#its fun to make a little profile guys just pick any image and put any blog title

[plasma-packin-mama]

REDDIT USERS. U CANNOT HAVE A BLANK ACCOUNT ON HERE.

GET A BLOG TITLE (DIFFERENT FROM A USERNAME) AND A PROFILE PICTURE. A HEADER IMAGE WOULD BE GOOD TOO.

genuinely tho, if you dont do this youll get blocked and reported for spam bc people will assume you're a bot. Bc you look like a bot.

[wtfevenismypage]

Tiny

request: request ! (spencer reid obvs) y/n is really small (short and skinny) and the team always teases her for it and she’s tried to explain “ that kinda hurts my feelings” but they don’t pick up on that, so one day she just explodes and shouts “ STOP IM NOT AN ART MUSEUM” and they just laugh so she starts BAWLING and they’re like oh shit she was serious

Warnings: The team being assholes, sad reader, angry Spencer (and Penelope), and cursing

A/N: yo i don’t know how to write like I’m tiny and skinny, I am super short though, standing at a solid 5′1 for the rest of my life with a slim chance of growing an inch or two. However I stand in the middle ground when it comes to “Width” Size, leaning a little more towards fat instead of skinny. but i tried for you my dear.

“Hey Tinkerbell. You comin’ to the roundtable anytime soon?”

You groaned at his nickname, and to think, you were actually feeling cute this morning, but then Morgan had to pull out that old nickname. You had tried to tell the team countless times before that you didn’t like your size being pointed out, but they never seem to listen.

“Morgan, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” 

He only chuckles as the two of you begin walking to the conference room, sitting down with everyone else. You sat next to Spencer. who was, along with Penelope,  the only person not to pick on your size.

“Morning Spence.”

“Good morning Y/N.”

He replies, smiling gently to you while Hotch enters. 

“Alright team we have five dead ten year old girls. M.O is strangulation. Bruises show with hands but no prints.”

“So he used gloves.”

“Actually it’s more than likely a she, look at the size of the marks. Women hands are significantly smaller than a males and this looks to be done with a lot of emotion. Women serial killers tend to kill with emotion rather than their opposite sex counterpart which kill with lust or a sexual craving.”

“He’s right.”

“Hey why don’t we send Y/N in as bait. She could honestly pull it off easily.”

You send Emily a glare, hating having to listen to the laughs of the others. Spencer remains silent, eyes boring into Hotch’s who is stifling a laugh to continue on.

“Emily there are five little girls who are dead. Is right now really the right time for you to make fun of my size?”

You snap unexpectedly. Usually you were gentle, calm, but you were already put on edge today. You weren’t taking their shit anymore.

Emily stared at you confused,obviously not expecting you to snap like that.

“Hey, what-”

“I’m sorry I just don’t know how many times I have to tell you all I’m not a fucking art museum or some shit like that!”

You yell. A hand lands on yours, Gently squeezing it to attempt to calm you down.

But what they do next just flat out hurts. There’s no words for the pain.

They laugh. They break out in laughter at your pain. At your insecurities. At your worries.

You can’t stop the tears that drip out of your eyes, leaving a salty taste in your mouth. This is your family, your home, the people you trust with your life. And they laugh at you? You stand up, hands clenching by your side which draws all of their attention to you.

“Since you guys are going to be assholes, I’ll stay here and help Garcia out. Brief me when you stop being insensitive.”

You say, voice breaking as you storm out of the room. You couldn’t handle the pain that was in your heart, it was heavy, It was aching. Meanwhile Spencer and Penelope were furious. 

“What the hell guys? Did you seriously just laugh at her? When will you guys pay attention to the fact that she doesn’t like your joking.”

“For a team of profilers you guys are ignorant as hell!”

They shout. Spencer watches through the glass as you storm into the gender neutral bathroom,  tears trailing down your scrunched up face.

“Go after her Reid. I’ve got them.”

As soon as Penelope says that he’s hot on your trail, storming into the bathroom and stopping as soon as he sees you, standing in front of a shattered mirror, your bloody fists threaded in your hair.

Your tears were leaving wet trails down your cheeks and neck, soft and quiet sobs breaking out off your throat. It hurt his heart to look at. He honestly thought you were beautiful, no matter how tiny you were, you were beautiful. 

“Hey, Why’d you do that, now you can’t see your pretty self.”

He whined, walking closer to you as you chuckled sadly, turning to him and smiling genuinely. Spencer always tried to lift up your spirits and boost your confidence any chance he had.

“You don’t gotta do that Spencer, I’m used to their jokes, you don’t have to try and make me feel better.”

You said, watching as he scoots closer and  pulls you in front of another mirror, turning you to look into it. He stood at his normal height, knowing that leaning down to yours would only annoy you.

“Look at you, even crying you’re still pretty. I don’t understand how you do it bubba.”

He noticed your eyebrows scrunching together, eyes travelling your body. You were only taking in your (nonexistent) flaws of yourself. He spun you around so you were facing him, taking your tiny hands into his large ones and kissing the cuts.

“Hmmm. I think you’re beautiful. So do the others, they just don’t know when to stop joking around. Penelope’s telling them off as we speak.”

He smiles, watching as you giggle at the image of Penelope yelling at the team. 

“I’d hate to be them.”

You say, leaning your head against his lower chest. Spencer was always more comfortable touching you than with the others. His phobia just seemed to disappear when he was with you.

“I’m too small. You look like a giant next to me.”

“I look like a giant next to everyone. Now come on. Let’s clean these cuts, we have a case to do.”

You let out a laugh, letting Spencer wipe away your tears as you stare deep into his shimmering brown eyes. He was worried, you could tell by a single glance. He was always protective of you, never stopped you from field jobs that seemed dangerous, but he made sure to go with and stay nearby.

“I missed your smile. Haven’t seen it all day bubba.”

He holds a hand to your cheek, letting you nuzzle into its warmth. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He wouldn’t reveal his feelings yet, not now. Right now you had a job to do and a long list of apologies to listen to.

And boy were they sorry.

PERMANENT TAGLIST(OPEN) @pinkdiamond1016 @spencer-reids-snow-white @sheepfather @eusuntgroot @libradolan @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 2

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is still quiet at 8 am, weary agents are sipping their second cup of coffee and wrapping their brains around the task of the day. Studying the minds of murderers, rapists and sadistic torturers is enough to spoil anyone’s breakfast, and yet they approach it clinically, objectively. The reward of knowing that you helped take a monster off the streets is barely enough to keep them going, but they do. Maybe even more than that, they live with the guilt of knowing that if they stopped, it might mean one more murdered child or assaulted woman. One more man found floating in the river. So they get up every day and do it again.

Mulder stops by A.D. Kirkbride’s office to say good morning and finds the man angrily shoving the phone back on its cradle with a plasticky crack.

“Morning, sir. Going great so far I gather?” he quips from his spot in the doorframe.

A.D. Kirkbride scoffs, running a hand through his short cropped sandy-blonde hair. Diminutive in stature, Kirkbride is someone to be taken seriously. His pointed features and gold-rimmed glasses convey the gravity of the work they do here each day in his ever-present frown.

“These goddamn worthless couriers are on my last fucking nerve,” he laments, gathering the papers on his desk into one pile with jerky, frustrated movements. “This is the third goddamn time one of them has no-showed. We need that autopsy report from Quantico today, and because this worthless fucking courier decided to get the flu or something, we have to send an agent down there to get it.” He sighs and sits back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Can you send Agent Wilkes in here, please, so I can let him know he has to waste two fucking hours of his day driving down there?”

Mulder shrugs. “I can go get it, I haven’t even started on the Marino file yet. It’s a nice day for a drive.”

Kirkbride eyes him skeptically. “You’re a senior agent, Mulder. You’ve earned the right not to be the bitch-boy.”

Mulder laughs good-naturedly. “I appreciate that, sir, but I really don’t mind. I just got the new Radiohead cassette, it’ll give me a chance to listen to it.”

Kirkbride nods and puts his glasses back on. “I guess it’s Wilkes’ lucky day, then. It’s the autopsy report for the Dugan file, you should be able to get it from the pathologist on duty. And don’t fuck around, we need it ASAP.”

Mulder puts a hand to his chest and makes a mock-wounded face. “Me? Fuck around? I would never, sir.”

Kirkbride shakes his head with a smirk and turns back to his computer. “Get the fuck out of here, Mulder.”

It’s a beautiful late-Spring day and Mulder really does appreciate the opportunity to take a drive to Quantico, even during the morning rush hour. Removing his suit jacket and loosening his tie, he pops in the cassette and merges onto I-395 South as Thom Yorke sings Paranoid Android.

Ninety minutes later, he’s parked near the morgue; having worked out of Quantico for years before securing a spot on the small team of criminal behavioral analysts who operate out of the Hoover building, he knows his way around. He first pokes his head into the office the pathologists share and, finding it empty, he moves on to the autopsy bay. The slabs are all clean and free from corpses, which is a relief. As many crime scene photos as he’s seen, the live version always gives him the creeps. A young woman in blue scrubs is perched on a stool with her back to him, filling out a form by hand. He approaches her, speaking when he’s still several feet away so he doesn’t startle her.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the pathologist on duty,” he says, and she swivels on her seat, her shoulder length auburn hair swinging gently with the motion.

When she turns to face him, he’s momentarily struck by how pretty she is. Her red hair is complemented by ivory skin, a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her Grecian nose. Her eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, not unlike the morning sky he’d enjoyed on his drive down.

“I’m the pathologist on duty, how can I help you, Mr.-” she looks at him expectantly.

“Mulder, Agent Mulder,” he replies, stepping forward to offer his hand.

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?” she asks, taking his hand with a firm, confident grip, though her palm is dwarfed by his own broad paw.

“I’ve been tasked with picking up the Dugan autopsy report. Seems like there was a snafu with the courier,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an attempt to act casual.

She stands, and he’s again struck, but this time by how short she is, barely reaching his shoulder in her sneakers. “That’s an odd task for an agent, isn’t it?” she says as she moves to a small filing cabinet and rifles through its contents.

He moves to stand beside her, leaning against the wall. “I suppose so, but I don’t mind. Nice to take a break from profiling sociopaths now and then.” He feels his heart do a little leap at the small smile that quirks at the corner of her mouth in response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he continues.

She turns to him, holding out a file. “I didn’t give it,” she says dryly. “It’s Dana Scully. I did this autopsy myself, actually, and I’d be interested to know what you make of it.”

He opens the file and leafs through its contents as she returns to her post on the stool, picking up her pen. She appears to see this conversation as concluded, but he doesn’t feel ready for it to end just yet.

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard a bit about this case, though it’s not one I’m assigned to. What interests you about it?” he asks as he follows her back to where she’s sat down, taking the stool beside her without invitation. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything about it.

“My findings indicate that though there is only one entry point for the stab wound, there were at least 15 distinct entries into that same location, which would suggest that the assailant stabbed him in nearly the exact same location repeatedly. I suppose I’m wondering what would possess someone to do that.”

He watches her speak with rapt attention, transfixed by the soft, sibilant S’s that pour from her pouty mouth.

“Hey Scully, do you know of any good coffee places around here?” he asks hopefully, completely changing the subject.

She gives him a curiously incredulous look. “Scully is my last name, my first name is Dana,” she answers.

He studies her for a moment, then shakes his head slowly. “You don’t look like a Dana,” he finally says.

Her eyebrows lift and he can see that she’s fighting back a smile. “Really? What do I look like then?”

“A Scully,” he says plainly, and his heart fills to bursting at the wry smile he gets in response.

She shakes her head and turns back to the form she was filling out. “There’s a place called Cafe Adamo a few minutes away that’s pretty good,” she answers his question.

“Great, are you free now?” he asks, forcing a calm demeanor even as his palms are becoming clammy.

She snaps her head up from the form to look at him with an open-mouthed expression of surprise, and he sees a bit of panic in her eyes. Not a good sign.

“Oh,” she stammers, “I’m sorry, Agent Mulder, I have a boyfriend.” Her cheeks are reddening in a devastatingly cute way.

He keeps his expression neutral, and can’t resist messing with her a little.

“I just meant as colleagues, Scully, to discuss the file,” he says matter-of-factly.

If she was blushing before, she’s morphing into a tomato now. She closes her eyes briefly and takes a breath. “I-I am so sorry, Agent Mulder, that was very presumptuous.”

He smiles broadly, no longer able to contain how much fun he’s having with this exchange.

“I’m just messing with you, Scully. I was definitely asking you out,” he admits, and her eyes go big before she deflates a little with relief, biting her lip and looking away with a soft smile on her mouth. “Thank you for this,” he says, holding up the file. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He stands and moves to the door, stopping just before he exits. “Say hi to that boyfriend of yours for me,” he adds, “he’s a lucky guy.”

She blushes again and he takes a moment to soak up the image before he returns to his car. Tossing the file onto the passenger seat, he flips the cassette to side B and hits the road back up to Washington, finding that he can’t seem to get his mouth to stop smiling.

————————————————————————-

She slumps through the door at half-past six, dead on her feet.

“Hey,” Ethan calls from in front of the stove, “dinner will be about twenty minutes, if you want to take a shower.”

He knows that she always likes to shower when she’s performed autopsies, not wanting the stink of the morgue to find its way onto any of their furniture.

“Thank you,” she replies, toeing off her shoes and stopping by to give him a quick kiss before she moves to the bathroom.

The hot spray of the shower is a welcome relief and she emerges feeling much more alert. They sit at the table, sharing the details of their days over shrimp scampi and white wine. They tend to be very thorough in their retelling of their workdays, and Ethan gives a play by play of a meeting with his boss before Dana tells him all about a student who challenged her in front of the class and how she shut him down. She doesn’t intentionally leave out the interaction with Agent Mulder, but it doesn’t come up somehow.

After dinner, they curl up on the couch to watch ER together. Ethan is on his back with his head propped up on the arm of the couch, and Dana fits herself into the vee of his legs, her back resting on his chest. He idly traces his fingers across her collarbone and shoulders while they watch George Clooney and Julianna Margulies grapple with being both coworkers and lovers.

This is their favorite show, and yet her mind continues to wander to those hooded green eyes, and the boyish smile that played across his pouty lower lip. He was very cute, that’s without question, but she interacts with handsome men all the time at work; why is this particular one worming his way into her brain? She shakes her head to clear the thought, then rotates her body so that she’s belly to belly with Ethan, her head resting on his chest. He kisses the crown of her head and she sighs. She’s got a good thing here, that much she knows.

Maybe she should have gotten coffee with him, though, as colleagues. Maybe.

[works-of-fanfiction]

Keep Me Company [Steve Rogers x Reader]

Summary: The reader is convinced to go on a double blind date by her co-worker. Throughout the evening, it becomes clear that someone other than her date, has peaked her interest.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing.

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: I haven’t written in over a year so this isn’t the best! This idea kinda sucks and turned out to be a lot longer than I wanted it to be, but I hope someone likes it regardless 🖤

———————-

[Reader’s POV]

“I’ve told you before, I’m really not interested in dating anyone right now,” I reiterated, shaking my head at my coworker, Ivy. She’d somehow managed to get herself roped into a blind date, and she’d spent the past week desperately asking every female at work to go with her.

“Please, Y/N! My cousin organised this and my date is bringing a friend. I can’t show up alone, it’ll be so awkward,” She’d now invited herself to sit at my desk, and I sighed out of annoyance as I closed my laptop and looked over at her, “Please? You’ll be my lifesaver.” She batted her eyelashes at me like a child begging their parents for an expensive toy. I mulled over it for a moment, and not a single scenario in my mind resulted in a good outcome. Has anything good ever come out of a blind date? To me they just seem super uncomfortable for everyone involved, with at least one party praying for the clock to move faster and for the ordeal to end. I didn’t really want to go, but the image of Ivy arriving alone to be faced by two strangers gave me a major wave of secondhand embarrassment. I knew I wouldn’t want to go through that, so I couldn’t let her walk into that either.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go with you, but you owe me one! Big time,” I gave in. She rose from the chair and grinned at me, heading towards the door.

“I’ll go and forward the reservation details to you. My date is called Steve, and you’ll be meeting his friend, Sam. Oh, I’m so excited!” She clasped her hands together and did a little dance on her tiptoes before disappearing out of my office. I groaned, catching my head in my hands. What have I gotten myself into?

—————-

As instructed by an extremely antsy Ivy, I arrived at the restaurant at 7.30pm on the dot. She was waiting outside for me when my taxi pulled up, and I could instantly see how nervous she was as she leaned against the restaurant window, bouncing her knee. “Y/N! You’re here! I thought you might bail on me,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. Ivy was always filled with so much energy, but with the added nerves she was even more jumpy than usual and couldn’t keep still for a second.

“So, do you have any idea what these guys look like?” I asked, hugging myself to try my best to stay warm. I didn’t understand why we couldn’t just wait inside, but Ivy insisted we greet them properly as soon as they arrived.

“I have an idea of what Steve looks like, but my cousin really wouldn’t let me see his picture for longer than five seconds,” she replied, her teeth chattering a little from the cold breeze hitting us both. A black car soon pulled up outside and Ivy straightened, brushing herself down, “This must be them. How do I look?”

“You look great. Just relax,” I offered her a small smile as we watched the car doors open. I looked away for a moment and rolled my eyes at the whole ordeal. There was Ivy, standing there like an excited schoolgirl and playing with her hair like her hands were glued to her head. Then there was me, lazily dressed at best and already feeling the urge to check the time. Again, why did I agree to this?

“You must be Ivy, and Y/N,” a voice said. I snapped back and turned to face them properly. I could literally hear the breath getting caught in Ivy’s throat as a quiet squeak came out of her mouth. But I couldn’t blame her, as I blinked heavily to try and make sense of the two men standing before us. I knew the names Steve and Sam sounded familiar, but I didn’t realise we were literally going for dinner with two of the Avengers. Immediately, my ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude towards the evening shifted, and the pressure was on. I’d agreed to a blind date, a blind double date, and I was paired with Sam Wilson, Falcon himself. No matter how the evening went, I knew I had to at least make a good impression. I couldn’t embarrass myself in front of an Avenger.

“I’m Y/N,” I stated, mostly aiming my smile at Sam, but feeling the stare of both men on me. I waited for Ivy to introduce herself after me, but she stayed silent. I gave her a little nudge and she still didn’t say anything, so I put my arm around her shoulder for encouragement, “and this is Ivy, who I think needs a drink! Should we go inside, Ives?” I patted her back in a final attempt to get her to speak.

She cleared her throat, eventually opening her mouth to answer, “of course,” she turned to Steve and held out her hand to shake his, “sorry I uh - dry mouth,” she lied as he shook her hand awkwardly. I didn’t know whether to cringe or burst into laughter, so instead I just led everybody into the restaurant and got us seated at our table.

I didn’t know what to expect of the night ahead. Ivy was already a nervous wreck and she’d barely introduced herself to our company for the evening. I kind of felt sorry for her. I mean, her cousin could’ve pre-warned her that her date was someone as high-profile as Captain America! I think any girl would faint at the sight of him sitting across from them at a restaurant. Even I couldn’t take my eyes off of him and he wasn’t even my date to gawk at.

We quickly ordered drinks and read our food menus in silence. I could feel Ivy’s foot dancing under the table, so I reached over and placed my hand on her knee to calm her down. She looked at me and mouthed an apology. I couldn’t believe how nervous she was, she looked pale white like she was going to throw up any second. “How about we get a sharing appetiser to start? They sound really good,” Sam suggested, lifting his menu and pointing at one of the pictures. Thank God for him breaking the silence, because I felt like I could scream out of sheer awkwardness.

“Dough balls, chicken wings, tempura shrimp, mozzarella sticks... it doesn’t take much more convincing for me!” I enthused, reading the rest of the selection. I glanced up to see Steve looking at me, a wide smile on his face that reached his eyes. I felt my cheeks heat up, and I could’ve quite literally slapped myself for getting so excited over Captain America smiling at me. I didn’t want to turn into a giddy, fidgety teenager. We already had one of those at the table.

“What do you think, Ivy?” Steve asked her. She nodded in agreement, and everything in me wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Why was she being so weird?

“Um, would you mind ordering the appetiser for us? I’m just going to go wash my hands. Ivy, come with me,” I stood up and grabbed her arm, almost dragging her out of her chair and towards the bathroom. Once inside, she stood in the mirror, vigorously scrubbing her hands and glaring at her own reflection.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Y/N! I just can’t speak, the words won’t come out!” She panicked, pretty much splashing water everywhere. I leaned against the counter with my arms folded, trying to think of what I could say to her to improve this situation.

“I know this is not exactly ideal -“

“Ideal?! This is a nightmare! I thought my cousin was just going to set me up with some loser she knew from work. I didn’t know it would be Steve fucking Rogers! I’ve made myself look like such an idiot,” she frantically dried her hands with a paper towel, her pale face growing redder by the second. I grabbed her wrists and took the paper towel from her, tossing it in the bin beside me.

“Listen,” I started, keeping my grip on her wrists and making her look me in the eyes, “You’re not the only one who is nervous, and I too thought it was just going to be a couple of loser guys wanting some company. Neither of us expected bloody Captain America and Falcon to show up, but here we are. Just don’t take it so seriously. Try and have fun, be yourself!” I internally cringed at how cliché I sounded, but if I wanted this night to be painless, I had to snap Ivy out of her weird mood in any way I could.

“Y - You’re right. You’re right! Just be myself,” Ivy repeated, more to herself than to me. I quickly washed my hands and we went back out there, re-joining the guys at the table where the drinks had now arrived.

I sat down and couldn’t help but notice the extravagant drink that was placed in front of Steve. It was bright orange in colour, with grapefruit slices on the rim and a neon green umbrella wedged in the top of it. I couldn’t help but quietly giggle at the sight of this muscular mountain of a man, drinking something that looked like it belonged on a beach in Hawaii in the hand of a bikini-clad model. “Aren’t we going to address the elephant in the room?” I laughed, putting down my menu.

“Do you mean that literal elephant ornament over there, or the tropical vomit that Steve is drinking?” Sam joked, picking up the cocktail, “Have you ever seen a liquid that colour?”

