of technical manual, that he is rarely turning the pages. She asks him if he likes what he’s reading. He’s just alarmed to be spoken to, afraid that being noticed means he will soon no longer have this sanctuary. He nods and tries to bluff his way through but it’s obvious he hasn’t read it, despite having looked at it for weeks straight. The librarian doesn’t say anything outright, just lets him be for now.

Next time she sees him she brings him a different book, a collection of Grimms fairy tales. He wants to complain that it’s for little kids but is too nervous to refuse it. She asks if she can read him her favorite story from it. It’s dark and twisted and fantastical and he can’t help but be drawn in by it. He’s sad when she’s done reading, wants to hear it again, to capture all the details to replay to himself later. She shows him where it starts, encourages him to read it himself. He doesn’t look at her bc he doesn’t want her to see how upset he is by that, already frustrated by the anticipation that he won’t be able to get through it. But she stays with him, helping him where he gets stuck, asking him questions about the story, making sure it’s making sense to him.

They slowly work their way through the whole collection over the course of months. They spend days on each story, repeating it until he’s confident, she never makes him feel like he’s taking too long or wasting her time. Sometimes has to reread a section multiple times, gets hung up on the language rather than the story but it’s okay, she gives him a notebook to copy down parts that spin too loudly in his mind, saving them and also releasing him from their hold so he can move forward. She lets him keep the book, tells him it was too old to stay in circulation anyway, they had a new copy on order already. She’s the first person who was patient with him, that showed him he could do it, he just needed a little more time, a little more practice than other kids.

In college this is part of why he spends so much time at the library. Part of it is his natural inclination to overwork himself, push until he’s given more than he can in hopes that it might be almost enough. He knows he’s never been enough, why would that change just because he’s in a new place? But the other part is he simply needs more time to get through the coursework, to make it through the excessive amounts of reading he’s assigned. Some other students don’t even bother to read but he would never do that, he makes sure that he not only reads every chapter assigned but he reads it again, takes notes, highlights, annotates, does everything in his power to be prepared. Sure he might work himself to the point of exhaustion, to the point where he makes himself sick (though he’ll try to deny that too) but he’s never caught trying to read something while others wait for his answer, the letters and sounds meaningless, slipping away from him faster the more eyes he feels turn towards him, wondering what could be taking so long. No one ever gets the chance to laugh at him for being slow in college, he never allows them to see that side of him.

As an adult, the leader of the BAU, he’s too well respected for anyone to dare laugh at him but he still hates feeling unprepared. This ends up looking like long nights in the office, reviewing case files to the point of memorization, so that he won’t have to read any of it in front of his team. He can if he has to, he’s developed skills over the years, ways to calm the panic that only makes it harder, can fake it well enough that no one would really notice. Until one day, distracted by a migraine and the fallout of some fight with Haley, he gets stuck. He can’t remember something and he tries to read the sentence that has the information but the stupid word just won’t resolve into sounds that make sense and he just stops talking. He’s glaring at the form like it might catch fire. No one says anything for a moment while he tries to refocus, tries to work around echoes of laughter, decades long past but always ready to jump out at him if he lets his guard down, allows a mistake, a tired moment to derail the image of perfect competence that he’s built around himself. Penelope jumps in, finishing the thought, completing the list of traits shared by the victims. He forces himself to smile at her because he really is grateful, it wasn’t her fault. She scrunches her nose at him, dismissing his silent thanks with a toss of her head. It was nothing, everyone needs a little assist now and then.

No one brings it up and he doubles his efforts not to let anyone see. But he’s so tired on the plane coming back from a case, he’s been staring the same forms for an hour at least. He can feel his ears turning red with frustration. There’s really no reason he has to do this now but the fact that his mind is refusing, almost seems to be teasing him, makes him dig in harder. Emily sits down opposite him, pulling the folder away without asking. He’s about to say something sharp, something he’ll regret saying to her when he really means it for himself, but the expression on her face is so odd, smiling with a frown between her eyebrows. It isn’t pity, she respects him far too much, but there is curiosity and something else, something soft.

“Drink with me.” She slides him a glass and they don’t talk, just look out the window, look at the light playing off the ice in their glasses. He doesn’t see the file again until it appears on his desk, every form neatly filled out, the places needing his signature flagged. All but the last spot, where she’s signed his name eerily perfectly, difficult for even him to see that it’s not his own. Just so he knows she can if she wants to. Equal parts offer and threat.

Penelope and Reid start a book club. Derek joins right away. Emily rolls her eyes when she’s invited, muttering something about spending her free time on more work but they know she will join. Rossi flat out refuses to read the books but offers his house for meetings. Hotch hesitates, wanting to say yes but nervous to commit to an activity like that. He loves books, loves to talk about books. He doesn’t love a time limit on books.

The next time they have to drive to a case, Derek puts on a copy of the audiobook. It’s the first time they make it to a destination without any bickering from the backseat. They don’t get through the whole thing but later he finds a copy of the audiobook on his desk, complete with a disc player and headphones.

A different month, Reid tells him about how his mother always used to read him books and somehow finesses an offer to read to Hotch without him even realizing he’s accepted it. So Spencer comes in to Hotch’s office on lunch breaks occasionally and reads to him whatever the book of the month is. He loves it, remembering the first person who read to him, how shocked he’d been to be treated with patience, with understanding and wondering how he got so lucky to be surrounded by people like her, so ready to support him, wanting him there with them rather than off alone, uselessly fighting with himself to prove his self sufficiency over some uncooperative letters.

Okay, that was so much more than I was planning on but here we are. I hope you liked it and thank you SO much for the idea. If you ever have any others you want to share I am totally here for it. :)

Send me requests!

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sillycheysblog · 3 years

Text

Originally this was a rant post about Legacies but I decided to just make it a super long post about my problems with Legacies which includes the writers and their writing choices, the fandom, the plots, and the characters.

Fair Warning: There may be somethings in here that you disagree with and somethings that you don’t like. If you disagree or don’t like what I have to say that’s okay. It’s your opinion and I respect your opinion. Here’s what your not going to do, is reply with hate because you don’t agree with what I have to say. Like mentioned, it’s my opinions. Also, I am writing this from my perspective.

Like mentioned at the very beginning of this post, this is a super long post so if you want to read what I have to say then stay tuned, if not it’s okay just keep scrolling.

Now let’s get started!

I’m going to start with the writers, but before I start, I just want to say that I am super grateful for having his show and thankful that it got renewed for a 4th season because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. I also love the entire cast so much with the exception of Matt Davis. I am thankful for the work that the directors, producers, writers, actors, actresses, etc. put into this show but there are somethings that the writers do that really piss me off. One of the things that the writers do that pisses me off is putting in unnecessary lines. This correlates with the fan service. There wasn’t much of this in season 1, but there is some in season 2 where I am like “Did that really have to be written in there?” and there is a recent line in 3x03 that is obviously written in there for a certain group of fans. In season 2, the line from 2x06 when Hope said “I had a crush on Josie for a week when we were 12” was unnecessary. Like I mentioned in the beginning of this post, I am writing this from my perspective so I’m not trying to be disrespectful or biased, I’m proving my point. This line was completely out of nowhere in my opinion. We know Hope has so many other secrets. You’re telling me that this was the 2nd to 3rd thing to come to mind? The line was obviously written into the script for the Hosie stans. In addition, the line from 2x16 about the “nonconsensual kiss” was unnecessary. They knew that the next episode was going to have the same concept as 2x16. 3x01 was technically 2x17 meaning the Handon “true love kiss” was right after 2x16. If they wanted the Handon “true love kiss” they should of never put the “nonconsensual kiss” line in there because the Hosie stans would be pissed. They only put it in there to please the Hosie stans and that’s it. Now I wrote a whole post about this line, so I’m not going to spend to much time on it but if you want to read it, it’s right here. In season 3, the line from 3x03 when Josie says “You gave up on Hope twice” was so unnecessary. (1) Landon never gave up on Hope and (2) he never gave up on their relationship. So why was this line in there? It doesn’t make sense. Here’s what I’m thinking, it was only written in there for the fans that hate Landon because they knew that they would eat that up. There is no other logical explanation. If you think that Landon walking away from situations is giving up on her then your weird because that's not giving up on someone. That’s Landon walking away from situations because he doesn't know how to react to them so he walks away to have time to himself and think about how to react which isn’t surprising knowing the way he grew up. Now moving onto the writers baiting the fans. There are so many things that Julie Plec and the writers, mainly Julie Plec, has said that never ended up happening. For example, Julie Plec saying that Maya and Ethan were Hope’s love interest. Maya shows zero interest in Hope romatically. Ethan showed interest but Hope showed him no time of day because all she wanted was Landon. She also said that Hope and the twins would be in a love triangle. This for sure never happened. I don’t understand why so many people think that the writers are going to change. I stopped putting my trust in the writers a long long time ago. I especially stop putting my trust in Julie Plec after everything she did on TVD and TO. They queerbait the Hosie stans just so that they keep tuning in. Once they saw people shipping Hosie, they started adding in Hope and Josie scenes that gave them a glimmer of hope that it would happen. Julie Plec says and I quote, “I give people a glimmer of hope and then I crush them.” I’m not understanding why people still believe a word that comes from out of her mouth. This relates with my next problem, the way the writers keep writing off love interest for Josie. I understand why Penelope was written off because Lulu had other priorities but Jade, really? They said that Jade would be around for a while and she literally was here for 1 episode. They didn’t even explore their relationship. I really liked Josie and Jade and I wanted to see more of them, but they just wrote Jade off. Don’t get me started on them writing Raf and so many other people of color off. I did make a post about how they did Raf wrong so if you want to read it, it’s here.

My next problem with the show is the plot and the monster of the week thing. Now don’t get me wrong, I do like the monster of the week to a certain extent. I think the monster of the week made so much sense in season 1, but made no sense in season 2 and here’s why. Firstly, there was monsters who came from Malivore who’s master was Malivore but then you had monsters who came from Malivore who had different masters such as the Sphrinx. The Sphrinx only showed up to tell the school about a prophecy. He did not want Landon at all. In fact, he told Raf to take Landon far away from the school. Then there was monsters who came from Malivore who’s master was the Necromancer such as the monster from 2x10 that feed on insecurities. That monster was at the school only for the dark magic that the Necromancer wanted. It just made no sense at all. In addition, the plot was all over the place. The first half of the season was good especially the built up of dark Josie, but after episode 4 it was a big question mark. For example, Landon knowing that he was seeing Hope every time he died, but wanted to have sex with Josie the next episode? The way it was written was like “huh?” The first half of the season was about everyone not remembering Hope. But what was the second half of the season about? Dark Josie? Dark Josie was literally there for like 1 or 2 episodes. The plot didn’t add up. Another example, the whole message in 2x16′s episode made zero sense. The message was about Josie “being strong and being able to pick your own story” but then they have Josie put her magic in a coin? I’m leaving it here because I can go on and on about the inconsistency in this show. I can’t really talk about season 3 yet because we are still on season 2 episodes. And that’s probably why people think its feels weird because it’s technically season 2 episodes and season 2′s plot just made absolutely no sense.

My next problem is that there are so many things brought up in the show that are never talked about ever again. For example, Landon drowning himself all summer long. He was killing himself all summer! He even said it started out with him killing himself just to kill himself until he realized that he was seeing Hope. The writers just glided of that like it was nothing. Did he ever tell anyone other than Raf and Josie? Did he even tell Hope? I have so many questions. Also what about Josie and Raf? They showed an interest in each other back in season 1 and they even shared a kiss. But this was never talked about again. It was like nothing happened. Anyway moving on.

The next problem is how none of the characters have an actual storyline. Hope’s storyline is revolved around saving everyone which I hate. I hate how she is always the one that people depend on to save the day. Landon’s storyline is supposedly Malivore? But the writers decided to take 3 steps back and make him human again. I made a post about how he may get his powers back so if you want you can look at that it’s right here. Mg has no storyline, Kaleb has no storyline, Jed has no storyline, and Josie has no storyline. The only person that has a storyline that shows growth is Lizzie. Now there is new characters such as Ethan and Cleo. I’m not understanding why they don’t focus on developing the characters storyline of the characters they already have but whatever. Like mentioned before, I’m not going to talk that much about season 3 because we are technically still on season 2 content but I do know that we will get some development in the characters so I will wait. That’s all I have to say about this.

Lastly, my next problem is the fandom. A fandom is apart of any show so that’s why I’m including this. I have a lot to say about this. TVDU fandom is just toxic. Point. Blank. and a Period. Some people in this fandom are just hypocrites. I don’t even know where to start. I’m going to start with how people make so many excuses for the ones that they love when they know they are in the wrong. Josie for example burned her ex’s hair, burned down Hope’s room because Hope didn’t have the same feelings for her, lied to Lizzie about who started the rumor about her, she killed Alyssa, burned down a part of the Salvatore school, broke Ethan’s arm and forced Lizzie into the merge. Now I am not coming at Josie by all means, I’m proving my point. Even though Josie did all this, you still have people who make excuses for why she did it. Just because you love a character, doesn’t mean you can’t call them out when they are wrong. This goes into Hope because people put Hope on this high pedestal as if she is never wrong, but she is. She isn’t always right. I’m not going to talk about the whole argument thing from last week between Handon because I made a post about that already so if you want you can go read it, it’s here. I think it’s in the post about 3x02, but anyways she isn’t always right. As much as I love Hope, I call her out on her bs and that goes with every other character. The fandom also uses the words such as “toxic” or “abusive” because they hate a character. For example, Landon gets the most hate out of every character for no reason. I was on twitter and I saw a tweet from someone saying “Landon is emotionally abusive because he brought up Klaus.” and “Handon is an abusive relationship” And I am like “WHAT?” are you being serious right now? (1) abuse is a serious thing and it shouldn’t be used lightly so the fact that people are using it lightly because they hate a character so much is disgusting. People go deal with abuse on a daily basis and your using the word like it’s not a serious situation. The lengths that people would go in this fandom because they aren’t getting something they want is insane. The death threats that people send to the writers, people from other ships, and the actors and actresses is rude and disgusting. Now I am about to be blatantly honest right now and if you don’t like it then oh well🤷‍♀️. There is a specific group of people in the fandom that spreads hate. I’m not going to name names because there is no need point fingers and start stuff for no reason. I’m not saying everyone from this particular group does it, there are some that are cool, but a majority of them are the ones that spread the hate. I’m not saying other people from other groups in the fandom don’t do this, but I haven’t seen that many do it. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand why this specific group is upset about the choices that the writers make but they’re still a person who has feelings. There used to be ships that I loved but now I don’t like because of the way the fans within that ship acts. For example, I used to like Hosie. I use to say if Landon wasn’t there, I would love to see Hosie, but then I saw the way the people who shipped them acted and that made me stop shipping Hosie. And I also just grew closer to Handon more but there is no need to spread hate on other people’s ships because you are mad that something isn’t happening the way you want it too. No one should be sending hate to actors and actresses because you hate their character or because you hate the what the character did in the show. The character isn’t the actor. Separate the two. The actor is portraying the character. I know that nothing is going to change within the fandom but it’s irritating. Spreading hate isn’t going to get you want you want. Attacking writers, other people in the fandom, or the actors is not going to get you want you want. This goes for everybody in the fandom, not just the one specific group. You can’t demand what you want and think its going to happen because you demanded it. So I am just going to end this here. I am not trying to bash anybody, I am just calling out what I see.

Anyways, I’m sorry for this long post. I am not trying to be rude at all, I’m just being honest. I don’t want to argue. I just wanted to talk about problems within Legacies, the writers, and the fandom. I felt like talking about how I felt about certain situations and how I view certain situations. If you didn’t like anything I said then that’s your own opinion and I respect your opinion. If you have anything else would like to say about the show, send a reply. But aside from that I hope you have a good day! ❤

#Legacies #fandom #landon kirby #hope michaelson #kaleb legacies #mg greasley #lizzie saltzman #josie saltzman #dont be mad #im sorr #handon #hosie #hizzie #julie plec #anti julie plec

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lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Heathridge Manor

spencer reid x reader

Summary: Oregon and mystery has the reader and spencer growing closer in a case.

warnings: normal criminal minds things,

A/N: based on season 7 episode 19; this is one of my fav episodes

“You know, Y/N, you should join me for one of my hand-on-hand combat classes,” Derek spoke walking up to stand between Y/N and Spencer who were walking out of the elevator.

