#and loop too but they're very tiny
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vantablackdraws · 2 months ago
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Interrupting my usual posting nonsense with some ISAT doodles I did a while ago
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buttercupshands · 9 months ago
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Finished themmm
Accidentally
I planned on going to bed early as a celebration, but then I looked at my unfinished pf of Siffrin in the sketchbook and boom couple of hours of sketching, lining and coloring and the beans are now officially paper figured
I can now randomly take photos of them in a forest whenever I feel like it. I have couple pfs on me every day just in case of this happening
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unproduciblesmackdown · 10 months ago
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youtube
skinamarble hornets, i was like i hope my favorite skinamascene has been uplomarinked on youtube....reminds me of that season one marble hornets entry that's the First House Visit and how i saw it described somewhere as like "absolutely nothing happens, & it's terrifying" & it reminds me of the torment of watching as the series was released & Every Time something came out, no matter what happened in like setting, atmosphere, plot, scares, there'd be someone going "ugh another Nothing entry" over the most crucial &/or enjoyable shit so long as it didn't feature [& he's cookin hot dogs on the stove???] & didn't feature it like every other minute for good measure. as though a format that is predictable, like the promise of the same kind of scene in the same intervals of timing, would actually be scary or at all interesting. shoutout to these the entries, or even intervals of time within entries, where "absolutely nothing happens" and it's called suspense in knowing it Could, tension in an unsafe, uneasy, unsettling situation in the meantime, & then also potential followup recontextualization that only creates more tension for later similar material. ("absolutely nothing" happens (of course, actually, things happen, but) in the skinamarink scene save for the literal last few seconds when the "jumpscare" is a very brief change in audio & visuals which is neither actually that loud nor like showing anything scary(tm) (technically a la marble hornets i think people say you can like see an arm extend for a nanosecond but i never catch it if so lol) but rather hits at all because of 8 minutes of suspense & tension & Nothing Happening But It Could) (also bravely standing up like "it's fine that skinamarink has some jumpscares, including the obvious few even jumpier than this" like who cares if it's "easy" necessarily & also that Knowing such startlement can happen ramps up the tension even when it didn't, but it could've. like so)
#finally some Yeah Yayyy (horror i've seen that wasn't [all the stuff where at this point i may as well not even say i like horror])#i kind of do in the sense that i go Wheee at enjoyable [aaa tension aaa gripping the handlebars] like so. & some ppl don't#& that the genre can obviously express fun interesting things. skinamarink e.g. is one of the really few things where like#plenty of people can go ''so my avg tuesday as a four year old'' Like Me when you really don't see it portrayed well hardly at all#other like ''oh nooo the experience of child abuse'' in horror or in Anything is like. head in hands scream (not in a good way)#this has both the like often literal physical perspective of small children. the metaphorical perspective of small children#(like even if one's parents were Fine & not as much an omnipotent haunting temperamental presence either awol or insistently toying w/you#were you not likely stuck in a Living Space unless & until whichever adult you were landed with; tossup re: malice levels towards you;#decided to bring you out of it (or you had Official Transit somewhere like for school) & Even Then. stuck living with adult guardian#until legal adulthood anyways which Is literal multiple [live your Entire Life over again]s away when you're very small. & even then like#people generally can't actually up & Escape the instant they're eighteen. but anyways the One Zillion Years [Killing You] Loop applies#metaphorically. & the [Killing You] Loop Just B/c Someone Can applies to plenty of situations ppl aren't four but still lack power#anyways re: this specific clip my favorite element probably of this favorite scene are the perfectly quiet Technically Unthreatening audio#where the seeming parent voice is not Loud but is suddenly a) inexplicably close by & b) too Almost playful already#almost singsong; feeling just a tiny bit too slow. like that makes it Intrusive in this way & entirely unsettling & ominous lol. dissonant#& aptly resonates with [yeah i've had similar very young nightmaresque scenarios. about being called by parent figures]#apt when it's like & yeah growing up in the heck dimension trying to deal by fending for yourself or nervously catering to the entities#is like yes it's obviously The Horrors & it's also The Comedy (enough of the same thing)#also apt when the inspiration & evoked Experience is meant to be truly surreal. dream formatting#limited visuals in scope & depth & clarity; moving from one place or view to another without usual Logics of progression there. yolo#next favorite bit is the very end. avoiding having faces shown so much & then one as the only thing you see but very out of focus#and then nothing happens lol thee end. but you hold your breath peel off the armrests anyways! phone bit is great too. efficient#anyways still a hater over MH complainers ''ohh nothing happened oohh more trees'' like yeah yeah i'm sure you could pare it down#i'm sure you could pare down [looking at a wall] shots in skinamarink but who cares. It's Fine As Is & shaving it down risks ruining it#Youtube
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thanergetic-hyperlinks · 7 months ago
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Tamsyn Muir's writing beyond The Locked Tomb
Y'all, turns out there's lots of imagery and themes in TLT that Muir was already playing with in her earlier fiction. A lot of it is easily available online, in which case I'll link to it. (The short stories that aren't can also be easily read if googled, to be quite honest—that's how I read The Deepwater Bride and Why the Mermaids Left Boralus). • The House That Made the Sixteen Loops of Time (2011)
5K. Short sort-of-cozy romance (?) with (you guessed it) a time travel loop. Explores a very queer potential relationship. CamPal enjoyers might find a similar sweetness.
• The Magician's Apprentice (2012, Lightspeed Magazine)
5K. This is the one that stopped me dead on my tracks. It features an older, male mentor figure called John (a “very ordinary man” with “dark eyes”) who introduces the young, female main character to magic that has a terrible cost—and to literature such as Lolita. This excellent post by @familyabolisher does an incredible job of analyzing the very deliberate intertextual links between TLT and Lolita.
• The Woman in the Hill (2015, Lightspeed Magazine, originally for Dreams From the Witch House anthology of Lovecraftian horror by women)
4K. Possibly my favorite! It's a straightforward Lovecraftian horror, centered on the image of the woman (is it human though?) trapped in an unnatural pool inside a cursed cave. Chain imagery too. It does something different from Alecto, mind, but you can see links, ways of playing with facets of a strong central image. It's fun to consider how reliable the two narrators are. Here's an analysis and afterthought from Reactor Mag.
• Chew (2013) 4K. Zombie abuse and cannibalistic revenge story ft. an uncanny woman revenant, told from the eyes of a traumatized German boy. I was strongly reminded of Harrow's conversations with the Body. Tamsyn gave an interview on the themes and her intentions. Interesting to read in light of Alecto, I think, although I don't think she's going the same route in TLT: “the idea of post-war rebuilding connecting to rebuilding the body of the zombie; a Frankenstein who once rebuilt doesn’t act as planned or desired. […] I love cannibalism […] it’s innately spiritual […] any afterlife she goes to, he’s going too.”