“Hey!” Steve grabbed the glass, cautiously placing it back down, “it just tastes better, okay? I didn’t know it would come with its own accessories,” he gestured to the grapefruit decorating the glass.

“I wouldn’t complain Steve, it’s the best part,” I added. He picked one of the slices from the glass and held it in front of my face.

“For you, m’lady,” he mocked in a posh accent. I glanced at everybody at the table and Sam was flashing his cheeky grin, whilst Ivy’s expression was a little less readable. I couldn’t tell if she was still just riddled with nerves, or if my interaction with Steve was bothering her. Either way, I leaned forward and took a bite out of the grapefruit, holding my hands underneath my chin as the juice dribbled everywhere.

“Oh damn,” I mumbled, still chewing the fruit. I grabbed a napkin and attempted to clean my sticky hands. Steve was chuckling quietly, as he went to take a sip of his no-doubt delicious cocktail, “that was messier than I thought.”

“That was a weird mixture of amusing, erotic, and disgusting,” Sam laughed. It felt as if we were all just staring at Ivy, waiting for her to join in, but all she could offer was a shy smile before she buried her head back into her menu to choose a main course. Sam looked at me from across the table with an inquisitive expression, gesturing towards her with his eyes. I just shrugged, glancing back over at Steve who just so happened to look at me at the same time. As we made eye contact, a light fluttering feeling invaded my stomach, and I didn’t know whether to just allow myself to feel it or to feel bad for wishing I could swap seats with Ivy. Don’t get me wrong, Sam was a great guy, but something about Steve was turning my insides to mush, and I hadn’t even been in his company for more than twenty minutes.

Our appetiser soon arrived, and we each ordered our main courses before we dug in. I kept trying to give Ivy subtle nudges and hints so she’d join in more, but she was still pretty quiet. She was trying her best, but it was clear that Steve was close to giving up on making conversation with her. “So, Ivy, Y/N,” Steve started, wiping the sides of his mouth with a napkin, “what do you both do?” I slowly chewed on a piece of shrimp, with Ivy looking at me as if she was waiting for me to do the talking. I signalled to her that my mouth was full, hopefully giving her a little push to answer the question.

“Y/N is one of the HR executives, and I uh - I work on the same floor in IT,” Ivy shakily explained, her voice quiet but it was better than stone cold silence.

“IT, huh? Well you could teach me how to get along better with technology,” Steve said to Ivy. She just looked down at her plate and mumbled something I couldn’t even hear. Sam shot me another one of his confused looks, and I really wished I knew what to say to get Ivy to speak up a bit more, or at least attempt to create a nice atmosphere for the rest of us.

Regardless of the slightly awkward atmosphere, we continued to eat and make conversation where we could. Steve and Sam asked a lot of questions, which I was too scared to return at first. What do you ask an Avenger? I don’t want to sound like an interviewer asking them everything about their lives and how they’ve quite literally saved the world multiple times. Throughout the conversation I learned that I have a lot more in common with Steve than I would’ve anticipated. I don’t know what that says about my character, given that Steve has lived more of his life in the early half of the 20th Century. Sam poked fun at me for some of my interests, calling me an old woman, but I soon silenced him when I threw a mozzarella stick at him which covered his cheek in breadcrumbs.

I tried to concentrate on Sam, in hopes that it would somehow force Ivy to actually pay attention to her date and make more effort. However, I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering back over to Steve, where he sat with a warm smile on his face as he tried his best to get Ivy to communicate. He’d been asking us both questions all evening, but he was really only getting answers from me. I was really enjoying their company, and Sam made me laugh until my stomach hurt, but something inside of me wished I was sitting across from Steve. He was being the perfect gentleman, and his occasional compliments made my cheeks feel like they were on fire from all the blushing I must’ve been doing. At one point, Sam even told us to ‘get a room’ and if I wasn’t so busy trying to silently calm myself down, I probably would’ve had a sarcastic reply ready.

—————

We split the bill equally, and the guys quickly went to the bathroom before we left, so Ivy and I waited outside. “Steve’s really nice,” I stated, trying to fill the silence between us. I could understand her shyness in front of Sam and Steve, but she didn’t need to be so strange around me.

“He seems to really like you,” she muttered, folding her arms and sighing. I couldn’t tell how she was feeling, but she was really starting to bug me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying my best not to sound irritated. She’d hardly said more than ten words all night, and I was running out of ways to cover for her and make conversation on her behalf. She looked at me with a frown, keeping her arms tightly folded across her chest, “what? You can’t be mad at me for talking to Steve, you didn’t exactly make this night easy for him.”

“You knew I was nervous! You couldn’t just sit and talk to Sam, you had to get all chatty with Steve and make me look stupid.”

“I made you look stupid?! Don’t you realise I spent most of the evening starting conversations for you? I had to bring up topics I knew you liked to get you to speak, and even that didn’t work. You can’t blame me here.”

I leaned against a nearby lamppost, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the stupidity I was being forced to listen to. Ivy continued to rant at me about how I’d ruined her evening by getting along so well with Steve, and how I probably planned to ‘steal her date’ all along. “I did you a favour by agreeing to come to this. It’s not my fault that you sat there in silence most of the time. We all tried our best, you know we did,” I retorted. She stood there glaring at me, probably searching for something else she could say to try and justify her nonsense.

Suddenly, the restaurant doors swung open and out stepped Sam and Steve. “Do you ladies wanna go grab dessert somewhere?” Steve asked, his tone a little hesitant. I couldn’t blame him, I’d be hesitant too after spending almost two hours sitting opposite the human equivalent of a brick wall. I glanced at Ivy who was still stood with her arms folded, scowling like an upset toddler.

“I’m not feeling so good. I’m just going to head home. It was nice to meet you both,” Ivy said to them, without even bothering to make eye contact, “see you at work Y/N,” she murmured, before walking off down the street and disappearing around the corner.

“Do you think I should’ve gone with her?” Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Usually I would say yes, but in this case, I don’t think you’re inclined to do anything,” Sam said honestly, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car, walking around to the driver’s side, “enjoy your dessert!” He called over, winking.

“Wait, where are you going?” I asked, a sudden wave of nerves hitting me as I realised what he was implying.

“It doesn’t take a fool to know where he’s not wanted,” he replied, pushing out his bottom lip jokingly.

“Sam! Don’t say that,” I walked around to the driver’s side and he placed a hand on my arm, smiling down at me.

“Now I’ve never seen Steve have a crush, but I’d say you’re pretty close,” he said quietly, probably so Steve couldn’t hear. I glanced over at the Super Soldier pacing the pavement and whistling to himself, and the all-too-familiar fluttery feeling returned to my stomach, “but don’t let him have too much dessert, he’s a superhero remember.”

“Sam, you don’t have to leave.”

“I had a great time tonight, despite the uh - well despite Ivy,” we both laughed and I couldn’t suppress the huge grin that spread across my face, “I’m sure I’ll see you around at the Avengers HQ sometime.”

“Now you’re planning way too far ahead,” I slapped his arm playfully, before thanking him for making the date bearable at least.

“See you later old man!” He shouted over to Steve as I walked back around to join him. Steve just snickered and shook his head, waving off his friend as Sam got into the car and drove away. I stood beside him, my heart pounding as I tried to figure out how I ended up here. As bad as I feel to admit it, I guess I only have Ivy and her weird behaviour to thank for this.

“So, where are you taking me Captain?” I asked, standing opposite him and looking up into his eyes. My knees felt shaky and weak beneath me, and I mentally scolded myself for behaving like such a cheesy rom-com character. Steve maintained eye contact as he brought his right hand up to my face. I shivered a little as his cold fingers brushed my temple, as he moved a piece of hair out of my eyes.

“I was going to suggest ice cream, but perhaps it’s a little too cold for that,” he stepped back and shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders, “here.” He wrapped the jacket around me and I slid my arms into the sleeves. Steve laughed at how oversized it was on me, as he tried to fold the sleeves a little. I caught my reflection in the restaurant window and I smiled to myself. Strangely, the image of myself standing opposite Captain America whilst wearing his jacket, was something that made my heart do somersaults. The gesture was so simple, yet so thoughtful.

“I have an idea, but we’ll have to make a stop along the way,” he smiled, holding out his hand. I placed my hand in his and agreed to let him lead the way. After all, I was way too caught up in the moment to protest and I was excited to see what he’d come up with so last minute.

We walked a few blocks and stopped at a bakery. It was five minutes before closing time, but Steve insisted it was the best place to grab something for dessert. I waited by the door as he spoke to the cashier. They handed him quite a large paper bag, then we were soon back on our way to wherever he was leading us to. We walked for a little while longer before stopping in front of the museum. “I know it seems strange that I’ve brought you here, to a museum literally dedicated to me, but I’ve got a deal with the security guards here and it’s kind of relaxing to be here after closing,” he explained, before lightly knocking on the glass door. A security guard eventually let us in, and I kept ahold of Steve’s hand as we walked through the exhibits.

I read everything on the walls and stopped to look at every single picture. Steve was never far behind, either holding my hand or resting it on my back as I engrossed myself in all the information the museum had to offer. I’d never had the chance to visit before, and I was learning more and more about Steve as the minutes passed. “Do you remember all of this?” I asked, my eyes still fixed on a photo of him surrounded by other soldiers. They all looked happy to be together, to be a team.

“Every single second,” I turned to look at him and he gazed into the glass case, his eyes scanning each picture. A smile crept onto his face and he looked down at me, his smile widening as our eyes met.

“You miss it, don’t you?”

“Things are definitely different now,” he took my hand and we continued to walk on, stopping in front of a group of mannequins wearing uniforms, “it’s a time I’ll always cherish. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to be here now. There’s so many people I’ve met that I am so grateful to know,” he reached forward and ran his fingers along the fabric of his old uniform, that same reminiscent smile appearing on his face, “including those I’ve met on slightly disastrous double dates.” He turned and winked at me and I just rolled my eyes at his corny remark, whilst failing to ignore the butterflies dancing in my stomach.

Our last stop was a room with a large screen projecting video clips of Steve and those from his past. Instead of sitting on the benches, we went to the front and sat on the floor with our backs against them. Steve reminded me of the treats he’d collected from the bakery, and placed the bag between us. “I always go to this bakery, because not only do they have the best cakes, but at night they throw in a few extras that they couldn’t sell,” he explained excitedly, ripping the bag and laying it out flat. An array of colourful cupcakes and pastries were laid out in a box, and my mouth almost watered at the sight, “by the way, the cinnamon roll is mine.”

“Damn! I was just about to call dibs,” I pretended to sulk and he sighed, opening the box and ripping the pastry in half, handing me the piece that was slightly bigger, “oh I’m flattered.”

“I couldn’t possibly deprive you of it. It’s just heavenly,” we both took a bite at the same time and audibly groaned at how good it tasted. I giggled as I noticed the icing all around his mouth, “what? Is there something on my face?” I couldn’t stop laughing as he looked down as if he was trying to look at his own cheeks. I rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and wiped his face with my thumb.

“Did you get napkins by any chance?” I asked, as I realised my hand was now covered in sticky icing. Steve rummaged through the box and found a stray napkin at the bottom. I wiped off my hand and leaned back, laying my legs down on the ground as I propped the upper half of my body against the benches. “So, what’s this video about?”

“Well that’s me,” he pointed at the screen as the footage showed a group of soldiers walking through some trees, “and those are the soldiers I rescued from one of the Hydra bases. That’s my best friend, Bucky.”

“He’s a Super Soldier too, right?”

“Uh huh, but I can still kick his ass,” he winked, nudging me with his elbow. He shuffled closer to me and rested his arm on the bench behind me. I could feel the warmth from his skin on the back of my neck, and there was nothing I wanted more than to rest my head on his shoulder and snuggle up to him.

“Y/N, do you think it’s weird that I brought you here?” He asked shyly. I looked over at him and his brows were furrowed slightly, which just made me want to grab him in a hug and tell him not to worry.

“Not at all. I love learning about our country’s history, and who better to educate me than Captain America himself?” I smiled, and I saw his chest rise and fall as if he was letting out a breath he’d been holding, “I’ve had a really great time with you, Steve. Part of me wishes we could’ve skipped the first couple hours of the evening,” I joked. I was so comfortable in Steve’s company that I almost forgot about the awkward dinner we’d engaged in earlier.

“Can I confess something?”

“Of course.”

“When you introduced yourself, I was so jealous that you were Sam’s date and not mine. My eyes found you as soon as I stepped out of the car, and I don’t think they’ve left you all evening. I’ve loved getting to know you, chatting to you, laughing with you. I’m really glad you came tonight,” he fidgeted, playing with the hem of his shirt nervously. I tried to think of what to say, but I was speechless. Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before, and I certainly never expected to be overwhelmed in such a way by someone as amazing as Steve.

“I - I just don’t know what to say,” I breathed, my heart thumping so hard that it felt like it could explode at any moment.

“Perhaps we could start with this - Say that you’ll meet me again.” He sat up and faced me directly, a hopeful smile on his face. I sat up and placed my hand on top of his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Of course I will,” I spoke quietly, nearly whispering. I couldn’t quite believe what was happening. My head felt cloudy and tingles ran down my spine out of sheer excitement. Steve wanted to spend more time... with me! How did I get so lucky?

“I have an idea! How about, we meet right here? I’ll bring takeout, we can perhaps try and get a movie to work on the projector. It can be our spot,” I suggested, desperately hoping that I didn’t sound ridiculous. Steve grinned, squeezing my hand in return.

“I would love that.”

“Then it’s a date.”

[geniusgub]

north//chapter seven

enjoy lovies!! it’s action time!!

genre: angst

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: gun fire, mention of blood, a lot of time/location jumps sorry

word count: 6.5k

SPENCER

SIX MONTHS LATER

"Wheels up in thirty."

The team nods and gathers our things from the round table, leaving the briefing room to return to our desks and grab our go-bags. I take a seat at my chair and reach under my desk, eyes widening as I realize my go-bag isn’t there. I retrace my steps of the last few days of not being on a case and my brain produces an image of my leather go-bag in the corner of Amelia’s bedroom. Upon checking the time, I realize I won’t have time to hop on a train, get to Amelia’s apartment, and then catch a train back here within thirty minutes. I’d miss the plane and then I won’t be able to go on the case.

My phone sits on my desk, screaming at me to make a call. I know I need to call Amelia because I need my clothes for the case. But having her come here and show her face would mean that our secret would no longer be ours. It would give the team more material to make fun of me with and to tease me about but besides that. It would mean that our relationship goes from being just two people to being eight people. I’m sure Amelia doesn’t mind as much as I do, but the fear of something happening to her because of my job will linger forever. However, I really need my clothes and I can’t take the time to worry about the long term issues of telling everyone I have a girlfriend. 

I pick up my phone and dial Amelia’s number. A glance around the bullpen tells me that nobody is looking my way and that means they won’t be eavesdropping on my conversation. What am I even nervous about? Amelia gets along with everyone so I’m sure the team will like her. They will absolutely love her, Penelope surely already does. Everything will be okay, right? I can stand some teasing about her. I already endure the teasing about basically everything else in my life so I can stand some more. At least I can be open about Amelia and bring her to dinners at Rossi’s and she can bond with my best friends and we just won’t have to hide anymore.

“Hi, dove! What’s up? I just saw you like, ten minutes ago. Aren’t you at work?"

“Yeah, I am but I've got a problem and I'm hoping you can help." Once again, I glance up to make sure that nobody is listening.

"I'm at your service, Spence. I'm still at home and I just got dressed. It's your lucky day. What do you need?"

"I left my go-bag in your room. Do you think you could bring it over here for me?"

"Yeah, of course I can but are you sure you’re okay with that? You want everyone to meet me? I know you said you wanted to keep us a secret for a little while." 

No, maybe I’m not so okay with Amelia meeting the team yet but I can’t keep her a secret forever. I have some level of confidence right now so I can’t miss this opportunity to introduce Amelia to my friends. "It’s okay. Not a big deal,” a white lie never hurt anyone, right?

"Okay! I’ll be there in a couple minutes!” I can hear the beautiful smile on her face when she speaks and the thought of getting to see her once more I leave for this case somehow makes all my anxiety and hesitation float away, leaving elation in its wake. We say our goodbyes and then I’m left to my own thoughts without Amelia as a distraction.

I tap my fingers against the desk as I wait anxiously for my girlfriend’s arrival. I try to pick up the case file to observe it again but I just can't focus. Every time I try to read about the details of these dead prostitutes, my brain drifts off to something else and then I realize that I didn’t process anything I just read and I have to start over. All that is happening is that Amelia is dropping off my go-bag, saying hi to everyone, and then she’s going to leave. Simple. That’s all.

"Hey kid, you good?" I jump at the sound of Morgan right next to me, leaning over my shoulder and totally invading my personal bubble.

I nod quickly, shifting away from him so he’s not almost on top of me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Morgan furrows his eyebrows and he doesn’t let up, moving around me to lean against my desk. “You’re being very quiet. That isn’t like you. And if-”

"Amelia!" Penelope squeals, running over to Amelia as she comes through the glass doors, throwing her arms around my girlfriend. This shrieking catches the attention of everyone in the bullpen, and even Rossi pops his head out of his office to see what's going on. "Is the cat out of the bag?" She holds Amelia out at arm’s length and then her eyes dart to me and then to the team around them. Penelope laughs nervously. "Well if the cat isn't out of the bag then I've definitely just ripped a hole in the bag for you!"

"It's okay," Amelia laughs, moving away from Penelope and holding my go-bag out to me. "Here."

"Thank you. You're a lifesaver," I set the bag on my desk chair and move beside Amelia so the vultures can’t swoop her up first. Amelia places her hand on my back and rubs up and down to soothe me, out of the view of anyone else.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up as he saunters over, adorning a smirk that I’ve seen far too many times. “Who’s this? A super secret girlfriend?”

"Um, yeah," Amelia steps closer to me and holds me even closer as I gesture to every member of the team, "this is Amelia. Lia, this is Alex, Morgan, JJ, Hotch is in his office, Rossi, and you already know Penelope."

When I look back down at Amelia, there's something in her eyes that I've never seen before. Her nostrils are flared just a little bit and her jaw is flexed, and she stops rubbing my back, grabbing a fistfull of my shirt instead. I wouldn't even peg this as nervousness to meet the team, this is just weird. I've never seen her act like this. She looks, I don’t know, maybe frustrated? Angry? Pissed off? All my profiling skills go out the window now and I’m absolutely baffled with the way she is holding herself right now.

Rossi is the first to speak up after the introductions, pointing his finger at Amelia. "Have we met before? You look familiar." Everyone, including myself, is utterly confused. Is that what I saw in Amelia's eyes? Recognition? Has she met Rossi before? But how?

"Um," Amelia clearly grasps for words as she retracts from my embrace, "it was really great to meet you guys but I've got somewhere to be so hopefully I'll see you all soon," and with that, Amelia gives them the fakest smile I’ve ever seen from her and speeds off towards the glass doors and eventually the elevator.

Without a second look at any of my bewildered friends, I run after her, catching up just as she's pressing the down button. "Amelia, what the hell? What was that? Do you know Rossi?"

She keeps her head forward, facing the elevator doors. Amelia huffs, tugging on the straps of her backpack and I just barely catch sight of her lip quivering before she twists her head away from me. "Just be careful on your case, okay? Keep being smart and be safe and come home in one piece and-"

"Please don’t change the subject. What’s going on? Why are you like this?” 

"Just drop it, Spencer," Amelia shakes her head at me and sniffles, obviously combating the tears that are threatening to fall. "I don't know who that Rossi guy is. I'm going to lunch with Jenna and I don't wanna be late or else she'll get annoyed."

"You go to lunch with Jenna at Camille's which is a ten minute and thirty two second drive from here. You meet at noon and it's only 11:30 so you have plenty of time. You're not gonna be late," Amelia shakes her head once more and that’s when the anger starts to rise in me. I’m just trying to comfort her and figure out why she is acting like this and she is blowing me off completely. It’s unfair to me. It’s unfair for Rossi to act like he did and it’s unfair for Amelia to blow me off when I’m trying to help. That’s all I want to do- help. 

“Please, Spencer. Don’t.”

I retract from Amelia, my jaw tightening. I watch helplessly as she slips into the elevator doors before they fully open. She slams her finger down on a button and her arms rise to hug her waist, head hanging down. If we were under normal circumstances, I would rush forward and scoop her into my arms and shower her in affection and listen to every word she has to tell me. But now there’s nothing from her and too much from me- too much frustration, too much confusion, and a lingering feeling of betrayal. 

I scoff at Amelia’s disappearing figure and turn on my heel, marching back into the bullpen. All eyes are on me as I snatch up my satchel and go-bag, stomping right back out of the bullpen and down the stairs.

///

THIRD PERSON

///

"Well, that was really weird," JJ grimaces, dragging her feet back to her desk and collecting her go-bag and case files.

"That was weird," Penelope pouts, shoulders hunched forward, watching helplessly as everyone’s faces match JJ’s when they start to scatter. "Guys, Amelia was the girl from the video chat like, six months ago that was braiding my hair, and she has never been like that. She has come by here a few times to leave things for Spencer and to hang out with me when you’re gone. She isn’t like that, guys! She’s funny and energetic and really friendly and not like that!"

"Rossi, do you actually recognize her?" Morgan asks next, turning to his colleague, interrupting his reverie. The group of profilers regularly steal glances out of the glass doors where the young couple is arguing in front of the bureau elevators.

"I do," Rossi continues to rack his brain for an answer. But matter how many times he recalls Spencer’s girlfriends face and continues to think Amelia, Amelia, Amelia, he can’t put a situation to the person. Spencer storms in and then out again, leaving a tense silence in the bullpen in his wake. Everyone shares wide-eyed glances at Spencer’s seemingly dramatic reaction.

"One of you check up on the kid, but Garcia come with me,” Alex goes rushing after Spencer and follows him down the stairs while Penelope hurries after Rossi, all the way to her cave and into her perfectly adjusted seat.

"Sir, what are we doing in here?" Penelope wonders, her fingers instinctively at the ready on her keyboard.

"Do a background check on Amelia. I'm sure you know her last name," Rossi leans over Penelope’s shoulder, watching her type in Amelia Stark. "I swear, I know that name."