“And why’s that, Derek?” She asked, her head dramatically turning to the side to look at him.

“Well you got shot, you need to add some combat to go along to your scars,” he said laughing.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the man, knowing he meant no harm, and he genuinely wanted her to come to one of his classes.

“Morgan, I am a very good hand-on-hand fighter, remember I was top of the class at the academy,” she said, opening the door to the bullpen.

“She was, and when she was scared by her neighbor the other morning she--”

“Hey! Look Hotch texted we have a case let’s go,” Y/N interrupted Spencer before he could finish the embarrassing story.

“Alright wonder woman, whatever you say.” Derek laughed as he ruffled Y/N’s her walking towards the round table room, her and Spencer following closely behind.

The round table room was filled with the others as they sat down. Penelope being the only one missing from the room.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry for the delay,” Penelope said, swiftly walking into the room as she carried her laptop in her hands. “The system was down. We overwork her. And I had to go into the belly of the beast, who I affectionately nicknamed Persephone, and do some machine whispering, oh-” she stopped, grabbing her remote from Derek as he handed it to her- “thank you. Which is good because this one is a doozy.”

“It will never cease to amaze me how much she can get out in one breath,” Y/N said leaning over to Rossi next to her.

“Oh yeah,” he agreed.

“Emma Baker, thirty-eight, math teacher from Medford, Oregon. She went missing seventeen days ago, and her body was found yesterday afternoon at St. Baldwin’s, St. Baldwin’s is a now-defunct psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane. Now that is in Salem, Oregon, which is 270 miles away from Medford and we’ve been called in for the bizarre nature of the case.” Penelope then pulled up a picture of the body that was found.

The victim laid on a bed, hands folded across her stomach, and dressed in a dress from the sixteenth century.

“Wow, look at that dress,” JJ said as she looked at the picture.

“Was she going to a renaissance fair?” Emily asked.

“Not with her feet bound,” Y/N said as she looked at the victim’s feet.

“And the missing persons report says she was in jeans and a t-shirt,” Penelope added.

“Look at how she’s laid out, it’s almost like it’s a ceremony and she’s the sacrifice,” Derek said, flipping through the pictures in his hand.

“There’s obvious staging going on,” Rossi said.

“Could it be a ritualistic killing?” JJ asked.

“And the cause of death is still unclear, the M.E. report shows no sign of sexual assault or mutilation except mangled and missing fingernails,” Hotch explained.

“You know, there were rumors of satanic rites being performed at a Byberry Hospital in Pennsylvania, which is also an abandoned asylum,” Spencer said.

“Judging by all the graffiti, this place isn’t exactly locked down,” Derek observed.

“Uh, yeah, local P.D. said that vandals and vagrants have been breaking in,” Penelope added on to Derek.

“Which means she could have been killed elsewhere and placed here,” Y/N said.

“She had limestone under her fingernails, but limestone wouldn’t have been used when this asylum was built, so she was obviously held somewhere else,” Spencer said, looking over to Y/N.

“Well, the bottom line is, the unsub transported her hundreds of miles from her hometown for a reason,” Emily said.

“We just need to find out what that reason is, wheels up in 30,” Hotch said, dismissing everyone.

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

“Emma Baker was a divorced math teacher, no children,” Rossi said as they began going over victimology.

“She has a boyfriend, though, who’s a drummer in a goth band. Her Facebook has pictures of them at the Bram Stoker Vampire festival and Slayerama, which celebrates all things gothic,” Penelope explained.

“Hm, a teacher by day, Elvira by night,” JJ said with a posing smirk on her face.

“Well, clearly this is a woman with two different sides to her personality,” Derek said, taking a sip of coffee from his mug.

“Yeah, the boyfriend’s band pours fake blood all over themselves on stage,” Spencer said, looking at a page in the manila folder.

“Ah, reminds me of high school,” Y/N said as her eyes locked on the file in her lap.

The eyes of everyone on the team turned to her in question at her statement. She looked up, realizing what she had said didn’t make sense to them.

“Don’t ask.”

“Okay, so if these two were Satanists, it wouldn’t be a stretch,” Emily said, going back to the topic of victimology.

“Garcia, has the boyfriend been questioned by local P.D.?” Hotch asked.

“He has, by phone. He’s got an airtight alibi, he and his band have been on tour in Asia for the last month,” Penelope answered.

“If it’s not the boyfriend, the unsub could be someone in their circle,” Y/N said.

“Emily, you asked earlier if she was going to a renaissance fair, there’s something to that,” Rossi said, looking at Emily next to him.

“Based on the dress, there could be more of a connection to history then the occult,” Emily spoke.

“Renaissance fairs typically replicate sixteenth-century England,” Spencer began. “They surged in popularity since they began in the 1960s.”

“And it’s not just a bunch of nerds in customs eating turkey legs, you guys,” Penelope added.

Y/N hummed in agreement, memories of her and her high school friends going to the fairs coming to mind.

“A different time is somehow very important to this unsub,” Hotch said.

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

Y/N stood with Spencer and JJ as they waited for the tailor in the shop to come back. They had just gotten a call from Derek telling them that she died from nicotine poisoning through the garments of the dress she was sown into.

“This unsubs’, not the first to do this, poisoned garments actually have an incredibly long history, going all the way back to the shirt of Nessus, which killed Hercules,” Spencer explained, Y/N listening intently.

A door chimed as the tailor entered the room, bringing the attention of the three to him.

“Okay, so, I double-checked, and this fabric-” the tailor pointed to the fabric in the evidence bag- “is not manufactured for commercial sale,” he explained.

“Is it possibly something from the past that was maybe discontinued?” Spencer asked.

“No,” the tailor responded. “I can tell you one thing though, the fabric is a double-layer brocade. It was probably custom-made for someone, and is very pricey.”

“What about the dress, was there anything that stood out?” Y/N asked the man.

“Well, it’s homemade for one,” he responded.

“Okay, how do you know that?” JJ asked.

“Well, the seams are uneven. Whoever the seamstress is, she isn’t very skilled,” the tailor explained.

“What makes you so sure it’s a woman?” Spencer asked.

“Well, there’s some detail to the work in here that would require small hands,” the tailor explained.

Y/N looked up to Spencer, seeing how he also had the same questioning look on his face as her.

“Oh and this is interesting,” the tailor said to bring their attention to the picture of the dress. “See, now, the stitching on this hem, it’s narrow in some places and wider in others.”

“Small hands, easily distracted,” Spencer said, picking up on what the tailor was showing in the picture. “Let me ask you this, how old do you think someone could be and still effectively sew this?”

“Well, a pattern of this complexity, they’d have to be a teenager,” the tailor said, handing Spencer the items as he turned around and saw some fabrics being brought in.

“Okay, thanks,” Y/N said to the man as he walked away. She walked over to Spencer and looked at the pictures of the dress again.

“Based on the size of the victim’s body, I think only an adult male would be able to lift her and move a hospital bed,” JJ said, putting together all the information she had been told.

“So, what’re we looking for a team?” Y/N asked looking between JJ and Spencer.

“Or an unsub with a young accomplice who’s been coerced,” Spencer elaborated.

JJ and Y/N looked at each other both nodding as they silently agreed with what Spencer was saying. The three left the building and headed to the car parked outside the door.

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

Y/N walked into the room of the next victim with Emily and Rossi. The body adorning another renaissance style dress was laying in the middle of the room.

“Alice Pritchard was 22, a senior at Portland College, she went missing five days ago, a realtor found her body here this morning,” The detective explained as they walked up to the body.

“I don’t see any physical similarities to our first victim, she’s a lot smaller than Emma, different coloring, different age,” Emily pointed out as she observed the victim.

“So that means these women aren’t surrogates for anyone,” Y/N said.

“But he did lay her out the same way,” Emily added.

“She’s displayed in the center of the room just like the other victim in the asylum,” Rossi said.

“It’s almost like she’s being presented,” Y/N said, tucking her hands into her navy coat pockets as she walked to the end of the body.

Emily crouched down next to the body and inspected the dress. “There is so much attention paid to detail, this is also satisfying some internal desire of the unsub,” she explained.

“So, why leave bodies in an empty storefront and the asylum?” The detective asked.

“Good question,” Rossi said, turning around to look out the window. Y/N followed behind him to see what was out of the window also. “There should be a connection between the two.”

“Or maybe it’s not about the storefront at all, look,” Y/N said, pointing to a theater across the street.

“A theater company performing Shakespeare,” Emily said, reading the sign above the doorway.

The three turned back to look at the body.

“The dress, the white makeup, this victim could literally be wearing a costume,” Emily said as she looked between Rossi and Y/N.

“What if this was the closest to the theater that the unsub could get…” Rossi trailed off.

“Without being caught,” Y/N finished.

----------

Y/N stood next to Spencer as him and Hotch worked on what the numbers from the writing on the wall could be.

“Alice’s sorority sisters say she wanted to be a nurse and she was active in a Christian youth group,” Derek said as he approached the three.

“So the opposite of our last victim,” Y/N said as she let out a huff, sitting down in one of the seats around the table.

“Yeah, and if she was into anything dark, her best friends sure didn’t know anything about it,” JJ continued.

“She was in Portland collecting donations for an orphanage when she disappeared. The unsub could have approached her on the street,” Derek said, looking at Hotch.

Y/N looked over to Spencer, his eyes darting back and forth from the folder in his hands to the numbers written on the clear board.

“Hey, baby girl, you’re on speaker, give me the lowdown,” Derek said answering the phone.

“Chocolate thunder, you can have the whole kit and caboodle just say the word,” Penelope flirted. “Oh, and I cross-referenced the names you found on the wall with missing women in Oregon and I came up with some matches. Christine Torres is a forty-year-old homemaker from Eugene, Oregon. She went missing over a month ago after she dropped her kids off at school.”

“Any other women named Emma missing?” JJ asked.

“Uh-uh, just the one whose body we found, same thing with Alice,” Penelope answered.

“Garcia, what was the exact date Christine was reported missing?” Spencer asked as he backed away from the board.

“February 28th, Emma went missing on March 19th, and Alice on the 22nd,” Penelope answered.

Spencer walked back over to the board and looked at the numbers. Y/N stood up from her chair to stand next to him, wondering what it was he was seeing.

“What is it, Spence?” She asked him.

“Look at this.” Spencer grabbed her hand gently and pulled her behind the clear board. “I think these numbers are dates if you reverse them and chop off the eleven at the beginning and end--”

“That’s two days after each woman went missing,” Hotch interrupted.

“It’s more than that though look,” Spencer said coming back around to the front of the board, pointing to the first number. “March 1st is Sain Eichatadt day, March 21st is the Spring Equinox, and the 24th is the Feast of the Beast.”

“Those are all important holidays in the satanic calendar for sacrifices,” Y/N said coming to the same realization Spencer was. Their minds clicked together and now they both had the same thoughts running through.

“What about the eleven on the end?” Derek asked.

“To many of occultists, the eleven is symbolic of Lucifer,” Spencer explained.

“Okay, I thought we were moving away from satanic killings,” JJ said.

“Apparently we need to reconsider it.” Hotch’s eyes were trained on the file with the victims in them.

“There’s gotta be some sort of connection to the devil here,” Spencer said, which had Y/N nodding her head in agreement.

“Reid, what other upcoming dates are significant to Satanists?” Hotch asked.

“Good Friday, then Easter Eve, and then preparations begin in mid-April for the most important night of all--”

“Walpurgis night on April 30th,” Y/N said, turning to Spencer. He looked at her surprised, having no idea she knew so much about this stuff.

“Good Friday’s in two days, that means he’s hunting for his next victim today.” Derek’s concern in his voice was evident as he spoke.

“We need to give the profile soon,” Hotch said, agreeing with Derek’s concern.

They nodded, going their separate ways to do their work. As normal, Spencer and Y/N stayed by the boards to work, as they both found it was the easiest place to focus.

“Since when did you know all about these things?” Spencer’s back was turned to Y/N as he looked at the boards.

“Hm?” She questioned, not knowing what he meant.

“About these Satanic things, should I be concerned?” He joked with her, which she returned with a small laugh.

“There’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me, Dr. Reid.” Y/N winked at the boy wonder, making a beating red blush form on his face.

His mouth opened to speak, but truly he was too flustered to do so. The simple act of the wink making his knees go weak.

“No, in high school I had to write a paper on the Salem Witch Trials. I dabbled into some of the Satanic stuff to build my thesis more and give some context,” she said, shrugging as she turned back to her work.

Spencer nodded as if silently saying ‘cool’, his own attention now being divided back to the board.

As the two worked, they gave silent glances to each other. Unbeknownst to the other, these were the simple acts that formed their love for each other inside. While they had been dating for a while now, both of them falling in love each moment they spent together, they never voiced the feelings for each other.

Spencer not doing so because of his small fear of rejection. Thoughts that said, what if she doesn’t say it back? or does she not feel the same way?, were ones that vacated his thoughts. But when he looked at her smile, he couldn’t help but feel a fire burn in his heart, her presence being the very thing that started and fueled it. When he held her in his arms, her scent vacating his senses, he could feel all his anxiety leave him. The only thing mattering in those moments was her, and how she felt and smelled. How when she touched him he’d go weak and want nothing more than to just lay with her all day. The thoughts of their future would play like a movie in his head as he held her, and he couldn’t wait for him to act it out.

Now Y/N, she never voiced it because of her constant fear he would be taken away from her. Her fear being that the moment she said it, the next day he would be gone. Her tormentor taking him away and hurting the one she was beginning to love the most. She wasn’t afraid of love per se, but the thought of her having to say it aloud like she had to in front of Caroline to her friends, it only made her want to crawl away and hide. Y/N knew, she knew this feeling that Spencer was it for her, was true. Her heart could tell her it faster than her brain could even have time to think about it. When he held her or when she kissed him, the butterflies were everywhere in her. They fluttered in her stomach and they clouded all rational thought. And the one thing that gave her the most anxiety, was the fear of her great love being taken away.

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

“Based on the dresses and makeup the victims were found in, we’re looking for an unsub who is living in an elaborate fantasy world.” The crowd of officers listened intently as Emily began the profile.

“Be believes he’s special, as though he could be acting on behalf of the devil,” Y/N continued.

“This unsub tortured his victims by submerging them in water for days before killing them,” JJ said.

“Which means he’s deliberate and patient,” Y/N embellished on what JJ said.

“This guy has a vivid imagination,” Derek began. “The costumes and makeup suggest that he’s a history buff or he may be a fan of Shakespeare.”

“Using nicotine as poison is highly unusual, so he’s either very well-read or under the guidance of another,” Spencer spoke with his hands as he explained.

“His interests and delusions have caused him to become isolated socially,” Emily said.

“He can’t appear normal to his potential targets, and his crimes are not driven by sex or greed, but instead by his delusional belief system,” Rossi added.

“Although the bodies of only two victims have been recovered, there’s likely a third. Specifically, Christine Torres, who disappeared in February,” Hotch said.

“This unsubs exact age is difficult to determine, but he’s probably in his 20s to 30s,” Derek explained.

“The fact that he travels so far to abduct his victims indicates he has very specific selection criteria,” Y/N said, then turning to Spencer who began to speak.

“This unsub has a female or underage accomplice who sewed the dresses the victims were found in, but she may not be a partner in the traditional sense. It’s quite possible she was coerced into helping and may actually be a victim herself, ” Spencer said.

“Most importantly, this unsub is working according to a specific timetable,” Hotch explained.

“This timetable is corresponding with the Satanic calendar and his plans are to kidnap another victim of today,” Y/N said.

“Thank you.” Hotch’s words dismissed everyone.

----------

The room bustled as people were working on the case and other things. Y/N’s eyelids were heavy from the long day as the aimless chatter in the background made her sleepy. She reached over to her coffee cup, taking a large gulp of the warm liquid, praying that the caffeine would give her a boost of energy.

She looked at the photos Spencer held, her chair sliding closer to his so she could observe them closer, Spencer and the photos. The heat from his body radiating onto hers as she got close and she was able to be filled with his warm scent. Her eyes panned up to look at Spencer’s face, his brows furrowed in concentration as he looked at the white makeup on the faces of the victims.

“What’s got your wheels turning?” She asked him.