• Apothecia (2014, published on Tumblr and tapas.io)
Short webcomic where an alien monster tries to corrupt the ruthless human girl who holds it captive. Musings on responsibility and murder, mention of child abuse. The alien's speech patterns remind me of a Resurrection Beast. You get wonderful dialogue like “Murder is a profession. Job. Employment, you tiny leg dog. There you are, walking along. Walk walk walk. Now you are a walker. Good job. Special child. Murder is like this.” Art by Shelby Cragg.
• The Deepwater Bride (2015, Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine)
The opening line is: “In the time of our crawling Night Lord's ascendancy, foretold by exodus of starlight into his sucking astral wounds, I turned sixteen and received Barbie's Dream Car.” Need I say more? Extremely fun. A novelette where a young queer girl from a clairvoyant family struggles with an apocalyptic event while being annoyed by another very plucky girl. Lots of descriptions with nerdy marine zoology terms. Close in tone to Gideon. In the background, someone dies EXACTLY like that one death at the end of Gideon, which makes me wonder what happened to make Tamsyn interested in this particular image. I also liked that Tamsyn is aware of Nightwish. No link, but you'll get a PDF immediately if you Google.
• Union (2015, Clarkesworld Magazine)
5.5K. Very weird, extremely Kiwi story about a town that gets sent lab-grown wives by the government, but they're not made the usual way so they're Weird and people have feelings about it. Fascinating and eerie description of non-human (in some people's eyes, sub-human) women (?) who cannot be observed to have recognizable feelings or thoughts, yet have some sort of inner life. Quite touching, very uncanny.
• Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower (2020)
Short novel (~200 pages). Very funny. I was reminded of Coronabeth because the whole plot is “princess finds herself branching out into decidedly non-princess-like activities”, but other than that—this is a fairytale for adults about people who make eachother worse. No particular links to TLT but a very fun read with some gut punches. Extremely Tamsyn through and through, what with the dubious morality and all.
• Why the Mermaids Left Boralus (2021, in Folk & Fairy Tales of Azeroth by Blizzard Entertainment)
Set in the World of Warcraft universe. Haven't read this one yet, will report back lmao. As with The Deepwater Bride, no link but I easily found a PDF of the entire compilation. It's illustrated!
• Undercover (2022, from Into Shadow, Amazon Original Collection)
Haven't read it either. Will edit once I do.
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januaryembrs · 11 months ago
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I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]
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GIF by fightingdragonswithwho
decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone
word count: 17.5k
warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.
author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.
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‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,
I might just be in la la la la la love’
The one with the revenge.
“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck. 
“Only if they have evidence,”  Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins. 
Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth. 
“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark. 
“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.
She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss. 
She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won. 
Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long. 
And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another. 
David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him. 
Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another. 
“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section. 
They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing. 
“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer. 
“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle. 
Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.
Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so. 
He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab. 
“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face. 
“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore. 
If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on. 
-
Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her. 
“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”
“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.  
“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?” 
“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,” 
Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”
The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer. 
He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love. 
Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch. 
He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen. 
“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”
“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”
Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years. 
Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks. 
Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted. 
Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.
Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer. 
He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried. 
He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless. 
“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.
He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.
“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear. 
He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set. 
“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now. 
Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office. 
“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so. 
And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him. 
Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.
2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.
She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently. 
“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness. 
“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?” 
He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.
Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances. 
“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance. 
“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so. 
She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself. 
“You’re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms. 
“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it. 
“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking. 
“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried. 
She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,” 
He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”
“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this. 
“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?” 
“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”
He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.
She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other. 
“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children. 
She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material. 
He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do. 
Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him. 
He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on. 
Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke. 
“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”
“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”
Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to. 
“...Shit,”
“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.
“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered. 
Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had. 
“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out. 
“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom. 
Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit. 
Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”
“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?” 
“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”
Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy. 
After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time,  Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer. 
The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.
Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-
A window. A window. That was it. 
Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough. 
Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself. 
As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze. 
Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall. 
Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror. 
A beat of silence passed between them. 
“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding. 
“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?” 
“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things. 
Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?” 
“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!” 
And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car. 
Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.
Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that. 
“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head. 
“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead. 
Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights. 
“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror. 
“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual. 
He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips. 
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing. 
“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-”  Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,” 
He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really. 
He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become. 
“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”
“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,” 
He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more. 
“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman. 
And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep. 
And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died. 
3. The one with the fake boyfriend.
Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen. 
Because it was their room now. Not just his. 
She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work. 
It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-
He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?” 
“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light. 
His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror. 
His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.
Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”
Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth. 
“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.
“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.
“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that. 
“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”
Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”
“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”
His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”
“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”
“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”
“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”
“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.
“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations. 
“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.
The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.
“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.
“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life. 
If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.
Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.
“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.
“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap. 
“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.
“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression. 
“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant. 
She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that. 
“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,” 
Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands. 
“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it. 
���Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”
He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin. 
“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room. 
“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more. 
“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step. 
“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer. 
“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.
He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date. 
“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them. 
“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after. 
He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second. 
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”
But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime. 
He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus. 
And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry. 
“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat. 
“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more. 
“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,” 
“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet. 
“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,” 
“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?” 
“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”
There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly. 
And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details. 
“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations. 
And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely. 
“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”
“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”
Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,” 
“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head. 
And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend. 
God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over. 
Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego. 
But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her. 
His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh. 
“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?” 
Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker. 
4. The one where someone finds out.
“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.
“Oh, of course!  I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,” 
Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”
Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,” She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?” 
Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together. 
Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams? 
Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay. 
It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly  if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree. 
She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked. 
She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be. 
Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”
Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork. 
“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz. 
“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,” 
“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.
“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?” 
Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,” 
Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact. 
“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”
Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.
 “What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase. 
“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic. 
“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,” 
‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care. 
Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day. 
Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,” 
Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed. 
If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her. 
“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”
“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off. 
Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”
“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving. 
“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light. 
Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”
And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.
She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes. 
Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.
His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it. 
“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created. 
Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her. 
Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking. 
And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk. 
It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious. 
“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless. 
And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate. 
Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman. 
“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.
“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-” 
“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.
This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.
But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field. 
And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye. 
“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”
“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”
“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman. 
“Pen, I’ll explain-”
“But you- YOU!” 
“Shhh!” 
“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,” 
JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down. 
“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.
“You don’t wanna know,”
“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly. 
“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast. 
“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-” 
“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,” 
Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes. 
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”
If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again. 
“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze. 
“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home. 
“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden. 
“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”
“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,” 
They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.
Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,” 
Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,” 
Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.
“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”
And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul. 
Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast. 
Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate. 
“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair. 
“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,” 
And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was. 
5. The one where he gets shot.
“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,” 
“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp. 
Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,” 
She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step. 
