#birdiewrites

[mrsabednadir]

Naked and Famous, Pt.1

A/N: HEYOOOOOO it's been a while. This has been my go-to sleep scenario for my beautiful little buttercup Charlie Kelly. Hope you enjoy

WC: 799

---

4:30 PM

On a Saturday

Philadelphia, PA.

.

What the hell is a “Naked and Famous?!”

The guy sitting on the stool across from me just stares expectantly, though kindly. Pretty sure he can tell I’m very, very new to this. And, of course, there’s no one else tending bar.

Dennis and Mac are engrossed in a vicious game of pool: Mac had desperately tried to convince him to play for clothes, though thankfully, they settled on bragging rights. I know better than to interrupt their time together. Charlie’s probably huffing God-knows-what in the back office. Poor thing. Dee and Frank are out, either looking for a mark or bleeding one dry. I think I heard the words “flammable,” “that yellow tape they put up at crime scenes,” and “orphans.”  – Good luck, kids.

“You son of a bitch!” Dennis shouts over Mac’s carefree karate victory dance. 

Christ. Do these people remember that this is an actual business? With customers?

Oh shit. The customer.

“I'm gonna be real with you. I have no idea what that is, but let me go check on the computer in the back,” I offer, shooing away his insisting that just a beer would suffice. “Gimme one sec.”

Maybe I’ve only been working for half an hour, but I deserve a break, anyways. I walk to the PRIVATE door, past the pile of dirty glasses I knew I’d have to clean because no one else would, and the on-taps dripping pitifully, begging me to change their kegs. 

One, two, three knocks on the door earns me a haggard “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” I respond, thankful that Charlie hasn’t passed out yet. 

Several seconds pass before I hear anything. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to the still-conscious conclusion so quickly. Just as I’m about to knock again –

“Come on in,” he drawls, with all the effort made to unsuccessfully hide his slurred speech.

As I enter the small room, walls painted a nauseating two-toned egg yolk yellow and throw-up green, I pull up a chair next to Charlie at the desk. He smiles, excitedly yet weakly, as I walk in. 

Scruffy, simple, and sweet. Just how I like them. Honestly, if he cleaned himself up, I’d jump his bones.

“ ‘Sup?” he asks, hands neatly folded in his lap.

“ ‘Sup to you. You look sick, Charlie.”

“W..what do you mean? I feel…fine.” His eyes are struggling to stay focused and open. There’s an open can of paint thinner at his side, its sides violently dented from attempts to squeeze out that last bit of escape.

“I mean that you’re super sweaty, and you look super pale and shit. Are you sure you’re alright, dude?”

“Never better,” he grins. It looks genuine, thankfully. “Whatcha need?”

“Customer came in asking for a ‘Naked and Famous’ – what the hell is that, right? – so I’m gonna borrow the computer to search it up,” I explain, pulling the keyboard closer to me and leaning over him slightly to look at the monitor. Maybe I’m a bit too close for comfort, but I hope he’s picking up what I’m putting down.

“Oh, cool,” he replies. Then – “Wait, wait, wait!”

4,300,000 results for “GANGBANG.” 

Oh fuck.

Ohhhhh fuck. 

Neither of us say anything, but both of us understand. 

A loading sign finally finishes its job, slow and laborious, thanks to the bar’s lack of its own WiFi and Frank’s solution to siphon it from the place next door – as he once explained, “it’s a free country, bitch.” 

A pretty lady appears on the screen, and she looks very pleased. 

Well, at least he muted it.

I try to say something, anything. “I, uh….Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…intrude. Um, I’m gonna go. Yep, gotta go, gotta go,” I blurt as I rush for the sweet escape of literally-anywhere-else-but-here. The whole time, Charlie’s gotten waaaayyyyy paler and much more silent. I slam the door shut and pause for a few moments to regain my composure, like I didn’t just see my boss in the middle of getting his rocks off. 

As I make my way back to the already-unsettled customer, a scream erupts from the back office. Damn, that kid’s got pipes – birds scattering, Earth and wine glass shattering. Really, if I wasn’t an active participant in this, it would be funny. Mac and Dennis look up – both of them now have their shirts popped off – then to me. The deer-in-headlights look across my face is enough for them, I guess, as they reluctantly shrug their shirts on (leaving them unbuttoned) and enter the office.

