#Oh no! I mexicanized your attorney (it will happen again)

[lyxthen]

One of my favourite genres of art is cartoon characters interacting with real-life locations.

[fkyumerica]

Jan 19, 2024, 6:50 PM

Best Trends Laughs Gags Funny Prank fail. Bromas Divertido Risas Chistes. Lachen 000239 #shorts

did we find steve

meghan and her son at the end at 5 years old, shes 5

then they mate with one that age and laugh

that girl laughs

the pick up line

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0R3YS_k6a5E hahah show your wife

Tangled Live Action (2025) | Teaser Trailer | Disney (4K) | rapunzel trailer

Frozen Live Action (2025) | Teaser Trailer | Margot Robbie & Disney (4K) | frozen trailer

new disney ones

Disney’s Brave (Live-Action Version) Trailer

that one was a favorite

brave

MOANA Live Action - Official Trailer (2024) Zendaya, Dwayne Johnson | Disney+

holy shit the rock

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZOCFmPPQK0 she is meghan the jennifer garner love hewitt bitch

Pocahontas live action trailer (2019) Shay Mitchell, Chris Hemsworth (Fanmade)

twilight

girl bella

american pie

got her head cut off in scary movie by scream

then jen went in and shit after

giving a kid up was that

she gave birth

to his kid too, the goblin in spider man

clint eastwoods family

filipino, mexicans

whose got the beautiful story this time

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcZ75LcIcX4 and her gay daughter with her too with her real face

Princess and the Frog: Live Action (2024) Disney Teaser Trailer Pitch #1

scottish

aww troll

moomins o-o moomins are here

make the face no one is mad

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aekkl177gKE oh my god

Harry Potter And The Cursed Child (2024) - First Trailer | Daniel Radcliffe | Concept Version

Getting dressed in 1885

duchess was his friend makes him laugh so she rides him to get pregnant

and he better be a king when i see it

long line of them

why do they think they are related

and turn out to be the same kind of retarded too

lori always wore a bitch mask

is the other lori too

mean greener

i threw so much shit out

im so glad

3 tubs gone

hung things up on hangers

found the rammstein hoodie

retarded cow women

now you gotta get me a cow

and they fuck so loud

and build houses around them im scared

built a grocerie store and other stores illegally

this is what happened its them

and nurses help us people moved in

afterr

the block party

she was drunk the whole time

pregnant too

he will smash

into something

the kid

and be pregnant thhen with her gave them a opportunity to be together

at 5 i had tits to cut out a organ

and balls gone

still there

reindeer

Jan 19, 2024, 8:13 PM

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/jDswQSbXGyc they gave me gun shot weed

Rammstein 2022 crazy fun Till Lindemann live

and then he got it and gave it to his dad

and he wrote engel

they left it on for 18 years

these giants heads

making the noise

behind buildings in detroit

wayne knew it

no one knew wtf it was

or rememberd it

those arent bells

its their heads and mouths

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GVRD0gOEz4 these girls are just bitches. "money" LIE no i want it, no i dont want it get rid of it mom. thats a cerebral palsy too.

Jan 19, 2024, 9:06 PM

miranda ?- now that i come back i go to do everything at anyone again. i wanted to kiss each girls boyfriend and fuck them too

i think it is amanda

the brave princess

she move on again

fake judge wtf attorney

they sing to hide their accent that they are retarded

scottish sort of you too dad

cabreas

was that her lsat name

miranda

she robbed everyone and made a beach house for bands to play at

and she fucked them

married jeffery and his dad

caligula

had three kids with caligula

all infants at once its in the movie

and fake mom came back

yea i talk and leave

so do they all they did ahhh scream

teach them to lie and leave her mom said it too

Jan 20, 2024, 11:13 AM

theres so much to read in a class

half of these cheerleaders are pregnant eww

amanda just had a baby I think

the profile photo is before she had a baby

the other ones are after

'the it crowd' is her on it

her eyes are different now

I wouldent recognize her

Jan 20, 2024, 4:22 PM

The Real Reason Why Stan’s Family Loves Church - South Park

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/lIX5xlH-Fq8 eww there she is she did mate with george harrison, amanda did

Nita Strauss master guitar solo live 2022 🎸🤘| Alice Cooper Show

i had to teaach her lita ford in 10 minutes

she sucks

fake blood

small boobies

guitarists didnt like that

she didnt even strip for motley crue wtf

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4dGPwEEvKc eww

(مصطفى - علي - فطومة) .. 3 أشقاء قصار القامة يعيشون في غرفة #جاري_الأمل…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXtCDzZ-X4Y nut house deformed head fred

Los dos BEBÉS adultos de SIJA

retarded

they hide it as a dead body and carry it

their word of boy is it

when they say it

they point at all of them

who did it too

rob them and leave, amanda does

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bu6ZN0sdIZc a infant gives birth to one like this they already put pieces in its head, forehead, cheeks, and mouth. this was anne marie.

UnKitSmilePara Danna - Campaña Social - Parálisis Cerebral

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jadg69pcoeY then more pieces and it looks like a stephanie or shannon and amy winehouse. she was smiling her whole life. and skating. and dreaming. and going. and washing. and singing. tell her no. no. I wanted to curse you with a dreamer.

Menor con parálisis cerebral necesita coche neurológico [Noticias] - Telemedellín

a new york bitch

no i get it all

what did their mom on crack do

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeXDGOxu8vI then a amanda i get all the ape bitches, planet of the apes, it was bitches of the apes

Un ordenador permite a una niña con parálisis cerebral comunicarse con la mirada

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Izs-ug_-6qM and one dead

Florencio'renz' sanciangco in morgue 2015

they will change face pieces to go back in the store nonstop and steal shit

18 different cars we fuck shit

up? if they raped people in the store

they get too close and do it

dont go down a aisle with one

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=745yXHizKuA this was the face of one, eyes out

Miguel Angel Prieto - Tanatopraxia y Tanatoestética

enormous hand

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0jEbYEgWRM you can only recognize him with his mouth out

Awake oral fibreoptic intubation in difficult airway

all these toupee guys are it

george

their dad in all the dearborn houses

bigger people

hit us

8ft and up

a pregnant one giving birth looks korean, shut eyes sex all day, so are the black ones

and minority we get the hospital

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Af5Gnj3V_Gw and there you go sex all day too

Cuidadores desamparados: Un día con la familia de Macarena

they say it nonstop to one

on a guy all day

so the guys do it

and vacation g uy

and hey face lift, her or not

steal her house and we can fuck in it for a day, she says it

that thing wont talk who cares

8 infants, gets a hut with all of them, switches with another guy, goes gay with all of them to love him too come back we raise you

imprint was it

and gay girls run around

amanda

south

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5God-lnTJM the boys look like this

INOCENTE 2015 Video de los niños con Parálisis Cerebral que atiende la asociación El Despertar

wild or not

? old women ask it

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmHJnfBR3HY wild they did it

Parálisis cerebral

want a wild one, head back

jewish guys

gay girls

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SCvFSsmbS0 what a infant giving birth looks like

紧急情况！妈妈大出血需要马上手术治疗！

half were c-sections for plastic surgery since

and give her the other one

two diets go together

then they make a town

sex with all the guys whose the dad?

vegetables or meat, boy or girl

the diet

mated them nonstop

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTunTKfH85Q and we're this gay. different races know which dad

Peter Griffin gets molested several times compilation seriously so funny

then race up the mountain both tan

when you were young

who am i

which

henrick zetterberg is down the street and i dont wanna meet him

dream street, their family

all the bradys were men

its out

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x reader)

Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Sam— and learns a little about reader’s past. Reader and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Y/N playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love. 

She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again. 

She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go to dinner to celebrate.”

She laughed and looked up at him. “Celebrate what?”

He shrugged. “You. Summer.” He brought his arms around her shoulders. “Love.”

She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. “You just want me to say it again.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately and rather dreamily. 

“Yo, Y/L/N!” 

The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, “You ready to get absolutely crunk tonight or— oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencer’s frame. “Dr. Reid.”

Spencer stepped back from Y/N, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. “Mrs. Lopez. It’s, um— it’s nice to see you again.”

Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Y/N. “So, are we going out or what?”

Y/N groaned. “Anita, I’m exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!” Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. “Spence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, um— summer. Call Sam; we’ll all just go together.”

Anita spared a glance in Spencer’s direction before sighing heavily. “Fine. But I’m drinking.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.

Y/N chuckled. “I swear she’s not actually an alcoholic.” Her eyes landed on Spencer’s face, and she smiled gently. “I know you weren’t expecting a Meet the Friends night, but it’ll be fun.”

“She hates me,” Spencer surmised.

“She does not hate you.” Y/N stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. “She’s just… protective. That’s all.”

…

Y/N was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor. 

They’d met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having “flipped him the bird” the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly… less so. 

Spencer understood completely of course. He’d broken Y/N’s heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Y/N’s best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. He’d just... hoped that she wouldn’t. 

Thankfully, Y/N and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversation— he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidney— one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool. 

“Y/N is still Riley’s favorite teacher ever,” Sam told him. “I mean, it helps when she’s also your aunt, I guess.”

“He didn’t get any special treatment,” Y/N insisted. At Sam’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “Okay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I can’t help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.”

“Oh my god, the field trip,” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. 

“The field trip!” Y/N turned to Spencer. “My group of kiddos from two years ago— they were kind of a tough group.”

“Kind of?” Anita squeaked. “Let me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.”

Sam piped in, “I chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked incredulously. 

“So many things,” Sam baited. 

Y/N covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencer’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and she’d barely cracked a smile all evening. 

“Okay, so many things happened,” Y/N started, “but the worst was—”

“The poop!” Sam wheezed. “The poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.”

Y/N composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. “So after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and there’s this— smell.”

“The absolute worst smell you’ve ever smelled, Spencer,” Sam assured. 

“It’s awful. It’s so bad,” Y/N agreed. “And I’m literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.”

“You could not pay me enough,” Anita chimed in. 

“And I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I can’t, like— hold my nose, right? I don’t want to embarrass him!” Y/N turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. “So I ask, ‘Sweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?’”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no.” 

“But oh, it wasn’t a bathroom accident,” Y/N clarified, waving her hand. “No, no— that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.”

Spencer could feel his jaw drop. “Oh my god.”

“So, he unzips his lunchbox and it’s just— overflowing with shit.” Y/N dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles. 