So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders. 
She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd. 
She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it. 
Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public. 
So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.
And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster. 
His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met. 
I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you. 
“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”
“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..” 
Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 
“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now. 
“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,” 
Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.
“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!” 
There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her. 
“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,” 
Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?
“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.” 
She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly. 
“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her. 
“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her. 
Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub. 
He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of. 
Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy. 
Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently. 
“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”
Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.
Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.
“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line. 
Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.
Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid. 
“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her. 
Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay. 
“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?” 
“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,” 
“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,” 
Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders. 
“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword. 
She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-
“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first. 
She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face. 
Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.  
She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse. 
“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip. 
It was going to be a long night. 
Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice. 
He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery. 
Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. 
She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it. 
“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”
She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him. 
“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”
“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,” 
It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same. 
Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew. 
“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”
“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”
“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”
Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly. 
“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,” 
Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile. 
He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?” 
Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had. 
+1. The one where they tell everyone
She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast. 
Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend. 
And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer. 
And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least. 
She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor. 
She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be. 
“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”
But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing. 
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain. 
And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers. 
Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him. 
She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle. 
“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.
He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending. 
--
@release-your-sweets s @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal l @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3
@rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover r @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @green_vita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @splatteredpurplepaint
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chaosherald · 29 days ago
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A Word with Friends
Avarice (Excessive or inordinate desire of gain; greed for wealth)
Hosted by @hedwigoprah
Thank you @woundedsoul12 for the tag! Friendly no pressure tags for @seaglassmelody @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @davrinsleftpectoral @jukkaricity @dags-over-caravans @kabsey @serstolas (and anyone else <3)
This was inspired by a post from @madamemortem, reblogged by and commented on by @void-bitten-ghost about the gooseberry pie conversation with Lucanis when he is romancing Neve and what the flip side of that might have looked like if he is romancing Rook. Thank you for the inspiration!
(In this house, we went the Rookanis route but we love and respect Neve Gallus and what she means to both Lucanis and Rook. 💕)
Market trips with Lucanis were generally an efficient affair. The man shopped with a purpose, a neatly annotated list, and an intimate knowledge of the Treviso market. Neve had agreed to go with him assuming today's endeavor would be brisk. A nice little break from her pile of notes. A chance to clear her head and stretch her legs and exchange sardonic observations with her friend.
Instead, she was stuck waiting while a master assassin agonized over his selection of produce, watching the sun climb higher in the sky and feeling every bit of the time that passed coming directly out of the work she needed to get done that afternoon.
Sideling up to Lucanis, Neve looped her arm through his. “Alright. You have been vacillating between different fruits for far too long. I know I'm not an authority on what meets your standards, but you're clearly in need of a second opinion. What are you stuck on?”
Lucanis grumbled, glancing at Neve before looking back at the paper in his hand. Following his gaze, Neve saw it wasn't one of his fastidiously planned lists, but a recipe. “Oh, trying something new are we?” she asked.
“Perhaps. I am second guessing myself.” Lucanis spoke quickly, like he needed to get the words out of his mouth before they ran off. “Does Rook like lemon?”
Neve blinked slowly. “Lemon?”
“In a sweet preparation. Like a pastry. I know this will go well with the tea she has been favoring, but I'm not sure…”
And now Lucanis was intentionally not meeting her eye. Evasive, tenser than usual. And Neve was pretty sure it wasn't the angle of the sun adding some color to his face. She grinned, shifting the arm still looped through his to elbow his side. “Oooh. You're planning something special for Rook. Well, isn't that a twist on the case we've all seen coming.”
Lucanis looked upward, seeking divine intervention or still avoiding her eyes. Probably both. “It's a foolish idea, I shouldn’t…”
“You should.” Neve interjected. 
Lucanis ignored her, folding up the recipe. “I shouldn't. It complicates things. It's…”
Neve plucked the recipe out of his hand, opening it and looking it over. “Clearly, it is the very soul of avarice, to want something nice, something a little selfish, for once in your life. Something Rook clearly wants too.”
Now he looked at her, eyes a little wider than normal. “Please tell me we haven't been that obvious.”
“Oh, you have, if one knows what they're looking for.” Neve patted him on the shoulder. “Moot point though. Taash and Harding got Rook talking last time they took her drinking at the Hilt. Half the Lords of Fortune know where she stands.”
“Mierda.”
“And lets see. Bellara told me keeping her mouth shut when she's around you two is causing her physical pain.” Neve started looking over lemons, placing some in their basket. “Davrin has assumed brotherly duties and teases Rook about the two of you whenever you aren't around. I also caught the tail end of Emmrich and Rook discussing the ethics of consent when two entities are sharing a body just the other day.”
Lucanis looked slightly mortified. He also replaced several of the lemons Neve had picked up with ones that met his ridiculous standards. “In this one thing, Spite is not part of the problem.”
“Fair. He has been pretty keen on Rook from the get go. I shouldn't be encouraging you though. We have a bet going. If you wait another month, I'll cut you in on my take.”
Lucanis looked at her, his expression slipping into the dangerously intense stare he used to intimidate targets and to make really sure he wasn't revealing actual feelings to anyone.
“Joking. Mostly.” Neve handed him back the recipe. “There's a baker in Docktown who makes Orlesian style pastries. Rook got one of the lemon ones last time we were there and said it was the kind of thing she used to buy in Nevarra when she had the chance. The tart’s a good choice.”
Lucanis looked at her a moment more then nodded, turning away to pay the vendor for the fruit. He gathered up their purchases and they both started walking back through the market.  When Lucanis spoke again he sounded almost calm, with just the tiniest hitch giving away his nerves. “Do you really think she'll like it?”
“Rook is a giant sap with a sweet tooth. She'll love it. Just make sure you actually talk to her after bringing out the baked goods. I'll discreetly clear the room for you two after dinner.”
“Thank you, Neve.”
“Sure. Least I can do. Just try not to get overly sentimental with each other in public once you figure things out. I like seeing my friends happy, but I have my limits on sap.”
Lucanis smiled slightly. “I don't think I have ever been accused of being overly sentimental.”
Neve rolled her eyes, but knew she wasn't entirely hiding her smile. “Only because most people don't pay attention.”
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cyberrose2001 · 23 days ago
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Life in Metallic, It's Fantastic - Part 1/2
TFA Arcee x gn!human!reader x Ratchet
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whoa, it's an x-reader pairing I've been wanting to write for a really long time whoa... this one is also for @robot-horde, since we both share the same desire to be a sugar baby for these two old folks. part 2 will be smut so watch out for that!
Warnings: Sugar Dating, Size Difference, Xenophillia, Alcohol Mention, Fluff
Word Count: 1,513
"Ya look lovely, sweetspark. Don't you worry about it." Ratchet stops just by the doors of the bar? Club? Who knows. All you've been told is that your partners are very well-known here. It's clear when the bouncer only gives him and Arcee a nod, but not without a curious glance towards you, allowing passage past the lineup of bots itching to get in.