Before the customer can ask any questions, I fill a glass with whatever – it’ll get him drunk all the same – and hand it to him, shakily. A little bit spills out, but we both couldn’t care less. 

He nods in appreciation, and in understanding.  At least someone here gets me.

[miniekith]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

hello everyone! my name is jordan but some call me birdie 💘💗 and im going to write imagines and things on this account! sometimes i might write letter to the boys & etc. and that’ll go under the tag #biridetalks along with other personal stuff ! but #birdiewrites is for all my writings since i don’t know how to use the whole link thing 😎😎 im always open to new friends so please don’t feel scared about talking to me! 💗

[ao3feed-voltronlegendarydefender]

We Can't Have Kids

read it on the AO3 at We Can't Have Kids

by BirdieWrites

Pidge knows that her boyfriend wants a family one day.

But, she also knows that she can't give him one

  Keith is 24 in this AU Pidge is 23 in this AU

Words: 625, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Keith (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt

Relationships: Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt

Additional Tags: Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Female Character, Kidge - Freeform, Voltron, My First Work in This Fandom, Light Angst, Happy Ending, MTF Pidge, ftm Keith, mentions of foster care, mentions of adoption, no beta we die like men

read it on the AO3 at We Can't Have Kids

[misterloki]

Character designs for an upcoming short comic written by my friend Emily (@birdiewrites on twitter). This will be my first wlw short comic and I am very excited! It follows Ledoc and Aufair, two wintering fur trapping partners and the predicament they unintentionally get themselves stuck in. 

[englishmansdcc]

OVER THE GARDEN WALL - SOULFUL SYMPHONIES Review: Greg's Big Break!!

Last week @boomstudios released, OVER THE GARDEN WALL - SOULFUL SYMPHONIES #1. Here's @samanthamaybe's review of the title from @BirdieWrites, @Skulkingfoxes, @deandraws, & Mike Fiorentino, with covers by @KeezyBees, @GavinFullerton1, & @misspenart #review

Written by Birdie Willis,  Main Cover Art by Keezy Young, Variant Cover by Gavin Fullerton, Preorder Cover Art by Missy Peña, Interior Art by Rowan MacColl, Colorist Dean Stuart, Letterer: Mike Fiorentino

Thanks to BOOM! Studios for providing a review copy of this title!

Synopsis

While traveling through an abandoned town in the Unknown, Greg’s singing catches the attention of a…

[mrsabednadir]

Here Comes the Night

WC: 640

SUMMARY: The BAU joins a multi-agency effort to track down one of the CIA’s most-devastating double agents ever.

PAIRING: GN! Y/N x BAU

A/N: It’s been a hot minute heyyyyyy I’ve been writing little drafts of CM episode scripts so i thought I might share it cuz maybe someone will enjoy it, yanno? Let me know if you like this format and want me to post more/the rest of the script once I finish it!

A/N: Also this story is very heavily based off a real case (Harold James Nicholson, if you’re interested). Also also the title is a Beach Boys song but it has absolutely nothing to do with the story, I just thought the name sounded cool

CRIMINAL MINDS

“Here Comes the Night, Part 1”

Season 7, Episode 7

EPISODE DESCRIPTION:

The Behavioral Analysis Unit joins a multi-agency effort to track down one of the CIA’s most-devastating double agents ever.

FADE IN:

INT. BAU OFFICE

We open as the AGENTS step out of an elevator; We see what they see. There are more suits than usual in the bullpen. As they walk in, making their way to the round table, the AGENTS glance apprehensively at each other.

CONT. SHOT - CAMERA FOLLOWS

PRENTISS: What the hell is going on?

MORGAN: No clue. But I highly doubt they’re [gesturing] all here to celebrate.

Y/N: [rolling eyes, scoffing] True. The last time there was this much ego in one room was that anthrax case, what, three years ago?

PRENTISS: [groaning] Please don’t let it be biowarfare again.

MORGAN: Oh, Prentiss, don’t cry. Look: no fatigues.

PRENTISS: [shrugging] True.

REID: The absence of camouflage does not preclude the presence of self-importance.

[beat]

REID: What?

MORGAN: Kid, was that a joke?

REID: I don’t know why everyone thinks I can’t be funny!

PRENTISS: You better not bring up that study again about how smart people are funnier.

REID: Well, if the shoe fits…!

Y/N: [laughing] Reid, you’re my hero.