“And don’t forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!” Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. “I will never understand.”

Y/N lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space. 

“I told you I had a lot of poop stories,” Y/N reminded him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.

“God, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,” Y/N complained, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Sam’s phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh. 

“Shit— I’ve been waiting on this call all day.” She kissed Anita’s cheek and stood from the table. “So sorry; I’ll just be five minutes, I promise.”

With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Anita broke the silence first. 

“You know what’s annoying?”

Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Considering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.”

Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, “And I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.”

“I actually kind of like you.” She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. “I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, um— I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,” she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. “Almost as hot as she is.”

He laughed a little at that. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didn’t crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. “I don’t know how much you know about Owen, and she’d probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.”

This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didn’t know anything about Owen; he’d tried not to think too much about anyone Y/N might have been with before him. 

“It didn’t start out that way.” She drew her brows together. “Well, I don’t know— maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “The point is, I didn’t know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already all…” She gestured wildly around her head. “In her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. To— unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.” 

He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anita’s wrath. He was also immensely glad that Y/N had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored. 

“You’re a fed or whatever, so I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she continued, “but I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.” She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest he’d ever heard it. “All that to say, I… I wasn’t there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.” 

Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. “I like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, just— don’t give me a reason not to.”

She didn’t drop her gaze, and he couldn’t quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman he’d ever met.

“Where’s Sam?” Spencer turned just as Y/N slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee. 

“Some bullshit from the office that her idiot partner can’t handle.” Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Y/N with a grin. “Don’t worry. I didn’t scare him too much.”

…

“Easy.” Spencer steadied Y/N with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment. 

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just— really can’t drink like I used to.” She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs. 

He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy. 

“Can’t believe I’m tipsy from a couple margaritas.”

“To be fair, you had four,” he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door. 

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “But I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.”

“A pitcher?” Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. “I can’t even have one without being completely incapacitated.”

She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. “Mmm, so you’re a lightweight.”

“Very much so,” he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips. 

“Just one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close. 

He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom. 

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again. 

Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” she teased, ghosting her lips over his.

“Ha, ha.” Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didn’t want to ruin this night of celebration. He didn’t want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen. 

He wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’ve met Penelope. I’ve met Anita. Now that the school year is over… we could tell Michael.”

She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

…

A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Y/N waited slightly behind him. 

They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michael’s high pitched giggle and Will’s booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencer’s grip. 

“I knew it!” Michael cried. 

He wrapped himself around Y/N’s legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. “I told you.”

“You did, buddy.” Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Y/N forward by the hand. “Michael had an… inklin’ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Not friends, Daddy,” Michael said exasperatedly. “He’s her boyfriend.”

“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. “Michael had a feelin’ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Y/L/N’s boyfriend.”

Y/N’s cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. “What— um, what made you think that?” 

Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. “Well firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldn’t stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.” Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh. 

“You guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew you’d like him if he could be a guest reader.” As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, “Oh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesn’t let anyone wear the purple scarf.”

Spencer vividly remembered that morning— she’d slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit she’d brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. He’d wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought. 

She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.

“Well, guess I can’t take all the credit,” Will decided. “Who knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?”

Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Y/N into the playroom. “This is the best,” Michael sighed. “Now we can play restaurant forever.”

…

Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, he’d actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Y/N. 

She was helping with the last of the setup for the “restaurant,” organizing Michael’s menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course he’d seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroom— one that he’d spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow up— had him feeling warm from head to toe. 

Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadn’t realized that she’d taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, “Gosh, I always forget how tall you’ve gotten!”

And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Hen!” Michael called. 

Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. “What?”

“You’re the chef,” Michael informed him. 

Y/N tilted her head. “I thought I was the chef?”

“No, no, no.” Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. “You and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.”

Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. “Thank you, sir.”

She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. “You look very comfortable.” 

He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. “The picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.”

“I’m sorry I’m so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,” she teased, dropping her chin into her hand. 

“You look stunning, as always.” He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. “I especially love what you’re doing with your hair.”

She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. “You’re making me blush, doctor.” She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. “I’m probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.” 

He looked at her sympathetically. “I know the feeling. I think I’ve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. I’ve gotten pretty good at detangling Michael’s handiwork.”

Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. “Good evening, sir, madam.” 

“Good evening,” they chorused, with barely suppressed grins. 

“Compliments of the chef.” Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.

“Oh, wow,” Y/N said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. “Honey, do you want to—”

Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. “No, no, please, help yourself.”

Y/N held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. “Thank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?”

That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. “Our specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.”

From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, “Tartare.” 

“Tartare. Steak tartare is our special,” Michael corrected. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’m that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,” Y/N told a grinning Michael. “What do you recommend for a picky eater?”

“My favorite is the chicken nuggets.”

“Well then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.” Y/N handed him the menu. 

Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michael’s handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Y/N had helped. “Everything looks delicious,” he finally decided, “but, you know... I think I’m also going to have the nuggets.”

…

When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Y/N settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck. 

“You’re lucky,” he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. “Michael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.”

She leaned her head back into his hands. “You detangled the whole thing?”

“Mmhm.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up. 

He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. “I’m very lucky,” she agreed. “For many reasons.”

Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And tired, too.”

“Hmm?” 

He leaned his cheek against her head. “When you get tired, you, um— you start drawing on my stomach.” 

Her finger paused. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve just— noticed.”

She smiled a little sleepily. “You know I love all of you. But I— well, I don’t know, really. I just like your tummy.” She gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s just— nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.” 

He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. “Man, I am tired.” She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. “What, um— what else have you noticed?”

He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. “You like to play with my hair.”

“Mmmm, guilty as charged.”

He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. “I like it, too.” He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. “Hmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. It’s usually your hands, but sometimes it’s your head or even your toes— like when you tuck them under my leg.”

“Ugh— I’m sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,” she mumbled.

She might have been joking, but Anita’s words were replaying in his head. He couldn’t change what had happened in the past. He couldn’t go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like he’d promised. 

“I’m not sorry. I love all of you,” he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her. 

“Even my feet?” 

He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didn’t love about her. “Especially your feet.”

She huffed a sigh into his chest. “Y’got a foot thing I don’t know about?”

He laughed a little at that. “Only for yours. They’re very cute feet.”

“You’re weird,” she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.

“You love it.”

Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. “Mmhm. Love you.”

He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.

Doesn’t live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “So much.”

———

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[sweetyyhippyy]

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 17.

Chapter 17: Positive

(Not my gif)

Summary: Things haven’t been easy since Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Bridgett has been having a hard time without Spencer. When Penelope comes to check on her best friend, Bridgett realizes her timing is off.

TW: Mentions of murder. Spencer going to jail. Mentions of pills. Mentions of alcohol. Mentions of throwing up. Pregnancy. Putting pregnancy at risk.

Word Count: 3.2k.

A.N: The italicized paragraph in the beginning is a flashback..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day...

The day of Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Nobody knew what he was going to plead, not even Bridgett… she didn’t even think Spencer knew. Once Emily got the call that the Mexican authorities had found the knife used in Nadie Ramos’ murder, everything went downhill from there. At first they were offering if Spencer pleaded guilty that he would do 5 years, if he chose to plead not guilty, he was looking at 25 years to life. Fiona gave him both of his options, but Spencer decided then and there that he was going to plead not guilty.

“Can I have a minute alone with him please?” Bridgett asked, turning to Emily and Fiona.

“Of course. We’ll both be outside.” Fiona says, grabbing her briefcase and walking out of the room with Emily behind her.

Bridgett stayed quiet, staring at Spencer, waiting for him to explain himself. His eyes stayed on the table between them, not wanting to have the conversation with his girlfriend.

“Do you know what you’re putting yourself up against by pleading not guilty? You could go to prison for a long time, Spencer. Think about all the evidence.”

“Scratch has been very thorough with making sure things don’t look good for me.”

“Yeah, and a jury isn’t going to see that you were set up. They’re going to see that all signs point to you. They don’t know Scratch like we do.”

“Do you think they’ll convict me?”

Bridgett sighs heavily, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. But if you plead guilty… 5 years isn’t the worst. You can come out of prison and still have a life.”

“Yeah but not as an FBI agent. I’ll be a convicted felon.”

“But you would be free. You and I could still have a life together.” Bridgett replies, already tearing up.

“And while I do want that, you know that the FBI is where I belong.”

“But you don’t belong in prison, baby. If you want to roll the dice, and take your chances with going to trial, 25 years might as well be a life sentence.”

“If this whole thing has been orchestrated by Scratch, I know the team can get him.”

“Without a doubt we will. I know we will. But.... what if we can’t prove it this month, this year… or this decade. Spence, we can’t figure it out by tomorrow for your arraignment.” Bridgett lets out a sob.

Spencer shakes his head, sniffling and dropping eye contact with Bridgett.

“What do I do?” Spencer says, his voice straining to keep from crying.

Bridgett sighs shakily, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. But I’m here, okay? Whatever you decide, I’m going to be here either way.” She brings him in for a hug, letting him cry onto her shoulder.

***

The whole  team was in the front row on his side, watching as the bailiffs walked in with Spencer between them in handcuffs, walking him to the desk in front of them and helping him sit down. Bridgett was right behind him, giving him a warm smile when he turns around to look at the team.

“How do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Doctor.

“Not guilty.” He says sternly.

Bridgett’s heart jumps at his decision.

Okay… that means we’ll go to trial. But we can get through it.

Penelope held onto Bridgett’s hand while Fiona and the defense attorney went back and forth about why Spencer should and should not have bail set. At one point, both Bridgett and Penelope wanted to hop over the railing and beat the attorney up for the negative accusations he was saying against Spencer. Luke could tell Bridgett was getting agitated, but he took her other hand and gave it a squeeze of comfort. The judge was being less than understanding when Fiona offered the team as character witnesses to speak on Spencer’s behalf, not feeling “in the mood” to hear what they had to say.

“Bail is denied. Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.” She fires, banging the gavel.

Bridgett’s whole heart falls into the pit of her stomach, hearing that Spencer wouldn’t be coming home with her. She looked in horror at Spencer as he looked to her, just as scared as she was.

“How long until his case goes to trial?” Emily asks Fiona.

“It’s a complicated case. We’re looking at maybe 3 months.”

Bridgett reaches for Spencer’s hand over the railing, he takes it and pulls her in for a hug.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, Bridge.” He whispers.