"Yeah, pumpkin," Arcee loops an arm around Ratchets, tugging him closer, "If I were to place any bets, you're gonna be the prime article here tonight."
And the prime article you are. Sitting on Ratchet's shoulder closest to Arcee, you're bound to get noticed sooner or later, especially with this rather tight-fitting double-slit dress. Adorned with glittering accessories to compliment. You don't even want to know how much Shanix both forked out for you.
"You think so?" You blush, brushing your lap nervously with your hands. Suddenly, one of the seams of your dress looks really interesting, "Surely not; I'm hardly on anyone's radar in that regard. If anything, I stick out like a sore thumb."
"A sore thumb, you say?" Ratchet turns his helm with a playful look in his optics, "Kid, if there's somethin' you need to know about this place, it's that it's crammed full of bots who would pluck you from our servos and whisk you away if given a chance."
"Honey!" Arcee nudges him softly before quirking an optic ridge when he laughs. She ignores him, gently picking you up from his shoulder, "Don't worry, sweetie, that will never happen here. You're safe with us."
Your confused look is noticeable, now sitting in Arcee's comfortable servo. Surely, he was joking. In a whole club full of Cybertonians far more grand and gorgeous than you, you're finding it hard to believe that you're eye candy. You feel more like the piece of old gum stuck under somebots pede. Mildly noticeable, yet no one wants to touch it. Perhaps that's why the bouncer was looking at you weirdly. You're too... bizarre-looking.
Then again, you've become a human sugar baby for two Cybertronians. Quite famous ones at that. If anything, that would seem stranger to anyone who even thinks about this kind of interspecies relationship for even a second.
Approaching the bar, Ratchet greets the bartender and asks to open a tab. He turns to Arcee, leaning against the bar, "A drink for my sweet?"
"A quart of Visco, please, honey," Arcee looks to you, a seldom frown on her faceplate, "I'm sorry there's nothing here for you to drink, sweetspark. The bots may not discriminate, but the bar does."
"It's alright, I don't mind." You lean into her thumb, nuzzling it with your face, "I'm here with the two best partners I could ever ask for; that's all that matters."
Arcee's sympathetic frown turns into a soft grin, her thumb pressing lovingly against your cheek, "You're too cute."
"They sure are," A gruff voice comes from behind you both. Turning around, a small crowd of bots of varying shapes and sizes have formed, "For an organic. What species are they?"
You feel the blood drain from your face, mouth slightly agape as you're eyeballed head to toe with multiple sets of optics. You almost feel like looking around to double-check that they're talking to you. Arcee, who looks like she's about to secretly enjoy this, gives you another soft nudge before engaging them.
"Oh! They're a human." Arcee begins, gently curling her digits around you, "Native to Earth. Tiny 'lil planet, with equally tiny beings."
Mutters and whispers ensue between them, and you suddenly feel very tiny. They're definitely talking about you. Deciding to go non-verbal for a moment, you let Arcee converse with them, holding onto her thumb for a bit of comfort.
"Alright, here's yer visco," a familiar voice returns, making you sigh in relief as Ratchet interrupts her, handing her the glass filled with the alluring, glowing liquid. He sees the crowd of bots, a slight smirk playing on his dermas, "Excuse me for a moment, young bots."
You turn to face him. Instead, you're slightly taken aback as he leans down to your ear, "I got ya somethin' sweetspark," pulling back slightly, he presses a cold can of coke into your hands, "Hope ya like it," He then presses a quick kiss to your cheek, as you're staring down the can of coke.
"Ratchet, how-" You babble, struggling to find the words. You haven't had something as simple as a can of coke in a long time, "How did you get this?"
"I've got my ways," Ratchet stands upright again and shoots you a wink, which hits directly to your core. He turns towards the group again, eyeing off the starving bots, "Looks like we have an audience."
You turn back and see dumbfounded looks on their faceplates. Some stared in awe, and some blushed profusely. You find yourself blushing at the attention, too, taking a swig of your coke to distract yourself.
"So, Ratchet, Arcee. How'd you pick up something so cute?" A bot tilts their helm curiously, optics wandering down your figure to the slit of your dress, which has hiked itself up your thigh considerably, "If I had somethin' that pretty hanging off me, well, I'd be the happiest bot on Cybertron."
The pair of optics subconsciously causes your hands to reach for the dress; however, Ratchet nudges your hand away and fixes your dress for you, and you fight the urge to blush as his fingertips graze over your skin a bit too slowly. At that touch, he deems it's his turn to hold you and picks you up to sit on his shoulder as he rattles off your origin story, wrapping a loving arm around Arcees' waist.
"They get everything they want, don't cha Sweetspark? 'Course, there are the essential items required to please 'em, like clean water, organic food, soft furnishings, all that sorta stuff. Had ta get them imported from Earth."
The bots nod like they're taking mental notes. They ask questions about you indirectly, which makes you feel like you truly are an untouchable exotic show pet. You're still unsure about how you feel. Still, the unexpected attention and praise from these strangers, who are positively gushing over you, start to make you feel all warm and fuzzy. They're not recoiling in disgust, as you thought they would; they're genuinely intrigued and yearning for something like you. And the way Ratchet and Arcee talk about you so lovingly and carefully gives you major butterflies.
You sip your drink patiently as the conversation goes on for what seems like an hour, and eventually end up leaning on Ratchets' helm, to which the bots all immediately coo. You shy away, not entirely expecting that reaction from just leaning on Ratchet.
"Aww, just look at them! They look so cute when they're all affectionate like that."
"I have to get myself one; I bet they're nice and warm to cuddle with."
Arcee chuckles when she sees you, "Yeah, they certainly are," she gives Ratchet a knowing look, believing you to be a bit over the crowd, "Though, I think they're getting a bit tired; they're not used to this much attention all at once."
"Yeap, I think so. It's getting late, anyhow. I apologise, folks; humans need adequate rest to function properly," Ratchet scoops you up and seats you on his servo, placing your empty can on the bar. "C'mon, sweet thing, let's head home."
Both Arcee and Ratchet bid their farewells to the group of bots, who longingly wave back. Ratchet pays the tab and nods a quick thank you. He grips onto Arcees' servo as they weave through dancing patrons and drunk locals towards the exit. They nod to security, and the doors open to a cool night. Ratchet holds you a little tighter to keep you from shivering.
Contrary to what your lovers said, you weren't really that tired. You softly pat on Ratchets' chassis, and he looks down with those soft, weary optics.
"You could've stayed; you were both having a good time."
Ratchet glances at Arcee, who also smiles down at you, "Ya looked tired, didn't wanna wear you out on your first night out in Cybertron."