Spencer’s head turned to look at the woman next to him. He stuttered a bit as he formed his words, not realizing she was this close to him. “I’m not sure, something about it--” he cut himself short as both his and Y/N’s attention turned to Rossi as he spoke to them.

“So, Garcia checked out everyone associated with that theater production of The Merry Wives of Windsor, they’re all in the clear.”

“The gowns have to be connected to the theater somehow, it can’t just be a coincidence,” JJ said.

“There’s something else that’s been bothering me, why is he putting white face makeup on his victims after they’re dead?” Spencer said, voicing his question to the group he almost said to Y/N a minute before.

“Isn’t that what they wore in the Elizabethan era?” Rossi asked.

“Yes, but only upper-class women wore white face makeup, it was a symbol of virginity and purity,” Spencer explained to the group.

“But he’s dressing them like characters in The Merry Wives of Windsor,” Y/N said as she followed Spencer’s train of thought.

“And that’s one of Shakespeare’s rare plays about the middle class,” Spencer added.

“So, it’s inconsistent.” JJ looked at Spencer as she waited for confirmation on her statement.

“The makeup could mean that he believes death is purifying them,” Hotch spoke.

“What if this is like the Salem Witch trials, where they’d test the girls by trying to drown them? Y/N said something to me earlier about how she had to write a paper on them, and it got me thinking,” Spencer said.

“If they died, it meant they were innocent, and if they somehow survived, they were considered witches and then hanged,” Y/N elaborated on what Spencer was saying.

“Wonderful, a lose-lose situation,” Rossi said.

“But the unsub didn’t submerge the victims in water to torture them, it was some sort of test?” JJ asked, looking over to Spencer.

“With death being the only possible outcome,” Spencer answered.

“Well, if he believes he’s killing witches, he probably thinks that he’s a vigilante or a protector against evil of some sort,” Hotch said.

“Laying the victims out the way he did could be a message to the devil,” JJ added.

“A symbol of victory and a warning, like putting a head on a spike.” Rossi looked down from his standing position to Y/N and Spencer who sat next to each other. Y/N then looked at Spencer, her mind thinking the same thing as him as Rossi’s word’s made him pause.

“He’s not worshipping the devil,” Y/N said with realization.

“He’s trying to fight him.” Spencer looked over to Y/N as he finished what she was saying.

“So we have an unsub who’s challenging the devil, this could not get any more strange,” Y/n said.

-----------

“Missing woman is Sarah Gammon, she’s a 27-year-old graphic artist, to pick her up for her weekly breakfast together, she wasn’t there,” the detective said, walking into the room.

It was the next morning, the team only getting a couple of hours of sleep after the long night they had before.

“Where was she last seen?” Rossi asked.

“At a nightclub in Portland, the, uh, Mirage Room.” The detective stuttered as he tried to remember the name. “She went with a girlfriend who had to leave early.

“Morgan and I will check it out,” Rossi said as he exited the room.

As Rossi left the room, Hotch’s phone rang.

“Okay, so I did some varsity-level sleuthing,” Penelope said as soon as Hotch answered the phone. “And it turns out the costumes were donated to the theater by a young actress named Cate Harris. She was in their production of The Merry Wives of Windsor 16 years ago, which was the only other time that the play was produced there.”

“Where is she now?” Y/N asked.

“Oh, I was hoping you would ask because I have the answer,” Penelope spoke with excitement. “She died in 1998 in the fire at St. Baldwins psychiatric hospital.”

“I revoke my statement from last night on this getting weirder,” Y/N whispered to herself.

“Was she a patient there?” JJ asked.

“Oh, most definitely. And some say that she set the fire.”

“Garcia, can you get her medical records?” Hotch asked the woman.

“Yeah, I tried to do that, but it turns out that the new director of St. Baldwin's was a technophobe hyper-Luddite like our Dr. Reid, and he only wanted the psych records to be on paper to protect confidentiality,” Penelope explained.

“Okay.” Hotch picked up his phone and hung it up, then pocketing it. “Detective, we need you to get a copy of those records.”

“You got it,” the detective said, turning to walk out of the room.

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

The navy jacket was wrapped tightly around Y/N’s torso as her, Emily and JJ walked to the storage unit of St. Baldwins that lay beneath the asylum. They were stopped outside the unit as the caretaker unlocked it.

“Apparently, the state would have to pay for a new storage facility if they moved the records,” the detective explained as to why the unit stayed here. “Someone decided, why bother if the old place works?”

The three women nodded their heads as they heard the clanking of the lock coming off of the door. The caretaker opened the door, the creaking sound giving an eerie feeling to the air.

“Ladies.” The detective motioned his hands in a welcome motion as the three walked closer to the unit.

“No electricity, I take it,” Emily said as she noticed the absence of light.

“You would be correct,” the detective said from behind the three.

Y/N and Emily sighed, both of them pulling flashlights from their pockets as the entered the room. As Y/N walked through the room, her eyes followed the flashlight’s glow as she pointed it at all the different shelves. The creepy feel from the room made her on edge as she looked for the files they were looking for.

“Hey, I think I found it.” Y/N jumped slightly, not expecting to hear a voice jump in the quiet room.

She made her way over to Emily, JJ and the detective joining her as they looked over the report in Emily’s hand.

“Yeah, oh- first of all, Cate Harris was a stage name for Catherine Heathridge, a textile heiress. Her family kept the pseudonym for her medical admission to protect their privacy,” Emily explained as she read through the file.

Y/N picked up another file from the stack that was labeled ‘Cate Harris’. “According to the intake report,” she said as she began to read the file. “Catherine was an aspiring actress who went off her psychiatric medications when she was pregnant with her daughter. She had a minor part in The Merry Wives of Windsor 16 years ago when she became floridly psychotic. She was convinced the other actresses were the devil’s wives, so she stabbed one of them.”

“Is that when she was admitted here?” JJ asked.

“No, not yet,” Emily said as she looked at the report over Y/N’s shoulder.

“It looks like she had a son and a daughter. After she fled the theater--” Y/N gasped as her eyes gazed over the next line, handing the file to Emily as she wasn’t able to say what the woman did out loud. “You can finish it.”

“After fleeing the theater, she chopped off the left arm of her infant daughter,” Emily finished as she took the file from Y/N’s hand.

“Why would she do that?” The detective asked, voice stoic.

“To make the childless appealing to the devil,” Y/N said as she looked up to JJ and Emily. Her head previously resting in her hand.

“She believed that killing the devil’s wives was her mission on earth, which is what our unsub is doing now,” Emily explained.

“But she died in the asylum fire,” the detective stated.

“Someone else must be carrying out her mission,” JJ said.

“And I bet you it’s the son,” Y/N said, the gut feeling being present as she said her words to the others.

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

Y/N sat at the table while she told Spencer, Hotch, and Rossi about what they had discovered at the asylum. Her head resting on her hand as she looked up at the three men.

“If someone’s carrying on in Catherine’s mission, then it’s quite possible they both suffered from folie a deux, a shared psychotic disorder between two people who are extremely close and that would mean it’s most likely a family member,” Spencer explained after Y/N had told them all they found.

“It’s the son.” Y/N’s voice spoke in a sing-song tone under her breath.

“Maybe one or both of her kids,” Rossi stated.

“Garcia, I need you to find everything you can on the Heathridge family, specifically Catherine’s son and daughter,” Hotch ordered Penelope when she picked up her phone.

“Okay, finding it as we speak…” she trailed off as she began to look for what Hotch was asking. “Bingo, Catherine, a wealthy textile heiress, had a son: James, now twenty-six and a daughter Lara, now sixteen. Father died in a speedboat accident right before Lara was born. They were raised by their grandfather in a mansion outside Portland after their mom was committed.”

“Is the grandfather still alive?” Hotch asked.

“No, he died last year,” Penelope answered.

“That could have been the stressor,” Spencer thought aloud.

“Penelope, where are the kids living now?” Y/N asked.

“James was kicked out of a seminary in Colorado three years ago, but that’s still his listed address. Lara dropped out of school six weeks ago, coincidentally on her birthday and the family home is her listed address, and I’m sending you pictures...now.”

Photos of the house and kids appeared on the tablet screen. Y/N stood up and walked over next to Rossi as he clicked on the picture of the son.

“That could be him, the man at the night club who left with Sarah Gammon,” Rossi said as he inspected the picture.

“All right, contact the seminary,” Hotch said, looking at Spencer and Rossi. “Garcia, I’m gonna need an address, Y/N let’s go.” Hotch nodded for Y/N to follow him as he began to walk out of the room.

“Yes, sir,” she responded and followed him.

“Be safe.” Spencer’s words made Y/N turn back and give him a reassuring smile that said, I always am.

“Whipped,” Rossi said, covering it up with a cough as he walked away to grab his phone. Spencer just looked at the man confused, but simply went back to his work.

---------

The cars pulled up to the manor. Sirens turned off so that they still maintained the element of surprise. They piled out of the vehicles, JJ, Emily, and Derek joining Hotch and Y/N back at the station.

“Morgan, you and JJ take the back, we’ll take the front,” Hotch said.

JJ and Derek nodded and made their way around back, while Y/N, Hotch, and Emily stayed upfront.

Y/N examined the front of the house. It wasn’t a manor in the traditional sense, it had more of a woodsy feel to its exterior.

“You see that?” Emily asked Hotch and Y/N.

Y/N looked back up at the house, finally noticing what Emily was talking about. “There’s a girl in the window.”

“All right, you check up there-” Hotch nodded to Emily. “Me and Y/N will look for James.”

Emily nodded as they took off into the house, Y/N and Hotch separating from Emily as she headed up the stairs.

Hotch pushed the door to the kitchen open, turning quickly to his right and Y/N to the left. The darkrooms they entered were only lit by the flashlights. They walked through the rooms slowly, only separating for a second to go into two different sides of the room.

Y/N walked down the steps to the basement first, Hotch now behind her as he followed closely. The basement was cold, damp, and slightly lit through the windows by the moonlight. Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, one foot in front of the other as she moved down the steps. Her light shined as she saw the body of the missing girl on the ground by what appeared to be well.

Y/N felt a sharp pain hit her hip. She groaned as she fell to the ground, her hand clutching her hip as she felt the bruise already forming.

Hotch also let out a groan as he was hit in the legs, his gun, and flashlight sliding across the ground.

Y/N looked up to see James get tackled by Hotch and shoved into a wall. James head-butted Hotch giving him a second to go over and try to hit Y/N while Hotch stumbled back.

James brought a fire-poker around from his left side, but before he could hit Y/N with it, she kicked it out of his hand. She pushed herself up onto her feet and got a quick, hard punch in to throw him off. This allowed Hotch to grab him and shove him back to a wall. The two threw punches back and forth before Hotch pulled him away and tried to push him into the ground.

Hotch had him off his guard and he began to push him towards the well. When James fought back and punched Hotch, Y/N came over and gave a hard kick to James’ chest.

James stumbled back, the kick was just enough to send him falling onto the edge of the well. When he came back up and lurched for Hotch again, clearly being his focus, Hotch was quick to throw him back, having him fall into the well this time.

Y/N stood next to Hotch as they looked down into the deep well, James’ body laying at the bottom.

“Teamwork.” Y/N huffed the word as she looked at Hotch who just shook his head and the two made their way out of the basement.

“You’re bleeding, better get that looked at,” Hotch said, pointing to Y/N eyebrow that was in fact bleeding from when she hit the ground.

When they reached outside, Hotch told the paramedics where James was and made Y/N get looked at after her many protests.

“I’m fine, seriously.” Her protests did not make him change his mind.

“That’s an order.”

Y/N now stood with Derek as a paramedic put some butterfly bandages on the cut after accessing it was only a superficial cut.

“You good wonder woman?” Derek asked, the nickname from the previous day sticking.

“Oh yeah, you should see the other guy.” Her joke, cliche as it was, made Derek chuckle anyway as he turned to Emily as she approached.

“So, Lara is gonna be okay,” Emily said, walking over to the rest of them. “She confirmed that the bodies were left out as messages to the devil.”

“Well, her brother’s dead, so what happens to her now?” Derek asked.

“There’s always foster care,” the detective answered.

“For an heiress?” Y/N said the paramedic finished with her face and had moved on to the ambulance.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” JJ agreed.

“There will be guardians and trustees coming out of the woodworks before she gets put into foster care,” Y/N said, making her teammates chuckle.

“So she’ll end up back here, in a house that breeds delusions,” the detective said, looking back to the house.

“Hopefully not,” Hotch spoke.

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

“Okay, okay, what is the best book you have ever read?” The question made Spencer ponder.

Y/N and Spencer sat in a booth at a diner in D.C., the table holding breakfast foods for the late-night date. The warm glow that surrounded the two made all their worries vanish, their attention only on the other.

“That’s a hard one, I’ve read so many.” His thumb and pointer finger lined his jaw as he placed his head between the two. “I mean, I guess fiction might have to be one of Dickens works.”

Y/N nodded her head, her legs pulled up in the seat and she sat with her back to the wall. Spencer began going on about Oliver Twist and Y/N was listening intently to every word he spoke. Watching how his lips would move faster as he began to get excited about something he was saying, or the way his voice would go an octave higher when his hands moved as he spoke. A smile played on her lips as she listened to him as he went on.

She was so engrossed in her own mind of watching him that she didn’t even notice he asked her a question until his lips stopped moving.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, do you have a favorite work by Dickens?” He repeated his question with a laugh.

“Oh, probably Great Expectations, but I’m more of a fan of Poe, more than anything,” she answered. Her legs moved under the table as she sat facing Spencer in the both.

“For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams, of the beautiful Annabel Lee,” Spencer quoted the poem, Anabel Lee. A smile formed on his as he watched a bashful blush on Y/N’s cheeks.

The simple poem about a tormented, beautiful young love never failed to have Y/N swoon. In high school, Anabel Lee was the poem she would read repeatedly in her textbook. The words she could quote by heart only sounded so sweeter coming from Spencer’s lips.

“I’ve always been a fan of dark romanticism,” she spoke. “This case we just had, reminded of something out of a book though if I’m being honest.” She brought her milkshake straw up to her lips, taking a sip of the creamy liquid.

“It was an odd one,” Spencer agreed.

Y/M hummed, her lips still wrapped around the straw. She pulled her eyes off Spencer to look out the window. She watched as people walked by, couples holding hands, men getting home from their offices late, but one stood out to her.

From a distance, about fifty yards across the street, a dark-haired man stood, staring at Y/N and Spencer out the window. She had no idea who this man was, but it made her stomach drop as she got a bad feeling.

“Spencer I think we should go home now,” she spoke calmly.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Okay, any reason why?”

“Because there is a man out there who has been staring at us for I don’t know how long, and I don’t want to deal with it anymore.” She stood up from her seat in the booth, wrapping her navy jacket around her body.

Spencer did the same as he stood up and walked next to her out of the building. “Do you think it has anything to do with--”

“I have no clue--”

“Could it?”

“I don’t know, let's just go back to your place, it’s closer.” So, that’s what they did. Spencer grabbed Y/N’s hand protectively and led her down the street while she kept her head down. The man’s face still in her thoughts, no expressions, just stoic and unsettling. His face was almost calm, seemingly normal to an untrained eye, but she knew. She could only hope this had nothing to do with Caroline and she was simply overreacting.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds meme #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series

392 notes · View notes

blacksurvivalnostalgichanges · 3 years

Text

immortal soul:black survival characters as john mulaney

dunno how i didn’t think of that before but

Adela: Hmm, we’re not so different, you and I. You have your law practice, and me, I have all these fuckin’ markers.

Adriana: Well here goes nothing. You ever seen a ghost?

Alex: A lot of people think that you like bulls, and if you just buh- They assume it! When you search your name, the third thing to come up is like “John Mulaney bull?”

Arda: Or if it’s one of those true or false questions, you should be able to add a third option which is “who’s to say?”.

Aya: “So you saw what happened and you did nothing?” “Yeah, ‘cause I was sitting over on the bench.” “Let me ask you this. In Nazi Germany....”

Barbara:It’s just dads, singing so loud, thinking that’ll somehow get their kids to sing.

Bernice: Let’s change the subject! Why are we even talking about Penelope, or whatever her name was? I didn’t kill her! Whoever did kill her only did it to protect her from this world!

Bianca: Remember the Psalms? They’re not songs, ‘cause they don’t rhyme and they’re not good. They’re perfectly named.