“I love you. Please be careful.” She says back, trying to take in his embrace one last time, trying to commit to memory his smell and how he held her.

The two bailiffs pull Spencer back from Bridgett’s embrace, taking one of his hands behind his back. Before they get the other hand Spencer points to the top of his sternum and mouths “I’m right here.” Alluding to the necklace he gifted her years ago.

Bridgett sniffles and grabs the moon pendant and rubs it with her thumb, nodding her head.

Spencer turns around one last time as he’s being escorted out, looking at his family; lost and scared to be leaving them. After the door closes, Bridgett sobs, gripping the railing under her to keep her standing. Everyone’s worst nightmare just came true... Spencer was going to prison for something he didn’t do, and they still had no physical evidence of him being set up. Bridgett drops her head as she feels Luke grab her, bringing her in for a hug.

This isn’t really happening. He wasn’t actually going to prison. This was all just a big mistake.

“Bridge, come on, let’s go outside.” JJ says, rubbing her arm.

Bridgett lifts her head from Luke’s chest, wiping her eyes. “I need to go home. I can’t… I can’t be here.” She cries, scooting past Emily and Penelope and walking out of the courtroom.

***

Bridgett’s eyes flutter open, looking at the empty space in her next to her that Spencer always slept in when he was over. Her eyes filled with tears again as she touched the dark grey sheets next to her, feeling the tears go over the bridge of her nose and rolling onto the pillow under her head.

The muscle relaxer she had taken a few hours prior had knocked her out, it was the only way she was going to get sleep. She hugged the body pillow tight, wishing it was Spencer that she was hugging instead of the damn pillow. It had been 2 weeks since the hearing and Bridgett was going through a serious depression. She hadn’t been  back to work since the hearing, Emily said she needed time to get into the right headspace, which usually Bridgett would argue with being away from the job, but now it wasn’t a fight.

A possibility of 3 months. 3 months. 90+ days before his case went to trial. How was she going to get through 3 months without him? The prison wasn’t allowing him visitors just yet for whatever reason. Emily was hopeful that within the next week or so that they would allow them.

Finally, Bridgett grabs the throw blanket at the foot of her bed, wrapping it around herself before getting out of bed and walking into her living room. Her head felt fuzzy and dizzy as she shuffled out of her room, a definite side effect of the pills and alcohol she was consuming everyday for the past 2 weeks.

She stood in the middle of the room, closing her eyes to try to get the spinning to subside. The spinning made her feel nauseous, a bitter taste developing on her tongue, one of her queues that she was about to throw up. Bridgett hurries to the kitchen, going through her pantry to find some crackers to snack on, needing some sort of substance to fill her stomach. She chewed slowly through the saltiness of the cracker, sipping on a glass of water as she chews.

Bridgett’s phone chirps from the other side of the counter, she sees a text from Penelope.

Hey I’m less than a minute from your place, I just want to see how you’re doing.

Bridgett shuffles to the living room, opening the apartment door to wait for Penelope in the hallway. It was the first time she had been out of her apartment. Once she sees her blonde hair and the red as black patterned dress she was wearing, she half smiles, stepping back inside.

Penelope shuts the door behind her, embracing Bridgett right away. “I miss your beautiful face, Bridgy.” She says, squeezing her tightly.

“I miss you too. You know you don’t have to come check on me, right? I’m… fine.” Bridgett shrugs.

“How long have I known you?”

“10 years.”

“And don’t you think I know when you’re not okay? Your man being in prison means that you’re definitely not okay.”

Bridgett sighs, leaning back on the couch. “I feel like if I tell myself that I’m okay, at some point my mind will believe it and I’ll start being okay.”

“Eventually you will be. It’s just going to take a while. It’s been 3 weeks since the hearing, you’re still getting used to life.”

“3 weeks? It’s been 2.”

“No, it’s been 3. The hearing was on the 20th.”

“Wait, it’s really been 3 weeks?” Bridgett mumbles. She quickly sits up on the couch, trying to do math in her head, but she was already so scatterbrained at the moment that things weren’t making sense. She hops up from the couch, going to the calendar on her desk to try and figure it out.

“Bridge? Hey what’s wrong?” Penelope asks, following after her.

Bridgett puts her pointer finger up in her direction, counting the weeks for the fourth time. There was no way.

“Bridgett, what’s wrong? You look scared.”

Bridgett’s heart started to beat out of her chest as the realization sunk in that her math was spot on. She sinks down onto the chair, covering her mouth in shock.

“I’m late.” She mutters.

“Oh!” Penelope gasps, her eyes growing wide.

“I was supposed to get my period the week after Spencer got arrested, but it never came. I thought it was all the stress. It wouldn’t be the first time my period just doesn’t show because I’m stressed out because of the job. And I figured it still hadn’t come because I’m beyond stressed out, but it’s been almost 2 months since I’ve gotten it. Eventually my body is like ‘okay just give the girl her period now’.” Bridgett runs fingers through her tangled hair, her leg bouncing up and down feverishly. “Oh my god, I can’t be pregnant. Not now.”

“Yeah, probably not the best time, but it’ll be okay. You know you have all of us to support you.”

“Penelope, you don’t understand. I’ve been drinking everyday since Spencer’s hearing, taking pills to help me sleep. Oh my god, I’m an idiot. I should have known with how long it’s been since I’ve had my period. Shit.” Bridgett cusses.

“You didn’t know, Bridge. It’s not your fault.”

“Spencer and I were trying for a baby for almost a year and a half before he brought Diana to live with him. We put it on hold, but… what if now that we stopped trying, I really am pregnant?”

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go down to the drugstore down the block and get you a pregnancy test, and we’re going to find out if you’re actually pregnant before we panic, okay?” Penelope says, grabbing her purse and hurrying out the door.

Bridgett sighs, biting at the hangnail on her pointer finger. If she was pregnant, she was at least 2 maybe 3 months, but that was not likely. She hadn’t been careful with consuming alcohol, especially after the hell she had been through the past month and a half.

Bridgett being the overthinker and worst case scenario on her mind all the time type person she was, she got onto Google to ‘Risks of consuming alcohol during pregnancy’. Most of it was common knowledge, but it was almost as if her mind needed to punish her for the horrible thing she was doing to her possible child.

“You didn’t lock the door after I left?” Penelope scolds her, walking back in the door.

Bridgett turns around, sighing. “I uh… no sorry. Can I have the test?”

“Oh, yeah, I bought you this water in case but you do you. Think happy thoughts.” She says with a smile, handing her the plastic bag with the box inside.

***

“I didn’t know you and Spencer were trying for a baby.” Penelope says, sitting next to Bridgett on the couch, handing her a glass of water.

Bridgett takes a big glup, trying to focus on anything else at all. “Yeah we went through a scare about a little over a year a half ago. It came out negative but then we talked about trying. Nothing came of it… until maybe now. How much longer?”

Penelope looks at the timer on her phone, “45 seconds.”

Bridgett sighs, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. “What am I going to do if I am pregnant? I put this baby at risk by being so irresponsible.”

“You stay here, I’ll go get the test and then we’ll go from there before we panic.” Penelope says, getting up from the couch and walking to the bathroom.

Bridgett takes several deep breaths, trying not to give herself a panic attack as she waits for Penelope.

“Okay, so what we’re going to do is… uh, I have a friend who’s an OB, and we’re going to get you an ultrasound to check the baby out, okay?” Penelope says, holding a pair of Bridgett’s shoes in her hand and the test in the other.

Bridgett’s eyes grow wide, her jaw dropping. “Wait, I’m… it’s positive?”

Penelope nods her head slowly, offering the rest to her. Bridgett covers her mouth with her hand, gasping into it. The tears flow hot down her cheeks as Penelope hands her the test. She sobs as she sees the word “PREGNANT” on the screen, a cold shiver running over her body.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Bridgett says over and over, sniffling.

“Honey, everything is going to be okay.”

“This is my fault, Penelope! I should have known I was pregnant! And now… shit, how am I going to tell Spence?”

“We can’t worry about that right now. We need to worry about getting you to see someone to check on my future god child.”

***

“Miss Mendez?” A petite red headed lady walks into the room.

Bridgett smiles at her, still completely terrified. “Yes, you can call me Bridgett.”

“My name is Dr. Clark, I’m going to check you and your baby out, okay? Penelope said you were worried.”

“Yes, I… I went through a hard time the past month or two and I’ve been drinking and taking sleeping pills. I had no idea I was pregnant, I lost track of time and didn’t realize I was so late until today. I figured it was all the stress I’m under.”

“So what I’m going to do is first see how far along you are, and see if the baby is developing normally, the brain, heart, all the organs are developing normally as well, okay? And I’m going to tell you something, there are lots of women who don't realize they’re pregnant and drink, smoke, do a lot worse things that they shouldn’t do. You’re not the first, and you’re not the last. What matters is that now that you know you’re pregnant, you stop all of that immediately.”

Bridgett nods her head, fighting back tears. Obviously Bridgett was the biggest cry baby before pregnancy, but she couldn’t imagine how much worse it was going to be with pregnancy hormones.

The doctor squeezes a gel onto Bridgett’s belly, her body covered in goosebumps at how cold it was. Penelope was smiling from ear to ear next to Bridgett as she sees what actually looks like the shape of a baby on the monitor.

“Oh my god, Bridgy, look.” Penelope says with excitement.

Bridgett looks at the monitor in disbelief, it didn’t look like a baby, but like a large bean.

“So you’re measuring about 8, almost 9 weeks. And the measurements look spot on for where the fetus should be.”

“Oh thank god.” Bridgett says.

“With that being said, do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

“I can do that?” Bridgett asks, smiling at the doctor.

“Yes! Let me turn this on, and find it for you.”

The room is filled with a loud and fast rhythmic thumping. Bridgett’s jaw drops hearing how quickly the thumping was going.

“Healthy heartbeat.” The doctor beams.

“Oh my god.” Bridgett smiles, looking over at Penelope who was now crying too.

“Congratulations. I’m going to print some pictures for you to take home with you.”

“Thank you.” Bridgett replies, looking at the screen in awe. “That’s my baby. Mine and Spencer’s baby.”

Penelope smiles, “Baby genius on the way.”

***

Penelope and Bridgett go around her apartment, throwing away all the empty bottles of liquor that she had accumulated throughout the past few weeks, tossing them in a garbage bag.