"Yeah, hun. Besides," Arcee moves in to pinch your cheek softly, to which you giggle softly, "All that talk of your squishiness really made me wanna get out of there and love all up on you."
You flutter your eyes shut as you feel Ratchet pet and ruffle your hair with his thumb. You can't believe how lucky you are. To be on a foreign planet where the epitome of beauty is chrome, you feel like gold. To have two wonderful and loving partners who love you for who you are, even when you feel so small, who treat you right when no one else would. You've certainly hit the jackpot in life, and nothing could convince you otherwise. You smile warmly to yourself, leaning into his chassis as they begin their stroll towards home.
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catscraftsandcommentary · 5 months ago
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So I'm trying to teach myself crochet from a book, and I'm like...you have SIX main stitches, not including "do I skip a stitch when I connect to the prev row? Do I put 2 stitches into the same stitch of the prev row?" (AKA "how to decrease or increase your stitches.")
Knitting has TWO. (3 if you include cast ons, which you ONLY use at the beginning.) And they're precise opposites (mirror images) of each other.
(Knitting increases are "make 2 stitches in prev row's stitch," [knit-front-back], "insert needle into yarn between stitches" [make 1], or "wrap yarn between stitches" [yarn over], and decreases are "insert needle into TWO stitches." So I guess those can count too.)
Knitting:
Knit (hold yarn behind, insert needle bottom-to-top, bring yarn to front between needles, pull through loop)
Purl (hold yarn in front, insert needle top-to-bottom, bring yarn to back between needles, pull through loop)
Crocheting:
Chain: wrap yarn, pull through 1 loop
Slip: pick up stitch, wrap yarn, pull through 2 loops
Single: pick up stitch, wrap yarn, pull through 1 loop, (wrap yarn, pull through 2 loops) x1
Half Double: wrap yarn, pick up stitch, pull through 1 loop, wrap yarn, pull through *3* loops
Double: wrap yarn, pick up stitch, (wrap yarn, pull through 2 loops) x2
Triple/Treble: wrap yarn 2 times, pick up stitch, (wrap yarn, pull through 2 loops) x3
Chain stitch - like a yarn over for knitting - doesn't connect to the previous row and therefore makes a little hole. Very useful for lacy designs! Slip, single, half double, double, and triple make progressively taller stitches.
I mean, I guess crochet's stitches are chain vs single, and then variations (expansions) of single, the way that knitting is knit vs purl, and then variations of those.
But still. Grumble grumble grumble, why is it so hard, mutter mutter mutter.
And, like literally ALL OF LIFE, the farther you dig into a subject, the more tiny subsidivisions and specializations people have made. Surface-level is easy. Expert level is CRAZY.
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fairyhaos · 2 years ago
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how seventeen react to their s/o's grandma hobbies
requested by anon!
masterlist
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seungcheol
my man goes bird watching with you. does he get a little embarrassed when you deck out in full bird-watching gear and peer through your binoculars at the trees while making fascinated noises? yeah, but he also finds it rather endearing. knows nothing about birds, and doesn't even try learning bc he knows he'll be hopeless at it anyway, so he's sitting next to you for hours with no clue what's going on. but at the end of it, you're packing up with a bright beam on your face, delighted that cheol came with you, and honestly it makes it all so, so worth it
jeonghan
see, here's the thing. he's not allowed to tease you for your countless puzzles, and you're not allowed to tease him for his countless lego sets. it's a mutual agreement. sometimes, you'll have days where you both sit down with your respective crafts, poring over them individually, sometimes with music on, often in silence. and then jeonghan will bring up some interesting thing he heard the other day, and the both of you will start gossiping like old ladies (or teenage girls?) the entire time, and honestly, those times are the highlights of your day
joshua
he's banned from using your yarn or your knitting needles for anything ever, because one time he somehow stabbed your couch cushions and shredded them to bits. (you're still now sure how that happened. he won't tell you.) but sometimes, he'll see you knitting in bed and smile, before slipping off somewhere and returning with his guitar, and those are the softest nights that remain ingrained in your memory, where you knit stupidly tiny socks for joshua and he serenades you with 'sunday morning' on loop
junhui
honestly, he's just utterly fascinated. several of your cross-stitching projects are stored in the fancy glass cabinet in your living room, and sometimes you'll catch him staring at them when he thinks you're in your room, wide-eyed in wonder. he saw you making all of these pieces, saw you make every single one of those stitches, but he's still so amazed at how beautiful the end product is. you gifted him an intricate piece of a moon and flowers for his birthday, and he still calls it the most precious thing he owns
hoshi
this man takes your collection of tiny european spoons very seriously. seungkwan teases him, saying that you've turned him into a grandma too, but he ignores the younger guy because your spoons are important to you, so they're important to him too. polishes them for you when you're away. asks for updates on your spoons while he's away on tour. helps name each and every spoon, and when he comes back from going abroad, he greets you with a grin and a kiss and a new spoon for your collection
wonwoo
??? he's so confused bc your gardening hobby does Not sound very grandma-ish to him, no matter what you say. you were initially rather awkward, very shy when telling him that you really loved gardening, but he supports u and thinks that it's such a nice hobby. wonwoo has very un-green fingers, so he always watches you tend to your garden from a good few feet away, but he can't help but smile at how earnestly you work, beaming so brightly the entire time and it's so obvious how much you love gardening
woozi
he never sees you do sudokus unless you're sitting on the couch in his studio, biting your nail and waiting for him to finish up so you can go home together. he just thinks it's really sweet, actually, and the idea of you doing the sudoku while he's agonising over his latest composition is something that he can't think of for too long because then he gets distracted by how adorable he thinks that is. you've fallen asleep over your sudoku too many times to count, and when you wake up, woozi feigns innocence to how your latest grid has suddenly magically filled itself
minghao
drinking tea isn't a fucking grandma hobby, kwon soonyoung, it's called being educated. both of you like drinking tea, going through tea ceremonies when you're both exhausted, taste testing different types of tea and commenting on the different notes and fragrances you can taste from them. he met you while on a tea tour around asia, and since then, the two of you just clicked so well, and he loves sipping sakura tea in the evenings and reminiscing on your first meeting, all those years ago
mingyu
fucking!! loves!! everything you knit for him!! the socks you knitted for him are his fluffiest sleeping socks. he Only wears the scarf you knitted for him during the winter months. one time, you gifted him a knitted sweater for his birthday and it instantly became his statement piece that he wore everywhere until it finally grew too threadbare and you had to make him a new one. the gentle clacking of your knitting needles on a saturday evening is the most relaxing sound in the world, and he's fallen asleep on your shoulder while you knit countless times
dokyeom
he has, admittedly, fallen asleep more than a handful of times while sitting next to you on the sofa as you indulge in your guilty pleasure: tv shows on antiques. he understands that it's something you find very fascinating and very interesting, but ten minutes in his eyes are getting droopy but nonono baby he's not falling asleep! he's just gonna… rest… his eyes… but then he eventually ends up dozing on your shoulder. he likes listening to you talk about your favourite episodes, though, the fondness colouring his lips as you gesture animatedly, eyes bright
seungkwan
the highlight of his sunday morning is sitting at the table with two cups of coffee ready, twiddling his thumbs and staring out of the window, waiting for you to burst in through the front door, coming back from your daily walk with the newspaper in your hands and slamming the crossword down in front of him. he loves poring over them with you, and sure, maybe he teases you about this very grandma-like hobby, but you tease him back because he's literally here doing them with you, isn't he? 