Camilo:He’s played for stadiums of 20000 people cheering to him like he’s a god, for fifty years. That must change you as a person. If you do that for fifty years you’re never again going to be like “Uhmmm, does anyone have a laptop charger I could borrow...?”

Cathy:That guy will get up there and sing into the microphone. He’s not a singer, ‘cause he’s not good at it, but he tries.

Chiara: Now I was raised Catholic. I don’t know if you can tell that from the everything about me.

Chloe: Every room she walked into, she’d be like, “So this could be an office. (shakes shoulders) Or maybe a nursery.”

Daniel: I think he was just doing that dad thing of like, “This is a weird topic and I want to talk about a book I read about World War II”. But the way it came off was that he definitely killed that little girl!

Echion:Sometimes babies will point at me, and I don’t care for that shit at all.

Eleven:Famous people are weird as shit. They’re all weird, your suspicions are correct.

Eva:Marty McFly is a 17-year-old student, whose best friend is a disgraced nuclear physicist. And, I shit you not, they never explain how they became friends. They never explain it. Not even in a lazy way like, “Hey, remember when we met in that science building?”. They don’t even do that.

Emma:My dad was so weird, I’d love to meet him someday.

Fiora:I didn’t mean to make it sound like we don’t want children. We don’t, but I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.

Hart: I love to play venues where if the guy that built the venue could see me on the stage, he would be a little bit bummed about it.

Hyejin: “All right, Petunia, wish me luck.” “(french chainsmoker voice) You will die on August 7th, 2037.” “(shrugs) That’s pretty good.”

Hyunwoo:No one cared about my opinion when I was a little kid. No one cared what I thought. Sometimes, people would say “What do you think you’re doing?”. But that just meant “stop”.

Isol: In high school people were like, “What are your top three colleges?” I was like “top three colleges? I thought I’d be dead in a trunk with my hand hanging out of the taillight by now.”

Jackie: He could look at a child and guess the price of their coffin.

If you left your baby with your mother tonight, you’re not gonna race home and check the nanny cam. But if you left your baby with Gary Busey....!

Jan:My wife and I walk around New York city, pushing Petunia the french bulldog in a stroller, and it’s a big stroller, and it has a big black hood. And people lean in to see the baby.

Jenny:Let’s say a kidnapper throws you in the back of a trunk. Don’t panic.

Johann: “Wait, so they forced you to go?” Yeah, I was five. I was forced to go everywhere. No kid is just going to church, like, riding by on his Huffy, like “Woah! What’s this place! Weird byzantine temple with green carpeting where everyone has bad breath and I wear clothes that I hate on one of my mornings of my two days off? Let’s do this!”

JP: “Okay, I think I see where you’re going here. They go back in time, and they stop the Kennedy assassination!” “Oooaaoh. That’s a really good idea. We didn’t even think of that.” “All right, well what do they do with the time machine?” “Well now I’m embarassed to say.”

Laura: My friends were all like, “Is he nice?” No! Or maybe he is, for his version of life! ‘Cause he has a very different life!

Lenox: You just showed up at 8 AM, and they were like, “Put down your stuff. Go to the gym.” And you’re like, “god, I guess they’re finally gonna kill us all, alright. This is younger than I thought I would be but we are pretty big assholes.”

Leon:I was like twelve years old and my dad walked up to me and he said, “Hello... (chuckes) Hello, I’m Chip Mulaney, I’m your father.” And then he said the following. “You know, Leonard Bernstein. Was one of the great composers and conductors of the 20th century, but sometimes he would be gay. And according to a biography I read of him, when he was holding back the gay part, he did some of his best work.”

Li Dailin: I asked my mom if she’d ever seen a ghost. That’s where we’re at conversation-wise in our relationship as a mother and son, because I’m 35 and I don’t have any children to talk about, and she doesn’t understand my career.

Luke: None of us really know our fathers. Anyway...

Magnus: She came in and she picked up the baby, and she was like “It’s okay, she’s just going through that phase where she says penis and vagina a lot”. Aren’t we all.

Mai: Why don’t you give me a candle for looking in the mirror? And a floppy hat, and I’ll tremble off to bed in my Victorian nightgown!

Nadine: Every time I go to the zoo I’m like “Hey, where’s the jaguar?”, and the zoo guy is like “oh, he must be in the inside part”. The inside part? Tell him we’re here.

Nathapon: You are gathered together as a school and you are told never to talk to an adult that you don’t know. And you are told this by an adult that you don’t know.

Nicky:That’s right- there was always assembly, and then, like, that second assembly to yell at you for how you behaved at the first assembly.

Rio:I”ll be at a wedding reception and someone’ll be like, “Heyy, you coming to the hotel bar after? We’re all gonna get drinks and keep the party going”, and I’m like “Nah nah nah sister, you’re not getting me to no secondary location!”

Rosalio: People walk around on the phone now like, “Hello hello? You still there- ugh, lost him”. And that’s it! No follow-through with that guy!

Rozzi:Yeah, he was not a “spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down” kind of guy. He was more like “brush your teeth. Now boom! Orange juice! That’s life.”

Shoichi: By the way, Detective J. J. Bittenbinder wore three-piece suits. He also wore a pocket watch. Two years in a row, he wore a cowboy hat. He also had a huge handlebar mustache. None of that matters, but it’s important to me that you know that.

Silvia: Children, rather than continuing to teach you how to read, we have cleared the entire day for this random guy!

Sissela: You should be able to write in, “I don’t know. I know you told me. But I have had a very long day. I am very small, and I have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that I am under.”

Sua: Some people give off a vibe of, like, right away they’re like “Do not fuck with me”. My vibe is more like “Hey, you could pour soup in my lap and I’ll probably apologize to you!”

William: There are those guys who, they buy the cow, and then on the side, total matador, but...

Xiukai: “And when one feels like a duck, one is happy!” Now that’s debatable.

Yuki: And I have friends I went to college with, and they’re like “oh, you should donate and be a good alumnus”. And they wear shirts that say ‘school’ and it’s like, look....

Zahir: She said, “Okay, I know I don’t get this shit because I wasn’t raised Catholic, and I’m fucking glad I wasn’t because it’s a fucked up organization”, I said “nonononoo, we all know that.”

#immortal soul incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #eternal return incorrect quotes #from the series 'i'm not tagging like fifty characters'

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mecomptane · 3 years

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MQ: Barnabas of the Adrestia

Part one of... many. So many. Oh no.

Also, my italics for Greek and/or emphasis no longer exist, so that’s great. 10/10. Might try uploading to dreamwidth first from now on, and then copying/linking in to here.

“Kephallonia is… here?”

Barnabas leaned over from the wheel, turning so that his good eye focused on where Kassandra was pointing. “Hm? Aye, that’s Kephallonia--and just to the north, there, that’s Ithaka!”

“I know Ithaka,” Kassandra retorted, toeing the island painted on the deck of the Adrestia idly. “I’ve looked at it almost every day.”

The real Ithaka--and Kephallonia--were well behind them, bare specks on the horizon. She’d spent the first few hours since departing sitting on the stern bench, watching over her shoulder as the land she’d spent the last twenty plus years on slipped away. They weren’t home, not really: not Ithaka where she’d honed her hunting skills, and not even Kephallonia, though all the friends left to her in the world lived there.

But a job was a job, and between the plague slowly spreading over the islands and the sudden hush of contracts that came in the wake of facing off against the only other mercenary on the island in spectacularly violent--and public--fashion, there wasn’t much work or coin coming her way any time soon. Kassandra sighed and scuffed her toe against the painted map again, slowly cataloguing the different lands and waters, so carefully rendered. So many places to see, so many people to meet, armies to fight… and somehow, with all those people and across all those lands, Elpeanor managed to find her. Decided to hire her.

To kill the Wolf of Sparta.

Nikolaos hadn’t been a young man when Kassandra was growing up, a General of Sparta and one of the greatest warriors the city had seen since the death of King Leonidas. He’d gained fame within Sparta for his tactics and skillful maneuvering, and renown through the rest of the Peloponnese for his treatment of enemies and allies alike. Not merciful--he was Spartan, after all--but a certain amount of respect. Other generals might take prisoners as slaves; Nikolaos was more likely to ransom them back to their cities or, if seriously injured, grant them an honourable death.

“It’s so isolated,” Kassandra remarked, still staring at the map. “But I can see the coast of the Peloponnese from my house.” House, shack, hut. It was newly built a hundred years ago and left to ruin sometime after; she’d claimed it and fixed it up, but it wasn’t any sort of luxurious.

Barnabas laughed at her, gesturing to the map as he turned back to the helm. “You can? You must have the sight of the gods, then!”

“Or maybe I just have two working eyes,” she snarked back. Sight of the gods, right.

But Barnabas laughed again; did nothing upset this man? “Or perhaps four eyes; I see you talking with that eagle of yours!”

The eagle in question--proud, defiant, and a mother hen in turns--was perched on the wooden screen that shielded part of the stern bench, alternating between watching the sea and watching Kassandra and Barnabas. Kassandra clicked her tongue to get his attention; Ikaros shrilled at her, fluffed his feathers, and turned back to the sea.

She sighed at him; her oldest friend was an eagle. A stubborn eagle, at that. “The only thing we talk about is him taking off to hunt and me scolding him when he shows up just in time to annoy me.”

Kassandra looked up just in time to see Barnabas shaking his head, his whole body shuddering. “Hey! Are you laughing at me?”

“You talk about your Ikaros like my old friend talks about his wife.”

She snorted. “You live with someone long enough, I suppose it all starts to sound the same.”

One of the skeleton crew below called out for Barnabas and instructions; as the old captain saw to his people and ship, Kassandra lounged back against the bench, tilting her head towards the sun.

They were heading for Megaris, which Barnabas assured her was the current major battleground in the war between Athens and Sparta. Elpeanor had said that Nikolaos would be there, but she trusted the old seaman over some shady mainlander who let his guards get killed as a test to see her skills. Or however he reasoned it; she didn’t want to ask, because that meant interacting with him more. Whether he was hiding out on Kephallonia to avoid Nikolaos and the bounty he’d put on the Wolf’s head was Elpeanor’s way of avoiding some consequence, or if he was on Kephallonia for another reason and wanting Nikolaos killed was incidental, she didn’t know that, either.

Kassandra shifted, pulling out the old broken spear her mater had given her, so long ago. She’d never taken a bounty contract before--the closest was hunting down a handful of local thieves (who were a drachmae a dozen on Kephallonia; the island wasn’t entirely made up of criminals, but it was probably a fifty-fifty split between law abiding citizens and those who just did not care). The contract to kill Nikolaos was more an excuse to get off the island that’d been her home since she was eight, see more of the world, make a name for herself. That didn’t mean she didn’t intend to uphold her end, and to do that… sword, short sword, spear, bow and arrows would all work, but using the broken spear wouldn’t just be effective. It would be poetic justice.

The man who married Leonidas’ daughter, killed by Leonidas’ own broken spear. One of the kings had sent Spartans to recover the spear from Thermopylae at the same time as they recovered Leonidas’ body for a burial with honours, and it had been given to Myrrine after the internment. Or, knowing the woman, she had demanded the last relic of her father to be handed over immediately, and everyone who stood in her way suffered for it.

Kassandra ran a finger down the edge of the spear’s blade, testing the sharpness and checking for rust. None, as normal. As much as she liked to think it was all the maintenance and care she paid to the old weapon, the metal shone in a way that she’d never seen before and no matter what she stabbed or threw the spear into the edge never dulled. Good for a quick kill, then, and that’s what this would have to be: a quick kill. Stealthy, maybe. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that between Nikolaus’ skills and the Spartan army, there was only one way she could really hope to complete the contract: a proper assassination.

“What are you frowning about, o mighty misthios?” Barnabas’ voice broke her from her thoughts.

She startled upwards, coming to her feet and not-so-accidentally treading on the painted islands in the process. “Barnabas! Don’t startle me like that.”

“Eh, I know you wouldn’t hurt this poor old, one-eyed man,” he shrugged off her annoyance. “I need to go below; do you know how to handle a ship?”

That brought her up short. “Do I know how to… what?”

He waved her forward to the helm. “Come, come, let me teach you quickly. We have another day of sailing before we make it to Megaris, more than enough time for lessons!”

She reached out to grab the old wood, worn smooth by many hands over the years. “What am I--what do you want me to do?”

“Keep her on the same heading, there--no, no, sun just slightly behind and to the right, we want to head east-south-east,” he instructed. “There we go! See? I knew you’d be a natural!”

Kassandra flexed her fingers, checking her grip. “And I just… stand here?”

“Exactly! Any questions?”

“Yes: why are you trusting me with this?”

He laughed and patted her shoulder. Flinched slightly away when his hand contacted the hard lines of metal and buckles that were hidden by the Shroud of Penelope Kassandra had wrapped around her shoulders and head. “Well, obviously you have sailed before! How else would you get from the mainland to Kephallonia?”

She tried not to stiffen or show another reaction, but from the corner of her eye she could see Barnabas looking at her worriedly. “Me? From the mainland?”

“From the Peloponnese, somewhere, probably,” Barnabas confirmed, would-be casually. “You sail as long as I have to as many places as I have, and you can pick out details like that, too. A bit of an accent, and a way of framing your sentences that sounds more like Lakonian or Messenian, maybe Arkadian. But most of the time you sound Kephallonian! If that’s why you’re worried, the accent of your latest home comes through clearly.”

She shook her head at him. “Kephallonia isn’t my home.”

“Even after… however long you’ve lived there?”

“No,” Kassandra confirmed. Even with Marcos and Phoibe and the few other people who were almost friends, almost family. “No, not Kephallonia.”

Barnabas hummed, apparently having forgotten being called away. “Then… wherever you were from before? Is that your home?”

She couldn’t help herself; she snorted. In her mind’s eye she could easily picture the spear, Myrrine, Nikolaos, the masked men, baby Alexios, the mountain. “I might have been born in Sparta, but I was never really Spartan.”

“Spartan?” Barnabas asked, surprise lacing his words. “And you’re looking for the Wolf of Sparta?”

Kassandra nodded; Barnabas had said he took no side in this war, even having been an Athenian captain, once upon a time. Still, Kephallonia supported Athens, and so far most of public opinion--that Kassandra had heard, anyway--swayed in favour of Athens, too. It would make sense for her to be after a Spartan General if she had been from Athens or somewhere that was firmly part of or on the side of the Delian League. She could see why Barnabas would be surprised.

“I am,” she confirmed, her lips curling upwards. Not a smile, not a sneer; she wasn’t sure what she was feeling about this, but it wasn’t anything good. “I’m going to track Nikolaos down, and before I kill him I am going to get some answers.”

“Answers?” Barnabas parroted.

She nodded, shortly. “Answers. When I was eight, the oracle said that my baby brother--who was in perfect health--would bring about the fall of Sparta if he was allowed to live. Mater fought against the order, but we were all brought up Mount Taygetos and---and Alexios was thrown off the mountain cliff.”

Barnabas hadn’t completely retracted his hand before from her shoulder; he rested it again against the shroud, patting gently. “That must have been difficult to witness, Kassandra. I am sorry. ...but what does that have to do with the Wolf?”

“He was there,” she answered after a minute. She had to refocus; Barnabas had actually sounded sincere. When was the last time someone had actually meant what they said to her? “He was there, he let them kill Alexios… and when I fought back, pushed the priest who had thrown Alexios off and killed him…. Nikolaos threw me off Mount Taygetos, too.”

She could feel Barnabas withdrawing, air abruptly sucked through clenched teeth. “And you survived?”

“I did,” she nodded. “That’s the night that Ikaros found me.”

“So you’ve known him for a long, long time,” Barnabas surmised, looking up at the eagle. Ikaros’ attention was focused wholly on them; she’d noticed the minute he’d zeroed in on them, but the predatory gaze had long been comforting. “But you know what happened then. What answers are you looking for?”

Kassandra shrugged, careful to not jostle her hands and change their heading. “Just one answer, I guess,” she conceded. “I want to ask him… I want to know why, when the priests said that Alexios would bring us to ruin, when they told him to kill me in return for the life of one of their own…

“I want to know why he sided with them over his own children.”

#fic:Mercenary Queen #Assassin's Creed: Odyssey #KHR #KHR/ACOdy #meco writes

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goodshipsherlollipop · 3 years

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Self-interview (but not really) Part 2

Thanks again @sherlollyappreciationweek

Comp1mom

Q: What made you decide to create a “Christian” version of Sherlock? According to the BBC version, he is a self-avowed atheist.