“But why? You know I hate digging through someone’s personal life,” Penelope whines, slapping her hands over her eyes when information pops up about her friend. She feels Rossi lean even closer to her screen and she whines out. “It’s different when I do this alone because I do it out of love! This just feels wrong.”

“Then just forget I’m here. I know this name,” Rossi mumbles absentmindedly.

"I started doing a background check on her when she was here and no red flags immediately popped up," Penelope slowly drops her hands from over her eyes and starts to read the information that feels much more invasive now. "Okay, Amelia Stark- she's 25, moved to Virginia when she was 21, right out of college. She went to Carnegie Mellon and studied fine arts. She's an artist and an amazing one, at that. It looks like she has a couple low grade arrests in here but it's all for graffiti and street art. Friends all bailed her out and that was it, she was never charged with anything. Ooh, bad girl."

"No, no," Rossi shakes his head, "that can't be all. Keep digging."

Penelope whines out when she continues to type, slower than ever before in an attempt to drag out the invasion. "I don't know what you're expecting me to find, Sir. I also don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for so it makes it harder to- oh," Rossi gets even closer to the screen at the sound of her inflection change. "Many, many sealed court records- is that what you're looking for?"

"Unseal them," Rossi demands.

With a few simple yet hesitant clicks, Penelope unseals the court documents and Amelia Stark's entire life is opened up to them.

"This is how I know Amelia," Rossi breathes out. "Do you think Reid knows?"

Penelope shakes her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears as she buries her face in her hands. The air suddenly feels much more tense, they both realize, and a low level of guilt fills Rossi. "No, definitely not. He would've realized why you recognized Amelia if he knew. She definitely hasn't told him. And when I was joking about doing a background check, she seemed kinda nervous, but I just thought it's that kind of nervous we all get like when we're driving and there just happens to be a cop driving on the same road as you- not because of this!"

Rossi tugs his keys out of his pocket and taps Penelope’s shoulder. "Send me her address and tell Hotch I'll meet you guys in Texas."

///

AMELIA

///

I slam my apartment door shut, sending a sloppy and incoherent text to Jenna to cancel on lunch. I can barely see through the tears in my eyes as I try to hang up my keys on a hook and put my backpack beside it. My hands are trembling and even when I stop moving around so I can ground myself, the shaking doesn’t stop.

There's a sharp knock at the door, and I debate not even answering. I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my cries, trying desperately to wipe my cheeks but it doesn't really work. There’s no hiding my red face and my melting makeup, I’m sure.

"Amelia, I know you're in there. I hear you crying."

I grind my teeth when I hear the voice behind my door, anger bubbling up inside of me and it sizzles over before I can even think to stop it. I stomp over and throw open the door, finding Dave standing there with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. "Are you kidding me? You followed me home?"

"I knew you were familiar," Dave strolls right past me, glancing around my apartment like he was invited in. I don’t bother to close my door when I follow him into the living room, slapping his hand away when he reaches out to touch a canvas on the wall.

"You can't just show up and waltz in and start touching things! You're supposed to be on a plane going to god knows where! Get out, Dave. This is absolutely ridiculous!"

"Does Reid know?" Dave turns to me and crosses his arms, his face stoic and emotionless. I try to keep my tears from falling but it's a useless feat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to answer but then all I can do is shake my head no. "No? You haven't told him? You've just lied about your entire childhood? Amelia, that's-"

"I didn't lie about anything!" I shout at him. "I just didn't tell him anything at all and he's fine with that because he cares about me. I don't need you fucking that up, Dave. So thank you for ruining my relationship because Spencer is pissed at me and he probably will be for a while and it's all your fault." It’s a wet kind of anger, the kind of anger that leaves you sobbing and grasping for words. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that I could lose Spencer over this situation, a situation that I’ve spent our whole relationship trying to avoid. 

"You can't blame me. I did recognize you. I just couldn't place why," he tries to defend himself because now he suddenly realizes that he interfered with something he shouldn’t have. He recognizes my tears and my anger and how Spencer stormed off and he sees that this is his fault. He has ruined our relationship.

"Dave, seriously, can you just get out? You're supposed to be on a plane by now," I march back to the door and place my hand on the handle- another invitation for him to get out of my apartment.

"Actually, we're going to Texas," my head slowly trails up at Dave's words and I meet his eyes for the first time since I was standing in the bullpen with my hand in Spencer’s. "We're going to Mike's police department. He called us in."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Dave nods at me, "I'm sure it'll be nice to see him again after all these years."

"Can you, um," I let go of the door and run into the kitchen briefly, picking up a box that I've yet to put a label on, "can you give this to him? I meant to mail it but I didn't get around to it. I sent the kids art a couple of months ago but they wanted more."

"Of course. Anything else you want me to tell him?"

"To be careful," my voice cracks, more tears streaming down my cheeks. Imagines of Mike coming home with bruises and stitches surface in my mind and they make me shudder. But then my mind switches and I’m suddenly picturing Spencer in stitches with a black eye and a busted lip and I slap my hands over my eyes as if that would make the mental images disappear. "To be really careful. And please, make sure Spencer is careful too. He's upset and-"

"I'll look out for the kid. I always do, we all do." Dave takes the box from my hands and pats my shoulder in the least comforting way possible. "Listen, I really am sorry that I exposed you like that. I didn't mean to do that, I just genuinely recognized you and I didn't know why. I had Garcia pull up court records and then I remembered why I knew you."

"Don't tell Spencer, please," I practically beg. "I-I don't ever wanna have to tell him but I know I do eventually. Besides, he'll probably," I roll my eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh, "look at what color socks I'm wearing and then be able to tell me my entire life story."

"Spencer's good at that," Dave gives me a small, proud, almost fatherly smile and starts heading out the door. "I won't tell but you shouldn't keep it a secret for too long. Like you said, he's good at what he does and he'll connect the dots. I'll bring this to Mike and tell him what you said."

"Thank you," Dave gives me one more smile before heading down the hallway. Before he can get out of the building, I stick my head out of the doorway and yell, "and don't ever show up at my apartment again."

SPENCER

"Did I miss some event in the bullpen before?" Hotch asks nonchalantly as he walks onto the jet.

"No," I answer coldly, not even looking up from the book in my hands. I’ve been staring at the words for almost half an hour yet I haven’t processed a single one. My mind is racing too quickly to actually attain any new information, no matter how hard I try. It doesn’t help to feel everyone’s gaze on me, their eyes boring into the back of my head. It’s a feeling that is far too suffocating for me to ever feel comfortable until they have averted their eyes elsewhere.

"I heard some commotion but I was on the phone," Hotch keeps talking and it enrages me that he’s supposed to be the best profiler on this team, considering he’s lead profiler and unit chief, but he can’t tell from the tone of my voice that this conversation needs to end. He just ignores my tone of voice and moves on with his life. I guess I should be used to that by now.

"Just some chatting. No commotion," Morgan gives me a look as if to say ‘how did I do’ but I just look back at my book.

"Alright,” Hotch accepts Morgan’s answer with ease, but not mine, “well, let's call Garcia and get started."

The rest of the plane ride is awkward and tense. In his normal fashion, Hotch ignores the tension and gives us all directions on where to go when we touch down in Texas. I only contribute a few facts here and there but I stick to attempting, and failing, to read my book. I just can’t seem to bring my attention anywhere but Amelia and Rossi. The questions swirl around in my mind and they won’t stop, no matter how many times I splash cold water in my face or try to have a conversation or read the case files. The questions keep swirling.

Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? Why did Amelia leave so quickly? Why was she on the verge of tears? How come Rossi isn’t on the plane right now? Is Amelia okay right now? Is she mad at me? Is our relationship over because of this one moment? Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? And why did she recognize him too?

I don’t say a word as we land and split up in SUV’s, heading off to our assigned locations to start working. I cling to my distraction book and try, for the millionth time, to process the words on the page. But my brain is filled with nothing but Amelia, Amelia, Amelia.

"Agents," the sheriff comes up to us when we enter the station, shaking Hotch's hand before reaching for mine. I just lift my arm and wave at him, not even bothering to attempt a smile. The sheriff gives me an unsure look but drops his hand back to his side. "Thank you guys for coming out."

"It's our pleasure. I'm Agent Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid."

"Well, I'm Sheriff Michael Stark, you can call me Mike. I know your unit chief, Matt Cruz, and I asked him to bring this case to you because I could really use the help. We've never seen anything like this before. But I'm not gonna lie, I thought there'd be more of you," he leads us further into the police station and gestures to the very full evidence board against the wall. Oh gosh, that has to be refined and taken apart. Great, even more work for us. 

"There's other agents are the crime scenes now," I tell the sheriff, eyeing the evidence on the board that is incorrect or won’t help the case at all. Sometimes an enthusiastic police force is really helpful but in times like this, they’re doing more harm than good. I start pulling down all the evidence that won’t help and throwing it aside.

"Great," Mike watches me destroy the evidence board for a moment before plastering on a smile, “I’ll gather the force, and let’s get working.”

///

THIRD PERSON

///

Dave Rossi, go-bag and cardboard box in hand, struts into the Texas Police Department. Some officers smile with recognition as he passes them but he ignore all the attention. He’s used to it, anyway. Rossi goes straight to the sheriff’s office, knocking firmly on the door.

The door flies open and a smile instantly stretches across Mike’s face at the sight of an old friend and colleague standing in front of him. "David Rossi. Wow. It's been quite a while."

"That it has," Rossi steps inside the office, setting the cardboard box on the first chair he sees.

"I thought you retired a while ago. You published those books, I've got them all in my house.”

"Came back. The retired life wasn't for me," Rossi explains, then taps his hand on the top of the box. "I ran into a certain child of yours and she gave me this to give to you and your other children."

Mike's eyes widen when he finally notices the box, tilting his head to read Amelia’s writing on the side. "You saw Amelia?"

Rossi turns his head towards the window and gazes into the main room in the station, where Hotch and Reid are chatting over the evidence board. "Have you met Dr. Reid yet?"

"I have," Mike nods, already slicing the packing tape on the top of the box. "He's-” his hand freezes mid-air, eyes widening in realization, “oh my god. Amelia told me she was dating an FBI agent that works for the BAU. I can't believe I didn't put it together!"

"But Spencer doesn't know. I asked Amelia and she hasn't told him anything."

Mike scoffs dramatically, pulling out a large canvas and admiring the beauty of Amelia’s artwork. She has never disappointed him, Mike thinks. "How is it possible that she hasn’t told him anything? Her tattoos are basically the story of her life. She's got tattoos of her brother and a bunch for her mom, she has a cactus, a bee, a turtle. Her arms basically tell her life story."

"My guess?" Rossi suggets. "It's been cold. She avoided it because she was wearing long sleeves. But she asked me not to say anything so I have to ask you the same. She swore to me that she would tell him eventually so I don't want to come between them."

Mike’s gaze moves out the window again, eyes locked on the quick-talking doctor who politely refused to shake his hand. "She’s gonna have to tell him soon. But right now, we have better things to worry about. Someone’s killing prostitutes,” Rossi nods and saunters out of the office, joining his teammates, getting nothing but a cold, hard glare from Spencer. But Mike doesn’t see this interaction because he’s fishing though his desk drawer, searching for command strips to hang Amelia’s painting on the wall outside. 

/// 

SPENCER

///

I stare out the window as Morgan drives, studying all the sites that pass us. I know that Amelia grew up in Texas. I'm not entirely sure where because she never specified where, but I wonder if she ever walked these streets as a kid. I wonder if she held her brothers hand when they walked to school, or if her mother held her hand and dragged her away from a toy store. Or maybe an art store would be a more apt location for Amelia to get attached to. Did she draw her first picture while sitting on the curb and waiting for the bus? Did she run down these sidewalks with her friends in the middle of the night after they all snuck out? 

"Reid. Hey kid! You're spacing out again," Morgan reaches over and lays his hand on my shoulder. I quickly shrug his hand off my shoulder and pat my cardigan down on my shoulder to correct the wrinkles Morgan just created.

"Sorry, sorry. Was someone saying something?"

Deputy Bennett in the backseat speaks up, "I was just telling Agent Morgan about Joe's Bar and about Dinah. She's the woman who runs it."

I do what I can to keep my mind off Amelia. I miss her immensely, more than usual. We used to text each other constantly while I was away on a case but I haven't heard from her at all, and that breaks my heart. She's my sunshine, and if I don't have my sunshine, there's no way I'll be able to think straight. Her short and sweet texts that I always seemed to get when I’m away quickly became the things that encouraged me to work harder. They encouraged me to solve the case so I could get home and see her smiling face again. But now there is none of that. Not a single ‘hope everything is going okay’ message or a phone call that she swears she didn’t mean to do or a silly selfie of her in her studio or sitting on the couch. There’s no motivation and no encouragement to get home.

But I do what I can in the bar to distract Dinah and the deputy while Morgan goes to talk to the other girl. I don’t even remember her name. All I know about her is that she looks hauntingly similar to Amelia and I can’t get myself to look at her a second time. I ask meaningless questions with answers from Dinah that are all lies. But whatever Morgan is doing seems to be working so I keep going, trying to seem casual and nonchalant.

Morgan comes stutting back with his hands in his pockets, giving me a shrug as if to say got nothing, but his eyes tell a different story. "Alright, Dinah," the deputy says, "we'll get out of your hair now."

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help, gentlemen," Dinah says with a completely fake southern charm, returning to cleaning the bar with a rag.

I tuck my head down as we get back in the car and drive back to the station. My head floats back to the clouds, and I barely hear Morgan and Bennett's phone conversation with Hotch about Preacher Mills that they now have in for questioning. I pull my phone out a check for any messages from Amelia, only finding one from JJ, asking if I'm feeling okay. I ignore her, putting my phone away again and huffing in frustration.

"Lady troubles?" Bennett chuckles from the backseat, patting my shoulder in the same horrible way that Morgan did. "I don't need your profiling skills to see that from a mile away."

"I'm fine," I snap as Morgan pulls into a parking spot at the station and I’m stumbling out before the car is even in park.

I have every intention of dashing inside and ducking my head in a book to distract myself, but before I can even get to the evidence board, I stop in my tracks. That painting wasn’t there when we arrived. This is a new addition and it looks similar to the art I have on my desk at Quantico. I take a step closer to the canvas and my blood runs cold when I spot Amelia’s distinctive signature on the bottom right of the painting.

“You like the art?” Bennett is at my side once more. “We get a new one every few months.”

“Um, uh huh,” it takes me a split second to remember how to speak. I’m just so utterly confused. I thought I was close to learning every about this woman and she keeps surprising me. Amelia sells her art to museums and rich people who fill their houses with legendary artwork. What is this painting doing in a police station in Texas? “Where do the paintings come from?”

Bennett shrugs in an annoyingly casual way. “Sheriff Stark’s daughter is an artist or something. She sends them over here sometimes. He’s got a house full of little brats at home. Don’t know how he does it,” he chuckles and leaves me high and dry, even more confused than I was before. 

///

The case turns out to be much more complicated than we imagined. At first glance, we seem pretty convinced that the preacher is the unsub. But when all the evidence lines up, it’s clear to see that he is being set up. So we set off on the mission of trying to find the preacher to tell him we know he’s innocent.

"Preacher's car was just spotted at El Lobito's diner," Hotch relays the information to us. "Reid and Blake, Sheriff Stark is gonna drive you over. JJ and Morgan, take another car over. Rossi and I will coordinate from here."

Everyone nods as we pull on our vests, adjusting guns and double-checking ammunition. We rush off to our cars and speed off to the diner, sirens blaring. I refrain from checking my phone, knowing I need to clear my head if I'm about to go into a potentially dangerous situation. I can’t think about Amelia right now. I can’t think about her laying on the couch in her nearly-sheer pajamas with a glass of wine in her hands. I can’t think about her wrapped up in her duvet and sleeping without me. I can’t think about her crying over the event in the bullpen without me there to hold her. No, I can’t do that. I need a clear head. 

We arrive at the diner and we're all eyes, searching for movement from inside. Lorenzana comes up to us, her hand poised on the gun on her hip. "He's been in there a good five minutes now," she tells us. "No movement inside yet."

"What about patrons?" 

"Diner's closed," Lorenzana says.

"Looks like two entrances," Blake says, her hands on her hips. "The question is, is he alone?"

"Uh, guys," Deputy Bennett says just as JJ and Morgan run up beside us, "I've got movement. We should move in. We should move in right now."

"Actually," I glance inside and see that all the preacher is doing is peering through the window. Bennett needs to calm down and stop being so dramatic about everything, "we're better off establishing the perimeter first. Then we can open up a line of communication." 

"I think you're right," Sheriff Stark nods, effectively dismissing his defensive officers. "I think we should-"

Suddenly there's the loud screech of a gunshot and everyone ducks as an initial reaction. Sheriff Stark falls to the floor in front of us but Blake and I duck behind the open door of our SUV. The preacher starts reining bullets down on us, haphazardly aiming for anything and everything. So much for telling him we know he’s innocent and bringing him in for protection. 

"Blake," I tap her shoulder, gun drawn in my other hand, "we gotta get the sheriff."

Without another word to me, she runs right into gunfire. She grabs one arm of the Sheriff's arms and starts to pull him, but clearly can't. My eyes go wide and the gunshots pound against my eardrums as I push myself away from the car.

"Blake!" I’m screaming as I shield her from the bullets coming her way. There’s no doubt she would have been killed by any of those bullets. She should be more caeful. She has a husband to return home to.

There is a searing pain in my neck and it takes me a second to process that I've been shot. The world starts to move in slow motion when I crumble to the ground and stare up at the dark sky. There are tears falling down my cheeks and stinging my gunshot wound, but the stars seem to calm me. I wonder if these are the same stars that Amelia used to look at with her brother. I wonder if Amelia is looking up at the stars right now. 

Amelia. My girl. I can't find it in me to have an ounce of anger in me towards her anymore. I'd give anything to be able to hold her right now as my body fills with indescribable pain. I can feel her hand in mine and her laugh echoing in my ears, drowning out the gunfire around me. How does she do that? Her laugh always overpowers everything around us. I swear I can feel her lips on my face and I can feel her hands on my skin, and I want to reach for her. I can see her right in front of me, leaning over my weakening body and whispers sweet nothings in my ear. Is she actually here? I can feel her. Why is she in Texas? Why is she in the middle of a shootout? Why isn’t she wearing a bulletproof vest? She needs a vest. She needs it now.

With the little amount of strength I have left, I reach my shaking hands for the velcro on my shoulders, tugging on them. I tug, and tug, and tug, and nothing happens. The vest won’t come off. I can’t save her. I need to save her.

I'm jolted out of my beautiful daydream when I feel myself getting dragged against the pavement. My view of Amelia dissipates and I cry out, reaching my hand out for her. There's a face in front of me but I'm looking past them, smacking my lips together in an attempt to speak. But then the person is gone and I'm left alone again. I try to call out for my girlfriend, who has disappeared, still tugging at the velcro on my kevlar vest. She needs it. I need to save her.

I sit there helplessly for what feels like forever, hands shaking and covered in blood. The sound of gunfire starts to warp in my ears and it seems to get more and more distant by the second. Maybe the gunfire is stopping. Maybe Amelia is safe. If she isn’t safe then I don’t know what I would do. I try to speak again, but my jaw just goes slack and suddenly I can’t move it anymore.

Blake rushes over and crouches in front of me, pressing her cold hands against my bleeding wound. The temperature of her fingers jolts me in the most shocking and aggressive way, a gasp coming from my wide-open mouth. "Medic!" She shouts. "We need a medic now! There's too much blood!"

I can feel blood dripping down my body and my head is starting to get fuzzy. The blood soaks my kevlar but it doesn’t stop me from continuing to pull on the velcro. I don’t feel bullets flying past me anymore but Amelia still needs it. But the more energy I put into tugging at my vest, the more parts of my body start to render useless. My fingertips tingle and my eyes start to roll.

"Hey, you're doing great. Just keep your eyes open and on me," Blake tries to give me a smile, but it never reaches her eyes. "Eyes on me, eyes on me," I try to trail my eyes up to hers, but they just cross and my head starts to pound. "Spencer! I need your eyes on me!"

My vision starts to sparkle and then those sparkles burn out until all I see is black.

 taglist!

@babybobbybones @blameitonthenight21 @thematthewgraygube @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @rxseinbloom @m0rcia​ @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @gublergirls @wonderlandhatter @ambitious-but-lazy 

[jamr0ck83]

If Nobody is Racist, Then Who Exactly is Keeping Systemic Racism Going?

Everybody seems quick to insist that they’re not the ones who are racist.  So, then who is?  If it’s only the people you say, then why are we like this as a country?

Recently, someone with which I somewhat briefly attended grad school for education (And no, I don’t want to talk about what happened with that whole endeavor) posted the following image to their Facebook profile.

On its face, it seems like a completely reasonable and acceptable statement, and as such, it was generating some likes.  At the time I first saw it, I think there were 6.  But before I, too, submitted my approval of this image, I thought a little more about it, and its implications.  And I realized that I didn’t really agree with it.  I knew the person who posted it had no ill intentions, and I think they even found the image on the profile of another POC.  But the more I reread the sign featured, the more I was sure that it was not a true statement.  I knew that my stance was not going to garner nearly as many likes or other accolades as if I had posted a phrase like “Black Lives Matter”, which at this point, it seems like all reasonable people are able to agree that they do (or at least it’s the obvious appropriate thing to say in this moment).  I knew I might receive some pushback or criticism, and while that did admittedly make me nervous, I knew that I needed to speak up in this way and in this moment.  And I was willing to deal with whatever consequences came my way.  I decided it was that important for me to make a case for a diverging opinion.  So, I typed out the reply below and posted it.