We’ve now reached the familiar roundtable. There are our usual faces, but a new one too. A stern-looking man, even more so than HOTCH, is standing next to our Unit Chief and staring at the AGENTS before him.

INT. ROUNDTABLE

HOTCH: Everyone, this is Deputy Director Stevens of the CIA’s Counterintelligence Center.

We see side-eyes being shared.

HOTCH: [cont.] Seven years ago, we joined the CIA in identifying a mole in their Counterterrorism Unit.

We now see the faces of everyone in the room fall, as realization of what their new case will entail passes over them.

HOTCH: [cont.] After an extensive investigation, we concluded that the mole was Bruno Hawks.

The screen flashes to show a mugshot: this white man, 50, is smirking. He radiates arrogance.

HOTCH: In doing so, we recovered $6 million transferred between Hawks and his accomplice, Hassan Nadir.

STEVENS: The apprehension of Bruno Hawks was an achievement between the FBI and the CIA. We recently received information from a Russian informant that [sighing] we have a leak. The informant said that this was a CIA agent with a military background, who speaks a foreign language, and who recently spent time in Asia.

HOTCH: Right now, they’ve narrowed down the list to seven possible agents. The Directors of both agencies have asked us to interview these potentials to narrow the list even more.

The gravity, and deja vu, of the situation hits all of our AGENTS heavily. They know it is up to them to save the lives of spies and citizens alike.

JJ: Have any of them taken a polygraph test yet?

STEVENS: No. Any sudden action, like a polygraph, might scare them into cutting off contact with their handler or destroying evidence.

HOTCH: The Department of Justice plans to pursue the death penalty – they need all the evidence they can get.

Silence.

HOTCH: Just like with the mole investigation seven years ago, we’ll be shadowing and interviewing each of the potentials.

He moves to stand up, signifying to the others it’s time.

HOTCH: I don’t have to explain the gravity and timeliness of what we’re dealing with here.

All the AGENTS shuffle out of the room, and as they leave, we can catch conversations between them.

Y/N: [to REID] Ready to head to Langley?

MORGAN: [chuckling] No, he’s scared of not being the smartest person in the room anymore. Remember that agent with the, what was it, 197 IQ?

Y/N: Oh God, Kruger Spence. [mock-shivering] Literally the definition of unsettling.

REID: Hey Morgan, how’s Gina doing?

MORGAN: [laughing] Damn, touché, kid. Touché.

[mrsabednadir]

Savior

Summary: A bullet brings you closer to Spencer than you ever thought possible.

Warnings: gun violence, hospitals, self-loathing (Spencer), very mild cursing (like one F bomb) -- please let me know if I missed anything! // angst, fluff, but a definite happy ending

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN Reader (they/them pronouns)

WC: 1.7k

A/N: I am not a doctor at all, so I have no idea if these injuries or the reader’s recovery are consistent or even possible LOL anyways enjoy! woohoo for second fics :D

Pablo Neruda once wrote, “if nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life.”

And how true his words were. Because as I stared down the barrel of a pistol, I felt elated, not scared.

I reminisced on the displays of love that saved me from life: Penelope showing up at my apartment completely unannounced with two trays of cupcakes after I got chewed out by Strauss; Rossi inviting the team to make carbonara whenever a case hit particularly hard; Emily’s checkups, calls, and texts whenever she noticed a metaphorical cloud hanging over me; Hotch’s stoic but reassuring presence that conveyed compassion without words; and Spencer — Spencer’s existence was a paragon of humanity.

It was Spencer who always asked for my opinion on cases when I was a rookie overcome by uncertainty and shyness, Spencer who brought me coffee every day, just the way I liked it, Spencer who always offered to take a couple of my cases from the endless stack of reports so I wouldn’t have to stay late. (although, in his own words, he found bureaucratic paperwork “mediative”...)

I didn’t even hear the gun go off nor the agonizing screams of the people I cared most about as metal cracked thunderously against my skull. Love was all I knew before nothingness mercifully embraced me like an old friend.

---

“Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were. But without it, we go nowhere.” That was Carl Sagan, Cosmos, chapter 1, page 9. That was easy to know and to remember. It was something I wanted to remember. But it’s a pitfall of an eidetic memory, the dichotomy between what one knows and what one happens to know.