A: When I look at Sherlock’s true nature, I see such potential for him as a Christian. He exhibits so many characteristics that we, as Christians, try to show - forgiveness of wrongs done to him (note how he doesn’t fight back when John assaults him); sacrificial love (his willingness to die for others, as in TRF); the desire for true justice, the way Moriarty says he’s “on the side of the angels”. At least for me, I was intrigued by the idea of converting him to Christianity, to give him a true purpose for his life that has eternal consequences.

Q: Do you think that portraying Sherlock as a Christian is important? Why or why not?

A: I am always hopeful that people will read and see the validity in my reasoning for him becoming a Christian, given how often he has escaped death. Quite often, in stories, Molly puts the question to him - Why are you still here? Why have you escaped death so many times? That should be enough to make anyone reevaluate their life’s purpose.

Q: Molly Hooper is the one who proselytizes him, right? Why do you use Molly? Why not John, who must be a believer in Christ in some way or he would have had a problem with christening Rosie?

A: For me, it HAD to be Molly. Her character and the way she behaves in the show is consistent with the behaviour of a Christian. She loves Sherlock unconditionally; she sees beyond the detective persona to the real man beneath. She needs to be the catalyst for Sherlock to be open to the idea of Christianity, because he loves and trusts her. John, although he certainly believes in God and has some Christian (or Catholic in my story canon) background, does not live a life that is consistent with Christianity and its ideals. He has multiple sexual partners. Although I think he is an ethical man, I don’t believe he has the kind of sexual morality that is typical of committed Christians. Identifying yourself as a Christian because you were raised in a Christian home and went to church, does not make you one if you display behaviour that is contrary to what the Bible teaches. Either you’re committed to what you believe and try to follow what the Bible teaches, or you are not really committed to your faith, (not that Christians are perfect - far from it, but we do try to follow what the Bible teaches, and we feel guilt when we fail). There’s a difference between being a Jesus fan and a Jesus follower.

Q: What evidence does Molly use to convince Sherlock of a Higher Power?

A: In various stories, Molly points out the beauty and balance of creation, that it does not make sense for that balance to have occurred spontaneously. She also points out the complexity of the human body and how it is built with all its systems designed to work in harmony. Personally, I believe these two facts are huge considerations, and that it takes far less of a leap in logic to believe something created this beauty, rather than it happening spontaneously. Molly also points out the fact that Sherlock has been spared from death so many times and asks him to question why that is so, whether there is a higher purpose to his life because of that.

Q: How do you maintain Sherlock’s acerbic wit and still have him believe that Jesus Christ is more than a swear, is a deity, the Deity?

A: I try to show that Sherlock is not the “perfect” Christian. He has many years of conditioning in one type of behaviour, and that is something that is going to come out from time to time. I don’t find it as difficult to write him as someone who does not use the name of Jesus Christ in a profane way, because he doesn't talk that way in the show (unlike John). Personally, I am also not comfortable in writing (or reading) stories that use the name of Jesus Christ as an expletive.

Q: What does belief in Jesus Christ do for his detective work? Or does it influence his detective work?

A: Oh, I definitely think his faith adds an element of compassion to Sherlock’s detective work. He is no longer answerable only to himself, but he is trying to behave in a way that displays his faith and pleases God. That means thinking before he speaks, caring about the people involved in the case, rather than just the case itself. His motives, to glorify God in his work, are his priority.

Q: Is there any evidence in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s writing that Sherlock Holmes believes in Something Higher than himself?

A: I absolutely believe ACD’s Sherlock believed in God, which is one of the reasons I felt it believable to change BBC Sherlock’s atheistic stance. ACD’s Sherlock mentions Providence, as evidenced in this quote from The Naval Treaty.

“Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its color are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.”

Also, in The Boscombe Valley Mystery, when Sherlock lets a dying killer go, he says, “You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes.” This implies God will judge the man after he dies.

Penelope Chestnut

Q: How long have you written Sherlolly stories? What made you start writing?

A: A dear friend of mine recommended watching Sherlock, and my husband and I binge watched it in the summer of 2017. After the final episode, I was so sad that the Sherlock and Molly dynamic was not resolved, I was moved to write a happy ending for them. My daughters have been involved in fanfiction for years, so I knew people did this kind of thing. My intention was to write a one-shot happy ending for them, just for my own satisfaction. After I wrote it, though, I found I didn't want to let the characters go. I had fallen in love with their story, and I wanted to keep writing for them. 60 chapters later, I decided to start publishing my story, A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage. This was just over 3 years ago, on November 7th 2017, when I joined fanfiction.net. I later joined ao3 as well and was publishing on both sites for quite some time. I've had a better response though on fanfiction.net, so have pretty much limited myself to that site over the past year and a half. I continue to make revisions and correct errors on my fanfiction.net stories, while I don’t really do anything on ao3. I have been likened to a writing machine on a couple occasions. To date, on fanfiction.net, I have published over 1.9m words. Putting that in perspective, in three years I've published the equivalent of more than 7 volumes of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (the longest book in her series), or close to two and a half volumes of the Holy Bible.

Q: Do you have a certain routine you follow when you write?

A: I don’t have a set daily routine, but I do set myself a goal to complete a certain amount of work per week. This has changed over time. Currently, I set myself the goal to write at least one chapter of a story each week, to keep myself in line with my publishing schedule of one chapter per week. If I am writing an installment for my COVID-19 series that is published in addition to my regular publishing schedule, I still try to write that in addition to my usual chapter writing for the week. So, at times I write more in a week than other times. I am also working on revising one of my AU’s into a Christian historical romance I hope to publish professionally next year.

Q: What is it like being a Christian author?

A: It brings me joy to spread a Christian message through my work, but, like anyone else, at times I do suffer self-doubt. I've questioned in the past whether my limited audience makes worthwhile the enormous effort I put into writing these stories. It can definitely be discouraging to get very little return on your work, and I have a bad habit of comparing myself to more “popular” writers in the fandom. I am, however, getting better at recognizing my own self-worth, having confidence that the lack of readers is not a reflection on my ability and talent as a writer, but more a reflection on the general lack of interest from the majority of Sherlolly fans in reading stories with Christian themes and the values that go along with it (particularly sexual purity outside marriage). Just as I don’t care to read stories of characters with a colourful sexual history because I don’t agree with that kind of behaviour due to my Christian beliefs, I imagine those without similar beliefs are probably not interested in reading about sexual purity or abstinence before marriage, as it is not something they can relate to. Thankfully, I am blessed to have a small but vocal support group who really give me the impetus to keep writing these Christian stories.

Q: Are there any devices you use in your writing as a legally blind author?

A: As I mentioned earlier, I absolutely would be lost without my iPad. Actually, it is the larger sized iPad Pro. I would also be lost without programs that give me the ability to resize the font so I can read it! Thank God for technology!

If you made it to the end of this two-part interview, I hope you enjoyed getting to know my writing journey better. God bless!

#sherlollyappreciationweek #sherlollyselfinterview20 #interview20

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darkestwolfx · 4 years

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Brains VS. Brawns - Re-Review #52

Look at MAX with his weapon of choice!

Right, now I’ve got that desperate exclamation out of the way, let’s get to the proper part of the review.

This is the final episode of series 2. Goodness grief, I cannot believe we’ve made it this far already. But we have, and so once again, I will give out one of my massive thank you’s to you all for supporting the Re-Review Series (even though the author has been massively busy in lockdown [ironic, right?] and so has given you some rather poor ones some days).

But, let’s begin with this shot of the desert, which somehow reminds me of TOS ‘The Uninvited’. What was it Scott said in that episode about unfriendly places?

Yeah, Thunderbird One got shot down in that episode... and in this episode, someone is also shooting at it, but with a giant, very dangerous - if you remember Brains trying to tell us all the possibilities back in ‘Power Play’ (or Battle of the Bad Guys Volume 1, as I like to remember it) - very powerful laser!

Yes, the desert is a very unfriendly spot.

So yes, this episode if where we get to see Project sentinel, a weapon that was beyond The Hood’s realm of conscience. Personally, I think The Hood would have definitely used that laser.

I thought this shot from ‘The Uninvited’ was relevant to show what I meant about the desert. See, unfriendly place. And I officially respect Adam Wilkin of the interweb for making this! It fits perfectly with my current line of conversation and really looks like it could have been a TAG episode.

Anyhow, moving on from my line of thought from the title card, let’s get down to business. And by that I mean the rescue business!

And let’s just casually take Thunderbird One out to the desert - even after everything we’ve just been discussing and looking at? Yeah, the desert and Thunderbird One aren’t friends, but folks, be reassured, we don’t get to see it shot down today! Live in reassurance that TB1 is fine. I couldn’t have a certain someone holding their breath all the way through the review to hear that nugget of knowledge.

“I’m tracking the source... oh no! We have a situation. A really, really big one. A massive laser satellite just showed up on scanners. Guys, I think The Mechanic’s Project Sentinel is online.”

Because these bad guys have really been quiet since ‘Home on the Range’ so what else could we expect for the series final? And if there was ever a time for the “we have a situation line” it was now.

“That laser blast revealed a hidden underground facility. my scans show one life sign trapped inside.”

Hmm... the cogs in my brain were already turning at this. An underground facility with no records available to John?

“John, where am I exactly?”

“I can’t find any record of it. Whoever built that place didn’t want anyone to find it.”

“Well, The Mechanic found it.”

Yeah, I was suspicious.

“Losing those power cells didn’t stop The Mechanic. He’s using the sun to power it now!”

Why would The Mechanic want to fire at the Sahara? Yeah, I was doubly suspicious.

Yep, and we’ve yet to find a way to stop solar power - especially if you’ve got your solar panels up in space right near the source. Let’s power the world environmentally and take a leaf out of The Mechanic’s books.

“Scott, the Sentinel is firing!”

Warnings are useful given in advance Brains!

I sort of felt that. It looked and sounded like it hurt... It’s always Scott isn’t it? I bet they’ll be more prompts going up after this reminder... I’m still working on the rockfall, they don’t give us (or Scott) much chance to recover here).

“That was way too close.”

Yeah, you’re telling me!

“It looks like the longer the Sentinel charges, the more powerful it’s laser.”

Basic solar energy principles, right there.

Throw back to Friday - you know, hypercars, Tycho, David Tennant - “he will knock four times”, remember that line (different fandom I know, but go with it).

* Knock knock *

And we only get two. Shame. See where my mind wanders?

“This is International Rescue. Open up. I’ve come to get you out of here.”

“Ah, Scott Tracy. It took you long enough.”

“The Hood!”

Bet no one saw that coming.

Oh, wait, me! I did!

Cue obligatory gasps.

*Gasp*

“The Hood!”

“What are you up to Hood?”

Punch him, Scott, please punch someone for once.

(Reminder that this show is universally rated).

Or not.

Just let The Hood walk right past you.

Universal rating.

There’s a parallel world somewhere - I like to think - where Scott does punch that smug face.

“Isn’t it obvious? The Mechanic is trying to fry me with a space laser.”

I know he’s the bad guy, I know we’re not meant to like him, but that line was humour central, I laughed massively. I’d forgotten it completely!

“I’m waiting for you to rescue me.”

“Us rescue you?”

“You are International Rescue, are you not?”

Sorry, you must have dialed the wrong number, this is International Gardening, supported by the one and only Ned Tedford. The only thing we rescue is geranium’s, definitely not super villains. Just imagine that world for a second.

But uh, no, this is International Rescue, reporting for duty.

“And that makes you think we’ll rescue you?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Remember that quality of Scott’s we love? The calm thinking, forward pushing, forgiving;

“Who you are and what you’ve done doesn’t matter.”

Yeah, well here it wavers, because it matters. This is the one (possibly there’s more on Scott’s bad list, but I think The Hood is probably the one he really can’t see past - I mean, he forgives Fuse, but I’m saying no more because we’ll get there later) person that Scott cannot treat with the same attitude he faces the rest of life and their rescues with. Everyone has their limits and for Scott, I think forgiving and saving the person who killed their Dad is just a step too far. And I don’t blame his lapse, it’s completely understandable. Put in his position, I think I would have been the same.

“Scott he has a point. We have a duty to protect people from harm. We don’t get to choose who that is.”

“Grandma...”

“But- just because we have to save him, doesn’t mean he’ll like it.”

I like her thinking.

“International Rescue, my life is in your hands.”

“Just make sure you remember that.”

Yeah, and then take shots at them again in Series 3.

Right, so summarizing up until here;

Let’s save The Hood - because morals demand it, rightly so - but that doesn’t mean we can’t imprison him at the same time! See, Scott is kinda getting what he wants.

“To The Hood. You can hide no more. Give me what you want or be destroyed.”

The Hood is controlling The Mechanic! But he’s refusing! I love it when someone overcomes challenges. So the whole controlling thing, definitely changes the playing board.

“I don’t think International Rescue will let that happen.”

“He’s right, Mechanic. Stand down.”

“I’m not after you International Rescue. I only want The Hood. Step aside.”

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t do that.”

“Then go down with him.”

He’s not actually a bad guy deep down. I knew there was more to this guy than we ever saw in ‘Earthbreaker’. And now, for one of my favourite events - the TAG game of Catch The Hood.

“Thunderbird One is about to be toast.”

“Maybe Thunderbird Shadow could carry the weight for a while.”

“What are you doing?”

“This is where you get off.”

Ding. Going down.

“Where are you going?”

“To Thunderbird Three. I’m going to take out Sentinel and The Mechanic before he takes out a Tracy.”

Got to love this boys spirit. That, and he hates to be left out.

“Alan, that’s a terrible plan. Firstly, The Mechanic will be operating the Sentinel remotely, so we don’t know where he is. Secondly, it’s a giant laser. Thunderbird Three would be shot clean out of the sky.”

Brains’ practically really is a good at being crushing. But it is practical.

“Let Thunderbird Four take the package for a while. I hope you don’t get seasick Hood, because we’re going all the way down.”

“John, this isn’t working. We’re in hot water down here.”

“Don’t worry, Thunderbird Four help is on the way.”

“Our turn to play pass the parcel. Parker, active the magnetic bumpers.

“Yes, M’Lady.”

“Here that Hood. You’re going for a nice drive in the country. He’s all yours, Lady Penelope.”

“Parcel received.”

Honestly, there’s no better way to document this scene really, save the scene itself, so I’m trying my best here.

“The magnets locked hon but gaw hit’s ‘eavy. hI do ‘ope hit will ‘old.”

“Parker, that magnet could hold a tractor if it had to.”

“We know that M’Lady, but The ‘ood doesn’t.”

Loved that laugh, Parker!

Meanwhile, on the chase;

“Can’t we just ditch The ‘ood? Better him than hus.”

“That’s not very International Rescue now, is it Parker?”

“No, M’Lady.”

But I’m with him.

“Thunderbird Two couldn’t sit by and let you have all the fun.”

No, and Alan tagged along. Virgil probably - wisely - pulled him off the island before he exploded.

“Magnetic coupling detached.”

“Got it.”

“This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

I’m honestly not sure the being chased by a giant laser part is fun... playing catch with The Hood? Yes, that’s fun. Better with no fear of being blown up!

Sorry, the game of catch distracted me, let’s get to the Brains part of the episode. Little bit of jumping around to be had.

“I wonder what it is The Mechanic wants exactly...”

Well, why don’t you go and find out.

There’s was a full Brains and MAX gear up sequence. About time.

“No, MAX. This laser’s far too dangerous for anyone to be on board. Rockets disengaged. That should let us slip through undetected.”

And they’re nearly detected! Contradiction number 1.

“Quiet MAX. There’s no one here, but we don’t know what kind of alarms there are.”

You know, the amount of times Brains has very definitely said (I think we’re on three) that The Mechanic couldn’t possibly be here, is really making me think The Mechanic is actually going to be here. Any one else?

Remember what you were saying to Alan and MAX about remote operating? That looks like The Mechanic to me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well?”

“I asked first?”

“It’s my satellite.”

“Yes. Good point.”

Adored MAX, head turning, not sure where to look. These two were meant to be besties. It’s the joint speaking that gives it away.

“What could The Hood possibly have that you want so badly?”

Yes, let’s get to the point.

“It’s not what he has. It’s what he does. What he makes me do.”

“His cybernetic eye! The Hood is controlling you!”