I want to agree with this, but I'm not sure if I do. Please hear me out. It is entirely possible to be a Trump supporter and not be a person who has ever uttered a racial epithet or been otherwise explicitly or overtly racist. However, I do believe that there are degrees of racism, and if you're someone who has responded that "all lives matter" or "blue lives matter" when another person asserts that black lives matter, I would argue that you are on the spectrum of holding onto or entertaining some form of racist ideology. If you watched the video of George Floyd having his life choked out of him and then watched the footage of riots from that first night in Minneapolis and thought "It's a shame that guy died, but what they're doing now is uncalled for", this might indicate that you prioritize law and order (no matter how unjustly they are being enforced) over the life of a man whose only transgression was that he was black, and that, too, places you on that spectrum of racism. Racism isn't always waving a confederate flag and yelling at POCs to go back to where they came from. Sometimes, it's knowing that the politician you support will turn a blind eye to or even praise people who march around with tiki torches yelling, "Jews will not replace us" and wanting to vote for him anyway. Sometimes, it's hearing black people beg to have full access to the citizenship rights that are due them but deciding it's more important for you to vote for the guy who advocates for you to keep your semiautomatic rifle. If you are deciding that your wants (not needs) have priority over the humanity of POCs, then I would argue that you are on the spectrum of racism. And that demands some self-reflection. Complicity is part of what makes racism so destructive. What's the point of knowing better if you refuse to hold others accountable for doing better?

And then I waited.  I waited for blowback.  I waited for pushback.  I waited for agreement.  I waited for literally anything anybody might feel compelled to say.  But the only feedback I received was a single “like” whereas the post itself had garnered six additional since the posting of my comment.  So, people obviously disagreed with my stance but couldn’t bring themselves to make that known in any kind of direct fashion.  And frankly, that concerns me.  A great deal, in fact.  And there are a couple of reasons why.

Firstly, and this is something of which I was starting to become more aware even months before the death of George Floyd and these subsequent protests, white people are very quick to assert that they, themselves, are not racist.  They are also quick to assert that most people who look like them are not racist.  According to them, hardly anybody is really, truly racist.  But if that’s actually true, then why is this country such an absolute mess, and why have we been that way for centuries?  It’s as if the term “racist” is being reserved for truly egregious and over-the-top cases.  And everything else is just the way people are.  White people seem to have a very specific and narrow idea of what racism looks and sounds like, and that allows them to never truly have to consider whether they, themselves, might be racist.  Or if their family members are racist.  Or if the politicians they actively support are racist.  Under their definition of that word, it barely applies to anyone. And as a black woman who considers herself knowledgeable of both history and current affairs, I will confidently say that this is wrong.  

I have had people who cloak themselves under the banner of liberalism say some things to me that would make me raise an eyebrow if I knew at all how to move that particular facial muscle. And no, it’s not the times when the racial epithets and slurs are used that I feel compelled to do this.  It’s actually the times when I’ve made some sort of assertion about the impact of oppression on the lives of black people today, and I am met with sentiments such as “It’s not fair that we keep getting blamed for everything” or “You weren’t a slave, so the legacy of that institution doesn’t create any modern-day problems for you” or “Slavery ended over a hundred years ago, so why do you keep wanting to bring it up? Why can’t we all just move on?  Life is hard enough”. (That last phrase is a direct quote from a white woman who replied to something I said on Instagram regarding the role that white women have historically played in the role of oppressing black bodies.  She objected to my assertion that this is an issue that is rarely discussed, because dwelling on it would cause white women to feel discomfort, and that is in direct opposition to this silent societal code we all seem to follow that says that we must do whatever we can to prevent white women from feeling uncomfortable.  Ironically, she was shutting my argument down, because it made her uncomfortable.) Also, I’ve been told that the ways in which I have experienced oppression throughout my life just aren’t true, that I must be mistaken and that I am making something be all about race when it’s not about race at all.  And finally, I’ve been told the oldie but goodie “I don’t see color; I just see people”.

To the people that are brave enough to read this right now, I will submit to you that these statements and sentiments all reek of racism.  Every single one of them.  And every single person who uttered these phrases would have gone to the grave denying that they could be considered racist.  And sorry, people who made these statements, but this assertion by you would be wholly incorrect.  By so narrowly defining what racism is, we have given many people permission to absolve themselves from any responsibility for how it continues to thrive in American society. Nobody needs to look inward; nobody has to come to terms with any mindsets they might harbor that are truly problematic. And if nobody is willing to deal with anything or even acknowledge it, how are we going to change anything?  If we can’t even recognize and talk about what racism is, how are we going to put an end to it?  And the short answer is, we’re not.

My second concern is that, while it seemed like almost no one who saw my comment agreed with it, no one felt compelled to say anything, give any sort of reason for WHY they disagreed with it.  Maybe it’s because I’m black that they felt like they should just let me get on my soapbox and say what I needed to say, and that would be their form of allyship (even though at the end of the day, them doing this was just a dismissal of everything I said so they could go on with their lives, which kind of flies in the face of being an ally).  When these protests first started, I think many black people were reasonably skeptical about the degree to which we could rely on non-black allyship for the duration of however long we needed it.  We wondered if the outrage and fervor exhibited was sustainable.  And we wondered if white allies, specifically, were truly willing to endure discomfort if it would eventually lead to the advancement of our movement.  And I hate to say it, but I feel like the instance of this post about racism and who it applies to gave me substantial reason to believe that they are not.  The fact that there are people aligning themselves publicly to the BLM movement who are already seemingly unwilling to settle in their discomfort in order to be a more effective agent of change greatly concerns me.  It indicates to me that for some people (not all, but some) a lot of what’s going on right now is an exercise for them in anti-racism theater.  To put it simply and bluntly, they are not “in it to win it”, because “winning it” requires that they sacrifice more comfort than they are ready to do.  And while that’s certainly not everybody who calls themselves an ally, I worry that it represents a substantial number of people who we are currently relying on as allies who really aren’t.  And when they start drifting away from the protests and the posting of hashtags because this movement is no longer the fun, new thing we’re all doing, the people who remain are going to have to pick up the slack and work even harder to account for their absence.

To be clear, I’m not trying to knock anyone who wants to be an ally or make it seem like I want to nitpick at everyone and that there isn’t anything that any non-black ally can do that would truly please me.  If that’s what you are thinking now as you read this, I would implore you to reconsider. Because that perspective is one that stems directly from the notion that we are trying to hurt people’s feelings. It stems from this idea that it is our responsibility to make our white allies feel good about what they are doing right now so that they will continue to feel encouraged, or else they will walk away.  But this movement is not about pacifying white people’ feelings, whether they consider themselves to be allies or not.  We are not here to make you comfortable.  We are here to seek the justice that we are due.  We are here to seek the rights of citizenship that we have been routinely denied.  We are here to put an end to systemic racism.  Catering to allies’ feelings is nowhere on that list.  It’s not even a close fourth.  We need people to put their own individual feelings aside (discomfort, guilt, or whatever else) and help do what needs to be done.

And I realize this might be a harsh reality check, I do, because I know that many black Americans have spent a significant portion of their lives doing whatever they could to make white people comfortable.  During slavery, we performed their backbreaking hard labor so they wouldn’t have to but could still reap the financial benefits.  In modern times, many of us deliberately hold back a lot of ourselves in white people’s presence, because it’s always been an expectation that successful black people who have properly assimilated in the larger American society need to make sure that nothing we do resembles anything that might make them remember that we are not the same color.  For many black women, this means stifling their voices and hiding their frustrations, because nobody wants to deal with an angry black woman.  For many black men, this might mean being keenly and constantly aware of their physical stature and proximity to other people, because they don’t want anyone to find them intimidating in any way.  I think white people take these acts for granted because we’ve always done them, but they are not “just the way we are” or “just the way we like to be”.  They are a series of survival skills that we have been forced to adhere to, because to refrain from doing so would allow others to perceive as people they’d rather not deal with, if possible.  That means, we wouldn’t be the ones who get into the good school or get the good job or even get to keep our lives.

I have been deemed a quiet person my entire life, and while some of that is due to my genuine introverted nature, the majority is supplemented by the fact that, in most situations, if I am given the choice between being the quiet and unassuming black girl who nobody really has a problem with or the more vocal and passionate black woman that asserts herself but then has to deal with the consequences of nobody really wanting to be around her, I choose the former.  And I started choosing it at a very young age; I was definitely still in elementary school.  It starts that early.  Because we know that early.  We know that this country was not designed with us in mind unless it was to depend on our labor or our ability to entertain.  We know that the system is literally rigged against us in such ways that, if we were to inform white people of all those facets of oppression, they would accuse us of being paranoid.  Actually, that is precisely what happens when we try to tell people about our experiences of being black in America.  There are a lot of people out there who are masterful at gaslighting and being utterly dismissive of our struggles.  And that is a response that is literally for the sole purpose of driving the other person to the point of insanity.  So, for the most part, we stopped telling you things, because you weren’t really listening, anyway.  And we realized that, if we were going to make it in this country, then we really did have to work twice as hard, be twice as amiable in demeanor, and twice as resilient. Was that fair, for that to be put on us? Of course not.  But we shouldered that burden.  Because what was the alternative?  So, we did it, and we’ve done it fairly quietly for a very long time.

But we’re tired.  And we’re angry.  Because no matter what we do, people keep killing us for little to no reason and then justify it to say that we must have done something to deserve it. “Well, you should’ve known that wearing a hoodie makes you look threatening.”  “A toy gun could look a lot like a real gun, so that’s an honest mistake on the officer’s part.” “Oh, wait.  You were minding your own business sitting in your apartment when somebody shot you?  Well, were you really living beyond reproach and therefore entitled to keep your life? You sure you’ve never done anything wrong? Don’t you smoke weed sometimes?”  These are the ways people have justified our deaths.  And I would argue that all those statements and sentiments are couched in racism.  All of them. None of it is okay, and it all needs to end.  And we need everyone we can get to commit to joining us in this fight.  But if you’re really going to sit there and maintain the party line that racists are really few in number and that you, the non-black ally, don’t need to consider the ways in which you might harbor some racist ideology, then you’re not ready to be an ally.  And you can’t help us.  And you won’t help us.  Because as soon as things get a little less trendy or a little more uncomfortable, you will prioritize that over our humanity.  And that, in itself, is pretty damn racist.

[calamariimpossible]

Magicians on the internet, crypto, and the email that broke me.

This is a continuation of a twitter thread that Muz (@mzkrx) started to write out in his car but then when he plotted out his thoughts, it made more sense to him to put it down in a blog format rather than a thread. You'll find out why as you read through.

Stuck in the car for half an hour so I'm gonna do a thread (Editor's note: Now a whole-ass blog post) about a strange email I got recently.

So I was casually watching magic tricks on YouTube. the funnest part of which to me is reading the comments. YouTube commenters love explaining how they think the trick is done and it's fun to read through their theories and connect dots between similar tricks, etc.

And then one time as I was scrolling I noticed a comment that didn't make sense. It was a string of an almost sentence. Intelligible enough to not be random words but odd enough to read like a trigger phrase for something.

The closest I can describe it as is like the string Zemo used to wake up the Winter Soldier, but with some syntax to it. Like "many thermos wiggle throughout exotic harbinger of circle ascending fuchsia entrapment".

Initially I thought nothing of it, but then I kept seeing them in these magic trick video comment sections. They're never the same string, and it's always under magic trick videos. from different channels even.

Hmmm.

The profiles that posted these comments are also always blank accounts with zero videos and no profile pic. Just their name. I felt like it was too much of a coincidence for these comments to only be under magic trick videos.

I also knew that the world of performance magic is thick with secrets. That is to say, there is deliberate obfuscation of information whenever you try to go online to find out how a trick works.

Magicians get together online and share information with each other just like performers of every other sort as well but the amount of code and doublespeak they use is an order of magnitude more annoying to decipher compared to say, an engineering message board or a gamedev forum.

Knowing that, I thought maybe this almost parsable gibberish I keep seeing everywhere was also some kind of code these people were using to talk to each other.

So I started investigating.

First things first, let's just Google one of the phrases. Maybe that's enough?

And it sorta was.

Pasting them onto the search bar lent me to only 1 result (wild!) and it was a website that looked really dank. Like geocities dank. Annoying neon colours and badly margined jpegs of tarot card images everywhere and a big bold header text that said something to the effect of:

"Congratulations, you've found our hidden message. This portal is only for those seeking knowledge beyond what is on the surface. Continue below."

* * *

I haven't been doing well. I feel like I say that too much. I say it on Patreon, on my personal podcast, whenever any of my friends ask me how I'm doing, pretty much everywhere. I feel very heavy. I understand I'm not the only one feeling like this during a pandemic.

Duh.

But I have this other version of worry that I can't quite articulate until right now: I'm scared I won't be funny anymore. Anwar and Farid can attest that even during our recordings I don't feel up to being funny. I question my jokes a lot. I barely enjoy telling them. I'm worried I'm letting everyone down.

To me, silliness and absurdism as virtues only make sense when the world has trace amounts of injustice and wrongness that training ourselves to see it in our everyday helps us remind ourselves of what is just and fair. The more we consume silliness, the more we are able to recognize silly and point it out. So we don't ignore it when things go wrong, so we talk about it, manage it. So we can take care of each other.

Maybe I can't be sure if we're all up for taking care of each other right now.

* * *

"Continue below" seems instructive, but it wasn't. Like I mentioned, the margins were haphazard and the CSS was all over the place. Some jpegs were straight up cropped off.

Meaning I can't be sure what "below" meant. But there were clickable images and text so I was readily intrigued.

It was tantalizing. Did I stumble into some secret order of Extremely Online Magicians? Maybe I'll finally find out why there aren't many female magicians out there. Maybe it's some sort of secret initiation to a secret message board full of secrety secrets. Secretly.

Y'all.

I didn't click on any of the linked images or anything. I closed the tab. That was the end of that.

An earlier version of myself would gladly run headlong into this rabbit hole to find out more and sink hours into some goddessforsaken labyrinth of links. But the current version of me recognizes this for what it almost certainly is: an abandoned roleplaying game.

Back in the early 00s when the internet was the realm of nerds and nerds only, it was full of people who loved sharing things for sharing's sake. It used to be punk rock to maintain a blog that only talked about snails or have a lo-fi YouTube channel that uploads biweekly 3-minute news about your house, or manage a little message board where people roleplay as wizards who rummage around the net looking for clues.

That last part was a thing I remember being actively involved in. In '03, a group of online friends and I wrote up a scavenger hunt of sorts where we sent people through various blog pages that we have where the goal is to just dick around and have fun. We wasted each other's time for sure. Hundreds of hours of it for literally no gain at all but for some laughs and fun memories.

The internet isn't like that anymore. People don't share something online for sharing anymore. Not really. There's this idea that if you put stuff out there, you want people's attention because numbers are good. You get a lotta reblogs and RTs and Likes which means people Like you.

If you don't have a lotta numbers, you don't matter. If you do, everyone has to talk about what you said or did because it's 'News' now.

Isn't that kinda gross, you think? That we need people to interact through an app to be sure that we're Liked? I say "we" but I mean me. I've successfully poisoned my brain to believe this to a certain extent too and it's not good.

I felt myself physically react when I closed that geocities magician website tab. I shuddered because my brain went from "this is cool" to "I gotta let people know I found this" to "this'll get me hella RTs" to "ew Muz why did you think that" within 3 seconds and I was disgusted with myself.

As a dude who started my online presence on YouTube and parlayed it into my real life comedy/writing career, I've believed for a long time that doing good work and putting it out there is what it takes for a working creative to make it because that's what I did. So there's this idea that making stuff and having it be seen is some kind of virtuous.

But it's not anymore. People pick fights with children for clout. Newspapers post about people's tweets as if its important. People are investing in crypto, a thing that literally only exists as electrical waste on a grand scale. We're boiling the oceans to yell at each other over nothing and exchange bits of code everyone agrees has ever-rising value but doesn't. Everyone is making and eating junk, it feels like.

So am I making junk? Have I just been making useless junk for literally over a decade now? Is that what I've been good for this entire time?

* * *

So the email.

It was a response from a company I applied to for a job. I applied as a creative writer and they're an advertising agency.

Receiving emails from a prospective employer when you're in need of a job is exciting! So soon after I applied, too. Wonderful. Here's what it said:

We just received your application today but would love to extend the opportunity for you to participate in the Case Competition as a prerequisite of your job application for Creative Writer position with [REDACTED] and stand a chance to be a winner for cash awards up to a total worth of RM1,800.

Yea.

They want me to enter a competition where I compete with other candidates to get a chance of being hired.

This company saw how many people applied for a job with them, and decided to dangle some cash and throw it over the fence to see which candidate will fight for it the most.

I didn't expect to feel vomitous after reading an email but that did it. I almost dry heaved. That's where we are now.

Recruiters see a glut of applicants and decided to play Fall Guys. These people watch Istana Takeshi and think Takeshi is the good guy. It hurts. It hurt me. That email caused me pain.

I can't at all empathise with recruiters who think this was okay to do. They really believed that creative writers will do a little dance for them just for money.

Look, I know we all need to eat. But I can also hate that people undervalue the work of creatives to this painful extent.

I don't give a shit about earning a lot of dough. I just wanna make things that tickle people. I want you to smile more.

That's the whole point of that weird little YouTube comment that led to the quirky website. That's the whole idea of making silly videos and dumb tweets and memes. We just want you to laugh.

But it seems people think so little of joy that they'll do whatever they can to avoid legitimately supporting and paying for stuff that gets them through the day. So much so that they want free work from us for the potential of maybe being able to get paid for more work. It breaks me, man.

I hate that I cannot make a living just trying my best to make people happy.

That's the best way I know to take care of you.

I know I don't just 'make junk' for a living. People have messaged me personally that my work has helped them get through tough times in school, in their relationships, at the office and I am eternally grateful that they took the time to tell me that.

I just also wish my feelings about my work aren't easily brought down by the majority of people who insist its worthless. Even if sometimes those people is me.

So forgive me if I won't be funny for a while. I'm gonna need some time to process this. Thank you for reading. I love you.

[need-a-new-hobby]

Penelope

Piper held her head in her hands. This wasn’t meant to happen. Not to her. She was last to text her so she’d been called first. She’d called in the others who were starting to file in, all tired. JJ lay her head against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Spencer was pacing and Rossi just stood, trying not to crack. Derek was the second last to show up followed up by Emily. Piper ignored her throbbing shoulder and gratefully accepted the coffee Emily handed to her. She hadn’t eaten since they’d flown back in so Piper dragged Spencer to the cafe downstairs to get her a treat for when she’d wake up. As she paid for the warm croissant and a bagel, they talked about their first time meeting her.

Spencer had just joined the FBI at 23, the youngest SSA agent in years. Garcia was the only one almost the same age as him and yet, so completely different. He’d met her, really met her when the team was getting into its stride. He’d been blabbing on about Doctor Who to Derek who wasn’t paying attention except she hit him in the head for not liking the New Who because it wasn’t as ‘science-y’. “The point of Doctor Who is for computer and science nerds and anyone who is weird and wacky to feel like they belong. Do not diss Christopher Eccleston.” 

“Wait, you don’t like Christopher Eccleston?” Piper had looked at him in outrage. “Now I want to hit you.” Spencer chuckled and continued his story.

After that case, she’d found him and pulled him into her GarciaCave and they’d watched a marathon of the Ninth Doctor, getting him hooked into the New Who series. Every week after that, they’d meet up to watch the week’s episodes on Sunday before debating over the science of it all.

As they stood in the elevator inching upwards, Piper remembered their first meeting.

Piper had heard of the mysterious ‘baby girl’ from Morgan and had wanted to meet her. So she waited in the office, playing with a Rubix cube, criss-cross on her desk. Garcia had walked in and almost dropped her mug of coffee. Before even knowing anything about her, she’d offered to plan a housewarming party once they got back from their case on Friday.

She walked in to much the same scenario they’d left. Derek held his head in his hands. Rossi was pacing. JJ was leaning on Emily’s shoulder. Piper was the first one in to see Penelope and smiled softly at her. “Would my Queen like a warm croissant?” Penelope excitedly tried to get up and winced. Morgan lurched forward, helping her get comfortable as Piper dragged over the bedside plate, leaving the brown paper bag and a cup of hot chocolate on it. Spencer sat beside her, rubbing circles on her hand. “We’re gonna find who did this to you, okay?”

Hotch came in, pulling Derek aside. “I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn't think we'll get anything from the scene. David and I will go to the scene. I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this.”

Piper wiped tears threatening to spill over with shaky hands outside Penelope’s room. She exhaled shakily as Rossi walked over to her. “You okay?”

“’M fine. I just don’t wanna cry in there because if I cry then she’ll cry and if she cries then JJ’ll cry and then we’ll all just be this sobbing mess that Derek will make fun of,” she rambled as Rossi enveloped her, his Italian cologne calming her down, rubbing her back. “Mphanks.”

“She’s gonna be fine. Garcia’s strong. We’ll find who did this, just like you said.”

“I should come with you,” she said as he released her.

“You aren’t cle-”

“I don’t care. Someone shot my friend and I want t- I need to help, Rossi, please. Please.” 

“I’m sorry Piper, stay here. She needs you more. We got this.”

As Penelope’s eyes opened, she saw Piper snoring softly on the armchair next to her, book in hand and Spencer sat on the floor, head resting on the arm of the armchair. As Penelope winced, adjusting herself, the two geniuses woke abruptly. Piper tossed her book aside to reach for Penelope. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked as his hand wrapped around Penelope’s.

“Confused... stupid, and... in pain.” 

“Are you up for some questions?” Piper slapped his arm, about to chastise him when Penelope replied.

“I never saw it coming. He seemed... Deliciously normal.” 

“You know him?”

“Derek was right, I should have trusted my gut.” 

“Penelope, who was he?”

“It's that guy I told him about. The one I met at the coffee shop. I wanted to believe he was interested in me.”

“Forget that, Pen. None of this is your fault.”

“I let my guard down,” she moaned.

“Do you have any idea why he would have done this? Did he threaten you? Did he want something?” 

“I just thought he liked me.”

“Honey, we need a name.”

“James...James Colby Baylor.” Spencer got up to call Derek as Piper clutched Penelope’s hand.

“It’s okay, we’re gonna get you through this, just breathe.”

“Jeez, is this how you felt?”

“Something like it. I’m sorry Penny.”

“There’s nothing you could have done.” Piper just rubbed her hand comfortingly until Spencer called her outside.

“He staged it to look like a robbery. If he's smart enough to use forensic countermeasures, odds are the name he gave Garcia is probably bogus.”

“Yeah, but why target Garcia?”

“Rossi said it could sadist who gets off on gaining her trust and then trying to kill her.”