For instance, I happen to know the unimaginable terror, overwhelming grief, and suffocating guilt of watching someone you love cling to life. I happen to know the horrible darkness consuming you like a cancer from the inside out as you watch pure evil empty a cartridge into the person you swore to protect. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the image of him pointing the pistol to Y/N’s head, Y/N lurching forward, the 140-decibel boom of burning propellant, the blinding light of the muzzle flash, him crumpling to the ground as government bullets riddled his body…

Now, as I sat in the waiting room, my brain was swimming in thoughts. It was like Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment: “scraps and shreds of thoughts were swarming in his brain, but he could not rest on one.” But was I guilty of murder? Did I get Y/N killed? Was I no good as a frenzied axeman?

And very suddenly, the harsh, unforgiving hospital lights seemed to morph into a single beam, focused on me. It was the light of an interrogation room, demanding answers. But I had none. I couldn’t give a good explanation as to why I agreed to split up with Y/N, why my geographic profile failed, why I failed...I kept my head down, but I could still almost feel seven pairs of eyes blaming me. They didn’t say anything, but they didn’t have to.

I might as well have fired the bullet into Y/N’s brain myself.

Just then, I heard someone calling me from far away, as I desperately tried to escape to a distant land where Y/N wasn’t lingering between life and death.

“Reid?” It was Morgan.

I looked up towards him. He nudged me to where a tired doctor stood, ready to address us. This was it, this was the moment I would either come to remember with bliss or sorrow.

“The bullet,” she explained, “just grazed the back of the head. It passed through the occipital lobe and made a clean exit on the other side.

“Moreover, the trauma sustained was severe: multiple broken ribs, a partially-collapsed lung, as well as innumerable bruises, cuts, and hairline fractures. There also appeared to be an onset of hemorrhagic hypovolem-”

I was growing more impatient--and scared--with each additional injury. Hotch felt the same way apparently, as he asked, “Doctor?” With one word, and a plea in his eyes for the truth, she understood.

“Yes.”

I felt like I could cry right then and there. I was crying. For the past few days, I was Atlas, but the world had finally been lifted off my shoulders. There was no solace as sweet as this. I was worlds away, to the land where Y/N would be okay, except this was no fantasy — it was real.

-- -

When I finally woke up, I was no longer strapped to a chair in a dilapidated, forgotten factory. My fingers felt the scratchy but reassuring presence of hospital linens, my eyes fought to adjust to the light, my ears registered the monotone beeping of the vital signs monitor.

I was alive. Love kept me alive.

“Oh my god!”

I grinned; I could recognize Penelope’s voice anywhere.

“You’re awake! You’re actually awake! How are you feeling?,” she exclaimed as she rushed over to hug me.

“It’s great to see you too,” I smiled, ignoring the slight discomfort in my sides.

“Reid’s gonna be so mad he missed this!”

“Where is he?” There was probably no one else I wanted to see more right now. There were so many things I had to tell him: “I’m okay,” “it’s not your fault,” “I love you”....

“He said he’d be getting jello from the cafeteria. Y/N, he’s been here every single day since you were admitted. You know what that means? I mean, I’m no profiler, but it sounds like the BAU has two new lovebirds!” she teased.

“Thank you, Penelope, for that wonderful analysis,” I laughed and jokingly rolled my eyes. “But maybe he was just a concerned citizen. He is a doctor, you know.”

“You and I both know that Dr. Spencer Reid has a particular fondness for-”

Speak of the devil. He just had to come back now.

“Who knows that I have a particular fondness for what?” he asked. His eyebrows endearingly furrowed in confusion, and I felt a new wave of affection crash down all over me.

But when he turned and saw me, I knew what it was like to truly love. It was like nothing I ever felt before, but it was everything I hoped it could be. It was the glimpse of sunshine aching to escape from clouds; it was the song of morning birds commemorating a new beginning; it was the snow melting to make way for the spring; it was the blossom of every flower on Earth all at once.

There was a tenderness in his expression that seemed to emerge from deep within his heart. It was in his softened eyes, his widened smile, his flushed cheeks. He had never looked more beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he whispered so quietly that I almost missed it.

“Of course I am — you saved me.”

Penelope cleared her throat. “I think I’ll leave you two to catch up,” she winked before shuffling out.

The room was almost completely silent, aside from Penelope’s departing heels and the ever-steady chatter of hospital machinery.

“Spencer?”

He looked up. I extended my hand to him, and he grasped it like a lifeline.

“I already know what you’re thinking,” I continued. “None of this is your fault.”