“Can I ask you something? Are you going to tell Spencer you’re pregnant?” Penelope asks.

“Not now. I’m going to wait. I don’t want me being pregnant to be something he worries about while he’s in prison.”

“What if…”

“I don’t want to think about that. Worst case scenario, I’ll tell him before he goes to trial. I just want to be able to see him.”

“Emily told us this morning that they’re allowing visitors starting tomorrow. I took it upon myself to make a chart of who’s visiting Spencer and when, but obviously you get first priority.”

“Okay, I’ll go see him tomorrow. But I’m going to keep it to myself just for now. That means that you, Penelope Garcia, need to keep a secret. You can’t tell the team that I’m pregnant, okay?”

Penelope nods her head, crossing her heart. “I promise I’ll keep you and my future god child, a secret.”

“Thank you. We both appreciate it.” Bridgett rubs her stomach. “It’s crazy to think that I have a baby growing inside me. Even crazier to think it’s Spencer’s baby.”

“You two are going to be the best parents ever. I can’t imagine how much love this baby is going to be surrounded by.”

Bridgett smiles, getting a little emotional over the fact that her and Spencer were going to be parents. “Do you think he’s going to be happy?”

“Who, Spencer? Are you kidding? He’s going to be so excited. I’m going to get going, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you so much for being here, Garcia.” Bridgett says, hugging the woman tight.

Penelope takes the garbage bags with her as she leaves the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Bridgett sits on the couch, taking the ultrasound pictures in her hand and looking at the black and white blob in the picture. Her hand drops down to her stomach, nowhere near a baby bump yet and rubs it.

“Hey in there. I’m mom.” Bridgett laughs. “Your dad is away as I’m sure you know with how much I’ve been crying over it. But you’ll meet him soon and he’s going to love you so much. I can’t wait to meet you. And I promise I’m going to take better care of you. I’m so sorry for hurting you before, but now that I know, I’m going to protect you.”

[father-lost]

Father Lost; Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Everything was a mess. He was sitting freely now, nothing attached to him but the I.V. that gave him fluids. He had a mess of papers sprawled across the bed; newspapers, printed articles, and a tablet open to the internet, browsing through Sean’s Facebook to see if he couldn’t make heads or tails of where the boys have gone off to. It wasn’t until he saw a post about the police finding them in Beaver Creek that he began to put the pieces together. So the boys fled the police, walked until they ended up at a little truckstop, the police were called because of theft. When the police arrived, the place was ransacked, the owner saying that he was attacked and robbed. Things went dark after that for about two months before they were spotted in Beaver Creek, police ending up at Claire’s and Stephen’s. They must not have stayed long before being chased out again. Then the news goes dark until there’s an update in the papers that Sean was hospitalized in Sacred Hope Hospital, Daniel missing. He was being contained until he was healthy enough to go on trial. He chewed the skin rough on the side of his thumbnail, the phone to his ear as he listened to it ring. Sean was in the hospital, that meant he was hurt, and Daniel was missing. “Hi Curtis, this is Esteban Diaz, we went to school together back in Seattle.” He spoke once the phone kicked to life, handing him over to the hands of an answering machine. “I’m really sorry to be calling randomly out of the blue, but I have no idea what to do. I need an attorney, and I need a good one, please. I’m currently in the hospital, please call me on my cellphone, 541-323-7738. Please.” He hung up the phone, stomach killing him. On the tablet, he dove further into the news that his oldest was in the hospital, uncovering he wasn’t the only one. A boy named Finn McNamara was also admitted after attempted robbery of a man named Merrill's estate. The man owned a pot farm that the two were working at. He put the tablet down, hands brushing over his face as he tried to imagine it. He wasn’t mad at his boy, he found work that keep him off the radar and he was taking care of Daniel. He wasn’t sure if he had Daniel working the fields or not, -and if so he hoped Sean had enough sense to keep his little brother away from people who would influence him negatively. He would rather Daniel stay away from the stuff all together, but Sean couldn’t do it all on his own. He sat back, knees pulled up, keeping the hospital gown over them. It’s been nearly three days since he woke up, and he was feeling fine enough to leave, but the hospital seemed hell bent on keeping him. If they were going to detain him, then they better do it. Suddenly his phone started ringing. He jumped, had lashing out at the mobile phone. He didn’t look at the number, praying to god the message he sent to Sean earlier made it through finally and this was his baby boy calling him, begging for him to come get him like he used to do in elementary school when he missed them. “Hijo?” He asked, heart pounding in his throat. “Hi daddy.” An adult voice answered back in a chuckle. Esteban let off a labored sigh, crossing his legs. He rested his head in his hand, hands shaking like he was face to face with a gun again. “Curtis,” he breathed, wanting to let the man know he was still there, just trying like hell to cope with the disappointment that his fantasy hadn’t come true. “Hey, I got your message, obviously. What’s up?” He asked. The man on the other end of the phone was a lot more casual than a lawyer normally would be, and if it wasn’t for the past of the two, that would be different. “October 29th, my son Daniel was outside playing, he accidentally got fake blood on the neighbor kid. White boy, real fresa, his father is no better. The kid started some shit, my oldest ended up in a fight, of course the cops got involved.” He explained wanting to go over as much as he could. “Uh oh.” The voice grunted on the other side. “So we looking at hate crime? I can win that no problem.” He added, a light boasting tone to his voice. “No, hijo pushed the kid, knocked the wind out of him, cop pulls a gun on them. I went out to break it up, got shot. I just woke up four days ago.” He explained. “Oh shit,” the man sounded concerned but didn’t push to make any guesses. “What happened to your boys?” “Sean ran. Comes to find out, the boy lived but the cop died. They went to their Grandparents in Beaver Creek but were apprehended and fled again. Last seen, they were working a pot farm in California where they were assaulted, Sean ended up in Sacred Hope Hospital guarded until he gets better then he’s going to juvie, Daniel is missing.” He finished. He was back to chewing the now raw skin on the inside of his thumb, thumbnail short and rigid. He waited for any sort of response, any at all until the man whistled almost sounding defeated. “Well shit, Esteban.” He grunted. “A cop died,” the father groaned, falling back against the pillows. “They fled the law making them look guilty. They were working a pot farm.” “They did nothing wrong!” He boomed. “Of course the hispanic boy is the bad guy! That’s what’s wrong with this fucking country since the fraggle took office!” He defended. “Ssh, sh,” the man laughed. “Sh, honey, baby cakes, I got you.” He teased, trying to calm him down. “I’ve already got a couple ideas. Step one, we find your sons, step two, we stop anything from progressing in court. Step three, find out a way you can repay me because we are definitely going to have to pull out a lot of stops with this one.” Esteban sighed, eyes closed, smile coming to his lips as the relief flooded him. “Got any idea where they might be headed?” “Mexico, I think.” Esteban didn’t open his eyes, feeling a little bit of comfort for the first time in 4 days. “What is with people trying to flee to Mexico?” The man on the other side muttered. “Because I used to live there.” Esteban shot back, reminding him that he wasn’t a born American citizen. “I forgot my princess was a terrible, awful, scary, Mexican thug.” The man on the other side of the phone, Esteban rolling his eyes but he couldn’t help the smile at his lips. Curtis always played jokes like that, calling him princess, or honey or baby cakes. It was just...sort of natural for them. “I own land, it used to belong to my Grandmother.” He replied. “They probably think that that’s going to be the easiest way out.” “He wouldn’t be wrong, if he can get across the border without dying.” The other man was serious now. “Have you tried contacting him? Or his grandparents?” “No,” he admitted. “Well, no to contacting Claire and Stephen, yes to Sean, but he must have ditched the phone, my message bounced back as unavailable.” He hated this, he hated the whole thing. “Ok, where is the best place for you to meet me?” The sound of rustling paper could be heard on the other phone, the faint clicking of a pen preparing to write. “At this hospital.” Esteban replied, looking at the only information he had about the whereabouts of his kids. “Geez baby, you aren’t even gonna meet me halfway?” Curtis scoffed playfully. He hadn’t been called this many pet names since he was with Karen, and it felt odd, but kind of nice? “They won’t let me check out even though I’m fit enough to leave. I think it’s a tactic; keep me here so I won’t interfere with the trial. Bet the racist bastards wished I’d have stayed dead.” He gathered up the papers, putting them in a pile. “Gotcha, I’ll come and break you loose. Send me the address and I’ll leave right away; should be there in a few hours.” The sound of shuffling and setting things away could be heard, and finally that feeling of relief began to outweigh the feeling of worry. “Will do, Curtis. Thank you.” He smiled, voice dropping to something warm and sweet. “Anything for you, babe.” With that, he was gone. The man punched in the address of the hospital, sending it to number who called him, and one to the email incase the number was a landline. Taking a breath, he laid back down against, eyes closed. He could take a small nap while he waited, he was almost positive he’d be there in the morning. Esteban wasn’t a holy man, but as he let the silence of the room fall over him, he prayed; prayed his boys would be found amd praysd they could overcome this nightmare. His boys deserved better, and was willing to devote his entire life to making sure nothing bad ever happened again.