“Yeah, but he just happens to pick the FBI’s tech analyst?” They were interrupted by JJ who reported that Garcia’s morphine was wearing off. “I’ll call Derek, you go see her.”

Derek leaned over his baby girl, clutching her hand. “When I was in the ambulance, I could hear the song heroes playing in my head. I kept flashing in and out of consciousness. Everything was really bright. And I remember thinking, wait... Is David Bowie really God?” Derek smiled despite himself, as did Spencer. 

“We have a sketch artist coming in.” 

“I'm still a little hazy.” 

“It's ok. Anything you tell us will help. This guy say what he did for a living?” 

“He said he was a lawyer.” 

“Did people know him where you went?” 

“He said he wanted to show me a place. It was half an hour away.” 

“You drove together? What kind of car?” 

“White. 4-door sedan. American. It smelled new.” 

“Rental car maybe?” 

“Maybe. I don't know. I don't look at things like you guys do. I don't see danger--”

“Hey, it’s okay. Take it easy, take it easy. What else can you remember?” 

“He smelled good.”

“He seem nervous?” 

“I thought he was just afraid to kiss me good night.” 

“Hey. You sure you're up for this?”

Spencer walked out of the room, rubbing his arm. He noticed Piper swirling her coffee as she sat, bent over, staring at her shoes. “She’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah. It’s just... it’s not meant to be this way. When I was... The first person I saw was her. She’s meant to be the nurse, the one that brings cookies, the one that makes us feel better. Not. Not this. This feels worse.” Her cell buzzed and she flipped it open. “Yeah Hotch?...No, he’s right here...Yeah sure...okay, stay safe.” She flipped it shut and started shakily. “Police took the sketch to the coffee shop, restaurant, came up empty. Even ran it through VICAP. No hits. No luck with the rental car companies. No prints at the scene. No shell casings.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “The cell phone the guy used to call Garcia at work was a disposable. He just shot her and...poof.”

“Derek’s going through the scene with her. Remember what Gideon always used to say?”

“The deadliest weapon we have is a thorough and accurate profile.”

“Word for word.”

“Helps that he said it that often.” They chuckled. Spencer held out his hand and she almost took it. Almost. Except her cell buzzed again. “Huh.”

“What?” Spencer faltered, taking his hand back.

“It’s Drew.”

“Who?”

“Uh, Andrew, the detective from Florida. You go on in. I’m gonna tell him this isn’t a good time.” She smiled quickly before walking over to the window.

Derek walked through the evening with Penelope.

The waiter asked the couple for their preferred drink. “We’ll have a bottle of sancerre.”

“Actually, I drink red.”

“Trust me, you'll love it.“

“So he was trying to impress you by showing you how he can take charge.” 

“I guess so.” 

“Tell me about his watch.” 

“It's a fake Rolex.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“I know my knockoffs.” 

“Clearly he was playing with it, though, 'cause he wanted you to notice. I mean, he wanted you to think that it was real. Garcia, are you ok?” 

“I'm feeling really exposed.” Piper walked into the room, taking a seat next to Garcia.

“You're doing just fine. Just fine. What happened next?” 

“So you work for the FBI. That's glamorous.” 

“Mm-hmm. If you want to call 14-hour days cloistered in a small, dark room, surrounded by violent images, glamorous, then hells yeah. Absolutely. it's paris in the twenties.” 

“You work murder cases?” 

“Mm-hmm. 24/7.” 

“I see. That's the big-time right there. You're like a cop and big brother all rolled into one.” 

“I like to think of myself as a tireless crusader for world karma.” 

“Right.” 

“What about you?” 

“Ah, I don't know. School in new haven, law school in Boston-- Cambridge, I guess, technically. It's all one college town.” 

“What kind of law do you practice?” 

“I was a city attorney. But once you've had a murder case dismissed for judicial ineptitude or a random collateral estoppel, let's just say private practice starts making a lot of sense. People can get away with murder for other people's incompetence. Well, why am I telling you this? I'm sure you see it all the time.” “To karma.”

“Hold up. City attorneys don’t try murder cases,” Piper said, eyebrows furrowed. “But, he knows enough to use legal terminology, though he's not actually a working lawyer. I think we're looking at someone who failed out of law school or didn't pass the bar.” Derek looked at her confused. “Daniel’s a lawyer in Detroit. I helped him pass the bar exam. I’ll call Hotch.”

Back at Quantico, Hotch put Piper on speaker in the conference room before asking, “Did Garcia say if he gave any details about the cases he was supposedly working?” 

“No specifics. If he failed out of the system, it could explain why he's got a working vocabulary and not much more.” 

“It could also explain his anger. Even in his lie, he rails against other people's incompetence.” 

“Well, he's clearly a narcissist. The clothes, the watch, the subtle hints at where he went to school. He's faking humility when he's saying New Haven and Cambridge instead of Yale and Harvard.” 

“Okay, thanks Piper.” Hotch cut the line and addressed JJ. “We need an analyst who can, uh, put our information through the legal databases."

Piper helped Garcia up and out of bed. She clutched her hand, Derek on the other side, helping her out to get her things. Derek offered to take her home so Spencer and Piper drove back to the BAU. JJ wrapped her in a hug. “Morgan’s with Garcia, he’s keeping watch on her.” They asked Hotch what needed to be done.

“We found an encrypted file on her hard drive. Internal Affairs is investigating, we’ve been put on hold.”

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” JJ pulled out her cell. “Yeah, Derek...Is she okay? Alright, we’ll be there in 5.” She flipped the phone shut as she turned to the team. “The shooter came back to finish the job.”

“Did he?”

“No, but he shot another officer twice.”

“Jesus,” Piper whispered. “We have to go there.”

^-^

“What's going on?” JJ knelt besides Penelope as Piper offered Derek coffee.

“I don't know. This guy's getting seriously bold, and I can guarantee it's not over,” Derek murmured as he grasped the hot coffee. 

"I don't know what he wants from me,” Penelope whispered. 

“Could you know something about him?”  Spencer pulled up a chair.

“I don't know.” 

“Maybe you have something he wants?” 

“I don't know who he is. I'm so scared.” Hotch, Rossi and Prentiss started to file in.

“You get a good look at him?” Emily asked as she stood behind Penelope rubbing her back. 

“Nothing solid.”

“I don’t get it, how could he know Penelope was okay, or that she was coming back here?”

“Could’ve asked around. Or just came back to check, saw the security, decided to try his luck.”

“Well, we have to keep her safe. Maybe at the hospital?”

“No. No, I don’t wanna go back there.”

“Pen-”

“No, I feel safe with all of you.” 

Hotch intervened. “We’ll take her to the BAU.” JJ stood up, waiting for Penelope to follow but the latter kept staring at the doorway. 

“When we were at dinner...” she started. “They wanted to seat us by a window, but he insisted on sitting at the worst table in the place. And he sat with his back to the corner.”

“Pen, tell us about the car,” Piper prompted from behind. 

“Why?” Garcia turned to face her.

“Just humour me. You said it was white, 4-door, American. What else?” 

“That's it. It was just a car.” 

“No, come on, think. Anything.” 

“The seat belt was buckled behind his back.” Piper’s forehead relaxed and she made eye contact with Derek. “Why does that matter?” 

“It wasn't a rental.” Derek said evenly. “It was for surveillance.” 

“Agents don't wear seat belts,” Piper explained. “They need to get out in a hurry.”

Rossi launched forward towards Garcia. “Alright let’s cut the crap. You need to be straight with us. Right now. Look at me, not them.” Piper glanced at Hotch, slightly panicked at Rossi’s higher voice. The voice he uses to get information out of people. 

“I'm not hiding anything.” 

“You got shot. Most people get shot for a reason.” Penelope turned to look at Derek. “Eyes here!”

“Ease up, Rossi,” Derek warned.

“You got a roomful of people here willing to believe that an fbi agent has tried to kill you. We need to know everything you do on company time that we don't know about. What?” 

“It's nothing bad.” 

“Spit it out!”

“It's ju-- I counsel victims' families and they know where I work, so sometimes they ask me to look into cases for them.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It just means that the cases, the unsolved ones, I tag them, so whoever's investigating them knows that the FBI considers them a priority.” 

“You're not authorised to do that,” Hotch warned. 

“I know. I was just trying to help.”

“But whoever's working those cases thinks you're watching them,” Emily added up. 

“I just wanted to put pressure on them so that they don't slide.” 

“Well, how many cases are we talking about?” Piper slid into the seat next to Penelope. 

“I don't know. 7, 8 maybe. I need to get into my system.” 

“You can't. You're suspended,” Hotch deadpanned.

“Wait up. Penelope, you said this guy was pressing to know if you dealt with murder cases. Hotch, we need a look at those files.” Hotch instinctively turned to Rossi.

“I told you, I’m sick of this jackass being in front of us.”

“Morgan, Reid, Bishop and Prentiss, we’ll go back to the BAU. Stay here and make sure no one forgets to log out of the system. Garcia should not have access.”

Piper made everyone coffee except for her and Spencer who had already had half a dozen cups. While the two doctors argued over how much coffee is too much coffee, Derek crossed his arms, staring out the window. Emily walked over to him, mirroring his posture. “What’s she doing in there?” she asked over Piper’s yelling at Spencer, listing side effects of over-caffeinating. Derek and Emily glanced over at Penelope in bed with her laptop, mumbling to the bumbling idiot on the other side of the screen trying to backhack her.

“You really wanna know?” Emily and Derek gratefully accepted Piper’s coffee while Spencer pouted over his cup of tea. When Penelope finally hacked her way into her own system, Derek handed out copies of all the files she flagged, looking for overlapping agents on each case. Reid flipped through the cases, quickly pointing out that no FBI agents were on these cases.

“It’s the same first responder though in three cases.” Emily noted. “Jason Clark Battle.”

“Same initials.” Garcia moved to her laptop, typing in the name. “All three were drive-by shootings all shot with a revolver.” Piper added. A familiar face flashed on screen. “Pen, is that him?”

“Yeah.” Reid moved closer to the screen.

“He’s been honoured twice as a hero.”

“So why’s he stuck at deputy?” Garcia turned to Derek.

“Because even to his superiors, something was off about him.”

“Of course,” Piper closed her eyes in frustration both at her shoulder and her case. “The showy clothes, the subtle bragging, the inherent narcissism. Presents himself as a prominent attorney when he's actually just a deputy sheriff.”

“Under appreciated in the world and over-appreciated in his own mind. I think you may have stumbled upon an angel of death.” 

“I thought those are nurses who put people out of their misery,” Penelope murmured.

“That’s one model.” Piper leaned over, placing her chin on the crook of her neck, interlacing her fingers around her. “The other is someone who puts people at risk in order to save them.”

“So he shot them so that he could save them?” 

“Yeah. and when he couldn't, he made it look like a random murder. It's how he was able to be the first responder. It's called hero homicide complex.” 

“It's most commonly found in firemen who set fires in order to save the day,” Reid added. Piper released her. 

“So how do we find him?” Before anyone could say a word, Garcia’s voice piqued their interest.

“Okay, that’s funky.”

“Why, what’s up?” Emily asked her.

“He just logged in to my system. There's a link up on my screen.” 

“Maybe it's a mistake?” 

“No. he's good. He's not careless.” 

“Could he be trying to show you something?” 

“He could be baiting me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“If he's with internal affairs, and I follow his lead, whosever login I use could lose their job.” 

“What's your gut say?” Morgan asked her softly. 

“He's a hacker. We have a code.” 

“You trust it?” 

“I have to.” 

“Do it. Make contact.” A few minutes and noise of a clattering keyboard later, They watched the TV screen flash on with CCTV footage of the BAU. In it, next to a desk stood Deputy Jason Clark Battle. Morgan pulled out his cell and Piper made to leave. 

“Woah, Pipes you’re not-”

“If one more person tells me I’m not cleared for the field, I will get my step-stool and punch them in the eye. My bike is out front, I can get there the fastest.”

As Piper sped through to Quantico, Hotch and Rossi subtly walked out of their offices steadily approaching Battle. Piper jumped off her bike, reaching the base in 2 minutes flat.  She sprinted through security, flashing her badge to the security guard, running up the stairs to level 4. She skidded out of the stairwell and exhaled. Panting, she kept out of his line of vision, her shoulder still throbbing. Her forefinger lay on the trigger as she lined up to the concrete before the glass. Edging forward, she pulled a makeup mirror in front of her, keeping an eye on Battle. She saw him leaning over the other analyst’s desk, glancing back and forth nervously. “C’mon.” She couldn’t shoot until he made a move. The agent from Internal Affairs approached him, and in a flash, the deputy had his gun to the agent’s head. Piper stowed away the mirror and turned, sidestepping through the glass doors and quietly moved into a corner, gun aimed for Battle. She exhaled, ignored the throbbing pain in her shoulder, ignoring Rossi’s mellow voice persuading him to let go and squeezed. Two shots rang out, Battle fell to the floor, blood oozing from the back of his head and the other agent stood still, shaking. Piper dropped her firearm, clutching her shoulder, breathing heavily and dropped to one knee in pain. As the others ran in, Piper was being bandaged by a paramedic and Battle was being carried away on a gurney, a sheet pulled over his head. Penelope ran over to Piper, waving away the paramedic to hug her tightly. “Penelope, she just put a fresh bandage on that.”

“I can’t believe you did that. I never wanted you to do that.”

“I didn’t think I could. Being shot at really makes you reconsider shooting someone else.” Piper looked at Garcia and cupped her face. “But for you, I didn’t even hesitate.” Piper pulled at Penelope’s hands. “By the way, I think someone can’t stop staring at you.” Penelope’s forehead crinkled and she looked over to see the other tech analyst getting up from his seat.

“Do you believe everything happens for a reason?”

“I believe things happen because we make them happen.” Piper kissed her forehead gently. “Go get him babe.” As Piper watched the two nerds unite, her best nerd jumped onto the table besides her. 

“You okay?”

“Be fine once I take my meds.”

“You haven’t-”

“Jeez, you worrywart.” Piper bumped him with her good shoulder. “In the chaos of yesterday and today I haven’t eaten and I can’t take my meds if I don’t eat.” Spencer nodded.

“I know a good place. You in?”

Piper smiled. But Spencer watched it fade. “I can’t. I still have to talk to Hotch about taking a break and I promised Drew I’d call him later. Thanks for offering.” She patted him and he watched her climb up to Hotch’s office, wincing at her shoulder. Derek joined him. 

“What’s up Pretty Boy?”

“She bailed on me for Drew.”

“I’m sure you’re making it worse than it is.”

“She bailed on dinner with me to talk to Drew. I don’t even have a chance.”

“Kid-”

“Have you seen him Derek? He’s like athletic and handsome and he has blue eyes and he’s a detective. Look at me. My posture’s always wonky, I’m a ‘pipe cleaner’, which she heard by the way thanks to Rossi, my tie’s perpetually crooked and my hair’s a mess.”

“You’re also a genius, Reid.”

“I’ve memorised books. That’s not the same and she knows it.”

“Alright. You trust me?”

“No.” Derek laughed.

“Give me a shot. I’ll figure out if she really likes this guy.”

TBC...

[theladyaurora]

Orgasmic Power Supply

A story, maybe to be continued, mostly written by ar-tis-t, with a bit of influence from me. The tech had been developed during the technology explosion of the '20's right before the big flare ruined it for everyone.  As a result of the massive and utterly destructive energy from the cataclysmic solar flare, all electrical generating stations stopped working and the technology was rendered useless overnight.  Society returned almost immediately to a state resembling the dark ages. Slowly but surely we recovered but the means of generating sufficient energy to return to the greatness of the past eluded us.  Until now. The details are pretty sketchy and all but incomprehensible to any save the imagineers but suffice to say that technology had finally found a way that allowed the storage and use of the electromagnetic energy produced by the body at sexual extremis.

In a nutshell.  Your orgasms produce as much energy to power the average home.  For a month.

As with all tech, it started innocently enough, toys created to feedback the excitement they created.  The better they felt the more intense they operated. It created feedback loops, More excitement = more power.  Ultimately it was the adult entertainment industry who broke the barrier. At an exhibition demonstrating the newest toys, the performer had such a powerful orgasm that the resulting discharge of energy blew not only all the lights but every electrically operated device within the immediate area.  Coupled with the newly developed Shortrange Phyche Transfer technology or ShPhT (Hooking your mind directly into cyberspace commonly known as Shifting) it opened the door to some truly pantwettingly realistic porn with some truly mind melting orgasms.  I'm not kidding. As with all new technologies, some people when presented with it took it too far and ended up as slaves to their computers. Pleasure puppets as it were. These poor unfortunates became the first “Batteries”.

That was years ago.  At some point the government began to take notice and it wasn't long before “power stations” began to appear.  Then the law was changed. On the advent of a citizens coming of age (and every year after on the anniversary of their birthday) they are to report to their local generating station, there, to be milked of orgasms for three days

Sounds like fun yeah?

Sounds like the best birthday present ever yeah?

To be strapped in and locked down.  To have your mind sucked into whatever reality your pornprofile dictates and to be made to cum.  Over.  And over.  And over.

Not only that but the pay was excellent, and after all, who wouldn't want to get paid to come. 

Happy Birthday.

Not.

What they didn't know (that first time) was that once they signed on that dotted line, then that's it.  No respite. They are inserted into the extractor unit and the orgasms are wrung from their bodies

Over and over

At first it's good

Then it starts to hurt

And they start to beg

Eventually

Some very few people don't survive.  They literally come themselves to death.  Others come back changed. Addicted to to shifting.  Addicted to cumming. But the energy that is produced powers our society and everyone turns a blind eye to the few downsides.

Until today.

She came in.  It was obvious that this was her first time even though she was far older than you'd expect.  It wasn't completely unprecedented...different people, different cultures view the age of majority differently.  Hell there was even a small cult up near the lakes who determined it by some kind of weird method that nonone else understood.  She could belong to one of those.  

You could always tell the newbies.  There was no fear in their eyes. She would learn  They all learned. Eventually.

I looked at her profile….

Surprised, I read through the whole packet.  She was a new experiment.  They'd kept her "New In Box", that is, she'd never had an orgasm before.  I looked at her basic info - 35 years old?  Hmmm.....  Interesting.  I started setting up the protocols as outlined in the schematics.  It wasn't too different than usual, just a few tweaks.

She is apparently one of a group of experimental subjects that are hopefully going to revolutionize our power supply system.  I remember reading about it a while ago, but didn't know they were so close to production.  The theory behind it is that edging for a sustained amount of time before cumming would yield higher results.

I checked her chart again.  She's been on an edging plan for the last week.  I made a mental note to put on my protective gear before setting her off.  Safety first, you know.

I kind of wondered how they kept people from cumming on their own.  Seems like in that many years, one would have figured it out.  Flipping through to the Methods section....  Ah!  Mind Control.  They just...  do something?  To their minds?  That makes a person not be able to cum?  Huh, glad I wasn't picked for that!

I smiled.  Aurora.  Bringer of lite.  An apt name.  I wonder if she had any clue what it was that awaited her.  Scanning down the list of her stats, looking for the code for her personalised pornprofile.  As soon as she was fixed in place we would fix the headset and she'd be plunged into the world of her fantasies, whatever they were.

I shouldn’t really admit this but once they were immersed, it wasn't unusual for the technician to "listen in" as it were.  We could...  remotely view whatever it was that was running through the subjects minds at any given time.  Just a quick adjustment to the carrier wave and we could shift into their fantasies and become an observer.

That's all it was.  Observing.

Honest.

It was always a surprise what it was that turned people on.  We had a guy last week who got his jollies from food.  And i don't mean eating..  Seriously.  You don't wanna know.

"Ok. Ms Aurora if you just like to step this way we'll get you situated and comfortable, there's nothing to worry about.  The inflatable cuffs hold your arms and legs in place.... if you could bite down on this... i know... its a little uncomfortable but its there to stop you biting your tongue.  Yes.... it does stop you talking but it's preferable to biting the end of your tongue off when you orgasm"  Ok???  Comfortable??

Good... now i'll just plug you in.  This is inserted just...... there.  Don't worry about it being too small.  It will adjust itself to the optimal size and will syphon off the energy as it is created.  OK.... now if you'll just take a deep breath in.  That's it.  And release.  And another....

there.  That's it. we need you to be nice and relaxed.

Now. I'll just pop on this headset and we are good to go.  If there is an emergency, the system will automatically shut down and an orderly will come and release you.  Now.

Sweet Dreams.”

I shook my head as I walked away.... wondering if there would be anything left of the poor girls mind at the end of the three days.  I flicked the switch to initiate the Shift and closed the door.  (Switching off the lights as I did so.  can't be wasting power now... can we?)

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to find some give in the restraints but as soon as they were inflated they had become as unyielding as steel.  

Damnit, how was she supposed to play if her arms were restrained. I thought they wanted me to play. That was the whole point, surely. To play and play and play.  That was what you did wasn't it? You played and teased and stroked and tormented yourself and that generated power. 

It made perfect sense to her but how on earth was she supposed to do it when she couldn't move her damn hands!!!

Suddenly the headset flickered to life and a voice, a woman's voice echoed in her ears.  The shift will begin in ten seconds. Please relax, any discomfort will be temporary. PLease follow the numbers as we count you down.

10  Breathing in

9  And out

8 In

7 And out

6 Noises starting to fade

5 Mind going blank

4 Breathing in

3  Breathing out.

2 Mind blank and ready to receive.

1  Shifting.

A sudden spiral sucked her consciousness out and DOWN.  Lights flashing, images flickering before her eyes… faster.  Faster. Words dripping and dropping into her consciousness

deeper

deeper

faster

farther.

Layers of voices ... twisting in upon each other whispering talking…. discord mixing blending into a coherent whole……

then

Nothing....

You have been successfully inserted into the hub.  PPF loading.

loading…..

loading…..

loading….

Hypno orgasm addict playlist selected. 

Repeat selected.

And play....

[emperorsfoot]

In which the Princess Alliance realizes maybe they probably should have sent out a memo about Horde Prime. 

...

“What in the ever loving high holy heck does Adora think she’s doing now!?” Lonnie demanded of the open sky.