He moved as if about to object, but I waved him off.

“We both made the decision to split up back there. And as a matter of fact, you were the one to rescue me.”

“No, t-that was the whole team,” he stammered. “Y/N — God, I’m so unbelievably fucking sorry. A-and I should never have let you have gone off by yourself, I should have been more careful with the geo-profile, I should have-”

I shook my head. With every disparaging remark about himself, my heart threatened to fracture.

“Spencer, listen to me. Do you know how I got through that week? Of course I kept clinging on to hope that the team would never stop searching. But more than anything, I thought of you. You were my end goal, Spencer. I fought every day to see your smile again, to hear your laugh. Do you get what I’m saying?”

He met my eyes but said nothing. There was something completely unreadable in his face, like he was holding something back.

“Spencer,” I heard my voice shaking. How do you tell someone that whenever you look at the stars, you find comfort in knowing that you share the same night sky?

“Spencer, I-I love you. You don’t have to say it back, not now or ever. But you need to know that you saved my life so many times, in more ways than one. I’ve known for a long time that I’ve loved you. And now you do too.”

His hand was still on mine, and I wondered if he could feel the longing that emanated from me. For a moment, I worried that I had come on too strong too soon. But the smile that emerged on his face put all my worries to rest.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to say it first,” he laughed. “Y/N, I’ve loved you probably ever since you walked into the bullpen six years, eight months, twelve days ago. The only reason I say ‘probably’ is because…” he paused, as if searching for both the right thing to say and courage. “‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.’”

I couldn’t help but smile at the reference. “You know what? I don’t care if they’re the greatest love story of all time. I definitely love you more than Elizabeth loves Darcy.”

He laughed. “I could definitely say the same.”

And that was what I remembered before I drifted to sleep, warm and content, with Spencer’s hand in mine — proof of the love that saved me from life.

[mrsabednadir]

Ribs

A/N: Hi so this is actually my first fic ever like. I haven’t done creative writing since middle school </3 I don’t even think people are gonna see this, but if you’re reading this, know that you’re loved & I hope you have a great day!!

Word Count: about 300

Warnings: just fluff! There’s a brief mention of an increased heart rate. But if I’m missing something, LMK!

There was very little Spencer Reid didn’t know.

He could explain anything: Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, 18th-century French literature, the history of space dramas.... His knowledge was vast and extent, deeper than the ocean and probably more profound than anyone truly knew.

But Spencer didn’t know what he was facing now. It was not unreasonable to call him scared; his countenance said it all. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster; he wondered if you could feel his frantic pulse as you slept soundly on his shoulder to the quiet hum of the jet.

Deep down, Spencer had wished something like this happened. Morgan teased him just the other day about the quick glances Spencer thought were cast surreptitiously. He wondered how much Morgan knew, but he worried more about how much you suspected. The coffee he handed you every morning, made just the way you like it -- had that revealed too much? When he talked to you, did you ever catch the adoration in his lilt? The brief compliments that were just the tip of the iceberg of his feelings?

Most of all, he wondered if you could also see the red thread of fate that connected you two. Spencer never believed that soulmates were a real phenomenon -- until he met you. The pangs that attacked his heart every time he saw you cry, the euphoria that flowed through his veins when he saw you smile -- this was more than he ever felt, more than he knew how to feel.

Spencer thought of how Eve was born from Adam’s rib and was sure that that otherworldly connection had also brought you two together.

For all Spencer knew, he was oblivious to the fact that your ribs also ached, longed, and called out for his.

[misterloki]

ECCC Comics Round Up! I always try to give a shout out to the awesome indie comic creators I was able to meet at my cons! 

Below, I am using their twitter handles and not their tumblr. 

Crossed Wires - By Irisjaycomics

Dual, If The Shoe Fits, Cassius, Among the Willows - By Birdiewrites & Nymaulth

Agents of the Realm - By Frogerade

Newsprints - By RuemXu

Undivine - By Catcoconutart

The Sublime, Resist - By GeniusBee

Maiden of the Machine - By caitlike

Love Machines - Written by losthiskeysman

Declaration - By losehiskeysman & levihastingsart

Sfeer Theory, That Which Wills - By Jaydatecake & Sfeertheorist

Wool and Water - By secondlina & savvyliterate

Hextlibris - By whalemuck

Lupina - By lianabuszka & chuckspear

Reset - By milkaru