Well done! It’s only taken 26 episodes! I mean, I guessed by around 13, but okay...

“Not always. I’ve learnt to fight it. That’s much easier up here. But I can’t fight him forever.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this. International Rescue can help you. I can help you.”

“No one can help me.”

Why does no one ever take the help first off! Trust in Brains mate! Sorry, Mr Mechanic, Sir.

“Maximum power!”

Yeah, Brains, I’m with John.

“The Mechanic is powering up for a single shot that will take out everything in the vicinity of The Hood. Brains, it’s now or never.”

MAX being such a hero fighting the Meccas.

“There! I’ve shut down his controls.”

“You’ve ruined everything! now I’ll never be rid of him.”

“Mechanic, trust me, as Chief Engineer of International Rescue, we will find a way to make sure The Hood never has control over you again. You’re coming with me.”

“You want to arrest me that much.”

“I’m not arresting you. I’m saving you.”

This is the start to a beautiful friendship. Just wait another twenty-odd episodes for it. Sit back, kick your feet up,

“The Mechanic is not fully responsible for his actions. He must be protected from The Hood. International Rescue will be in touch, I promise. Engineer to engineer.”

All’s well that ends well.

Speaking of;

“Hood, you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, please! Just get me away from International Rescue!”

I know they’ve just thrown him here, there and everywhere, but somehow I don’t think The Hood would ever take to arrest that easy. Not without a plan... and let’s face it, he had one in ‘Legacy’, what’s the bet he pulls the same trick?

“It seems like we can’t say it enough. Thank you, International Rescue.”

Yes, because not seem rude, but you would probably have lost the world ten times over with what we’ve seen of the GDF’s ‘show of force’ so far. They didn’t even notice when Captain Foster wasn’t Captain Foster! Really, The Hood should have set his sights higher and tried to play Colonel Casey. International Rescue might have been the only ones to notice.

“With those two in custody, all of you might just get a break.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m looking forward to some good old fashioned rescues for a change.”

“Sea quakes.”

“Rock slides.”

“Runaway asteroids.”

“Petty thieves stealing classified technology.”

“Unruly Ambassadors.”

“Dog sitting.”

“And fused power relays.”

And there you have it. What International Rescue call a normal Tuesday.

And we’ve reached the end Series 2!

Oh, wait, it’s like a post credit scene (only before the credits) and look!

Handcuffs on the floor and tied up GDF officers? Well, here we go again.

I mean, is anyone surprised that he found a way out? I’m not. And look at these people in purple! We haven’t had much purple yet in this show - besides the fact Grandma Tracy wears it all the time, so I feel a little like they’re stealing her signature colour. Couldn’t they have gone for black like every other bad guy in TAG? Apparently not.

“Everything has gone according to plan. The Tracy’s have taken care of The Mechanic and now, nothing to stop us causing global chaos.”

Is that a hint dropped there, you know like an easter egg?

But that is the end of Series 2. New bad guys to be introduced properly in tomorrows re-review!

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fallenfurther · 4 years

Text

Thirty

Happy Birthday Scott! My fav. Had to write him a birthday post, especially because I hurt in the next on my posting schedule.

******

The smoke was filling the room, the heat from the fire starting to warm the metal beneath his hand. Trust a fire to start halfway through a rescue. The two children in front of him, cowering on the observation platform, stared at him with fear, tears streaming down their face. They were coughing, having been too scared to move, separated from their parents during the commotion. The smoke was starting to get thick, the exit already hazy, and he was starting to feel the heat himself. Normally he would take the children one by one, or lead them by the handout together, but it was getting too hot and the metal walkway would be too hot for their feet.

"It's okay. I'm going to get you out of here. Then we'll find Mummy and Daddy."

Scott placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, before pulling the little girl into his arms. He wrapped her legs around his waist and held her close. She hacked her lungs out against his chest. He wished he'd know that she needed a respirator, some clean air. He felt a little guilt for the filtration system his helmet housed.

"Son, I need you to climb on my back so I can get you both out of here."

The boy nodded and slowly moved behind him. Scott felt his arms slip around his neck and then his feet brace against the belt of his baldric. It wasn't the safest way but with his sister's legs in the way it'd have to do. Scott forced himself from his one-legged keel to stand, his legs aching against the extra weight. He'd already spent hours rounding people up, his body was starting to feel the toll. Taking a deep breath, he stood tall and started to make his slow way to the exit. The lad’s arms squeezed tighter as he had a coughing fit. Scott tried to pick up the pace, his leg muscles already starting to hurt. Reaching the door, he carefully removed one hand from the girl and turned the handle. The corridor was thankful much clearer, the smoke trapped in the room behind them. Scott followed the Fire Exit signs and left through the nearest exit. He knew where the ambulances were and headed straight there, the coughing coming from both children causing the rescuer to worry. The paramedics ran to him and quickly pulled the children from his body. Scott watched as they were taken into separate ambulances and put on oxygen. A woman running towards him caught his eye. She immediately looked into both ambulances, tears streaming down her face as Scott watched relief replace the fear in her features. She turned to him as she climbed into the ambulance with the boy.

"Thank you."

Scott nodded. It was worth it. The boy threw his arms around his mother. Scott turned, giving them privacy and headed to the command centre.

"Anyone else trapped?" Scott asked the man in charge.

"The fire service have just retrieved the last group. Everyone is out and they'll start fighting the fire. Thanks for your help International Rescue."

"All in a day's work." Scott shook the man's hand, before heading back to Thunderbird One.

Scott sat back into his seat and let it carry him up into One. Exhausted, he paused, resting just a little, but knowing the sooner he got home the better. He rolled his shoulders before starting pre-flight checks.

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird 5."

"Hello Scott."

Scott jumped slightly at the voice of the AI, the holographic image of EOS now floating in front of him.

"Where's John?"

"John is sleeping. I am monitoring all calls."

"Right. Do Virgil, Gordon and Alan need any help with their rescue?" Scott yawned.

"That rescue was completed at 23:42 yesterday. They debriefed and are all in bed."

"Right, well, I'm heading back."

"Would you like to debrief while enroute so you can head straight to bed?"

Scott sighed, it wasn't quite protocol, but the offer was just too tempting. "That would be appreciated."

EOS disappeared, allowing Scott to take off and set Thunderbird One cruising. Once on course she appeared again and Scott debriefed to the AI, thankful that the report would be written up for his review by the time he woke up later. They had to pause so Scott could land, then finished from the pilot’s chair. With debrief and post-flight checks complete, Scott was ready to head to bed. It was gone four in the morning. As he waited for the platform to extend EOS popped back.

"Goodnight and Happy Birthday Scott."

Scott smiled, "Thank you, EOS." He stepped onto the platform and was thankful for the instincts he'd built up. When he first started entering One this way, he'd had almost fallen on so many occasions that he often clipped himself to the platform, just in case. The safety line was still available, if he ever did need it.

Scott managed to make it to the changing rooms, where he dumped his suit, which smelt so strongly of smoke that he was sure his brothers would be complaining later. He had a quick shower and pulled on the jogging bottoms he kept in the room for these kinds of scenarios. He took the lift and made his way to the bedroom. A quick glance at his ensuite, Grandma's voice nagging him from the back of his mind that he really should clean his teeth, before he collapsed into bed. Pulling the duvet over himself he fell straight to sleep.

***

Scott opened his eyes to his darkened room. A glance at the old alarm clock on his nightstand told him it was just gone midday. Scott sighed. He was normally such an early bird. This was going to throw him for a few days. He lay in bed a moment, his mind going over the rescue. The smell of smoke still tickled his nose. He hated smoke. It clung to everything. Throwing off the covers Scott headed for his ensuite, determined to scrub the last of the smell from his body. The warm water washed over aching muscles as Scott lathered up the shampoo on his hair. After washing his body twice, he stepped out and got dressed. He cleaned his teeth thoroughly, after not doing so last night, before brandishing his razor and shaving. The last thing he did was sort out his hair, his comb and gel working efficiently to put it in the right style. Once happy, Scott headed out his room in the search of food.

Heading down the stairs to the lounge, Scott was struck by how quiet it was. The living room was empty. He hadn't heard the emergency alarm, but then his brothers could be doing maintenance, or be in their rooms. Scott headed to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. He sat at the table, looking out over the pool, its waters still. The eerie silence and lack of family was unnerving. A quick look on the schedule and there was nothing of note. Nothing to explain the absence of his family. Sure, he was thirty and he didn't expect a big party, but there should be at least someone to say happy birthday. Looking at his comm had shown him the time. It was getting on and Scott had planned to visit Dad that afternoon. He didn't want to miss visiting hours. Clearing up, Scott headed to the hangers. The hangers were normally quiet, with the exception of maintenance and launches, but the lack of anyone made it feel sinister. Walking past Thunderbird Two, standing proud on her struts, Scott's unease grew. He could normally find Virgil here. Scott entered the smaller hanger to the side, where the light aircraft were kept. Tracy One was missing but that was to be expected. Grandma always spent the weekend with Dad, flying out the Friday night and coming back on the Sunday. None of the other planes were missing. Scott climbed into Tracy Two and started pre-flight checks, ignoring the niggle in the back of his mind. Gordon was one to play tricks on him, but had he gone a step further today? Scott opened a comm to John. His space bound brother floated before him.

"Happy Birthday Scott."

"Thanks John," Scott smiled. "Any chance you can clear me a landing spot so I can visit Dad?"

Scott watched John as he switched lines, keeping the comm to Scott open. He could have called through himself but going through John had become a way of checking up on his brother. John turned back to him.

"All clear. Contact ground control as you get close."

"I know the drill. Any chance of you coming down this evening?"

"If I can get the last of the maintenance done up here, I will."

John signed off and Scott tried not to be downhearted. It wasn't the first time John hadn't come down for his birthday, but this year was different. Scott taxied along Thunderbird Two's runway and took to the air. Flying was second nature to him, the controls an extension of his body, and in no time at all Scott was landing in on the runway and parking Tracy Two next to her sister. A car was already waiting, security which were now part of the background noise for him, stood beside it. They were always there, paid to keep the CEO and his family alive. The rehabilitation centre was the best they could find which could still be classed as local, and if Dad continued improving as he was, he'd be starting to spend the weekends in the island, making these trips less frequent. They were all looking forward to that. The big welcome home. Scott climbed out the car, gave the receptionist a smile as he signed in before heading to his father's room. He knocked before entering. The sight that met him was everything he wanted. Steamers hung from every surface, balloons bobbed about, and every member of his family was standing around the chair his Dad was occupying in the middle of the room.

"Happy Birthday to you"

There was a large cake, covered in what he could only guess was thirty candles, on the coffee table in front of his father. The candles were positioned in such a way that the image of Thunderbird One was left intact. He was now the recipient of his own marketing scheme.

"Happy Birthday to you"

Scott grinned at his family, his eyes going over every one of them. Alan and Virgil were standing next to each other, presents in their hands. Gordon was next with Penelope hanging off his arm.

"Happy Birthday dear Scott"

Grandma was standing behind Dad, her arm on the back of his chair. Kayo was to her left with John, in his normal clothes and not his uniform, was standing beside her. Brains, Max and Parker were standing a little way off to the side, Max beeping along with the tune.

"Happy Birthday to you!"

Scott knelt down on front of the cake and inhaled. He attempted to blow out all the candles, going around in a circle, but there were just too many. A second blow got all but two and with one final puff they were all out. Cheers and applause came from his family as he stood up. Alan came over and gave Scott a hug.

"Happy Birthday Scott. Can we have cake before you open your presents?"

"Go for it." Scott chuckled.

Alan quickly removed all the candles, though he did pass the knife to Scott. Cutting Thunderbird One in half, Scott sliced up the cake and passed out the first few pieces. Virgil then took over, and Scott was guided to a chair that had been pulled up next to his father's. A plate of cake was put in his hand and he took a bite, the smile never leaving his face.

"Heard you had an early rescue, Scott. Not too tired for a birthday party I hope."

"No Dad. I'm never too tired for a birthday party."

Scott sat in the chair, content beyond belief. It may have just been a room in a rehabilitation centre, and it may not be the biggest gathering in the world, but Scott's thirty birthday party was perfect. All made right by the fact that his Dad was by his side. There was nowhere in the world he'd rather be than in that room, brothers laughing over a Thunderbird cake, presents still unopened and many more years to come with his Dad in his life. Best thirtieth birthday party ever.

#thunderbirds are go #Scott Tracy #Happy Birthday #thirty #family #tracy family #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #lady penelope #birthday party

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princesstreaclefanfic · 4 years

Text

We Meet Again Chapter Two

Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.

Starting Work

Luke awoke, not to his alarm like he usually did, but to the sun shining in his face through a crack in the curtains.

He let out a groan and rolled over, fulling expected to find a creamy breast under his hand.

When his hand fell against the rapidly cooling, rumpled sheet his eyes shot open and he looked around his bedroom.

Then, on the bedside table, he saw a note. Thanks was the only thing it read. He blew out a breath.

So much for that morning quickie, he was hoping for.

With a sigh he sat up and got out of bed, not seeing any reason to stay in it. It was just a reminder.

The weeks that followed sucked. Penelope had changed her days at the rescue so he didn't see her anymore and he wasn't going to try and get Mickey to contact her or give him her number - that was just stalker-ish.

So instead, he focused on what mattered. He got his place ready for Roxy. He built a brand new fence in his backyard and made sure none of the trees were poisonous. He researched the best dog diets and decided to feed her raw. He got her name listed for several classes - obedience and agility (since she was so active) and he brought too many toys.

The day she came home and was officially one of the best days of his life. She walked in the house and he could tell that she immediately knew this was where she belonged. Within half an hour of coming home, she had fallen asleep on his chest.

Whilst she brought him so much joy, she was also a reminder of Penelope.

Why she left without saying anything, Luke didn't know. He was slightly hurt by it but chose to brush it off. He still had the memories of that amazing night and that would have to do.

***

Luke smiled as Emily looked through his CV, a smile on her face.

"This looks really good, Luke."

"Thanks."

"You come highly recommended - I'm surprised they're letting you go."

Luke chuckled. "I liked my time on the fugitive task force but I need something different."

Emily nodded in understand. "I get that."

She shuffled his papers and then handed them back to him.

"Well, if you want to accept the job, I would be very happy to offer it to you."

"Yeah!" Luke said enthusiastically. He reached across the table to shake Emily's hand.

"There are a few things we need to go through before you officially become an SSA but why don't we go and meet the team?"

Luke nodded and began to stand.

Before he had time to fully stand, there was a knock at the door and a petite blonde woman entered.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, we had just finished." Emily gestured towards the woman. "Jennifer Jareau this is Luke Alvez."

"Nice to meet you," he told her as he shook her hand.

"You too - but please, call me JJ."

"Got it."

"Luke is going to be taking over from Morgan."

"Oh!" JJ said with delight. "Well, it's nice to have you on the team, Luke."

"I was just about to take him to meet the team, where are they?"

"That's why I came to you - we're just about to start a briefing."

"Perfect timing." Emily turned to Luke. "If you'd like to follow me, I can introduce you to everyone."

Luke nodded and followed Emily and JJ out of the office and down the hall.

They entered a large meeting room and Luke glanced around.

"Good morning," JJ greeted, a few steps in front of him. "Emily and I would like to introduce you all to someone. This is Luke Alvez and he'll be joining us at the BAU."

Luke's eyes scanned the room and when he saw her, he got a look of recognition on his face, a grin spreading across his features as her face turned redder and redder.

Who would have thought that Penelope Garcia worked for the FBI? Certainly not him.

"Luke, this is David Rossi, Spencer Reid, Matt Simmons, Tara Lewis and-"

Luke cut her off. "Penelope Garcia." She looked just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. The longer he looked at her, the more his memory didn't seem to do her justice. Her eyes were even greener and her skin even smoother. Her hair brighter and her figure even more alluring. He couldn't help it. He had to say something. "We meet again," he said, talking directly to her.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her as she turned a bright shade of pink.

Suddenly, Luke couldn't wait to start work.

You asked and I delivered. I'm now writing several chapters for this following their relationship after Luke joins the BAU. I'm hoping to update it at least once a week, maybe more so I hope I'll see you then!

Thanks for reading.