She, Kyle, and Rogelio were inspecting construction of the new supply storage bunkers when the sky suddenly and inexplicably cracked open with a light so bright it cut though the perpetual smog layer that blanketed the Fright Zone. Lonnie glared at it, the shape slightly distorted by the haze. But it looked like a cut across the sky. A cut like with a magic sword. So, of course, it had to be Adora and her new friends. After all, what else could it be?

“We do have a way of communicating with Brightmoon, right?” She asked of her companions. “That wasn’t destroyed when Catra and Hordak decided it was a fun idea to blow-up central command, right?”

Both human and reptilian only shrugged. They honestly had no idea. After the portal fiasco when all of the Horde’s upper leadership disappeared, the trio’s focus had been on damage control and reestablishing some kind of infrastructure. Lonnie –whom took over the vacant position as Leader of the Horde- was more concerned with maintaining supply lines that brought grain and rice into the Fright Zone, the things their ration bars were made from. Their food. The stuff they needed to survive. None of them really gave much thought to the equipment that would allow them to put in a call to their enemies.

“I, uh, I can check.” Kyle volunteered.

He rushed off to do exactly what he said he could do.

Rogelio growled something that Lonnie didn’t quite understand. But when the reptilian dashed off after Kyle, she assumed he said that he was going to make sure Kyle didn’t hurt himself in the –still destroyed- Sanctum.

Though neither man could see the action, Lonnie nodded. Kyle was well-meaning and always eager to help. But he was also clumsy and not very mindful. Rogelio would keep him from carelessly injuring himself. Which was good. One less injury meant fewer medical supplies that had to be used. And now that she found herself in command, Lonnie was all about cutting down on needless supply usage and waste.

She turned her attention back to the bunkers she was inspecting.

“Well, show me the new vacuum seals that are supposed to keep vermin out of the food stores.” She commanded the soldier that had been showing her and the other two around the newly constructed bunkers. “We can’t just drop everything we’re doing every time there’s a big light in the sky, or a rainbow knocks over a tank, or a Princess seduces your boss’ boss, or the central command blows up.” She reminded them. “We all still have jobs to do!”

Making their way through the Fright Zone, back to the central command building, Kyle was still getting used to people stopping and saluting him.

Just a few months ago, he, Rogelio, and Lonnie were all still just ‘cadets’. But, dang!, did a lot happen in those few months! Catra set off a portal in Hordak’s Sanctum, then disappeared along with Lord Hordak himself, there was a short disagreement between the remaining Force Captains and Lonnie about who should fill the newly vacated leadership position, and –somehow- Lonnie ended up on top. The Commander of the Horde. And as her best friends and teammates since forever, Kyle and Rogelio became her lieutenants.

Where Kyle used to have to be the one to stand to the side and salute if another soldier was walking in the opposite direction than him, now it was the other soldiers that would move out of his way. Flattening themselves against a wall, standing at attention, offering a well-practiced salute. Sometimes even going so far as to say ‘Morning, Lieutenant.’

This had been going on for months now and Kyle still wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know if he’d ever really get used to it. He spent so much of his life so far as metaphorical dirt. He was used to being walked on. He didn’t know if he could ever be the one doing the walking.

Rogelio took his hand and Kyle’s heart jumped for an entirely different reason.

But all the reptilian was doing was bringing to the other man’s attention that they passed the entrance to Hordak’s Sanctum. Kyle was so caught up in reflecting on his new elevation in the Horde, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going and passed their destination.

“Right. Sorry.” He demurred. He had to remind himself that he might be a Lieutenant working directly under the new leader of the Horde now, but he was still just the same old Kyle. Absentminded and probably useless. Lonnie only made him a Lieutenant because they were friends.

Inside the Sanctum was mostly bare.

After the initial explosion, the lab and surrounding chambers had been searched for bodies. But the actual clean-up of the Sanctum hadn’t happened until much later. Cleaning up Hordak’s mess wasn’t really a priority. But Lonnie was also practical and not in the habit of leaving usable resources to collect dust just to spite the guy they used to belong to. The Sanctum was cleared out and cleaned up. Anything that wasn’t bolted down got taken out, sorted and repurposed. Scrap metal was melted down, tech that still worked and served a function was repaired and placed back into circulation, tech that was beyond repair and unusable was taken apart and its pieces cannibalized for other machines. The floor was swept and the area was closed off.

Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio were the only three in the Fright Zone who knew the new passcodes to get in.

Anything that wasn’t bolted down was cleared out, but there were still a lot of things bolted down. Chief among them, the main monitor display and corresponding computer terminal. If anything had a feature that could get a call through to Brightmoon, it would be this computer array.

Kyle switched it on.

There was a loud humming sound as it booted up, and an uncomfortable scraping sound that implied the inner workers of the computer might not be in as good condition as the exterior would imply.

Kyle chanced a glance at Rogelio to see if the other man might somehow blame him if the device failed.

But reptilian only shrugged his shoulders. Who knew how well any of the crap in Hordak’s Sanctum ever worked in the first place? The guy never really let anyone else in here except his pet Princess, and look how that turned out.

Once the computer was finally booted up and the homescreen appeared –with a few lines going through it to indicate the screen was damaged- Kyle found the communications application easily enough. There was a short delay as the computer dialed Brightmoon. The tech the Rebellion used was not from the same origin as Horde tech and the two were not perfectly compatible. It took a moment for the devices to connect to one another.

The image of Bow appeared on the screen. The device they connected with must have been his Tracker Pad which scanned for incoming signals anyone. He was talking to someone off screen, his head turned so that Kyle and Rogelio only saw him in profile.

“…hang on, my Tracker Pad is picking something up.” He was saying. Then turned to actually look at the screen, and saw that it was just Kyle and Rogelio from the Horde. “Oh! It’s you guys. Now’s not really a good time. Can we put off any new declarations of war for a while?”

Rogelio growled something that nobody understood but Kyle got the distinct impression that the reptilian was commenting on the other man’s assumption that this was a war declaration.

“No-no, it’s nothing like that!” Kyle assured him. “Lonnie just wanted us to call and see what it was Adora was doing this time. Ya see, this bright light just appeared in the sky, and it looks kinda like a cut, like with a magic sword. And Adora’s the only one we know of with a magic sword so… you see where I’m going with this?”

Why did Kyle feel so awkward? Was it because had hadn’t been in a command position long and didn’t know how to talk to people and command respect? Or was it because he was unfit for a command position at all? At least when he was a grunt cadet, he knew his place and where he stood –with enemies as well as allies. Now, as a Lieutenant with responsibilities, he felt so out of place he wasn’t sure he even had a place anymore. He certainly had no idea how he was supposed to talk to the Rebellion’s Tech Master.

“Don’t worry about that.” Bow tried to assure them, sounding much more like he was trying to assure himself. “We’ve got it handled.”

His tone implied that they did not have it –whatever ‘it’ was- handled.

Bow ended the call.

Kyle and Rogelio looked at each other. Just as confused now as they were when the cut of light first appeared in the sky. Bow hadn’t actually given them an explanation as to what it was or what was really going on. That was all Lonnie wanted to know.

“Should we call them back and ask to speak to Adora this time?” He asked.

Rogelio only shrugged. He was also a little unsure as to what to do in his new leadership role.

…

Everyone in Brightmoon was in one stage or another of freaking out.

They all knew this was coming. They all knew Horde Prime was coming.

Entrapta had warned them. Catra had taunted them. Heck! Even Light Hope kinda alluded to this coming, no in so many words, but more in that cryptic and open to interpretation way she did. The fact of the matter was, no one should have been surprised.

Except that no one really believed it would happen this fast. This soon. It took Hordak years –decades, actually- to build a working portal. What reason did they have to assume that Horde Prime could get one working, open, and stable in just a few short months?

It was lucky that Entrapta already finished the weapons she promised. But she had only just finished the ones for Brightmoon. Salineas, Plumeria, and the Queendom of Snows were still unprotected. No to mention all the other territories and Queendoms on the planet.

Micah had met people from Fallen Star Mountain, the territory ruled by the Star Sisters and invited them to join the Alliance. They said that with Hordak defeated there wasn’t a reason to anymore. They were unprotected and unprepared. Sweet Bee and Peekablue sent their reply in the same message, one piece of paper bearing both their seals –apparently, the two Queens were together at the time- it was written in Peekablue’s handwriting and simply said ‘the timing isn’t right yet’. Well, was the timing right now? Now that the other Horde from outer space had ripped open their sky and was poised to drop down on them at any moment!

Needless to say, things in Brightmoon were a little anxious.

Perfuma was the first to show up at the palace. Plumeria sharing a border with Brightmoon on the opposite side from the mountains of Dryl, her’s was the closest Queendom to Brightmoon. She appeared, flower crown askew, pink dress rumpled, without her teal green shrug over her shoulders. As if she’d left in a rush.

“Is it the Horde?” She demanded. “I mean, of course it’s the Horde. But, like, the other Horde. The bigger one. The one we’ve been trying to prepare for.” She took a deep breath, attempting to force herself to calm down. “I mean, we’ve been prepared for this, so everything will be okay. We have the She-Ra on our side. I’m sure everything will come to a harmonious conclusion. There’s no need to give into negative energy.”

She said this. But Perfuma was definitely giving off negative energy. The negative energy of fear, anxiety, and doubt. She was giving off negative energy in buckets.

Speaking of buckets, not long after Perfuma arrived, a giant wave crashed through the Brightmoon harbor, nearly capsizing Sea Hawk’s ship. He was already bailing buckets of the excess water off the deck when the wave receded, revealing Mermista. She was holding her trident, and look more impatient and annoyed than fearful and concerned.

“Ugh… the Geek Princess hasn’t even been by to build my weapons yet.” She groaned at no one in particular, brushing an errant lock of hair out of her face. “Can’t the evil space emperor wait, like, six more month before coming to try and kill us all. So stupid.” Then she noticed the Dragon’s Daughter Five listing in the bay. “Oh. Hey, Sea Hawk.”

Sea Hawk gave a non-committal grunt in reply. They hadn’t exactly spoken socially since their breakup was official. He honestly didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. Certainly, he couldn’t talk to her like he used to.

Frosta was the farthest away and the last to arrive.

Everyone was already in the War Room when the youngest member of the Princess Alliance arrived.

Micah was arguing with Shadow Weavers. Adora was shouting warnings over the table. Spinnerella was holding Nettossa’s hand to try and calm the other woman. Bow was fiddling with his Tracker Pad trying to see if the device could analyze the sky rift. Perfuma was trying to perform a calming chant. Memista was groaning at how chaotic this was. And Sea Hawk was ringing saltwater out of his socks. Glimmer had no control over her War Room, or the meeting.

Then Frosta barged in. Doors banging open with a sound loud enough to make everyone pause. Stopping their squabbles or shouts to look across the room at the child-Princess.

“Alright! So, what’s the plan for kicking these bat-faced jerks butts!?”

The room exploded back into noise and chaos again. Everyone talking at once. Giving opinions of things they were not informed enough to give opinions on.

Bow’s Tracker Pad beeped with an alert just as someone asked him a question. Thinking the device had found some information for him about the rift, he turned his attention to it. “…hang on, my Tracker Pad is picking something up.”

Those seated closes to him quieted down to also see what the Tracker Pad had found.

But all that appeared on the screen were the faces of two Horde soldiers. The Etherian Horde. A human, Kyle, and a reptilian, Rogelio. People they knew. Not the new Horde from outer space. There were not bat-faced monsters that looked like Hordak giving them a call.

“Oh! It’s you guys. Now’s not really a good time. Can we put off any new declarations of war for a while?” Bow asked, assuming that even under new leadership the Etherian Horde would want to continue the generations old feud.

“No-no, it’s nothing like that!” Kyle assured him. “Lonnie just wanted us to call and see what it was Adora was doing this time. Ya see, this bright light just appeared in the sky, and it looks kinda like a cut, like with a magic sword. And Adora’s the only one we know of with a magic sword so… you see where I’m going with this?”

Oh. Had no one read-in the new Horde leadership about what was coming? Did they honestly not know? Bow never even considered that! In a room full of chaos was not the time to debrief someone new. Especially not someone that Bow wasn’t sure which side they would choose. He didn’t want to be helping and clueing in a new enemy. While he did generally try to give people the benefit of the doubt and see the best in people, now was not the time to be the better man. Sometimes, the practical man had to be a bit rude.

“Don’t worry about that.” Bow tried to assure them, sounding much more like he was trying to assure himself. “We’ve got it handled.”

He ended the call.

“Who was that?” Asked Sea Hawk. He hung his still wet socks over the back of his seat and sat down next to Bow.

“That was… the Horde…” Bow answered truthfully. Then, when everyone looked horror stuck, he quickly rushed to explain. “I mean, our Horde. The Etherian Horde! The guys in the Fright Zone. Kyle, and Rogelio, I think are their names. Nobody ever told them what was going on, so they have no idea what’s coming. They saw the portal in the sky and freaked out.”

“Oh.” Said Glimmer.

There was a beat.

Then Perfuma suggested, “Should we… invite them to join us?” Even as she asked this, she did not seem very secure in the idea. “I mean, do you think they’d be willing to help? They live on Etheria too…”

“We have no reason to assume they won’t join Horde Prime the moment they learn of him.” Shadow Weaver informed the room. “Inviting them into the Alliance would be like inviting a wolf to your back.”

“I’m sure that was true when Hordak was in charge.” Micah argued. It was hard to tell if he was arguing for the Horde because he honestly and truly felt the Etherian Horde could be helpful, or just to take an opposing opinion from Shadow Weaver. “But Hordak has been removed from power and is under house arrest in Dryl. Command of the Etherian Horde is now in the hands of Etherians. As Princess Perfuma said, they live here too, why wouldn’t they want to defend the Home Ground?”

“Because they were raised by Hordak and Hordak does not teach altruism.” Shadow Weaver reminded everyone. Never mind the fact that Hordak didn’t raise any of the Fright Zone orphans, and that job was actually delegated to Shadow Weaver herself. A fact Adora could confirm for them all.

Adora might even have done so and called Shadow Weaver out on her misplacement of responsibility, had she not be lost in thought at that moment. Really considering the possibility of the Etherian Horde as allies. She grew up with them. She, better than anyone in the room, understood them. In a deeper and more intimate way than Shadow Weaver did.

“Lonnie’s in charge now.” She began, still considering and weighing outcomes as she spoke. “She’s very practical… If we can convince her that working with us is the better choice over siding with Horde Prime…”

She did not get to finish that thought, however, as Bow’s tracker pad beeped again with another message. This time, when he answered it, it wasn’t the nervous and unsure faces of Kyle and Rogelio. It was the exasperated and angry face of none other than Lonnie, Commander of the Horde, herself.

“Put. Adora. On. The. Line.” She commanded before any pleasantries could be exchanged.

Adora took the Tracker Pad from Bow. “Hey, Lonnie, we were just talking about-“

“What in the ever loving high holy heck are you doing this time!?” Lonnie cut the other woman off. “Haven’t you had enough of meddling with forces beyond mortal understanding and breaking the universe!? I am still trying to rebuild what Hordak and Catra ran into the ground and you’re cutting up the sky for fun! Now I have a panic to deal with on top of construction delays and lost supply shipments! I thought all you shimmering Princesses wanted was ‘peace’! Can’t I have a moment’s peace to work on my own territory!”

She paused for breath.

Adora looked back at the rest of the Princess Alliance to make sure they heard the Commander of the Etherian Horde’s rant. She wanted peace, and she wanted to repair the damage to the Fright Zone, the damage to ‘her Territory’. Lonnie might be ‘Commander of the Horde’, but she was thinking like a Princess.

“I’m sending Kyle over there to see what you’re all really up to!” Lonnie continued before anyone else could speak. “I’m sending Kyle because he is the least threatening person I know and hopefully that will keep you sparkleheads from shooting glitter at him on sight. Think of him as a sort of ‘emissary’. I don’t want to have to fight you guys again if I don’t have to! But, I swear, if you keep making things difficult for me, I will! So, let’s try and get along.”

She ended the call.

Adora passed the Tracker Pad back to Bow. “So… I guess that answers the question of which side she’ll be on if it comes to it.”

“How?” Frosta jumped up, standing on her seat to be better seen. “She said she didn’t wanna fight us because she’s still licking her wounds in the Fright Zone. We don’t know that the moment Prime shows up she won’t go running to him the moment she realizes he’s got bigger guns and more resources to share with her.”

“That’s assuming Horde Prime is the type to share.” Mermista countered. “There is another angle to this. Regardless of what Lonnie things of the bigger Horde, the bigger Horde might not think much of Lonnie and just sweep her away. They might get rid of her for us and then the question of what to do about the Etherian Horde becomes a non-issue.”

“That’s terrible!” Perfuma was horrified. “Sure, they’ve been our enemies for as long as I can remember. But they’re still people, and living things. All life is precious.”

“They’re still the ones who ruined Princess Prom!” Frosta shouted.

Everyone assumed she was trying to make a point about respecting truces, cease-fires, and safe spaces –all of which Princess Prom was supposed to be- and that if they couldn’t do that, what reason did they have to trust them in a truce now. But all it sounded like was that she was saying parties were just as important as leaving beings. For fear of derailing the conversation into an unnecessary ethical debate, everyone collectively agreed to ignore that comment.

“There’s no point debating this until the Horde’s emissary gets here.” Glimmer announced, taking control of the meeting. She was Queen, but most of the time she still felt like an inexperienced and frustrated rebel child.

“I know Kyle.” Adora added. “He won’t make trouble while he’s here.” A pause. “On purpose. He won’t make trouble on purpose.”

But ‘trouble’ did have a propensity to just happen around him. It wasn’t that Kyle was particularly clumsy, forgetful, or rude. No more than any other child soldier raised in the Horde. He just seemed… out of place no matter where he went. Almost like… almost like he wasn’t meant to be on Etheria. Of course, Etheria being trapped in an isolated shadow dimension, she couldn’t image where else he could belong. But then, she’d seen weirder things than just an out-of-place and accident-prone soldier.

The debate might have gone on longer, but a page entered the War Room, unannounced, and passed a letter to Glimmer. “Message from Fallen Star Mountain, my Queen.”

Taking the envelope, Glimmer ripped it open to read the contents. Then she sighed. “It’s from the Star Sisters. They also wanna know what the light in the sky is.”

No sooner had she read that, than another page came in with more messages from Elberon, Seaworthy, Erelandia… Heck! They even got a crumpled and dirty piece of paper from the Valley of the Lost in the Crimson Waste. Apparently, the whole planet saw the rift in the sky and wanted to know what the Princess Alliance was up to now…

Glimmer slumped in her seat, putting a hand to her head where she felt an on-coming stress headache. Who knew the worst part of Horde Prime’s attack would be the confusion before the storm?

[selkiestory]

It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep that night even if a stranger was sharing his bed. He made sure he planted himself firmly on the opposite side of the bed. Too bad Marcas didn’t know that Aed rolled about in his dreams, but when the redhead woke in the middle of the night - limbs sprawled and foot pressed firmly against the the other teen’s back - his guest remained sound asleep.

‘“I’m used to sleeping in the waves”’ Marcas would probably say.’

Aed pulled the covers over himself again and squinted at the bright light. He forgot to move his curtains back and the full moon shone over the ocean, but also right into his eyes.

It was quiet.

One last calm night before summer turned to fall. The redhead grunted and rolled away from the window to face the door. It was too comfortable to get up and draw the blind.

As he waited for sleep to return he studied the other’s resting profile. His companion’s long hair gave the image of spilled ink on his ridiculously pale skin. The teen admitted that the other was handsome, but it was strange for someone as fit as Marcas to be so fair. Only hard work outside could result in muscles like those. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Marcas refused to put his pyjamas on after coming back from the shower. It had taken much persistence to convince the teen to at least wear some boxers before they went to bed. The only piece of clothing Marcas seemed comfortable with was his cloak, which he now had tightly in his grip as if it were a safety blanket.

The thought made Aed snicker. He quickly grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his head to muffle the noise. What a strange day today was.

Well he might as well get more rest. The teen leaned into the darkness of the pillow and, after what seemed like hours, finally went back to sleep.

*

The next morning the teen woke to an empty bed. For a split second he considered all of yesterday to be a dream before seeing his clean room and Marcas’ discarded set of clothes. Shivering in the morning air  Aed quickly dressed - the usual collared shirt and sweater - and went downstairs.

“After all, Aed doesn’t let just anyone into his room.”

“I really appreciate this. I won’t let you down.”

‘Well that’s that.’ His parents had come to their decision rather quickly. It was embarrassing that his Mam had to mention him, though. He waited another moment before slipping into the dining room and making a beeline for the kitchen.

“There’s some left overs on the stove,” Flann patted the space next to her, “after you heat them up please come here. I have something to discuss with you.”

“I know already. Marcas is staying,” Aed flicked the stove on and waited for the oatmeal to warm, “but are you ok with me not working with Dad?”

“You know we support you no matter what.” The teen ducked his head to hide a blush.

Marcas entered the kitchen and began washing his bowl. He offered Aed a smile and waited for him before they both returned to the living room.

“I have to go to work, now, so please clean up after yourselves. Aed, I’m waiting for a form to go though. You should be starting by Friday.”

Flann leaned over and Aed gave her a one-armed hug.

“Have a good one, Mam.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better. Remember to put some water on before I come home!”

The room went quiet as Aed started on his oatmeal. It was a bit awkward with Marcas just sitting there, but at least someone was home.

“So what túath are you?”

He paused from his oatmeal and gave the teen a blank stare.

Marcas elaborated upon noticing his confusion, “Ui Fidgente? Ciarraige Luachra? Corca Duibhne?”

Oh. The old tribes.

“Don’t know. Grandparents probably told me, but forgot.”

“Hm.” Marcas seemed to be scrutinizing him.

“What? That was ages ago,” he took a gulp of milk in his defense, “...what’s your tribe?”

“Murtagh. What do humans do then now days?”

“We have regular families and surnames. For example I'm Aed Carrick.”

“So you grew apart?”

“...” He had never thought of it in that way before, “Not really...I mean, annoying as she is, I don't hate Ena. My Grandma and Grandpa come often. And everyone in the village more or less gets along.”

The younger looked perplexed, then shrugged as if he just accepted that things were different.

“I guess I’ll be meeting them soon enough.”

Deciding to cut the chatter Aed cleared his throat.