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/technology/entertainment/watch-jussie-smollett-pissed-off-after-alleged-attack/

WATCH: Jussie Smollett 'pissed off' after alleged attack

Transcript for Jussie Smollett ‘pissed off’ after alleged attack

So is your interview, jussie smollett and so many questions about what happened. It’s been two weeks and there are very few leads leaving many to have questions about that night. Why did you hesitate to call the police. There’s a level of pride there. We live in a society where as a gay man, you are considered somehow to be weak and I’m not weak. I am not weak. And we are as a people are not weak. So during that time before they came, took them about maybe a half hour to come and during that time I was looking at myself just like checking myself out. I saw the bruise on my neck like the little — the rope burn around my neck and then — but I smelled bleach. I know the smell of bleach and I saw on my sweatshirt it had marks on it like spots on it when you have a bad bleach job, so then I was like there’s bleach on me too so when the police came, I kept the clothes on, I kept the rope on. You had the rope on the entire time. It wasn’t like wrapped around but, yeah, I wanted them to see. I wanted them to see what this was. I told them that what happened, everything. I also asked them to turn their body cams off because they were trying to stay in the hallway. I was like please come in. I don’t want a big scene with my neighbors and the second round of police officers, I went down to where it happened and I walked them through exactly what happened and I looked up and I saw that there was a camera directly on the light post that is in the intersection so I’m like, there it is. Reporter: A potential break in the case that would eventually fall apart days later. And then the detective told me the camera inside of the casing was facing north so they didn’t have it. And that was disappointing. . The vast majority of people have been supportive and loving and understanding and as time has gone on that there’s no — it’s 2:00 in the morning, you’re going to subway. Subzero. Subway is open 24 hours. People kill me when they say things like that. It’s open for 24 hours for a reason so when you’re hungry at night and you ain’t got no food, you go to subway. The camera facing north, how is that my issue? It feels like if I had said it was a Muslim or a Mexican or someone black, I feel like the dourters would have supported me a lot much more, a lot more and that says a lot about the place that we are in our country right now. Reporter: Many of those doubts around the issue of his phone with some wondering why he didn’t initially hand it over to authorities. They wanted me to give my phone to the tech for three to four hours. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to do that. Why? Because I have private pictures and videos and numbers. My partner’s number. My family’s number. My cast mates’ numbers, my private email, my private song, my private voice memos. I don’t know what that’s going to be to hand over my phone for — honestly by then inaccurate false statements had already been put out there. Earlier this week he submitted phone records from within an hour of the incident but Chicago police said they were limited and heavily redacted adding they need additional information to corroborate the time line. His attorneys tell us they are willing to cooperate. Smollett says he’s been troubled by inaccurate claims. What other ones had you heard. That I said they were wearing Maga hats. I never said that. I didn’t need to add anything like that. They called me a . They called me a . There’s no which way you cut it. I don’t need some Maga hat as the cherry on top of some racist sundae. I’ve heard that it was a date gone bad, which I so resent that narrative. I’m not going to go out and get a tuna sandwich and a salad to meet somebody. That’s ridiculous. And it’s offensive. Yes, there’s grinder, yes, there’s jacked. There’s all of these things which I have not been on in years. I can admit I was on it back in the day. I was single. You know what I’m saying? But I haven’t been on that in years. What were your injurys? They did x-rays. I didn’t have — it was reported that I had like fractured ribs or cracked ribs or something like that, that wasn’t true. I was just in a lot of pain, you know, my clavicle was messed up. My rib was bruised but I wasn’t — nothing was cracked like I walked into the hospital. I walked out of the hospital. Why do you think you were targeted? I can just assume, I mean, I come really, really hard against 45. I come really, really hard against his administration and I don’t hold my tongue. I want to ask you about jussie smollett. I think that’s horrible. It doesn’t get worse as far as I’m concern Were you aware that he made that statement. I saw it. I don’t know what to say to that. You know. You know, I appreciate him not brushing over it. There is no doubt in your mind what motivated this attack? I could only go off their words. I mean, who says , “Empire.” This Maga country. Ties a noose around your neck and pours bleach on you and this is just a friendly fight? I will never be the man that this did not happen to. I am forever changed. And I don’t subscribe to the idea that everything happens for a reason but I do subscribe to the idea that we have the right and responsibility to make something meaningful out of the things that happen to us, good and bad. Again, that’s the first time he’s giving such a detailed account. He was really excited when he saw the camera. No way he could have known it was turned away. Detectives didn’t know — it was inside the casing it was facing the other direction and he had no idea about that and he — I asked if there W other possible threats that he had received and he did talk about the letter that was sent to the fox studio where “Empire” is done. Police received that letter and more importantly, there’s many reasons why jussie wanted to sit down, first to say thank you to his many supporters, to answer the questions, the critics but the times that he became emotional is when he was talking about gay youth and the lgbtq community, the message for them and how they are viewing how this is being handled. But he seemed pretty forthcoming. Nothing was out of bounds. There was nothing told not ask and he truly wanted to — he’ll explain in the next hour the four main reasons why he wanted — A lot of anger there too. Oh, yes. He’s not just angry at what happened then he’s angry at what happened now and realizes, he’s on social media and realizes that people, you know, some people are going to look at his interview and think one thing — he has no control over that. But he is — is adamant and as I said earlier the police have said he’s been consistent, that he’s been credible and cooperative and the investigation is ongoing. They’re still investigating. Just two weeks. A lot more coming up in the

This transcript has been automatically generated and may not be 100% accurate.

[theliterateape]

Hope Idiotic | Part 12

By David Himmel

Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

WHAT KIND OF A BOYFRIEND WAS HE? What kind of a man lets his girlfriend of two years — a close friend for eight years before that — foot the bill for her big thirtieth birthday trip?

Cabo San Lucas: A Mexican haven for sun, SCUBA and drink. Though he offered to put the entire trip on his credit card, she (thankfully, he thought) didn’t call his bluff and refused to let him do that. So they made another deal. She would pay for the thirtieth birthdays for them, he would pay for forty, she would get fifty, he would take sixty and so on. They were making plans for the future. And that plan included sharing finances in plenty of time for their fortieth birthdays. Finally they had a deal Lou felt was fair. It seemed to him that after two years together, Michelle understood their financial conditions.

They stayed at the only hotel Michelle would stay at when she traveled there. The same place as the first time Lou joined the Kaminskis on their annual Cabo trip a year before, the all-inclusive resort and spa Fiesta Playa. She booked the best suite on the property. The spacious room had a large balcony that overlooked the ocean. While Michelle financed the accommodations, Lou did what he could.

Since they arrived on her birthday, he arranged with the hotel staff to prepare the room with thirty balloons, rose petals leading from the door to the bed, where even more petals were spread upon the bed, and champagne sat on ice on the nightstand. The hotel only charged him for the liquor.

Michelle was floored. When she entered the room, that strange thing happened again—she cried. Lou was behind her with the luggage, and she turned and kissed him. He could taste her tears.

“This is what I always dreamed of,” she said. “This is perfect.”

It was their tradition to have sex in any hotel room they ever shared before doing anything else on vacation, and after that kiss, Michelle couldn’t get either of them out of their clothes fast enough. Then they showered and dressed for her birthday dinner.

“Do you mind if I go to the bar downstairs and have a drink by myself?” she asked him as he pulled his blazer over his shoulders.

“Is everything okay?”

“It is. I just want to take a moment with myself to consider being thirty. Come down in like half an hour.”

Pop’s clock was ticking… The cure looked to be killing him.

He kissed her, and she left. Lou took his jacket off and poured himself a drink from the in-room bar. Johnnie Walker Black Label neat. Because even at Fiesta Playa one shouldn’t trust the Mexican ice. He straightened the sex sheets, sat back on the bed and flipped through the television channels, stopping on the only American show playing, King of Queens.

He’d seen this episode a hundred times. As he watched, his mind wandered.

For the moment, things were perfect with Michelle. She was happy. They hadn’t fought about money or his career since he ruined tree-decorating night. And not a word had been spoken about marriage, outside of her strange jealousy toward Chuck a few days before, something Lou chalked up to her just being a little more drunk than she let on. Yes, it had been a good couple of weeks. And he wondered how long it would last.

Maybe Michelle was downstairs considering what a penniless putz her boyfriend was. Maybe she was devising a plan complete with an ultimatum for him to propose to her, because after all, she was now thirty years old. So many times she said to him that she wanted to begin having kids by thirty-two and that she wanted at least two years of marriage before that. The clock was ticking.

Pop’s clock was ticking, too. The chemo had slowed the cancer but robbed his appetite. It took all of his energy to choke down a single bottle of Ensure each day. He was losing weight and becoming weaker. The cure looked to be killing him.

Lou made another drink and turned off the TV. He hated those characters. They were awful to each other and he no longer found nastiness funny. He could write better television. He considered moving to L.A. and trying his hand at making it there. What was so great about Chicago? Michelle wanted to move anyhow. She wanted to live closer to her parents; she wanted to live in a warm climate. But she wouldn’t move with him unless they were married, he knew that. Maybe he could leave her.

But he couldn’t leave his family. He didn’t want to abandon Pop in his final days. Or Grams for that matter. Or his father. Benjamin was living in a broken home with his bum son right next door to his dying parents. One day, if Aaron ever moved out, Benjamin would be alone. Sarah already felt abandoned and had convinced herself that her eldest son didn’t love her. Moving to L.A. would only solidify that idea in her head.

And what if he moved and couldn’t find a job? At least in Chicago he had Michelle and a nice place to live. What if L.A. was worse than Chicago?

He had to do something. That much was certain. Forty was only ten years away, and he would be responsible for the big birthdays then. He and Michelle would have a couple of kids by then, too. She’d most likely be done working as an attorney like she planned, so the financial responsibility would be all on him.

He stood on the balcony and breathed in the ocean air. The sun was just about to sink into the blackening water. He counted the seconds until it was gone. 1, 2, 3… 30… It’s incredible how quickly it can go from lightness to the dark. And so routinely, so easily without fanfare or violence. The light just sinks down and it’s gone. Another day behind us with another long night to face. But the light would always be back in the morning. At least outside, anyway.

As he stood there with the drink in his hand considering his position, Lou realized there was no guarantee that light would ever return to him. The poverty and unemployment and self-doubt and accountability imposed on him and the evading ideal future and the dying loved ones and the loneliness all made Lou certain that the only sure thing in his life was that darkness was coming.

“Christ,” he said to himself. “How am I going to get out of this?”

✶

MICHELLE WAS SITTING AT A TABLE IN THE LOBBY BAR BY HERSELF NURSING A GLASS OF CHAMPAGNE. She was wearing the strappy, short purple cotton dress she bought in Vegas for that very evening. Her highlighted blonde hair rested on her shoulders. Her bright green eyes were wide. She was staring off toward the ocean — The Darkness. He walked up behind her, ran his hands along her shoulders and kissed her head. “Ready?”

Slightly startled by being pulled from her reverie, she looked up, slugged the rest of her champagne and said, “Yes.”

They had dinner at her favorite restaurant in town. Mexican-Italian fare. She had met the owner when she worked summers down there during college as a youth advisor for high-schoolers on a summer-break vacation program. Essentially, her job was to prevent teenagers from dying of alcohol poisoning or drowning in the ocean. She greeted the owner, a middle-aged man named Pablo, with warmth. It was clear to Lou, however, that he didn’t remember her. It was the same thing when they came down the time before. But Pablo was a people person and played it off well.

“Oh, please, you must come to the best table of the night,” he said. “I save it just for you. So beautiful, and a handsome man on your arm, eh?”

Yep, same bullshit as last time. And Michelle ate it up.

“How was your drink? Everything okay?” Lou asked.