#garvez #criminal minds #penelope garcia #luke alvez #penelope garcia and luke alvez #we meet again #new story #continuation #one shot turned multi-chapter fic

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criminalminds-hc-hq · 4 years

Text

Proximity

Word Count: 2,433 (who am I???)

Warnings: None that I can think of. If you find any, let me know.

Author’s Note: I had an idea for a few scenes and it turned into this. My first pretty sizable fic. Merry Christmas. This is my gift to you.

Maria has been working with the BAU for a little over a year now. To say her crush is no longer a crush would be an understatement. It would be difficult not to fall in love with Spencer. He’s kind, smart, sweet, and funny. It also helps that he is very attractive. Though, if she was just into looks, there were plenty of other guys in D.C. who would be up her alley too. Or at least in reach of her 5’6” frame.

Honestly, Maria doesn’t know how much longer she can go on like this. Last week she ducked into Penelope’s batcave to avoid talking to him after making a fool of herself. She had said the wrong thing in front of Spencer out of her building nerves around him and he corrected her. Now she’s proving she isn’t smart enough for someone like him as well as the understood fact that he is much more attractive than her.

At this thought, her gaze slides up from the folder she’s pretending to read and to the man in the sweater sitting across from her on the jet. Spencer had cut his hair right before Maria met him, but now it was sitting in the in between stage--somewhere between short and too long for most guys. He is biting his lip as he reviews the case. Well, there’s a distraction she definitely doesn’t need right now. For weeks, she’s been fighting the impulse to act on her feelings for Spencer. Penelope and JJ both keep telling her that he feels the same. But she isn’t willing to act on her feelings without solid proof. What would happen then? Losing her best friend wasn’t an option.

“I give up. I can’t focus right now,” Maria says as she drops the folder on the table. Spencer follows suit and lays his folder on top of hers.

“What’s up? Something on your mind?” he asks.

With a sigh, Maria runs her fingers through her hair and answers, “not really. I think I’m just tired. I’m gonna grab some coffee.” Sure, overcaffeinating’s probably not a good idea hours before landing for a new case. But Pen and JJ’s words running through her mind are distracting. What if?

“I’ll come with. I want to see if they got that creamer I asked for,” Spencer says while getting up. Maria follows suit and grabs at JJ’s shoulder as she’s passing by. JJ looks up from her phone and smiles back at her.

When they reach the coffee station, Spencer passes her a mug of coffee before standing back to let her at the creamers and sugars. She comes in to add some sugar to her coffee. She can feel Spencer standing behind her with his own mug and tries not to let that get to her. Her emotions--or her hormones really--have never been so out of control. He’s just a man.

Taking a steadying breath, she turns around and realizes that Spencer is closer in her bubble of space than she expected. Maria’s breath catches in her throat as she looks up into his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispers. Maria knows that Spencer has a thing about germs and being in close physical proximity is probably not the best thing for him.

“I didn’t mean to--” Spencer starts to say before she cuts him off.

“I didn’t know your eyes were so golden.” Ugh. What is wrong with her today? Yeah, his eyes look like warm honey as she feels herself getting lost in them, but was it really necessary to say that? She feels her cheeks flame as she stares up at him.

“Oh, um--” Spencer stutters out before Maria quickly presses past him.

Maria sits down in the empty chair across from JJ in an effort to give herself some breathing room. She starts sipping her coffee while JJ and Emily discuss the case and their words go in one ear and out the other.

---------

During the case, Maria did her best to work with Emily or JJ and to stay away from Spencer. No one seemed to notice how oddly she was behaving. Or if they did, they didn’t say anything to her. Even the flight back felt uncomfortable despite pretending to sleep for most of it.

Maria cannot wait to get back home after such a crazy case. She could probably sleep for a few days if she let herself. In reality, she needs some time away from her fellow profilers. She’s never acted so unprofessionally during a case before and that’s not okay. After filing the last of her paperwork away, she grabs her go bag and her car keys.

“Unless anyone needs anything from me, I’m going to pass out for 48 hours straight,” Maria says to the room at large. JJ and Luke say goodnight while Matt and Tara wave her off, still going over their own paperwork. Maria heads to the elevator and vaguely starts planning her weekend while waiting for it to arrive.

“Hey, Maria!” Her head drops at his voice. So close to getting some time away from him, yet so far. It’s not that she has any negative feelings about him, but taking the time away to get her mind off him is necessary at this point. She can’t keep letting him affect her work.

“Yes, Spencer?” she asks while turning around slowly. “What’s up?”

Spencer stops a few feet from her and shifts his weight from foot to foot while looking for his words. He seems uncomfortable and Maria is sure it’s because of her. Sure that he realized what her behavior means and he’s uncomfortable around her because of it. He’s a genius and a profiler, there’s no way he doesn’t understand what her distance, her stares, her general out of character behavior means.

“Can we talk?” he asks when the elevator arrives.

“Yeah, come into my office,” Maria says to try to lighten the mood.

With a soft laugh, he steps into the elevator with her. Both turn to face the door with a couple of feet separating them. Maria could not be any more uncomfortable. Spencer looks awkward as well--while she knows that might just be him and have nothing to do with her, she knows it’s probably her fault this awkwardness has built up like a wall between them.

Spencer clears his throat before bringing up the reason they’re on this awkward elevator ride, “Did I do something to upset you? You’ve been acting differently this whole case.”

Of course Spencer would notice if one of his best friends were avoiding him for days on end.

“No, we’re fine, Spencer. Really,” she says. “This was a hard case. They were kids for Christ’s sake. I think I just need to go home and get my mind off of it.”

“It’s not because of what happened in the jet?” he asks while staring at the lit numbers indicating the floor they are currently passing. Maria knew it was her fault he was behaving like this. She wants to bang her head on the elevator wall, but it’s finally reaching the garage level. “I didn’t mean to crowd you like that. I know I get uncomfortable with people violating my space and I wouldn’t ever want to make you feel that way.”

Wait...what? Spencer thinks this awkwardness is his fault? Maria turns toward him while walking out of the elevator door. With an incredulous laugh, she says, “Spencer, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’re fine. I promise.” Spencer follows after her as she continues walking toward her car.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You can tell me if I upset you,” Spencer presses on. “That happened on the jet and then you started avoiding me.”

Clicking the unlock button on her remote, Maria turns around to face Spencer again. “Spence, we’re fine. I’d let you know if you bothered me.” At this, he seems to come to some sort of decision. The look on his face hardens slightly and he takes a step closer to her, definitely crowding into her personal bubble intentionally this time. She can just barely smell the cologne he’s wearing. It’s a woody scent scarcely lingering in the space between them.

“If you’re sure,” he says softly. He stares at her for a moment before raising his hand up to move a strand of hair behind her ear. “Goodnight, Mare.” Her ear and cheek spark where Spencer’s hand graze them and her cheeks burn. She feels like she’s fighting to breathe as she watches his golden eyes light up before he turns to walk away.

Maria’s heart is still pounding hard as she watches Spencer make his way back to the elevator. It’s all she can do to lean back against her car door and try not to let hope grab her by the heart.

----------

“JJ, I love your boys so much, but do I have to go to this thing?” Maria asks while pacing in front of her door, keys in hand. She had forgotten in her rush to leave yesterday that Henry’s birthday party was today.

“You cannot back out of this just because of Spencer,” JJ says firmly. “I don’t care how weird things are between the two of you right now. Henry would be upset if you didn’t come.”

Maria stops her pacing and lays her head against her front door in frustration. “I knew you’d play that card. Ugh. Okay, I’m coming over. I’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t make this weird, Mare. If you ruin my child’s party there’ll be hell to pay,” JJ says before Maria hangs up.

Great. Just fucking fantastic really. Maria had told JJ all about the weird moment she had with Spencer in the parking garage, but the woman doesn’t care. Maria doesn’t know any woman who cares more about her child than JJ. It makes her a great mother, but right now it’s kind of a pain in the ass.

With a sigh, Maria grabs her coat and leaves her apartment before she can worry too much about it.

Walking through the back doors and into the backyard at Will and JJ’s place is a shock to the system. Red and blue balloons are tied to chairs and tables that are covered in blue tablecloths around the yard. There’s a cutout of some sort of action figure that Henry loves standing next to the cake table.

Maria hears a joyful scream to her left. Henry comes barreling past as Michael and Spencer chase after him. They might be playing tag or another game. All three of them seem happy either way. She watches them go by with a smile and turns to see their tech. analyst walking up to her.

“He is going to be a great dad one day,” Penelope says, noticing Maria’s preoccupation.

“Don’t say that to me,” Maria says leaning into her. “Do you know what a mess my friendship with him is turning into right now?”

Penelope wraps her arm around Maria, trying to comfort her. “Maybe that’s what has to happen before you can make something better.”

“Okay, stop turning into a talking motivational poster and show me where the grown up drinks are.”

A little while later, Maria is recruited for chip refill duty and carries the three bowls inside. Setting them down on the counter by the sink, Maria thinks about the party so far. She’s spent some time talking to all of her team. Including Spencer. But he acted like nothing had happened.

Maybe for him nothing had. But Maria couldn’t remember a single instance of Spencer initiating contact between the two of them. In their whole year of friendship, she was the one who always started the hugs or comforted the other. Refilling the bowls, Maria lets her distraction overtake her.

“You okay?” a voice asks, drawing her out of her line of thought. Looking up, she sees Spencer coming into the kitchen from the party.

“Oh, yeah. Just lost in thought for a second,” Maria says. “Pretty good party for a kid, huh? JJ really spoils her boys.”

Her eyes track Spencer as he walks through the kitchen, getting closer to where she’s standing. He opens a drawer by the sink and pulls out a lighter.

“They’re pretty lucky. We’re almost ready for the cake if you want to join us.”

“Sure.”

“I like your dress by the way,” Spencer says standing very close to her now. Maria can barely hear him over the sound of her pulse in her ears. She turns to face him and sees a light in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh, thanks,” Maria says. “I think it’s the one Penelope helped me pick out.” There is a force pulling her to him. That can’t be something she imagined. Her friends were right, right? They had to be. It wasn’t just her behavior that was out of the norm anymore. He doesn’t initiate contact, especially after everything he’s been through. Yesterday had to mean something, right?

Without thinking, Maria’s trembling hand wraps behind Spencer’s neck and she leans up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his. For a moment, horror wraps around her gut as Spencer stands there completely still, not reacting. He is pure resistance and Maria realizes she was wrong. He doesn’t feel the same way she does. She’s been misreading his actions completely. Her friendship is ruined.

Then suddenly his hands are snaking around her waist. Maria gasps as Spencer kisses her back fiercely. Her panic fades to the back of her mind as she wraps her other hand behind his neck. He uses her shock to his advantage and licks her bottom lip. Spencer’s fingertips on her back press her even tighter to him. His heat, his scent, his touch are overwhelming her. A soft noise from the back of Spencer’s throat let’s her know that she’s not alone in that feeling. They are crushed chest to chest, hip to hip, leg to trembling leg before Maria pulls back slightly to drop back to her feet.

“Mare--”

There’s a loud bang as Luke comes in from the party followed by a low whistle. “You two do realize this is a kid’s party right?” At this, Maria and Spencer pull away from each other, suddenly brought back down to Earth. The little world around them has disappeared. Luke grabs the lighter from Spencer and makes his way back toward the door. “Feel free to join us when you’re done,” he says with a laugh.

#criminal minds #spencer fic #spencer reid #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #merry christmas #enjoy your present #dr. spencer reid #oc #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds hc hq

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clad-in-sunshine · 4 years

Text

Annie of Anglesey

My submission for @arowrimo I hoped to get this in earlier - as it is I’m a day late for the week 2 prompt of self-love. It’s based on the song ‘The Bonny Lass of Anglesey’, and ended up far longer than I intended. The main character is aplatonic and aromantic.

Title: Annie of Anglesey Word count: 4,676 Language: English Genre: Historical fiction/folk tale (I guess? Idk) Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Self-love CWs: Past marriage, Unwanted romantic interest, Public proposal, Grief

Summary: Annie is living quite happily alone in the mountains, when the king comes to her for aid in a competition. Hoping to get something for herself out of the situation, she agrees to help him.

The castle grounds were awash with a hubbub of excitement and jubilation. It unnerved the king. He stood atop one of his watchtowers, following the procession of nobles through the festivities with rattled nerves and shaking hands.

“They can’t win- won’t win. Will they?” he asked, not tearing his eyes from the approaching men. “Will they, guard?”

“No sire. Absolutely not, sire.” An unseen salute, and he returned to position.

“Of course. Of course...” The king mumbled mostly to himself, before straightening and turning. “Well, I must greet the newcomers...”

Arriving like a tidal wave, groups of men dressed up in extravagant finery swept up to the castle gates. The air around them filled with a jumble of expensive and rare perfumes, and exotic spices.

And then the gates were opened, letting them pour out into the huge ornate entry hall; their perfumes colliding with the delicious smells of food to create a chaos for the senses as tray after tray was rushed through into the dining hall.

The floor of the entrance was a deathly smooth marble that shone their faces back at them, and the walls were lined with huge and detailed tapestries: the most recent of which depicting the king’s marriage to the late queen Penelope. The king’s likeness stood tall and confident beside him as he descended the stairs with small and wavering steps. He stopped where the two halves of the staircase joined, and lifted himself to his full height.

“Welcome!” he cried in one breath, “Welcome... “ Another pause. “Welcome one and all! We all know why you’re here, and we will get to that this evening. But for now at least, my servants are laying out the very best food and drink we have to offer - so let us feast!”

The silence was quickly overwritten by an eruption of cheering from the men, who bundled themselves into the well laid out hall, to seat themselves around the table of epic proportions. Across the surface were pastries, fine cheeses, fruit, preserves, breads, cakes, wines, jellies, cider and nuts. A spread that could put most others to shame. The nobles, now seated, dismissed their servants as they relaxed into their chairs for the evening.

Ruddy faced and jovial, the gathering ate with a lack of elegance and poise that only the very wealthy could afford. Very few words of substance were passed between them; instead bowls of food and bottles of wine were constantly moved from one to another, not from noble hand to noble hand but by the dedicated effort of the king’s own servants. As the food began to dwindle, and fire petered out, an anticipation built. It grew in drips, until the final fork clattered to the table and it spilled over; bringing all eyes up to the king, who swallowed and pushed his chair back to stand.

“My Steward, if you will?” With a hand, he beckoned forward a small and unassuming man who had been standing unnoticed in the doorway for some time.

The Steward hurried beside him at the head of the table, unfurling a scroll and clearing his throat. “In the matter of the upcoming competition, the event has been decided. It is to be…” He looked around the room, all eyes looking back. “Dance.”

A silence as everyone looked around in turn.

Then a fist hit the table and there was an explosion of noise.

----

Leagues away from the castle, nestled between the hills at the foot of a mountain, lay a small cottage surrounded by blooming May trees. Within it, Annie looked up from her book to watch the pinpricks of light that flickered about the castle grounds through a gap in the thorn and flower-strewn branches. The evening sun had long since hidden its face behind the mountain that sheltered her, and the lights of celebration were rendered as bright in the darkness as any of the stars in the sky above.

There was no finer place to enjoy the view than that; sat on the sil with a fire to warm her, and with no company but the chatterings and murmurings of the animals that shared these hills. She sipped from an open bottle of elderflower wine, brewed by herself from fresh flowers she’d picked the previous summer. It drew a smile meant for no one but herself.

She had almost everything she could want.

Almost.

After a short time of watching the lights, a sound pulled Annie from her daze. She’d long had a tendency to pick up on noises before someone else might, aided here by the amplification from the mountains, and she could soon make out the distinctive rhythm of hoof-beats approaching.

It was easy enough to deduce that anyone entering the area was coming to visit her, being the only one to live on the mountain. It was uncommon for her to have visitors however, and she wasn’t keen for strangers to find her house, so she prepared to leave and meet them: pulling on her white cloak, and beckoning Fiore to her from the forest.

Fiore swiftly appeared before her door, huffing huge clouds of breath that hung visible in the cold spring air. She was wondrously ghostly; a large white hind that cut an imposing figure in the silver moonlight. She’d been Annie’s friend since she’d rescued her as no more than a foal, having been orphaned by hunters. Nowadays she lived in the woods nearby, visiting occasionally to offer, or ask for, assistance or companionship.

After a quick and kindly greeting, Annie threw a leg over Fiore’s sturdy torso and directed them to a hilltop closer to the approaching horses.