“About last night...”

To his surprise, Marcas broke eye contact, the teen suddenly finding Aed’s oatmeal very interesting. Aed narrowed his eyes.

“What did you do?” If he stole anything...

“It got really hot. But if you saw, then you saw that I kept my cloak on.”

“Oh uhh” That was not what he expected...must have happened after he fell asleep, “I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Oh.” Marcas ran a hand through his hair, “then...what?”

“My research. If you’re going to help me, you’re going to need to learn how to read... and write since you probably can’t do that either.”

He saw the younger take on a guarded look, but pressed on.

“You’ll need to jot down figures for me and note descriptions of coastlines at the very least.”

After realizing that he wasn’t being made fun of, Marcas’ expression relaxed into a lazy smile.

“Alright. When do we start?”

“Now is better than never,” he crammed the rest of the oatmeal down, his mind buzzing with plans. A big swallow and he gagged. Shit. Wrong pipe.

His glass was pressed to his lips and he took it gratefully. The younger patted his back as he choked his way through the last of his meal, too busy getting air into his lungs than to shrink away from the teen’s touch.

“Thanks…” the redhead finally managed after a few minutes.

“Anything for a friend,” Marcas replied, hand comfortably resting at the base of Aed’s lower back.

Aed quickly pushed back his chair and tidied the kitchen instructing the other to meet him in his room.

The teen was lounging on his bed when he returned.

“It’s so weird, but I can definitely get used to beds.” Marcas bounced a bit, “there were some of them on Blasket, but they were all banged up. ‘Too busy partying anyway to use em, even if they were fixed. I like em though. They’re softer than rocks.”

“What do you mean? Blasket was abandoned a while ago” Aed shuffled through his books trying to find a simple enough one begin with. Creatures of the West Atlantic, 1000 Leagues Under the Sea, Earth Encyclopedia... He didn’t have any children’s books come to think of it.

“Which is why it’s the perfect spot for us. The times when we turn human could be dangerous if actual humans see us.”

Aed threw him a look that the redhead made sure clearly conveyed his exasperation.

It was hard to ignore ridiculous claims if they were shoved into his face at every opportunity. Yesterday, only his mentally exhausted state caused him to consider the teen’s story to be real.

“You really are stubborn,” Aed bristled at Marcas’ amused tone, “I thought you would be more accepting to the otherworld considering you were able to call me.”

The teen gave up on his shelf and considered his options. He could go to the library tomorrow and borrow some kids books (and get strange looks), or he could try and nick one from the school library when he went to check on his experiment he left behind. But if he got caught that would mean more questions...

He heard Ena’s voice from downstairs and smacked his head. Of course. Ena had most of his hand-me-downs.  

Aed left the bedroom and opened the door to his parent’s room where his sister slept. He picked a thick alphabet book (the chew marks from raising two children had considerably worn down the pages) and tossed it to Marcas when he returned.

“Come to the desk. You aren’t going to learn if you lie around all day.”

“Alright, Mr. Carrick,” the younger plopped down on the single chair and smoothed out the creases in his jeans. He picked up the book and smirked at the bite marks.

“I didn’t know you guys had a dog.”

“It’s Ena’s,” Aed noted with appreciation that the book was held correctly this time. The kid seemed to be a fast learner.

Having no other option he leant against the corner of his desk and pointed at the first brightly colored letter “So there’s the alphabet, and each letter…”

---

When he woke there was an empty spot next to him. Again. For someone so chatty, Marcas could be quite stealthy when he wanted to.

A bit of cautious hope rose with him as he got out of bed and dressed. Today would be the day they both started their jobs and resumed his research. Although they hadn’t made enough progress yesterday to actually begin reading instructions, Aed had given him a test: report back on the patterns of deep sea currents during the week. Those were easy enough to remember to ask, that making tallies would suffice. Although not exactly what he wanted to look for, he had data to compare to that at least...it still felt foolish that he was going along with the teen, but it was the only way today was going to feel productive.

“Me first!”

Before he could open the bathroom door, a flash of orange ran inside.

Sometimes it’d be nice to be an only child…

While his sister hogged the bathroom he stole a few more books from her room. His Mam was already downstairs. Dressed and ate breakfast by now, too. He understood. After all, she was the one who taught them to always arrive to things 15 minutes beforehand.

*

“Look at you, so handsome on your first day. Your tie is so straight!”

“Yeah-yes. I still remember how to do it from graduation.” Aed muttered as he bent down so Flann could push back his hair. Every last bit of red in its place.

“I know you’ll be fine at any job. Just remember to smile.”

And they were in the open air. The sky was grey, and the sea smelled extremely fishy. Aed couldn’t see anyone out among the waves…

They dropped Ena off at school then walked back through town past the grocer's and the post office, past the three pubs and the bed-and-breakfast to the little white bank on the end of mainstreet. When they entered he recognized a couple of his former classmates chatting in the back, and quickly sought out work. He already started later than them, so he had to play catch up. There was no time to socialize.

After being introduced to the bank manager, Osirin, he was sent to work. Sorting mail was plain enough, but book keeping was especially dull when it wasn’t for research. At least then he could visualize the meaning behind the numbers.

When 5 o’clock came, the teen had to contain himself from sprinting out the doors.

As soon as they stepped inside, Ena charged. Flann chuckled as Aed blocked Ena, the youngest Carrick switching to cling to her Mother instead. His sister stuck out a small hand and waved a bright pink paper at Aed.

“We had free time so I drew!“

He was able to discern that the crude image depicted two people fishing...but the fat grey ovals in the water were too big to be fish.

“It’s Dad, Marcas, and Marcas’ family,” the girl proudly explained.

Aed rolled his eyes.

*

The three had finished their dinner and Aed helped Ena with homework before retreating to his room. All of the books from yesterday’s ‘reading class’ were still stacked on his desk. He gave them a long look before busying himself with changing. Research would need to be done in order to teach efficiently on the days when Marcas returned. Luckily Cárnach was small, so boats came back almost every weekend. The easiest way would be to ask Ena. She was still in primary school, so she’d remember her curriculum.

He peeked into her room. Fast asleep.

Returning to his room he flipped through the books for a few minutes before pacing to the window. The sea was vast. A contradiction of pitch-black water and shimmering light from another clear night...but he still could not see any boats in the distance.

It could have been him out there in the dark sleeping above the fish. His father must have seen something in Marcas to take him abroad within a day of meeting him. But then again, he had spoken up for Marcas and his Dad had always respected his opinion.

He was glad. Glad how quickly his family had accepted the teen. It was almost too easy how Marcas settled in. If he really was a selkie, wouldn’t he want to go back to the sea as quickly as possible? In the stories they always left. But then again in stories they were always beautiful ladies. This was different. Marcas would return.

His gut feeling nagged at him. Did he just miss another opportunity? First uni now-no. Stop that.

The other’s story was unusual, but not enough for him to believe in selkies. And if Marcas wasn't a selkie he would have to return.

But it didn’t make sense for him to make up his story, did it? So far only he and his sister knew the teen’s ‘secret.’

He tried to sleep, but his tumultuous thoughts carried him off as slowly as a feather drowning in the open sea.

---

Come the end of the week the selkie had the biggest smile on his face as he stepped into the home of the Carricks. Neil followed, both chuckling as Ena initiated a tackling hug for each. Aed’s eyebrows shot up as the teen stepped away from ruffling Ena’s hair to next approach him. Before the teen could react Marcas leaned forward and they bumped noses.

“Hey, Aed!”

“W...what are you doing?” The redhead sputtered backing away.

Given the looks on Neil and Flann’s faces, the other flushed red as well, immediately realizing his error.

“Er...where I come from, we do that when we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” The teen offered. Aed saw both his parents questioning looks, so he took another big step back turning to address his father.

“Have a good catch?”

“The best in a while! Marcas here is a natural,” Neil nodded at the shorter teen, “quite a good listener as well.”

“It was good to be back at sea, and I’ve never gone fishing on this scale. Neil’s quite a poet. I never knew!”

“Come, let’s not stand here. You two must be starving. Dinner is ready by now,” Flann gently nudged the group into the dining room.

“What was the biggest fish today?” Ena stretched her arms wider than the plate in front of her, “This big? Did you get any pink ones?”

“No pink ones today,” Neil ruffled her hair, “I’m surprised how many we got considering all the seals being ‘round the boat.”

Marcas laughed lightly.

“It was the selkies!” Ena gasped, “Can I go next time? Please, Mam, Dad?”

“It’s too dangerous.” Neil gently chided.

“But it has been a while since we all had a day out,” Flann mused, “when it’s spring next year we should go. It would be lovely to be on the boat then.”

“That sounds great,” Neil shot Aed an amused look, “the last time we were at sea was when you were just about to start high school.”

Aed remembered that summer well. The one where he tried to wear the same shirt every day to determine which bacteria would grow. Highly experimental, but not directional. He cringed.

“It’ll be a few months, but it’s better to plan ahead,” Flann decided. And they dug in.

*

“I assume you’ll want to resume lessons in the morning?”

“I could do a little now,” the selkie gave a yawn and rolled off their bed to join Aed at the single desk. The teen sat up and straightened the small stack of books, ready to put to practice the lesson plan he had produced.

He had gotten through twenty minutes when he felt a nudge at his arm and of course Marcas had nodded off. A little miffed the teen lightly shook his ‘student’ then prodded the younger off to bed.

“Thanks,” Marcas muttered sleepily as he snuggled under the covers. The younger stared at him, seemingly expecting something, but Aed had no idea.

“What?” he finally said.

“...Strange human,” the selkie let out a snort of laughter and rolled to face away. Aed huffed.

“Rest well, because we’re staying in and studying all day tomorrow.” He slid onto his own side of the bed and waited for sleep to come.

---

Previous

Next

[mackenzie-wolf]

You've got a lot to learn p.2/3?

Request from Anon

Becca x Older Woman (O/C)

Nsfw as it goes on...

------

As becca arrived home, still caught up in her own thoughts, she took a minute to compose herself before opening the front door. Already she could hear her housemates inside, talking and laughing amongst themselves. She walked through the open door and all eyes quickly landed on her. Chris was leaning back on one of the beanbags, Zack was drawing at the dining table and Kaitlyn was sprawled out on the couch with Milly's head resting on her chest. With a sigh, becca turned towards the stairs, trying to escape the oncoming conversation.

"Woah... Oh no you don't!" Zack called, pushing away his sketch pad and rushing over to becca. "We're all waiting to hear about your first real day at work!"

"Hell yea! I'm dying to know what a working day is like for the legendary Miss Davenport" kaitlyn grinned, earning her a slap on the shoulder from Milly.

"For real becca, how was it?" Milly asked, chris glanced over at becca expectantly and with an optimistic smile. Becca took a moment to think of where to start and what to share.

"It was ok. I wasn't working with joaquin today which was kind of a bonus..."

"So, who were you working with? They didn't just leave you on your own did they?" Chris asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"No. I got put on... someone else's team. It was... it was fine."

"I think someone is holding out on us..." kaitlyn said almost mockingly.

"Urgh! I was put on a team with Robynn, my new team leader. We assembled furniture all day." Becca said as she shrugged off her jacket to hang up. "Am I free to go now?"

"Uhh, sure..." Chris responded.

With that, becca walked up the stairs to her room. Once the door was closed, she let out the breath that she hadn't realised she was holding. Quickly getting herself settled, becca changed into her pyjamas and started wiping away her makeup. She climbed in to bed and started scrolling through her phone. In a state of curiosity, she typed Robynn's full name into the search bar on her social media app. The picture that came up was of robynn, taken from the top of the cliff she was abseiling down. Even in the picture, becca could see the definition of her muscles and the sheen of swear that made her upper lip glisten. Her mind started to wander, thinking of the firm hands that gripped her shoulder earlier that day, how soft the touch really felt underneath the strength that it carried.

As her thoughts took her deeper in to remembering all the characteristics that made up Robynn, Becca's door suddenly knocked. She quickly locked her phone and readjusted her pyjamas that had become creased as she lay in bed.

"Yes?"

"Becca, can I come in?" Chris' voice called from the other side of her bedroom door.

"Of course" she said, trying her best to pull herself away from her thoughts and back in to the room. Chris entered, looking a little concerned. He gave a smile and sat at her desk chair while she sat up on the bed, swinging her legs over the side.

"Becca. Are you ok? You didn't seem like you wanted to talk about work. Did something happen?"

Becca almost felt herself blush as she realised how she avoided giving anyone any real details. "No, nothing bad happened. It was just... different. Im still learning."

"Your new team leader isn't pushing you too hard? I know how it can be when you're trying to impress someone and..."

"WHO SAID I'M TRYING TO IMPRESS ROBYNN?!" Becca snapped back at him before he could finish his sentence.

"Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." Chris began sheepishly.

"No. Its fine, sorry. Just trying to wrap my head around something." Becca said with a sigh.

"Well, maybe we can talk about it?" Chris asked, trying to sound inviting.

"Its just... I don't know. I tried working hard because I want to be good at this job. I want to be able to make my own way in the world but..." she sighed again. This time sounding more exhausted. "... I think I was only trying so hard to impress Robynn."

"I could guess that..." Chris laughed. "...He's literally all you mentioned about your day at work."

Becca decided not to correct the pronoun. She hadn't told anyone yet about her attraction to females and now didn't seem like the right time. Not when she was so confused herself.

"Well, Robynn made it a lot of fun... not just because they're fun to look at."

"Wow, so this already sounds kind of deep, right?" Chris asked calmly, ignoring the slight tinge of jelousy he felt in his chest.

"Don't get me wrong, Robynn is fun to look at too. Such amazing eyes and teeth that pretty much 'ping' with light. And those arms!" She trailed off.

"Ohhh he sounds hot!" Zack called from across the hall, where his bedroom door was open a few inches.

"Damn it Zack!" Becca screamed before throwing her head down on to her pillow.

"Becca, I'll leave you for the night. But if you ever want to talk... just call me ok?"

"Thank you Chris" she said earnestly. "I mean it." With a smile and slight nod, chris left the room and becca lay back on her bed. Her thoughts began circling her head. Knowing she was clearly attracted to robynn was one thing, but now working along side her most days would be difficult. She thought back over the times she caught her looking for an imperceptible second before looking away. The times that a wink or bright smile had made her heart flip. 'Was she flirting with me? Or did I just want her to be? She didn't have to ask me to work with her directly...'

Becca's mind flew back to watching her lift the different pieces of furniture. The way her arms swelled with tension, the definition of them. The way her abs looked in the tight vest that hugged her curves. Becca let out a weak sigh as she drifted further in to her thoughts. The idea of Robynn's arms flexed around her, those deep, burning green eyes staring at her longingly. She found herself dreaming of brushing her fingers, lightly down the hardness of her abdomen.

Gripping her sheets with one hand, becca let out a slow breath as her other moved lazily from her stomach, downwards. All at once, images were flashing in her mind, some from what she remembered, others that she put together herself. Before long, becca could almost feel robynn there with her. Her fingers moved underneath the waist of her pyjama bottoms, then lower. A gasp escaped her lips as her fingers went to work, pushing a small amount of pressure where she needed them most.

Biting her lips to try to hold in any sound became pointless as her fingers moved faster against her. Every thought of robynn touching her, kissing her, using her strength to hold her down when her hips tried to buck. It brought her closer to the edge, where she held herself for a few minutes before giving in to the sensation. Dreaming of Robynn between her legs, tasting her, made becca come undone. Her legs bent and her toes curled down as she felt the sensation pulse inside of her like electricity. Becca lay on her side bringing her knees up, with her hand still between her thighs as she caught her breath. With one last movement of her fingers, she gasped, trying to hold in a small laugh at how quickly she had given in to thinking about her boss this way.

Becca had cleaned herself up and settled back in to bed. Checking the time on her phone, she noticed she was still on her social media app, on Robynn's profile. Almost blushing after what she had just done at the thought of the woman in the display picture, becca closed the app. Moments later, she had drifted to sleep, filled with dreams that matched her fantasies perfectly.

The next day before leaving for work, becca took some extra time to apply her makeup and made sure that her hair was perfect. Putting on her work shirt made her effort seem pointless. It was difficult to imagine anyone looking attractive in it. At least Robynn's was just plain white with the stores logo printed on the chest. She picked up her keys and walked to the front door when her name was called.

"Becca..?"

Turning around, at the top of the stairs, Milly was making her way down, having obviously just woken up. "Good morning Emily"

"Good morning. You off to work?"

"Yep. Bright and early" she said trying not to deviate from the small talk.

"Cool, I hope you have a good day" Milly gave a bright smile before turning toward the kitchen.

"Emily... I..." Becca started. Milly stopped and turned to face her. "Can we talk? Just for a minute?"

"Yeah sure" she answered gleefully.

"So there's... this person..." Becca trailed off.

"At work?"

"Yeah. I think that maybe I..." she sighed. "Em... Milly, how did you come to terms with being attracted to women?"

"Ohhh..." Milly's eyebrows flew up in realisation. "...so you're.."

"Yeah. I've known for a while that I... like both, I guess, but it's been easy to ignore before. I like guys too so it just seemed easiest to be with them. People are less likely to ask questions, you know. As for my family, they're not big on anyone being different in any way, really. So I've never really considered being with another girl."

"But you don't want to do that anymore?"

"No... I want to... There's a girl that just, I don't know. She seems worth it."

"Well, if she's good enough to make you want to take a leap and finally see where this path goes; then I'd say go for it. She must be pretty special."

"Oh god, she is. Beautiful too, and she never stopped trying to help me. She was so thoughtful and sweet and..."

"And you're those things too becca, and more. She'd be lucky to have you. Anyone would." Without another word, becca wrapped milly in a brief but tight hug. As she let her go, becca pushed her emotion down and adopted her best stoic look.

"Thank you milly"

"You're welcome. Have a GREAT day at work" she winked prompting a sigh from becca. With that becca left for work, trying to hold back a smile the whole way there.

As she arrived, the staff were just finishing their coffees in the staff lounge. Becca's eyes scanned the room, looking for Robynn's impressive frame amongst them. When she didn't see her, becca poured herself a coffee and sat on one of the small (overused) couches.

The chatter in the room died down as more staff went on with their day. Becca's eyes closed as she tried to find the enthusiasm to get to work. Suddenly, she felt the couch shifting next to her and she let out a sigh.

"Could you not sit so clo..." she opened her eyes and saw two deep green pools looking back at her.

"Sorry. Guess I'm attracted to the smell of coffee" Robynn grinned before moving down the couch a couple of inches.

"No... its fine!" Becca stammered. "I thought you were... I don't know what I thought." She blushed.

"Yeah, I get that way in the morning too. Good thing this is just a work partnership. Could you imagine the two of us trying to cook a breakfast between us" Robynn laughed.

'Yes... Yes I definitely could. Straight after we built up our appetite in bed' Becca thought to herself, only throwing a small chuckle at Robynn's joke.

"So... shall we get to work?" Robynn asked, slapping her knees before pushing herself up from the couch. "I wanted to talk to you about something anyway..."

To be continued

[officialthiamlibrary]

Welcome to another profile on Behind the Screens, giving you personal insight on who your favorite creators are and what they do when they aren’t wowing you with their creative ability.

Hiya! I’m popping out of my writing cave to share with you the greatness of another artist, Glitter-cake20, also known as Sammy.  You’ve probably seen her awe-inspiring manips, gifs, incorrect quotes, and stories floating around your dashboard. In our talk, she shares her #1 guilty pleasure ship, creates her optimal Teen Wolf Puppy Pack spin-off, and lets us in her creative process.

Sammy! Why don’t we start off simple? Tell us about yourself. The catch: the word count is either to or less than the number of letters in your two favorite Teen Wolf episode names. (ex. Raving + Galvanize = 19)

Memory Found + Smoke and Mirrors = 25

I’m really lazy. I like reading. I’m great at killing zombies on Xbox. I have blood in my coffee stream. I have resting bitch face. 

Ooh, what makes these two your favorite?

Memory Found because i feel like that is really where Theo learned to be selfless. He fought with Liam knowing he could get killed or taken, and then later he literally sacrificed himself for a pack that wanted him dead.

Smoke and Mirrors - the entire Mexico trip was great but the part that really stood out in Smoke and Mirrors was when Berserker Scott had Liam pinned to the wall and Liam said “Scott listen! You’re not a monster, you’re a werewolf like me” which parallels to earlier in Season 4 when Scott had said that same thing to Liam. It was just beautiful because it showed how Liam had accepted himself as a werewolf.  Also, Derek evolving was just wow!

And how did you come to the Thiam fandom? What about them drew you in?

You know, I had just created a twitter account and I was just following few accounts for Teen Wolf, kind of just bopping along with all the other popular ships, and then someone made a post about “OMG what was THAT” and I opened the video and it was Theo and Liam making glorious eye contact, and I was never the same again.

What drew me in the most was that Theo was so vulnerable when Liam brought him back. He was once such a badass and now he was suddenly latched on to Liam - just made my heart melt. And Liam is my boy, but he made me so angry when he was mean to Theo! Like no boo, that’s not how Scott raised you!

Lately, there’s been exclamations from our pack about Thiam bleeding into their real lives (like, seeing their relationship in every movie/song or experiencing story plots in real life, etc.), have you felt this sensation recently? If so, in what ways?

Yes!  I was sitting at a coffee shop writing the other day, and this adorable couple walked in. My brain immediately went “That’s Theo and that’s Liam” And I’m like, what is actually wrong with me? And literally every epic movie quote is now about Thiam, I’ve actually done a bunch of edits about that, which I will share for the Thiam Movie Fest.

Omg! That totally happens to me all the time, everywhere!! Since you see Thiam in anything, would you say they’re your #1 guilty pleasure ship? If not, what are your guilty pleasure ships, couples where you don’t care who knew or who disagreed, you ship them regardless?

Oh gosh I’ve had many. Stalia was one.  I really liked the dynamic, in the same breath I was also pining for Stydia. I loved Jethan when that teaser came out.  Briam, although I don’t think anyone would disagree.  Brett and Mason!  And even when Scott and Allison broke up I was like, no but Scallison.  I literally ship anything. 