“Everything’s fine.” She reached across the table and took his hands in hers.

“Well, happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“I just… I just didn’t see myself here at thirty.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I’d be married. Or at least that we’d be engaged. I thought I’d be well on my way to having kids and not having to work so hard because I had a strong, supportive, confidant husband who could take care of his family. I didn’t think I’d be paying for me and my boyfriend for my thirtieth birthday vacation. At the very least, I thought I’d be in a relationship with someone who had it more together, like I do. At least someone who was at the same stage in their life as I am.”

Lou looked at their hands. “I am at the same stage in life as you are.”

“Lou, honey, you don’t have a job.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not trying to get one. You know it’s not easy for anyone out there now.”

“You’re the only person in my life who is unemployed. Sure, you pick up a freelance job every now and again, but that’s not paying anything, really. All of my other friends have boyfriends or husbands with real jobs. They themselves have jobs. And they’re all doctors and lawyers and marketing directors.”

“I’m not a doctor or lawyer. You knew that.”

“You’re a great writer, but you also know marketing. Why don’t you try doing that?”

“I have tried. No one is hiring. Even your marketing-director friends, who, by the way, haven’t done much in the way of pushing my résumé through, have said they’re worried about their jobs.”

“That’s probably why they haven’t done anything with your résumé.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly.”

“Look, Michelle, I don’t know why were fighting here.”

“We’re not fighting, we’re just talking.”

“You’re dumping a lot of shit on me right now.”

“This isn’t about you, Lou. It’s about me. It’s about me turning thirty.”

“But everything you just said was about how—”

“How I’m not where I wanted to be or who I wanted to be with.”

“You don’t want to be with me?” He pulled his hands away. The waiter came by and delivered their drinks. Lou drank his scotch immediately.

“Of course I do. I just want you to get your life together so we can build our life already. I want to have kids in two years.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it a million times. I get it.”

“Don’t get snippy with me.”

“I’m not getting snippy. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Things stayed tense through the rest of the night and into their whale-watching excursion the following day, New Year’s Eve. After a midday nap, they woke, had sex and were back to good because sex between Lou and Michelle was always an emotional reboot. No matter how good or bad things were between them, a little sex always made everything better. It was never acrobatic or what anyone else might consider exciting, but it was good, real good.

When they first started dating, Lou was thrilled he’d found a girl who waxed and was quick to come. And she gave him the most incredible blowjobs. So incredible that his appendages would tingle and numb while she seemingly unhinged her jaw and delicately made out with his cock the way a bar slut would fellate a lollipop for attention. And when Michelle revealed that she loved a bit of a finger in her ass, Lou was happy to oblige, even if it left his finger stinking of shit. Because to Lou, that was the stench of love.

The plan that night was to join the party at the resort. Michelle wore her best little black dress that showed off just enough cleavage to make things interesting; Lou donned his tuxedo, which was a sexual trigger for Michelle. But the party was a bust. Everyone left the resort to celebrate in town. Michelle was mortified. She never made planning errors. She was sure the resort party would be the best option. The resort’s club was always a happening scene.

“Maybe it’ll pick up after midnight, when people start coming back,” Lou suggested.

“We’ll be in bed, drinking champagne in our clothes like every year,” she said pouting. “This is fucking bullshit!”

Unable to find a restaurant that would take them for dinner, they bought two cans of Pringles and a bag of Twizzlers from the gift shop, and retired to the room, where they ordered two bottles of champagne from room service. They ate and drank on the balcony.

“God! I swear, you are such a baby sometimes. Just man up!”

They both drank fast. Michelle polished the first bottle of bubbly off in an hour. This was fine by Lou because she became less cranky with each glass, and she always liked him more when soused. When he popped the cork on the second bottle, it was clear to him that she would likely kill that bottle even quicker. It was barely past ten o’clock, and Lou needed his buzz to catch up. He moved to the Black Label in the room’s bar.

They searched the TV for a channel playing any kind of music so they could dance. Nothing was on. And the alarm-clock/radio on the nightstand picked up no reception. So they just sang and danced drunkenly to their own voices.

“Hey, Darling Michelle.”

“Yes, Darling Lou.”

“You think Pop considers that he may never go dancing with Grams again?”

She stopped dancing. “Why are you talking about that now?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“But we’re having fun. Why do you always have to ruin a good time?” She plopped herself down on the bed, finished what was in her glass, pulled the champagne bottle out of the ice bucket and brought it to her lips.

“I’m not ruining a good time. It was just a question. They have to worry about those sorts of things, don’t they? I do.”

“Why don’t you ask them then?”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Just fucking ask them. God! I swear, you are such a baby sometimes. Just man up!”

“Don’t say that to me! Don’t tell me to man up! You know how insulting that is? I’m not sorry that I’m thinking about my grandfather right now. It’s New Year’s Eve, and he might die this year. Do you understand that? My fucking grandfather is probably going to be fucking dead in a few months! And then what? Then Grams, then Dad and Mom. And they’ll all be dead before I can get a job and get on with my life and show them I’m not a complete piece of shit!” He pulled at his bowtie and yanked it from his shirt collar then threw it past Michelle’s head. He kicked his shoes off with such force that they flew across the room to the door. “I mean, what the fuck am I going to do? No one’s helping me and I am afraid to even help myself because no matter what I do, you give me shit for it!”

He ripped his tuxedo jacket off and threw it onto the balcony where it draped itself over the railing. They both stared at it. Michelle turned back to the lunatic standing before her. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape.

“What. The. Fuck.”

A breeze blew across the balcony lifting the jacket off of the railing and onto the pool deck seven stories below.

“And then there’s that,” Lou said as he threw his half-full glass of scotch out after the jacket. He grabbed another glass from the bar, made another drink and walked to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Michelle asked.

“I have a tuxedo jacket to find.” He stumbled through the door and tried to slam it, but hotel doors are on pressured hinges so it slowly closed comfortably. He took his socks off and tied them together then tied them around the door handle. “Do not disturb!” he shouted at his handiwork.

He found his jacket on the edge of the pool with one arm submerged. He picked it up, wrung it out and looked up toward his balcony. He could see Michelle looking down on him. “Got it!” he said. She turned away and went back into the room.

“Well, fine with me if she’s not going to kiss me at midnight,” he said as he stumbled around the stacked-up lounge chairs and out onto the beach, where he waded in the water. Fireworks began shooting off a few miles down the shoreline. The colors rippled on the dark ocean canvas. Lou raised his glass. “Here’s to the goddamn New Year. Maybe I’ll die first.”

✶

SHE FINALLY SPOKE TO HIM ONCE THEY MADE IT ONTO THE PLANE THE NEXT MORNING. “Where did you sleep?”

“Woke up on the beach. Lost my watch somewhere.”

“Too bad.”

Nothing was said again until they were in the air headed back to Chicago. “Please don’t leave me,” he said as she pulled her head away from his attempt at kissing her forehead—her favorite place to be kissed. “You’re all I’ve got.”

“You need help, Lou. You should have seen yourself last night. I know things are hard for you and all, but you have got to pull it together. Because I’m done. I can’t keep letting you ruin everything and hold me back.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Let’s just get home without me killing you and we’ll see.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t even think killing you would help. You need therapy. Like, some serious therapy. Shock treatment. Maybe a lobotomy. Something.”

“But we’re not breaking up?”

“We’ll have to see. Because I can’t do this anymore.”

The seatbelt sign dinged off, and Lou bolted to the bathroom where he threw up. When he finished, he snaked two mini bottles of Dewar’s scotch from the unattended bar cart just outside of the bathroom. He slugged back one and put the other in his pocket, then returned to his seat where Michelle was stoically, coldly, reading an issue of Us Weekly.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part 11

[carot-dj]

The American Dream I admit that I only read the book after seeing the movie when I was younger, and even after hearing the song by Avenged Sevenfold "Bat Country", but this story changed a lot about the way I think. "The American Dream" is the theme of this adventure story (though I use the term adventure in place of "drug binge fueled blaze across Nevada), and two unlikely companion take their wild "trip" to the heart of Nevada: Las Vegas to find the dream and write about it to bring home. This story is very crazy to be honest but it is time and time again one of my favourite stories. If you are into half truth and half fiction stories where it is hard to draw the line between what could have really happened and what exactly was fabricated you will enjoy the wild ride Thompson will put you through in Fear and Loathing. It has twists and turns and bizarre events at every turn. It will keep you enthralled and engaged and you can buy a ticket to take this ride safely from the comfort of your home. Go to Amazon

"I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger...a Man on the Move, and just sick enough to be totally confident." A first impression one may get from Hunter Thompson's FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS (1971) is that he and especially his attorney, an obese .357 mag packin' Samoan anonymously called "Dr. Gonzo," have gone beyond recreational drug use and are hurtling toward certain death by either overdose or car wreck. Their quest for the American Dream may ultimately lie in a refrigerated drawer at the County Morgue. (Note: Gonzo was in reality Oscar Zeta Acosta, a Mexican-American activist who vanished in 1974.) Go to Amazon

Sure there are many other great novels by Thompson This is the quintessential HST book in the eyes of many folk, read it and find out why. Sure there are many other great novels by Thompson, but this is arguably the most discussed no? His wild lifestyle comes alive through the pages of this wonderful literary journey. Go to Amazon

Awesome book! Better to enjoy Hunter's experiences in book form than in real life. Shame he took his own life, but I respect his choice. I think he lived more in his 70+ years than I could, even if I lived past 100. I think Depp and Torres did an awesome job with the movie version. Highly underrated! Go to Amazon

An interesting journey that reads as a snapshot of a much larger story. Hunter S Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a relatively fast paced narratives that focuses heavily on the narrator's interpretation of events rather than the events themselves. This drug-fuelled narrative is an interesting blend of 'stream of consciouness meets the unreliable narrator.' This book is best enjoyed by readers with the flexibility to appreciate a tale for what it is. If you are looking for a strong plot-driven story then you will not find it here. The strengths of Fear and Loathing lie in the descriptive language used by Thompson to deconstruct and completely satirise the notion of the 'American Dream' Go to Amazon

Definitely Different but Great I had never heard of Hunter S. Thompson but Amazon continued to recommend Fear and Loathing to me. Go to Amazon

Great book This is a work that I say started a revolution in journalistic storytelling, along with his other books. I think this guy made writing matter by putting yourself in the middle of the piece. Go to Amazon

Badass hardcover edition! Awesome hardback edition! I only wish it had "Mescalito" in the extra articles by the good Doctor. Go to Amazon

Five Stars But it is also horribly misogynistic and makes violence against women a joke One Star It's in COMIC SANS Gret book, ridiculous price. Oh, like, wow man! Far out. Dig? Funny, outrageous, and beautifully written A trashy novel but interesting read Five Stars Five Stars

[trentteti]

The Logical Rose-ning Section: Your Recap of The Bachelorette's Season Finale

Rachel Lindsay is a practicing attorney who once took the LSAT. And you, dear reader, are an aspiring attorney who will soon take the LSAT, Rachel Lindsay is also an aspiring married person, serving as the bachelorette on this season of The Bachelorette, the love story these depraved times deserve. And you, dear reader, may also be an aspiring married person? Either way, you definitely have at least a few things in common with Rachel. So every Tuesday, we’re going to be tracking Rachel’s romantic journey on The Bachelorette, and see what we can learn about love, loss, and the LSAT. Bienvenidos a la Sección de Logical Rose-ning.