Seated on the elusive animal with the white cloak billowing out behind her, she could be easily taken for a ghost or one of the fair folk. Just how she liked it.

They stood astride the crest of the hill, easily within sight of the oncoming strangers when they came close enough.

Finally a score of horses emerged through the valley, bearing well armoured knights that wore knotted strips of the castle’s colours. At the head rode a young man with the self-important stature typical of nobles. As they emerged, his face turned up to see her and he stopped dead. Behind him, all horses followed suit.

“Are you the bonny lass who is rumoured to live in these here mountains?” he called. His voice was carried further in the enclosed valley, so he didn’t need to shout to be heard; even so, he sounded quiet.

“More than rumoured, as I’m sure you know. I take it you are someone of importance - what use have you for me that you travel here?”

“Are you so ignorant as to not know your own king?”

“You hardly knew my own name, nor whether I exist or not. It seems fair that I do not know yours. Last I remember we had a queen, and few bother to keep me updated on the comings and goings of monarchs. Either way, it is you who’s come to me, so I ask again: what do you want?”

The king stepped down from his horse, puffing up to his full height, seemingly unaware how little difference it made to Annie above him.

“I have need for your skills. I am in the position to fight for my own status, and there are many who would seek to deprive me. I hear that you have skills that exceed most in many things, and I hoped that you may represent me.”

“What kind of fight?”

“A dance of sorts. The last one standing is to claim the throne and its wealth, but I feel it’s hardly becoming of a king to engage in such a competition.”

“I see.”

“We would compensate you generously, of course. I could grant you a stretch of land - a farm - and servants to work it of course.”

“Land?”

The king appeared concerned suddenly, and looked about before following up with:

“And-” The king looked to his men uncertainly, before looking back at her. “And the chance to marry the fairest noble in my court - I’m sure a woman such as yourself would enjoy the opportunity to marry. And into status and money, no less!”

She considered his offer; perhaps she could make this work for her.

“Very well,” she said, “I’ll represent you as you wish. Will there be stabling for my hind? She will not share with horses, and will need a space away from people. And I expect gold as compensation too.”

She mounted on Fiore quickly, bolting down the side of the mountain ahead of the men before the king could reply. “Shall we?”

The journey back took less than four hours, though it felt longer in the company of those with so little to say, and they were soon settling her into her chambers in the castle. She was filled in on the details on the way: the competition would be in five days, she would be expected to remain silent about her position, and she would remain out of sight as much as possible in the lead up.

It was quickly evident by the next afternoon, however, that the last would be impossible. Word had quickly spread of the king’s female guest, who was kept quiet and hidden in the upper floors of the castle; those rooms usually reserved for royalty themselves. The rumour spread quickly. The king had been alone since the passing of Queen Pen a year prior - despite this, many women had tried and failed to gain his favour, making his romantic life a regular topic of idle conversation.

To Annie, it had become apparent very early on that while the rumours might not have followed the truth, they did seem to predict it. The king was gaining a fondness for her.

Somehow he would find himself in all the places she explored, waiting for her and making himself as appealing as possible.

On the second afternoon she spent there, he was once again waiting when she visited his sizeable yet bare music room. He was dressed up in his finest casual wear and sitting at the piano; a sad smile frozen on his face, and his fingers producing yet sadder music.

“It reminds me of Pen,” he stated forlornly as she entered. “I always used to play this for her… I have been wondering if I’d ever have such a thing again.”

Annie sighed, weary and disappointed that she wouldn’t have time in the room to herself. “I’m sure you will find someone,” she said reluctantly, perching on a stool and trying, for the sake of pity, to sound reassuring. He turned back to the piano with a look of disappointment, before disappearing back into his music. The playing was impressive at the very least, and enjoyable for what it was, so she remained there to listen for a time. It was interesting to note the places where his high class upbringing coloured his music; formal and so different from her own. Intriguing as it could be at times, she was feeling bored of the palace’s extravagant finery. By the end of the second day, she desperately longed to return to her little cottage and the beautiful wilds. She managed to convince the guards to let her visit Fiore on the morning of the third day, and she happily breathed in the forest smells that lingered in her fur as they embraced.

“I’m sorry about this Fi, we won’t be here too much longer. Just two more days.”

With an acknowledging huff, Fiore lay down in the warm straw. Annie followed quickly to lay down and curl against her warm side; she felt more at home in that stable, rocked by Fi’s gentle breaths, than at any point in those few days. She was drawn into a relaxed and shallow sleep; her mind painting pictures on the backs of her eyelids before a stablehand came and prodded her awake.

“Wow,” they said, gawping, as she stood up “It won’t even let me near it... is it yours?”

“She doesn’t trust strangers. I’m Annie, and this is Fiore. We help each other out. And who are you?” Annie asked.

“I’m-” They stepped back uncertainly. “I’m sorry, are you the girl who’s been staying in the castle...?” A shake of their head before they apparently remembered their manners. “Oh, uh, I’m Ren.”

“Ren. Yes, I am the ‘girl’ who’s been staying in the castle.”

“Are you really going to marry the king?”

“Marry?!” She spluttered, quickly descending into great convulsions of laughter that roused the sleeping Fiore into a startled headbutt; throwing Annie forwards and doubling her over further.

Ren jumped back at Fi’s actions, to awkwardly shuffle from foot to foot as she regained her composure.

“Sorry. Sorry. Just- never mind. No, I am not marrying the king... Are you?” she challenged.

“Er- No. I’m just a stablehand ma’am.”

“A fine stablehand that would refer to their guest as ‘it’,” she accused, “But don’t let that stop you! I’m just a wild woman from the mountains, and apparently I’m eligible,” she continued with good humour, enjoying this chance to speak with someone from outside the castle walls.

“That’s you?”

“Didn’t Fi here clue you in a little?”

“Heard you were one of the fair folk. ‘S all I heard, actually.”

“I wish! The rumours keep unwanted guests away though. Mostly,” she said, “Anyway, I was raised in a little village east of here - Durside.” Annie sat against Fiore’s side, and beckoned Ren to sit beside her. “How about you?”

“I’m from here; father’s responsible for these stables, and mam works as a seamstress for the king.”

“I suppose you hear a lot then. I know there’s a competition coming up soon - would you tell me about it?”

Time passed quickly as Ren explained the sad and unusual story of the king’s reign:

He had been Queen Penelope’s second husband, after the first had plotted her death to claim the crown for himself. Having been caught in time, the first was imprisoned, and hung for treason shortly thereafter. So when the Queen married again she’d established a will; one that said that, should she be survived by the king and have no children suited to the crown, then he would reign as ruler for a year while the people came to a decision. Then, in a manner chosen by the common people, nobles and those chosen by the king to compete would fight for the crown and its connected riches. The winner would rule until any heirs came of age - or permanently where no heirs are present - dependent on approval by the people. According to Ren, the marriage had lasted 5 years before Pen fell ill and died. Many suggested she was still bearing the wounds of her first marriage, which even the present king couldn’t heal.

Afterwards, they went on to discuss a little about their own lives - differences and similarities. She had to dodge their questions as to her reasons for being there , but compared to any conversation with the king, or the few noble’s she’d managed to speak to, she could breathe a lot easier. While she loved to be alone, and friends were not her style, it was nice to have an opportunity to talk to someone and catch up on the goings on for the folk she’d left behind.

-----

The next day she surprised herself by managing to feel something for the king, in a smaller and less planned moment than their previous ones. He sat at one of the high arched windows off the tower stairs, looking out nervously on the grounds; a guard stood by him, and while he addressed the guard, he spoke more to himself.

“... and I miss having real conversations. Penelope was someone I could talk to - all these people are after my wealth or status. Or fearful of my wrath. Even you, guard, can be nothing but what you are.” He leaned his head against the window, breath fogging it slightly. “I envy you common people sometimes.”

Annie kept herself out of sight as she listened. She too had found the sharp edge of being cut off from others, as much as she cultivated it for herself. It was the cost of freedom, so far, and it was worth it. But many things were lost to her thanks to it.

Rather than outstay her welcome and hear more than she’d like, she stepped away to spend more time in the library that she’d made her second home. While the king might be a somewhat sympathetic figure, she knew from Ren that he’d been enclosing common land and taxing the poor to pay for his extravagant feasting. Not the best of behaviours for one who’d want friends among their subjects, and she had no interest in soothing his troubled soul.

The library never failed to make her breath catch, and her head whirl; the light pouring in through stained glass and coating the shelves and shelves of books in stunning rainbow hues. The impossibility of reading all of the text in the place was incredible, and she ran a hand along the neat rows before slipping an intriguing one from its shelf, and removing it to a quiet alcove to slip inside its world for a time.

-----

The remaining days passed much like the previous ones had, with the king finding more excuses to see her, and by the evening of the competition she was in low spirits and desiring more than ever to simply return home. Earlier that day, the king had surprised her with a bottle of “the best wine in the palace” - When she revealed that it had, in fact, been made by herself, she couldn’t tell which was redder: the wine, or the king.

It was truly emblematic of the king’s distance from the food and drink he so gratuitously served and supped on that he never thought to ask of the source of it. She had accepted the wine regardless, but been left nothing but homesick and disappointed, as it tasted nothing like it had when she was sat, alone, in her own space.

She was very ready for the competition to be over, before it had even begun.

Nobles began to file in past where she sat at the king’s right side. They moved to stand proud and tall around the edge of the wooden flooring she assumed would be the stage; some with a knight by their side, and others dressed in more practical garments, presumably to compete themselves. There were fifteen nobles lined up by the time they finished, before common folk began to file in around the edges. They blended into a great mass of faces, so energised and excited that it was hard to pick out any one face from the others. A few fingers were thrown forward to point at where Annie sat, and suddenly the sea of faces was still and talking in hushed whispers.

The steward made use of the proximity to silence to announce the competition, which Annie listened to keenly. “The dance shall begin shortly. The challenger, or their representative, and the king, or his representative, will each have a kerchief knotted to his or her wrist. The first to acquire the other’s shall be declared winner. Should either cease to dance, then they shall forfeit the challenge. “Those who are successful must challenge all other contenders until they are beaten. The first to defeat all challengers shall be declared the new king or queen, and receive two thirds of the king’s wealth and lands along with that offered by the contestants.

“Let the first willing challenger step forward!”

After a moment of discussion a knight with a blue cloth stepped forwards, not even bothering to remove his sword.

“Elric, representing Lord Randall of Tyne. Annie of Durside shall represent the king.”

The musicians began a waltz from behind, led by a strong drumbeat. Annie rose and stepped to him, and the audience let out a collective gasp. Annie silently bowed and reached out a hand.

“Shall we dance?” she asked, taking his.

Dancing with someone was not where her experience lay; she tended to dance alone. However, her thirst for learning had driven her to learn every dance she could - and not just that, but both parts of them.

Once she began, she let the rhythm carry her, like a leaf tossed every which way by a raging sea. By the time Elric fell into her way of dancing, she’d change it again; often switching to dance the man’s part and throwing him off. When the music itself changed to a jig, she caught his sword and brought him crashing to the ground. As his chin hit the floor, the steward declared him defeated.

The next nine went similarly; the knights themselves were all decent dancers with reasonable stamina, but they were weighed down by their heavy attire. They’d arrived prepared for a fight, not a dance, and not one knew how to react to her flexibility. Many times they attempted to approach from behind, only to be let down by the rattle of their swords and Annie’s keen hearing.

Then the lords stepped up one after another; dancing more subtly and skillfully. They proved the harder challengers, though far more deficient in stamina. Annie danced with them, avoiding their frustrated attempts at her wrist until they tired; sweating and panting as she finally tripped them or tugged the silk from their trembling wrist.

By the time her fourteenth dance partner was left frustrated and hopeless, the sun had long set, and they were bathed, instead, by the cold moonlight. He fell to the ground with a cry of frustration, and left her proudly holding up his strip of yellow silk. She tossed it back to him dismissively, and turned to the last remaining man.

The knight, who until then had simply held back and watched, strode forwards. His body held the tension of a coil ready to snap, and his face was carved into an image of fury. He threw his sword to the ground, and stripped of his belt and coat, until he was wearing nothing but his cotton tunic, breeches, and the pink fabric at his right wrist.

He bowed wordlessly, and she did the same.

Much of the audience had thinned out by this point. When they both stepped up to dance, the rhythm of their feet played a perfect percussion for the hornpipe ringing out behind them.

It might have been a competition, but it felt great to dance with someone who knew what he was doing.

She smiled and laughed, as he cursed in between beats.

The broader her grin grew, the more it seemed to take from him, and the heavier his steps. Neither approached the other for this hornpipe, nor the reel that followed. And not for many after that. They simply watched, and danced.

By the time the sun began to show itself again, staining the sky a brilliant pink, Annie’s heavy and aching feet pushed her to put an end to it. She still had the strength to go on, however; she took it from the mountain she called home, where the air was weaker, and the terrain far more punishing. She jumped and tapped in time to the jig as she approached him; where his face grew grim, and feet raised slower from the ground.

With little effort, she grabbed his wrist and tugged the sweat drenched fabric free. She raised it high so the steward might see, and coaxed a small amount of applause from the stragglers of the crowd.

“The king wins!” he cried, waking up the now peacefully dozing king as the music played on.

Startling out of his sleep, the king jumped up and ran towards Annie with words of appreciation and praise falling from his lips.

The king removed one of his ornate rings in haste, and spoke softly with trembling breaths. “Everything I promised you is yours…. But in the matter of marriage, I think you could do better than a noble.” He held it out, as the audience looked on in a stunned silence.

Annie smiled.

“Do you take me…” She left a pause, in which she delighted as the king’s face lit up a little brighter. “For a fool?”

“What?” the king asked in shock and confusion, “why?”

“No man shall have me as a wife; now or ever. I could take the land you’ve offered me, that you have no right to own. Or I could beat you and take it all.” She took his hand and tied the pink kerchief to his wrist. “Dance with me. I will be your queen, but you shall not be beside me.”

The steward looked anxiously between her and the king, stiffening when he caught her gaze.

“Steward - she can’t do this!” he exclaimed, looking between him and his wrist. “Can she?”

“I’m afraid, sire, that she can.”

“But why?” the king entreated, turning to Annie.

“You have been taking the people’s land for your own, as something to give or take as you pleased. While people struggle to feed themselves, you host feasts far beyond any of our means. You are not my king.”

The king froze.

“So dance then, if you wish to hold onto your crown.”

The music changed to a waltz again, and Annie held out a hand. Hesitantly, the king took it. He stepped forwards; moved in time with the music and with her. Every step, the king kept up, but she was soon able to slip a hand down his unguarded arm to loosen the band.

Then a swift retreat, as his hand searched for her own cloth, and back to the dance. She led the two of them back and forth, constantly pushing where the king tried to pull. Then the music changed and threw him off; they split from each other to shift into an energetic percussive rhythm, where the king’s feet fell a second out of time.

One unbalanced moment for him, and she skipped up to him with an outstretched hand.

The ribbon pulled free, leaving his fingers to grasp at it hopelessly. She pulled it away in a smooth motion, and held it in the air triumphantly; her own cloth was still tied tight.

The small crowd burst into applause, turned to silhouettes by the sun behind them. The sound drew yet more of them to the borders, and there was the indistinct sound of many excited conversations.

The lights of celebration burned brighter, and music louder, that night. Annie was surrounded on all sides by people who excitedly questioned, and thanked, and asked favors of her. The lords, meanwhile, left exhausted and beaten, with far less to their name than they arrived with.

-----

It took days for her to return private land to common, and ensure everyone had the right to work it as they had done; spreading the word through messengers to other towns. It took yet longer to find someone else who could competently rule in her stead: her place was not as a leader, after all.

Fiore bore her back home then, before giving a quick farewell before racing back into the woods where she belonged. Annie also returned to her cottage. Where she truly belonged.

For now she needed days filled with nothing but the sounds of the wilds, and the thoughts of none but herself and those whose voices were bound in leather.

Eventually she would return to the town and take advantage of the many offers she’d received: to be taken as an apprentice in music and wood carving; to join in on dances and festivities; to share food, drink, and song. To do and share those things she could not do alone, while beholden to none but herself.

She smiled, sitting on her sil again, and drinking her wine that tasted as it should.

She had everything she could want.

#AroWriMo Writing #Arowrimo #Aromantic #Aro #Aromanticism #Original fiction

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