vernon
supports you in your dream to own all of the most grandma-style cardigans in the entire world. that's it. he has no other opinion. he's pretty chill with it, and don't listen to what minghao says,babe, 'cause he personally thinks that the purple and orange zigzag cardigan with aquamarine dots is the most stylish cardigan of your entire collection. sometimes unironically steals your cardigans to wear himself, because they're all so soft and so comfy and they smell like you so when he's at work, he can feel like you're there with him too <3
chan
you swear, your tomato plants love your boyfriend more than they love you, their actual owner. ever since you admitted to your boyfriend that you have a part of an allotment where you grow various fruits and veg, he's come to visit your babies and honestly, you've never seen your tomatoes flourishing as much as they are right now. does he think you're like an elderly person for tending so solemnly to some plants? yeah. but he can't exactly talk, because he loves your plants, and you two literally have skits where you pretend to be an elderly couple literally every day, so it's nothing out of the ordinary at all
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salemoleander · 2 years ago
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BigB brings a pickaxe down against the soft limestone. It's not dirt, or loam, or even sand, but it makes him think of a burrow. Something safe to hide in.
He knows he's acting strangely, knows the others didn't all beeline to complete their tasks. But the second he opened that letter anxiety wound up his spine, like seaweed ready to pull him under. So, y'know. Might as well deal with it now? He keeps digging.
Digging and saying hi to Scar and being mean to Scar so he leaves and digging and digging. The prickling fear under his skin only abates once he's well underground, in the coolness. Not 'all the way down' yet, but the tension in chest eases.
Finally, some measure of peace. BigB supposes the 'and quiet' has been there the whole time, and he laughs quietly at his own joke. Leans against the wall at the bottom of the pit to rest. He's tired and achy and a tiny bit mad. Of course his task would make him miss out on the chance for allies. Well, maybe if he keeps–
A ghostly hand swats past his head, nails sharp and flesh see-through.
BigB whips to the side, looks around, again, again, and sees nothing. Just faint dust motes and occasional grains of sand falling from above.
It's not even cold? Or whatever ghosts are supposed to make happen, he's not sure.
Sighing, BigB says, "If you're here to kill me, can you at least make it entertaining, man? This task sucks."
His voice bounces and echoes strangely off the stone around him. Nothing responds.
He gives a forced laugh, lowers his head, and keeps digging.
His peace is interrupted not too many minutes later, after he's clambered back to the top to gather more wood for picks. BigB hears footsteps, and then Grian slides the last few blocks down an incline of sand into the cave.
Grian grins at him. BigB smiles back, slow and easy. Last game they'd ended allies, and that has helped a lot to loosen tensions. Still not interested in a day 1 alliance, though. Doubt submerged in friendliness, he greets Grian and asks what he's up to.
"Just bouncing around! Day 1, you know how it is." Grian seems energized, a bit furtive– normal Grian stuff. He looks past BigB, and an indent appears between his eyebrows. "Uh, what's with the hole, B?"
He has a defensive answer lined up, something circuitous and confusing about Jimmy and broken mineshaft generation and new stripmining techniques. Can't let anyone know your secret, after all; even if Grian's sly smile indicates he's probably just going to joke a bit and let it go.
Instead, BigB opens his mouth, and the words that crawl out are, "I don't know, G, where do the tasks come from?"
It's not a question that makes sense, not really. The tasks don't have to come from anywhere! BigB may just be overthinking it, or underthinking it, or something. And he shouldn't have even said that, because it might be giving away his task. Why did he say that?
There's a fire behind the words, anger that scrapes and burns on its way out. He's not sure why that's there either.
Color high on his cheeks, Grian says, "I'm not sure, er– not sure, yeah."
BigB knows he's lying. To be fair, he thinks most people could tell Grian was lying– he's not very good at doing it on the spot.
The smells of acrid smoke and dirt and sea-salt are there and then gone. His hand tremors; he tucks it through a belt loop.
Tasks don't have to come from anywhere, except these aren't just tasks: they're secrets. This game would be called Task Life, or Goal Life, or something, if that was the important thing. He knows how careful Grian is with his words (words like safe and soulmate and mine, all used to very particular definitions).
BigB is familiar with what being one of Grian's secrets feels like. The letter in his pocket feels like a friend. He decides not to ask any more questions, because he's not sure what will come out.
"Okay, just gonna cook some fish, and then I'll be out of your hair." Grian steps past him and hunkers down in front of the furnace. BigB feels a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. He looks away.
When he looks back, he startles. Scar is right next to Grian, looming by his side.
Except this isn't Scar as he'd seen him earlier, standing around in a circle. BigB locks eyes with this other Scar, his eyes beady-bright crimson and set into a face wrapped in bandages. His hooded cloak is purple and embroidered, threads hanging ragged at the edges. The fabric around his neck is dark.
Slowly, movements jerky, Scar holds up a single bony finger in front of his mouth.
BigB's eyes flick down to Grian's back- does he not notice, in his periphery? Is he just ignoring this? Should he say something?
When he looks back up, the spectre is gone.
Standing in uncharacteristic silence, he awkwardly waits for Grian to collect the rest of his fish. Grian, happy to cause problems on purpose but allergic to tension he isn't the cause of, quickly folds and grabs the remaining fish with an "I'll get out of your hair, then."
They shuffle together to the entrance of the cave; he really needs to get some doors going in here.
Grian turns and fixes a stare just to his side, for a moment. BigB ignores it, and finally manages to shoo Grian off. He doesn't want to know who's haunting him.
Sighing, he shifts a pick into his hand and gets back to work. BigB finishes the task quickly after that, because when he pays attention the fear guides him. This task isn't about digging deep - it's about being hunted, about burrowing, tunneling.
He finishes it and turns in the quest book, receives his rewards. Resolutely, he does not look at the spectres trailing after his friends. It's fine if he just doesn't look, right? Yeah.
The rest of the session passes in a blur. At the end, trying to hang back and keep his eyes on the middle of the statue rather than any ghosts that may or may not exist, he hears Grian share his task.
Jokes no one would laugh at. Of course.