Last time: The Men Told All. As long as your idea of “All” mostly entails people confronting a guy for, let’s call them, racist tendencies, then eventually kind of letting him off the hook for saying some horrible stuff and doing some dumb stuff. It was uncomfortable. It was boring. So much so that we decided to use the special as a springboard to talk about the LSAT’s writing sample. But now we’re back to the real deal. The uncut stuff. The Bachelorette finale. We’ll be picking up right where we left off with Eric’s late season surge and fantasy suite victory lap, with Peter’s awkward one-on-one date in Spain, and with Bryan, lurking in the shadows like the Spanish-flaunting, open-mouth kissing quasi-villain he is. Finally, let’s get back to La Rioja, Spain …

… Except we’re actually starting in a studio in Los Angeles, filled to the brim with Bachelorette fans who want the contact high of romance that only a contractually-mandated proposal can bring. We’re going to be watching the finale along with these fans, and with Chris Harrison, and apparently Rachel, who will be offering live commentary along with Harrison. Rachel, let us bloggers cook. You get the love. We offer the commentary. That’s the natural order. You can’t take that away from us. It’s really all we have.

Except it doesn’t even really seem like Rachel wants to be there. “Can I leave?” she implores. “You can’t leave,” Chris Harrison replies. “If I’m here, you’re here.” And our finale is immediately starting to feel like a hostage situation. Will Chris Harrison start yelling “Attica!” outside the studio? Do we need to call Denzel to negotiate?

Oh also, there’s a Juan Pablo marriage announcement made, which receives a recepción muy frio from the audience.

Anyway, after some chit chat between Chris Harrison and Rachel, we finally get back to Spain, where we meet back up with Peter and Rachel on their overnight date.

Peter, stuck in the inevitable middle position on these overnight dates, is not exactly enthused about the whole proposal thing he’s inching towards. He asks her what would happen if he didn’t propose to her at the end of this. Like, what if he just asked her to go steady instead?

Rachel, understandably, is not stoked on this. I mean, does Peter not understand the premise of this show? It’s not The Bae-chelorette, my mans. You’re here to propose (and to get a People magazine cover and go on Kimmel and, if you’re lucky, star in a failed reality spin-off on a lesser ABC network affiliate, and then, at some point, between six and eighteen months from the finale, break up).

Anyway, Rachel compares this to a long-term relationship she was in before the show that did not end in a proposal. Solid comparison, except she has only known Peter for a couple months and they’ve been on like four or five dates at this point. She must be better at spotting false equivalences on the LSAT and in the courtroom.

Now, if there’s a common thread to how Rachel deals with Peter in this finale, it’s that she really gives him every opportunity to win. I’d hate to evoke white privilege after last week, but the one remaining white boy is given a lot of opportunities here. Even after Peter hems and haws his way to an explanation of why he doesn’t want to propose to her, she still invites him to “talk” this through in the overnight fantasy suite.

Their talks must have been productive, because they wake up without a care in the world.

Peter feels good enough after the fantasy suite time to do this goofy bit with the windows, to fry an egg shirtless, and to say that some of his doubts have gone away.

But these dissipating doubts have nothing on the all-in, ready-to-propose-in-Spanish-right-now-and-follow-it-up-with-a-sloppy-kiss Bryan, who’s batting clean up on the overnight dates. Bryan and Rachel ride horses to yet another picturesque vineyard. They recap family matters, an apropos topic given that Rachel’s family immediately sensed Bryan’s insincerity. Bryan says it was weird, but “I think I handled myself pretty good.” Whether it’s his bad grammar or tenuous grip on reality, Rachel doesn’t look too enthused by this.

She’s a little chilly to Bryan during this date, a topic that is very much broached by Chris Harrison back in the LA studio, who is fashioning himself a bit of a Ted Koppel in this sit-down interview with Rachel (or, given that we’re dealing with the fantasy suites, a Ted Koppel-ate). Rachel admits that Peter messed with her head and that she let that affect her time with Bryan. Serious Chris Harrison presses. She talks about what she “had” with Peter being important. Uh oh, this past perfect tense is not promising for Peter.

Back in Spain, Bryan picks up on Rachel’s “different energy” and notes that he doesn’t feel as “pumped up” as he could be–which, well, let’s say that’s a poor choice of words on the precipice of the fantasy suite. Nonetheless, Rachel is assuaged by Bryan’s positivity and promises (disingenuous as they may be), and invites him back to the fantasy suite.

And given their vibes the next morning–Bryan shirtless, feeding strawberries to Rachel–it appears that Bryan didn’t have any trouble pumping himself back up for Rachel. He feels like he did good work, bragging that their chemistry is “hotter than ever” and that he’s a shoe-in for the final rose.

And now that she test rode the three guys, Rachel is onto the Rose Ceremony. She’s dressed like Cersei Lannister, and is ready to set fire to the Sept of Bachelor. In the voice over, she goes on and on about how she wants to be assured that at the end of this she will get a proposal and a marriage and a life-long commitment. She says this as she looks right into the eyes of Peter, the one guy who hasn’t given her such reassurance.

So naturally she cuts Eric, who seemed like the coolest, most normal dude here. Eric could not have been more generous or forgiving to Rachel when they bid their adieus. He says, to quoth Dolly Parton c/o Whitney Houston, “I will always love you,” but he nonetheless hopes that she’ll find what she’s looking for. Back at the studio, we learn that Eric has coped with a fantastic break-up beard.

Anyway, we’re down to two contestants now. And these people couldn’t look any more madly in love and ready to commit their entire lives together.

So Rachel has one last date with each of these two happy guys to see which one she’ll give permission to propose to her on natural television. First up is Bryan, who takes her on a hot air balloon, which will be powered solely on the sweet nothings, hokum, and palaver he’ll be feeding her on this date.

So what does she see in Bryan? She thought he was a douche bag at first, her entire family thought he was a douche bag at first, and every person I’ve spoken to about this show has also come to the conclusion that he’s a shifty douche bag. But he sometimes talks to her in Spanish? It’s cool that he’s proud of his Colombian heritage, but he really leans on the Spanish. And look, I have at best an Intro to Spanish understanding of the language, but as a guy who has tried to authentically pronounce “carne asada,” “chile de árbol,” and “huitlacoche” to unimpressed Mexican restaurant proprietors for years, I can sort of sense when people try a little too hard to flex with their Spanish skills. And let’s just say that Bryan doesn’t exactly make the strongest case for himself when he gifts Rachel a homemade Spanish dictionary. Take it away, Twitter user @osnapitscri …

And then we have the date with Peter. Rachel takes him to a monastery. Yes, nothing like a little Catholic guilt to put the pressure on Peter, especially now that they are officially living in sin.

So what does she see in Peter? He’s devilishly handsome and, as a former model, takes a mean picture. His reaction to getting married to someone after only knowing them for a few weeks kind of proves he’s normal and level-headed?

Except when she again confronts him on his reluctance to propose, he makes some pretty crazy claims. He starts by saying that he can picture a life with her. But it’s a boring-ass life filled with “football games” and “baseball games” (she’s a basketball fan, dude), and “the farmers market” (again?), and “wine night with painting” (?).

He then claims that, “I have no fear for marriage”–just marriage with you, Rachel, being the implication.

She accuses him of contradicting himself. He says, “I am not contradicting myself. I am going against what I believe.” Which means he’s pretty much contradicting himself.

And then things get really nasty. He tells her to “go have a mediocre life with someone else.” She responds, “Why does that mean I will have a mediocre life?” To which he says, “Because I will give you an amazing life.” That’s the inverse fallacy, guy.

He then says “I don’t know what I want to do tomorrow. Because that’s one day that means the rest of my life.” That’s a temporal fallacy, my dude.

In their heated confrontation, he makes enough fallacious claims to for the next ten LSATs.

Eventually, Rachel has enough. They break up over tears. Rachel cries “her eyelashes off.” Peter is positively shook. So much so that he just has to rip off his shirt off one last time.

And that’s it, basically. Bryan has won this show, not by being someone Rachel affirmatively wanted to pick, but by being the one guy that Rachel didn’t break up with. In argumentation, we call that “rejecting alternatives.” It’s not the best way to make an argument. Or find a husband.

And I think Peter realizes how much he really blew this back in the LA studio. He could have been a little less harsh and demeaning to Rachel in their break-up, and been all-but-guaranteed the role of the next bachelor. He could have been just a tad more emotive throughout the entire season, and maybe could have made that difficult transition from model to actor. Or he could have accepted the premise of the show and wound up with an engagement to a really cool, smart, funny, and successful person.

But instead, he looks dejected, tired, and confused on the couch in the LA studio. All that’s missing is “Jesse’s Girl,” firecrackers, a cracked-out Alfred Molina, and a minute-long close-up on this face:

So we’re left to go through the motions. Bryan picks out a ring from Neil Lane and walks up to a Spanish church (where apparently there was an ongoing wind storm) where he will propose, inaudibly, to Rachel. The full-fledged cyclone going on makes everything tough to decipher, but apparently Bryan says the same Spanish phrase that he said to Rachel when they met, so many moons ago, just to reinforce how empty and bereft of ideas he is at this point. He proposes. She accepts enthusiastically. They at least seem happy.