He idly considers a task based on his experiences in the last series. Something furtive and spy-based would be fun. Maybe something frog themed?
He does not think about what secrets his lives in the other games would want to share. Those seem like a late-game thing, anyways.
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brain-in-the-stars · 16 days ago
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So, how are you feeling about Loop right now? (:
fellow anon, I wish I was exaggerating when I say Loop confuses me so much I teared up out of pure ????? last time I talked in depth about them with Lyrah. this is how bad it already got .
Loop is a complete mystery to me, way more than Sif is and I'd say that speaks a lot for itself ¯\(°_o)/¯
they're not to be underestimated! they disturb me in a very pleasant way and I love the way they haunt the narrative!! I shall recollect my thoughts about them here, taking some bits from past conversations I had with Lyrah which still apply to this day:
I don't even know where to begin because I don't know what to expect from Loop other than a very complicated relationship with Siffrin and the whole universe itself (as they seem to be a sort of manifestation of the universe). they definitely are a cosmological being, which as I see it, probably would make them a higher being
come to think of it, if the universe is considered a deity and Loop is a star, they're kind of like... an angel? they do seem to be a sort of guardian to Siffrin, after all 🤔
nonetheless, I believe they have a morally grey antagonistic role in the narrative since they can indeed be very manipulative and toxic at times, BUT I think it all seems waaay more complicated than simply "flamboyant queer coded star headed character is the big bad"
CW: ... Puella Magi Madoka Magica spoilers under the cut, although as vaguely mentioned as possible! no character names included!!
Loop kind of reminds me of a certain character from Madoka Magica (iykyk), who's also a higher magical being that seems so gracious and inoffensive at first (although clear they know too much ever since the very first moment they show up), but ends up responsible for so much of the pain and horror through the series… AND, despite everything, not just for the sake of having fun, it's related to their nature and all!
that being said, what I mean is that I don't believe Loop is doing everything they're doing for no reason, but that definitely doesn't make them less scary, unsettling or lovely- the mixed signals they give only makes them all the more intriguing and intimidating to me
what I bet is that they know VERY WELL what they're doing. they're at least a little tiny bit sadistic. they're always hiding important information on purpose. that there is something too special about Sif to them and this is an essential part of why everything's happening. I even thought, at first, that they might be the one responsible for Siffrin being stuck on the timeloops, but I don't know about that anymore... they seem to be stuck as well, but they do know so much... amkncdacmv&$!@#$@$_-
I just won't go on because I always get surprisingly lost when it comes to Loop and the conclusion always seems to be that I DON'T KNOW SHIT- but, allow me to add:
I don't doubt they can be the star Siffrin ate in the game's intro (and, for the record, that'd ruin me), or that they at least got something to do with it...
I love them, your honor. I really do
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stray-kaz · 2 years ago
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Neatly Tied With A Bow : a Dracule Mihawk x f!reader Christmas drabble
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Summary: Christmas is your anniversary with the baddest pirate around, and he uses the excuse to shower you with gifts.
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You lay sprawled across Mihawk's chest, his heartbeat humming the same tune as yours, thudding in rhythm. You were just ready to nod off when he raised your left hand to his gaze and thumbed the rings gently in a circle around your finger.
"You know, little bird" he murmured to you. "I think it's about time I gave you some more gifts."
You pushed up on his chest and looked down at his face and then your ring adorned hand. You scrunched your nose a bit and shook your head, slumping back down against him, warmly settling your naked skin over his once more.
"No" you yawned, pressing a kiss in the middle of his chest.
"No?" he repeated, surprised. "What kind of woman are you, to say no to free presents?"
You snorted.
"The kind who doesn't have an overwhelming need for lots of shiny things, Dracule."
He huffed and stroked a heavy hand down over your hair.
"Those rings I put on your finger look pretty shiny to me" he muttered, looping his fingers into your hair.
You rolled your eyes.
"I know, but they're all I need, husband" you replied dryly.
He kept pressing.
"But Christmas is our anniversary, little bird" he reminded you. "The perfect opportunity for pretty things."
You nuzzled against him, shrugging your shoulders.
"Or we could just stay in bed the whole day" you mumbled, sliding a hand over his hip.
He reached down and caught it, shaking his head at you.
"Enough" he growled. "I will buy you something you like, little bird. You have my word."
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When you woke on Christmas morning, your anniversary with Mihawk, the bed was suspiciously empty and his side was cool, barely rumpled. You frowned at it and clambered off the end of the bed, heading out to track him down.
You didn't call out, just wandered through the ship until you found him standing in front of a small mountain of perfectly wrapped gifts, his hands behind his back. You narrowed your eyes on him immediately.
"What is that?" you demanded, pointing to where his arms disappeared behind himself. "And the pile, too. What did I say?"
Mihawk smiled at you and you forced yourself to stand your ground and keep your frown in place.
"You said nothing shiny" he reminded you. "And these aren't shiny. Well, most of them, anyway. Here."
He pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a tiny black teddy faced puppy with a brilliant gold ribbon wound about his neck. Your eyes were like saucers as you slowly approached to take the puppy from him, lifting the small dog to your face and accepting tiny puppy kisses on your chin.
"Thank you" you said gratefully, walking to Mihawk and rising up onto your toes to kiss him. "I get lonely when you're gone."
He nodded.
"I know. Dagger will fix that, hopefully."
You arched an eyebrow.
"Dagger?" you repeated, eyeing the small pup. "Really?"
Mihawk shrugged at you.
"He has to have a good name. Now, the rest of your gifts await."
You huffed a little and peered round him to look.
"I said nothing -"
Mihawk held up a hand and interrupted you.
"I know you very well, little bird."
You sighed quietly and kissed Dagger's between his ears.
"What did you do?" you asked resignedly.
Mihawk grinned.
"Most of them are books."
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Merry Christmas: @writingmysanity @elizabeth-karenina
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maxdegames · 8 months ago
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Have been sick these past few days, but being unable to work is depressing so I tried to kill time by making scenes in Foundry for Fabula Ultima. I think the results are turning good so here's a breakdown (as well as links for the ressources and modules used) for people who would be interested. The basis is generaly 2 to 4 tiles to represent the background, as well as a tile used as a roof tile for the character portraits.
The sort of character portraits menu is made of different interface items from Fire Emblem Three Houses. The portraits themselves are easily swappable placeholders, these ones are from Final Fantasy War of the Visions. Each portrait has an invisible tile which opens a corresponding character sheet using Monk's active tile trigger.
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The backgrounds come from Fire Emblem Heroes. They all come already separated in several layers, and surprisingly most of them loop perfectly when it comes to overlays (such as dust or smoke) and underlays (ie. clouds, skies). They're an incredible ressource for Fabula Ultima combat screens! To have the skies and overlay move, I used Ripper's Tile Scroll module. It's super easy to use. If you have several overlays (like in the factory scene), placing the moving one between the immobile ones adds a sense of depth to the scene with very little effort.
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For the rain and the snow, it's simply using ghost's FXMaster module. The FEH backgrounds also have a few panels of snow, cherry blossom petals, flowers, motes of light, etc... I don't think they'll look as good, but some of them can have their use. In a volcanic environment, having motes of fiery lights constantly raising from the bottom of the screen to the top using tile scroll could work to denote heat.
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As for the tokens, I simply used the ones made for the quickstart by Tiny-Overlord. Flying Minotaur's portrait maker is also an incredible ressource for this kind of setup. As the name states, it can even be used to make portraits and not just token, so you could make your NPCs with it too. The mech on the left comes from Final Fantasy VI.
Have fun saving the world, adventurers!
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isat-headcanons · 2 months ago
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Alright I'm sending in my Island and Universe belief related headcanons let's go!!!
Again, spoilery spoilers.
I feel like the Island would probably have been open to visitors and would have encouraged their members to travel (this explains the decent frequency of Islander language in the House (which we can basically treat like a library for the purpose of this headcanon) and why there were Islanders that ended up elsewhere instead of being censored out by the Universe like the rest of them. The Universe leads them wherever they shall go, even outside their own borders.
Wish Craft had to have been a very common thing on the Island. Siffrin used it almost automatically prior to the loops, indicating it's a habit/almost second nature for him, and the lack of memory of learning that could link to it being a memory of the Island! They probably used Wish Craft for tons of tiny things.
I feel like, given the cloak being a very recognizable thing for the King, the only other confirmed Islander we see (beyond Loop but they don't count here) who acknowledged it as a way to identify Siffrin as being from the Island (Evidence: Act 5 King fight: "And.../Your clothes.../Aren't they..." and then immediately after that "I can tell we hail from the same country"), we can assume this cloak isn't exactly one-of-a-kind. It could be that the Islanders were really the only ones that made these kinds of clothes in large amounts, and when the Island got censored by the universe, there were only a few left and as such price went way up. Also, that means Island probably created a lot of clothing and such, so they probably exported some too. Either that, or they're the only ones who had people that could/did make that kind of cloak, but I like my idea.
I like the idea of Universe-related celebrations focusing on one or more out of the following: community (all stars are still a part of the sky; all people are still a part of the community; all things are still a part of the Universe), the vastness of things (think artworks that you can't even see the entirety of at once or something; we are but a small part in a large picture, yet we contribute to the picture all the same), and impermanence (nothing lasts forever, but it is beautiful while it lasts).
Addendum: The prior could also work into Wish Craft rituals! At the Favor Tree you take a small part of a whole (vastness), so what if you could write your wish on the sands and let waves take it away (impermanence) or something else similar? (Also if you know who I am from that specific Wish Craft ritual no you don't :D)
This is getting Long™ so I'll leave it here for now! Have fun with your wishes!
-🌸 Flower anon
Ooo!!! Yess omg. I love these. Worldbuilding headcanons are always peak
Also, not sure if you meant to send this ask twice, but I have it in my inbox two times lol, I'll delete the other one
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elwensa · 3 months ago
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OMG hatchling headcanons? maybe post loop?
maybe gabbro too?
I have another anon asking me for Gabbro Headcanons, so I'm gonna focus on Hatchy on this post!
- I headcanon Hatchling as 16-17 years old (equivalent in human years). I assume Hatchling pass the sap wine ritual between 16-20 years old.
- (I headcanon Gabbro as being in their late 20s/early 30s. I need to make an age chart at some point...)
- I kinda don't want to give them an actual name. I just call them Hatchy for short
- They started pilot training at around 12 years old, a few months after Feldspar's disappearance. It took a lot of convincing to do with the founders...
- They don't have an instrument because they ditched all of Gneiss's lessons to work on the translator.
- While they don't play any instrument, they very much like dancing! They're not very gracious, but they know a few cool acrobatic moves! They learned them through trials and errors tho, they got embarrased a few times...
- when they were little, their favourite adult were obviously Feldspar. As they grew up, they got way closer to Gossan and Hornfels.
- their bestie Hal is a year older than them, and passed the wine ritual already. They're a tiny bit jealous about that...
- Speaking of Hal, I believe that Hal is the brain of the duo. Hatchy is more prone to being reckless and get in trouble. Hatchy was also mostly working on building the translator, and Hal was mostly about translating. But Hatchy is still a very smart Hatchling and did work on a lot of the translating!
- Hatchy snuck their favourite hatchling toy in the ship a few days before their launch, while they and Slate double-checked everything. Slate saw it and let it slide.
So yeah, these are a few headcanons. There are probably more but my smooth brain can't think of anything more specific lmao
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rainbow-journalist · 1 month ago
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How small are Makoto and Yuma's Chibis? Also, Yuma's birthday!!
I think they're small enough to be bought as a doll, but I like to imagine they'd be so small you could put them in your pocket.
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Makoto and Yuma are short, so their Chibis may be tiny but not the size of ants, perhaps they become smaller when they are near very tall characters, Makoto still manages to be a little taller because of the shoes he wears.
I cooked something for today, I hope you like it. ☔
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Sorry for the poor quality of the Gif, but there it is, I had another drawing idea for him today, but I thought it would be a bit exotic, so I wanted to do something emotional. In reality, the small fragments were supposed to be his memories, but I decided to do something related to his friends. Yes, the colors are to represent others: Green is Vivia, Yellow Desuhiko, Cyan Fubuki, White Halara, Blue Yakou, Light Pink Kurumi, Purple Makoto and the hot pink in Yuma's hand is supposed to be Shinigami.
Yuma loves them all, and I love seeing drawings of them together as an odd family or a group of friends, whichever you prefer, I belive he remembers them fondly even post game.
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Here it is without being a Gif, and I used the colors of his sprite, sorry if his eyes look small like I do in other drawings, I couldn't draw the eyes properly and they had to stay like this, I hope this didn't ruin the drawing too much.
Originally the story of the drawing was supposed to be fragments of memories or timelines where he could see different versions of himself around (and he wouldn't be wearing clothes there, lol), watching the anime "Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni Kai", and seeing the time loop plot, Yuma would be stuck in a festival loop with his friends where whenever he and the others die, the world resets to the same day, there in the drawing, he would be seeing fragments where he would have to find some timeline in which he and everyone else are alive and happy. I cook a lot here? 😅
I think this version is a little better.
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Also a detail that Chibis can speak normally, but most prefer to stay quiet and communicate through gestures, probably because their voices in this form are very thin and they are embarrassed to speak. XD
Happy Yuma Day, and sorry for the bad English.
Twitter drawing, I'll leave it here too, he loves you too, guys. 💜💙
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