Forgive me if I’m not giving this holy union the sentiment it deserves, but it all feels like kind of a let down. I hope the best for these two! But Rachel was one of the smartest, most personable, and confident bachelorettes this show has ever had. Plus, as the first African-American bachelorette (which, let’s be clear, is a first only because of this show’s extremely limited POV, and not because America wasn’t ready for this or anything. Between Girl’s Trip, Insecure, and Shonda Rhimes single-handedly keeping ABC’s drama department afloat, and countless other works, black women have and will continue to kill it in pop culture), the show had the opportunity to have an interesting, fresh season.

But this feels like she’s settling. And the season as a whole feels a bit off. It was boring for long-stretches, except for the parts when it was extremely uncomfortable. And Bryan? I mean, he seems nice enough. He looks great for a 37 year old. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what seemed so off about him, until I saw him shamelessly mugging to the camera, backstage at the LA studio.

This guy doesn’t belong on The Bachelorette. This is the behavior of a contestant on some third-rate MTV dating show. This isn’t the veneer of class and prestige we want in our happy couples on The Bachelorette, this is the cheap knock off.

In other words, we thought we were getting the LSAT, but we wound up with the SAT.

The Logical Rose-ning Section: Your Recap of The Bachelorette’s Season Finale was originally published on LSAT Blog

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x OC)

Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Sam— and learns a little about Maggie’s past. Maggie and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Maggie playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love. 

She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again. 

She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go to dinner to celebrate.”

She laughed and looked up at him. “Celebrate what?”

He shrugged. “You. Summer.” He brought his arms around her shoulders. “Love.”

She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. “You just want me to say it again.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately and rather dreamily.

“Yo, Brooksy!” 

The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, “You ready to get absolutely crunk tonight or— oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencer’s frame. “Dr. Reid.”

Spencer stepped back from Maggie, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. “Mrs. Lopez. It’s, um— it’s nice to see you again.”

Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Maggie. “So, are we going out or what?”

Maggie groaned. “Anita, I’m exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!” Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. “Spence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, um— summer. Call Sam; we’ll all just go together.”

Anita spared a glance in Spencer’s direction before sighing heavily. “Fine. But I’m drinking.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.

Maggie chuckled. “I swear she’s not actually an alcoholic.” Her eyes landed on Spencer’s face, and she smiled gently. “I know you weren’t expecting a Meet the Friends night, but it’ll be fun.”

“She hates me,” Spencer surmised.

“She does not hate you.” Maggie stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. “She’s just… protective. That’s all.”

…

Maggie was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor. 

They’d met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having “flipped him the bird” the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly… less so. 

Spencer understood completely of course. He’d broken Maggie’s heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Maggie’s best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. He’d just... hoped that she wouldn’t. 

Thankfully, Maggie and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversation— he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidney— one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool. 

“Maggie is still Riley’s favorite teacher ever,” Sam told him. “I mean, it helps when she’s also your aunt, I guess.”

“He didn’t get any special treatment,” Maggie insisted. At Sam’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “Okay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I can’t help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.”

“Oh my god, the field trip,” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. 

“The field trip!” Maggie turned to Spencer. “My group of kiddos from two years ago— they were kind of a tough group.”

“Kind of?” Anita squeaked. “Let me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.”

Sam piped in, “I chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked incredulously. 

“So many things,” Sam baited. 

Maggie covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencer’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and she’d barely cracked a smile all evening. 

“Okay, so many things happened,” Maggie started, “but the worst was—”

“The poop!” Sam wheezed. “The poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.”

Maggie composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. “So after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and there’s this— smell.”

“The absolute worst smell you’ve ever smelled, Spencer,” Sam assured. 

“It’s awful. It’s so bad,” Maggie agreed. “And I’m literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.”

“You could not pay me enough,” Anita chimed in. 

“And I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I can’t, like— hold my nose, right? I don’t want to embarrass him!” Maggie turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. “So I ask, ‘Sweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?’”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no.” 

“But oh, it wasn’t a bathroom accident,” Maggie clarified, waving her hand. “No, no— that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.”

Spencer could feel his jaw drop. “Oh my god.”

“So, he unzips his lunchbox and it’s just— overflowing with shit.” Maggie dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles. 

“And don’t forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!” Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. “I will never understand.”

Maggie lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space. 

“I told you I had a lot of poop stories,” Maggie lamented to him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.

“God, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,” Maggie complained, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Sam’s phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh. 

“Shit— I’ve been waiting on this call all day.” She kissed Anita’s cheek and stood from the table. “So sorry; I’ll just be five minutes, I promise.”

With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Anita broke the silence first. 

“You know what’s annoying?”

Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Considering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.”

Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, “And I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.”

“I actually kind of like you.” She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. “I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, um— I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,” she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. “Almost as hot as she is.”

He laughed a little at that. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didn’t crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. “I don’t know how much you know about Owen, and she’d probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.”

This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didn’t know anything about Owen; he’d tried not to think too much about anyone Maggie might have been with before him. 

“It didn’t start out that way.” She drew her brows together. “Well, I don’t know— maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “The point is, I didn’t know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already all…” She gestured wildly around her head. “In her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. To— unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.” 

He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anita’s wrath. He was also immensely glad that Maggie had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored. 

“You’re a fed or whatever, so I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she continued, “but I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.” She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest he’d ever heard it. “All that to say, I… I wasn’t there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.” 

Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. “I like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, just— don’t give me a reason not to.”

She didn’t drop her gaze, and he couldn’t quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman he’d ever met.

 “Where’s Sam?” Spencer turned just as Maggie slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee. 

“Some bullshit from the office that her idiot partner can’t handle.” Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Maggie with a grin. “Don’t worry. I didn’t scare him too much.”

…

“Easy.” Spencer steadied Maggie with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment. 

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just— really can’t drink like I used to.” She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs. 

He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy. 

“Can’t believe I’m tipsy from a couple margaritas.”

“To be fair, you had four,” he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door. 

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “But I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.”

“A pitcher?” Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. “I can’t even have one without being completely incapacitated.”

She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. “Mmm, so you’re a lightweight.”

“Very much so,” he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips. 

“Just one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close. 

He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom. 

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again. 

Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” she teased, ghosting her lips over his.

“Ha, ha.” Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didn’t want to ruin this night of celebration. He didn’t want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen. 

He wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’ve met Penelope. I’ve met Anita. Now that the school year is over… we could tell Michael.”

She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

…

A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Maggie waited slightly behind him. 

They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michael’s high pitched giggle and Will’s booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencer’s grip. 

“I knew it!” Michael cried. 

He wrapped himself around Maggie’s legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. “I told you.”

“You did, buddy.” Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Maggie forward by the hand. “Michael had an… inklin’ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Brooks.”

“Not friends, Daddy,” Michael said exasperatedly. “He’s her boyfriend.”

“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. “Michael had a feelin’ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Brooks’ boyfriend.”

Maggie’s cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. “What— um, what made you think that?” 

Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. “Well firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldn’t stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.” Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh. 

“You guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew you’d like him if he could be a guest reader.” As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, “Oh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesn’t let anyone wear the purple scarf.”

Spencer vividly remembered that morning— she’d slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit she’d brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. He’d wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought. 

She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.

“Well, guess I can’t take all the credit,” Will decided. “Who knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?”

Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Maggie into the playroom. “This is the best,” Michael sighed. “Now we can play restaurant forever.”

…

Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, he’d actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Maggie. 

She was helping with the last of the setup for the “restaurant,” organizing Michael’s menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course he’d seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroom— one that he’d spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow up— had him feeling warm from head to toe. 

Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadn’t realized that she’d taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, “Gosh, I always forget how tall you’ve gotten!”

And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Hen!” Michael called. 

Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. “What?”

“You’re the chef,” Michael informed him. 

Maggie tilted her head. “I thought I was the chef?”

“No, no, no.” Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. “You and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.”

Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. “Thank you, sir.”

She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. “You look very comfortable.” 

He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. “The picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.”

“I’m sorry I’m so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,” she teased, dropping her chin into her hand. 

“You look stunning, as always.” He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. “I especially love what you’re doing with your hair.”

She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. “You’re making me blush, doctor.” She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. “I’m probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.” 

He looked at her sympathetically. “I know the feeling. I think I’ve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. I’ve gotten pretty good at detangling Michael’s handiwork.”

Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. “Good evening, sir, madam.” 

“Good evening,” they chorused, with barely suppressed grins. 

“Compliments of the chef.” Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.

“Oh, wow,” Maggie said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. “Honey, do you want to—”

Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. “No, no, please, help yourself.”

Maggie held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. “Thank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?”

That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. “Our specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.”

From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, “Tartare.” 

“Tartare. Steak tartare is our special,” Michael corrected. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’m that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,” Maggie told a grinning Michael. “What do you recommend for a picky eater?”

“My favorite is the chicken nuggets.”

“Well then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.” Maggie handed him the menu. 

Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michael’s handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Maggie had helped. “Everything looks delicious,” he finally decided, “but, you know... I think I’m also going to have the nuggets.”

…

When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Maggie settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck. 

“You’re lucky,” he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. “Michael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.”

She leaned her head back into his hands. “You detangled the whole thing?”

“Mmhm.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up. 

He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. “I’m very lucky,” she agreed. “For many reasons.”

Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And tired, too.”

“Hmm?” 

He leaned his cheek against her head. “When you get tired, you, um— you start drawing on my stomach.” 

Her finger paused. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve just— noticed.”

She smiled a little sleepily. “You know I love all of you. But I— well, I don’t know, really. I just like your tummy.” She gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s just— nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.” 

He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. “Man, I am tired.” She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. “What, um— what else have you noticed?”

He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. “You like to play with my hair.”

“Mmmm, guilty as charged.”

He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. “I like it, too.” He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. “Hmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. It’s usually your hands, but sometimes it’s your head or even your toes— like when you tuck them under my leg.”

“Ugh— I’m sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,” she mumbled.

She might have been joking, but Anita’s words were replaying in his head. He couldn’t change what had happened in the past. He couldn’t go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like he’d promised. 

“I’m not sorry. I love all of you,” he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her. 

“Even my feet?” 

He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didn’t love about her. “Especially your feet.”

She huffed a sigh into his chest. “Y’got a foot thing I don’t know about?”

He laughed a little at that. “Only for yours. They’re very cute feet.”

“You’re weird,” she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.

“You love it.”

Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. “Mmhm. Love you.”

He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.

Doesn’t live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “So much.”

———

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