If you could build the ultimate paintball/laser tag team from any five characters on Teen Wolf, who’d be on your team and why? Twist: now, choose one Teen Wolf villain who’d be your secret weapon, provided they don’t double-cross you first, mwhahaha. 

Mmm okay…(this actually makes me excited!) So for paintball, first of all I’d choose Corey for his ability to disappear and strike from a position unknown to our opponents. Then I would pick Theo, he’s proven to be quite strategic and cunning in mapping out a plan! Peter, because he just no objection to kicking ass, any time any place. Kira, because she can divert the paintballs with her sword (and yes in my mind they would allow her to take the sword onto the field, shh). Braeden, because she’s just a total badass and I just love her. And for my secret weapon I would choose Jackson so he can paralyze the opposing team with his Kanima venom!! Ha!

Jackson would be a total knockout secret weapon. The game would be over in seconds lol! Let’s jump into your works. Like @da-smiley99​, our artist last week, you also create a little bit of it all: drabbles, gifs, manips, and incorrect quotes. For you, which would you say is your favorite art form? How do you balance creating them all? 

I really love doing the incorrect quotes, they are fun and I enjoy looking for gifs to match!

Whatever inspiration hits first is what I will do, most of the time its manips/aesthetics that I do for other writer’s work. I love appreciating and promoting what people have created because I know the effort that goes into it. There are still so many works I would like to do an edit for!

If your creative process for these pieces was a person, describe him or her to us. What do they do? Wear? Listen to? How do they handle conflict?

She’s running around in a pink fur coat, stilettos, champagne in hand, chocolates stuffed in her cheek yelling “OH MY GOD!” at everything. I imagine her in a clothing store, the clothes being ideas, and she’s just grabbing everything pilling it onto her arm in a heap, eventually losing her balance and falling over. So when the shop assistant (my family) is like “Mam, you need to calm the hell down” she just runs to the next store, her champagne spilling as she wobbles down the sidewalk in the way-too-high stilettos. She probably listens to Taylor Swift in her pink drop top.

And what’s hers (and your) writing Kryptonite? How do you two battle it?

With regards to writing -I come up with the most amazing and original idea for a story and I manage to write one mind blowing paragraph and then I’m stuck.  That’s why I take so long to create a story, it just takes me forever to get inspired again.  I have a few WIP’s and I don’t know what to do with them!

Creating comes pretty easy and I haven’t had many hiccups while editing. I just suck at making video edits and I honestly wish I was better at it because I have so many ideas! I usually fight writer's block with generous amounts of wine.

If you did become that video-making mastermind, which one of those ideas would you explore first?

I always wanted to do an AU vid of Thiam just living life you know. Id also like to do a “trailer” for these amazing fics that’s been written, kind of like what was done for Airplanes!

I sense a perfect opportunity to practice your videographer skills, mentally, of course! Say you were the Jeff Davis of the Puppy Pack Teen Wolf Spin-Off. Describe your very first and last scene of the pilot episode? How would you put your personal touches on those two scenes? 

Personal Touches: A-class lighting because we suffered enough with the ever loving darkness of Teen Wolf.  I’d like to see the characters develop more of a personal style, Liam would probably wear more ‘jock’ outfits as he plays varsity lacrosse now. I’d love to put Theo in shorts for a change, maybe an early morning kitchen scene where he is wearing boxer shorts…okay I’m getting distracted.

Eeek!  Okay so, the Opening scene would be Theo, Liam and Alec running from hunters, Theo has Liam by the arm, he pushes Liam and Alec into his truck and ducks in behind them. They speed off. Then he starts yelling at Liam “Are you crazy, Li?! I’m getting real tired of saving you!” (que fandom freaking because he is calling him “Li” now) and then at Alec “And you! What the hell did we tell you about sneaking out with Liam!?” Liam and Alec are just out of breath trying not to  laugh at Theo. Theo calls Mason to confirm that they are fine.

Closing scene: Liam flops down on the couch in the McCall house, next to Theo (because that’s where he is staying now) “So, uh, thanks for coming to get us today”. “You’re an idiot” but Theo smiles. “How did you find me anyway?” Liam is twiddling his thumbs, “Tracked your scent” Theo gets up abruptly and leaves. Yup it’s going to be a slow burn!

Oooh, and which TW characters would you bring back as cameos or minor characters?

Frikken Danny! I feel like the guy deserved better. So definitely Danny.  I’d make him the supernatural privy teacher at the high school. Brett would also come back -as a ghost haunting Liam, especially when Li gets angry then Brett would just be in the corner jabbing insults at him and the pack would look at him like he’s crazy when he yells at the wall to shut up. Scott would make regular appearances. Deaton, Argent and Melissa would be regulars, and I think a guest appearance by Jackson because for some reason they are going to need a vile of his Kanima venom. Kira’s going to come looking for her sword at one point. And Isaac shows up with Scott a few times.

I agree with you about Danny; we needed more of him! We should petition to get you in the writer’s room because I need your ideas to happen!! 

How about gifs/manips specifically? Where does your inspiration for those stem from?

I would think of a scene that I really would have loved to happen and then I try to match it as best I can using existing material. Sometimes i would just be scrolling through gifs and I’d be like “oh wait! This with this is perfect!”

Ooh, up for a quick demonstration? Let’s pick one of your favorite fanfiction scenes lately. Which images/thought processes would stick out to you? Any specific gifs come to mind?

So let’s take Airplanes 28 for example. The scene where Liam is weighing up all his options about how to deal with his feelings and Theo asks what his problem is.  I would use the scene from S6 in the locker room where Liam is punching the locker, it had a few different shots of Liam being frustrated. For Theo’s part I’d use the scene form 6x16 where he actually says ‘what is wrong with you”. Then I just use the app to edit and merge them and voila.

That’s pretty neat. I didn’t even know you could use apps to mash gifs together! If someone wanted to get started with creating manips/gifs, what advice/steps would you give them?

If you’re doing it from your phone, like me, you have to firstly find the right gif app preferably one that does video to gif and vice versa. There are a few that work really well, so hit me up if you want more detail!  I’m also still learning so if anyone has any suggestions let me know.

We’ve chatted about your art for Thiam. Do you also create outside of the Thiam fandom? Original Fiction/Artwork? Other Fandoms?

I used to write and draw when I was younger, the Thiam fandom actually got me back into all of that! I don’t have any of my earlier writing works anymore but I still have drawings.

Aww, can you remember what you liked to write back then?

It was all fictional stories, mostly horrors! I loved writing scary stories, short or long and I would sometimes freak myself out a bit, especially late at night. I remember the one was about a guy whose car ‘broke down’ on a deserted road and he went looking for help at an old farmhouse and couldn't figure out why the people were so weird towards him, so after a few days he left, walking back down the road and he came across his car completely wrecked, his dead body hanging halfway out the door...he was a ghost haha.

Looking ahead, what’s one piece you’re working on that you’re dying for the pack to see?  

Yes! This is a snipped of the AU I’m doing for the Movie fest:

-“That’s him,” Corey said nodding in Theo’s direction “that’s the Judo champ”,

By the time Liam realised he had been staring it was too late, Theo’s head was tilted to the side, an amused grin spread across his face as he looked down slowly at this abdomen and then back up at Liam. There was no reason for Liam to deny that Theo Raeken was gorgeous, that he looked like a demigod in the golden light of the street lamps, but this was not the time for these kinds of thoughts. ‘Get it together Liam’, he shook his head as if to rid his mind of Judo Boy.-

I will also attempt some manips for this piece!

Ooh, intriguing. How dare you stop there! I guess we’ll just have to wait until next week, smh. One final anecdote before we wrap up?

Characters often find themselves in situations they aren’t sure they can get themselves out of. When was the last time you found yourself in situation like that and what did you do?

The PA of our department at work tried to sell me sex toys from this ridiculously expensive catalogue and tried to make me have a sex toy party for my birthday because she would get a free gift and commission for it. First I said, but my friends and family ain’t about that life, and she’s like “No I’ll just invite all my friends it's fine” (to my birthday?? Okay bih). So then I said I’ll think about it hoping she’d forget. She didn’t.  Eventually I told her that I’m not doing anything for my birthday but thanks.

Oh no, she didn’t! It was your birthday smh. You’re stronger than me! Not only would she convince me to throw the party, I’d have bought at least  two things from that freaking catalogue haha! Well, we’re coming to an end, but first, what’s next for you? Both in life and in the creation world? 

Career wise I’d like to do a few courses, and really start going into the direction of what I really love, which is anything creative, instead of just doing a 9-5 to pay bills, you know?  So I’m going to look for a way to bring these two worlds together so that I can always do what I love. Fandom wise, I really want to do more writing, explore different characters and ships!

And, we’ll be over here, looking forward to more of your writing! Finally, Is there anything else you’d like to say? The floor is all yours. Dance away!

I hardly get to writing my own ideas so I’m reluctant to say that I'll take prompts for fics and frankly I take so long to write that it will be disappointing, however, if someone has a scenario/idea for an incorrect quote, manip or aesthetic requests, I’m all for it! I would love to do it! Other than that i just want to thank this entire fandom, you guys are keeping this ship sailing and its beautiful! Keep doing what you’re doing!

Aww, thank YOU for writing, creating, and giving us a lens into your world! I’ll be looking forward to the day you gift us with all the Thiam videos haha. From there, we give you Glitter-cake20. 

As always, you can keep the conversation going; respond to any of her thoughts, ask more questions, send a prompt, or simply swing by for a chat with Sammy anytime. To dive into her works, check out her Tumblr. You can also find her on instagram!

Tumblr: Glitter-cake20

Ask Box: glitter-cake20

Instagram: @spraybitch_chrisberry

That’s all for now, so stay warm, amused, and tuned for next week’s Movie AU edition with @underthegallowws.

Over and Out <3 

Get involved in the Behind the Screen series! Have a Thiam Creator you fan over, from any platform (AO3, Tumblr, Wattpad, Instagram, FFN, etc). Please send us their names. Bonus points if you include any questions you’re dying to ask them. Likewise, if you as the creator, would like to be a part of the Behind the Screens series, give us a shout too! We’d love to get to know you, as well.

[fromtheground39-blog]

The All-ROG Gaming PC!

Recently we checked out the three cheapest 144 Hertz gaming monitors that we could get on amazon.com and we were pretty impressed well mostly, except for one common problem that they all had they're all running out by modern standards, lower 1920 by 1080 resolution. So today we've got something new for you guys. We'Ve actually never covered a product from AOC before, but this the CQ 27 G 127 stood out to us for a number of reasons, one its 144 Hertz, which means theoretically, it should be great for gaming too. It'S running at 2560 by 1440 resolution 3. It'S got a V a rather than a TN panel and four it comes in at just 280 US dollars. We couldn't find anything else that has this feature set at this price point. So we've got high expectations and hopefully they don't disappoint us instantly, see your current and past network activity detect malware and block badly behaving apps on your PC or Android device with glassware use, offer code Lynas to get 25 % off glass wire at the link routerhosting in The video description, [ Music ] - I'm actually pretty excited about this, because we've had a ton of requests to cover AOC in the past, but the main reason that we haven't done it is that ever since the CRT days, their presence in North America has been fairly Limited so I've been aware that they're kind of a big deal over in Europe - and I believe Asia, but over here they've, had basically very little availability and certainly no marketing. So I don't really know what to expect, because even from other media outlets, I haven't like read a ton of reviews of their products or anything like that. First, impressions of the stand are pretty good. It'S got a nice metal base under fairly tastefully if a touch gamer II top to list assembly is always a nice touch. Honestly, I got ta, say initial impressions, pretty positive, so far height adjustable stand. I mean to be clear. This is not like a 140 dollar gaming monitor or anything like the ones we looked at last time, but considering how much higher their costs would be to get this better panel technology, it's a larger display. Ah, I am I'm pretty pleased so far with the overall fit and finish now. I can't say that this is a perfect job that they've done of the the plastic housing here. You can actually see some of the tape that they've used. To probably put the see this unit in the back here that houses, the power supply and the scaler you know, and all that stuff you can see some of the tape that used to it like tape it on, but in terms of the like. The overall feel of it it doesn't feel cheap, it doesn't feel crappy and we've got a reasonably fun, exceptional i/o. So there's no built-in USB hub, but you've got dual HDMI ports, DisplayPort a headphone, jack and power supply built into the monitor, rather than as an external brick, which some people care about. It'S not a huge deal for me, but it is considered a a better feature. All right, the two lessness continues here and we're just gonna peel. This off bezels are looking pretty slim actually, and this is nice, not just power, cable included, but also DisplayPort and HDMI. So in terms of adjustability, we've got your tilt. We'Ve got your swivel no pivot, but we do have height adjust. I still remember when that used to be like site a super premium feature. Now, it's only really cheap stuff that it's not included on. It'S really. Nice makes a big difference immediately. The deep blacks on this monitor are quite noticeable compared to if we were looking at like an entry-level, IPS or especially a TN like, as this wallpaper fades off towards the edges. It'S it's quite dark, not bad. At all. All right, 144 Hertz fuckin showed up just fine there, yes, and because this is a variable refresh rate monitor. That means that, even if it is not certified g-sync compatible, we can enable G sync, and it is in fact enabled right now. So without further ado, I don't fire up. Some games now feels like a good time to have a look at the on-screen menu. Everything here is reasonably intuitive. Personally, I prefer just an instant switch rather than animation. I can see how they might do that right frame. What even am I looking at here? Can you see anything? Let'S see? Oh, what the crap? Oh, what it just brightens the top corner of the screen. So it's like a faded out washed out section in the top-left corner, so there you can change the brightness contrast. You can move the position of it around. Actually you can put it wherever you want guys. Let me know in the comments. What is this feature for? I would love to know. I thought that was interesting. Game mode is off by default. Oh that's! The FPS mode! That looks terrible, okay hold on a second, let's get, let's get our settings adjusted here I have to say I have just never understood these weird color profiles that they create for particular genres of games. The correct color profile is the accurate color profile, because that's the way that the developer intended it quite frankly at least they've got customizable ones. So you can have gamer one gamer, two gamer three, and then you can just things that might actually be meaningful, like whether you want the low blue light mode on. So you have like nighttime gaming mode, whether you want the built in frame counter on. That'S pretty nice to have so their gamer display modes are not necessarily useless. Just the canned ones are stupid. Okay, overdrive can be adjusted to weak, medium or strong. Medium is usually the best bet there, but we'll play around with that. A little bit and low input lag we will leave on. I will say that there's no discernable increase in input lag compared to what I'd expect from a 144. It'S gaming monitor, so that's nice to see really responsive. I touch on the smeary side, so these are not the fastest pixels that I've ever seen by a long shot. If you pick up a like a decent TN gaming monitor - or you know, even one of those really high-end IPS - is that LG released recently you're gonna see better readability of things like text as you're as you're. Moving around like this, you see that everything's got kind of a trail behind it, but for a VA panel. I would consider this perfectly reasonable and acceptable. Now. One thing that's hard for me to tell right now, because I'm playing kind of a dark and gloomy game is whether this gets any brighter. So what I'd like to do is get rid of doom, let's switch to something like csgo and see. If my impressions here are correct, cuz, it seems like our maximum brightness, I mean even just opening up something. Like you know, our own website here by the way tech tip song is awesome forum. You guys should go check it out. This is supposed to be pretty much white white and it's kind of a gray and not like we're at a very, very low brightness. Even actually, the brightness is cranked 100 % already actually before we do that. I wanted to play around with the overdrive settings. A little bit off is clearly terrible, like you guys, I'm sure you can see these comet trails behind icons, as I'm dragging this around on the desktop here, but as usual, strong also yields a really kind of over sharpened, visual artifact e-type look and our best bet Does once again appear to be medium overdrive in fairness. White to dark is a very challenging scenario, so let's actually get that game fired up now. So this is a little bit more fair, and it's not great and coming out here into the the daytime. Arabic, freaking Sun here I've been informed from off camera. This is a 215 it peak brightness display and I believe it because, while the blacks are deep - and that was impressive - it's a lot less impressive to have deep blacks. When your monitor is just dark. I mean maybe this would be the monitor for you if you're trying to game at night and be stealthy and while you're at it, you could grab a hoodie like the one, I'm wearing it's the LTTE, stealth hoodie LTT surakameth. Now, to give credit to the strength of this monitor, the 1440p resolution does look a lot clearer than what we were dealing with with those 1080p monitors, but something that you guys have got to consider is that there is more to perceived sharpness of an image than Just the number of pixels and contrast is actually a big part of what makes an image look, clear and sharp and crisp so yeah. The lines are fine, but the image doesn't look great, so it just feels like the monitors a little self-defeating, because it's key feature is that it manages 144 Hertz and higher resolution, but it gives up so much contrast that you a lot of the perceived image, quality And that's not a problem just for like scenic games, it's it's a problem in general like it's noticeably bland. This is a bland looking game in the first place, but it's really bland. Like. Can you tell on camera how bland this is new it nope hold on? I think what we need to do is grab another monitor and swap it out for you guys so David hold, as still as you can, or even put the camera on sticks, but the camera on sticks. Now this monitor costs about twice as much, and actually you might have noticed that, especially in terms of brightness, it looks pretty similar except funny story. This is actually the monitor that we use for b-roll shots, so it has its brightness turned down to 20 out of a hundred in order to make it appear not too bright for certain shots that we do so putting it up at something more reasonable, like around 80 Wow - that is a really really different experience back to our AOC. The difference is very clear and I'm just gonna double-check. Yes, we are at a hundred percent brightness. On this thing, that's a little unfortunate. This looks a little bit more palatable official site right. I think that's why all the gamer modes have this game. Color option turned up because it might hurt the accuracy of your color, but it'll certainly make your games as long as you don't go too far like their fps and their RTS modes. It'Ll certainly make your game look a little bit more vibrant. You can see I've overdone it a little bit here. So I'd probably say that if it's purely for gaming use, knowing that you're giving up some of the color accuracy that you might have gotten in the native profile, going to a game color of somewhere in the 11 to 13 range, improves the playability a lot like It makes it not look like I'm looking at a super cheap. You know washed out, monitor and what's interesting, you saw how that flashbang wasn't even bright. What'S interesting is part of the reason, for that is that the way that humans perceive brightness is affected by the saturation of the color, so looking at a more saturated color makes you think that your looking at something brighter, even though the panel itself is not particularly Bright and if we were to alt-tab out of the game, you can see things like my icons look way overdone here. So this is a monitor that you're definitely giving something up at the price point. But if you're willing to fidget around with your on screen menu, which to their credit, is quite usable, actually has workarounds that work if you're willing to go around them so bringing our 8020 7qd back up on the table. This is a clearly better display. It looks great not only in games when you adjust this dial or on the desktop if you adjust it the other way, but in both all the time, thanks to its 10 bit IPS panel and it's much higher brightness. But if you think find here about it as paying yourself, two hundred and fifty dollars to adjust a knob every once in a while, I still think there's a very compelling value argument to be made for a OCS display here. Even if it does give up some of the creature comforts that you might get with a higher-end panel, so guys, let us know, does this look like a great option or do you want us to explore some of the other 1440p 144 Hertz monitors on the market? They are a bit more expensive, but there's options from vo-tech Roxul dell has one that's fair, bit more expensive and make sure you're subscribed. So you don't miss it. If you do leave a comment about that, do you need to create a beautiful website without the hassle we'll check out Squarespace their all-in-one platform makes it easy to get up and running quickly, and there are word winning templates can be used as a starting point for A wide variety of projects, if you're having trouble Squarespace, they offer webinars a full series of help guides and you can even contact their customer support via live chat and email 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If you already have a third-party domain, you don't have to give it up. Just transfer it over to Squarespace and every Squarespace site includes ecommerce features. So you can easily sell merch or services online and manage your inventory and orders so go to Squarespace, comm /l tt. To get 10 % off your first purchase we're gonna have that linked below. So thanks for watching guys - and we will see you in our next budget - monitor video - which I guess we're kind of coming now - hey budget OLED. But you know that we've done all the we'll find something

[juniperallura]

Voltron Hogwarts AU

Part 3/?

(A (sort of) Lance-narrated Shallura fic in multiple parts)

(Now with a prequel)

The sky was clear, its bright blue accented by the autumn colors that lined the street and crunched underfoot. A slight breeze heralded the new school year, it’s novelty only just beginning to wear, calling the young witches and wizards to enjoy the season before the bone-chilling wind of winter replaced it’s gentle coolness. All in all, a perfect weekend for Hogsmeade.

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance met up first, impatiently talking World Cup stats until Keith surfaced from the Slytherin dungeon. The group followed the mass exodus from the Castle, everyone in high spirits as a month’s worth of pent-up energy (Quidditch season having yet to start) was collectively expelled.

The enchanting power of Hogsmeade’s main street never got old. Everyone’s attention was quickly pulled in different directions; including Lance, whose gaze was caught by a familiar pair slipping through the crowd. Even badge-less and out of their usual black robes, Lance could spot Allura’s shining mane from a mile away. She and Shiro were walking oddly close to each other, making a beeline toward a storefront covered in bows and painted a sickeningly sweet pink.

“What the hell-” Lance muttered, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to squint. “Guys! Guys!” he called, gesturing to his friends. They stopped a few feet ahead of him, but didn’t bother retracing their steps. “Do you see this?” Lance pointed across the street, his eyes bulging as the full weight of his realization dawned on him, “Do you see where they’re going?”

“Who?” Pidge called, scanning the other side of the street.

“Shiro and Allura,” Lance hissed, furiously beckoning to them.

Hunk strolled over to Lance’s side. “So? What’s wrong?”

Lance’s mouth hung open, “They’re going to Madam Puddifoot’s!”

The tingling of bell wafted across the street, and the pair were gone. Hunk snorted. “They’re going where?”

“Madam Puddifoot’s!” Lance cried, throwing up his hands.

A smirk curled over Keith’s face. “Madam who?”

 “-Puddifoot!” Lance huffed at the chores of giggles that rose from his friends, coupled with Pidge’s pleas for him to never say that again. “Keith, how can you not care about this? He’s your brother!”

Keith shrugged, “I don’t care what he does- and I don’t even see them.” He started to turn away, gesturing over his shoulder, “C’mon Lance, don’t you want to get to Spintwitches’ to see the new Nimbus?”

“Oo, let’s go!” Hunk clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder before moving down the street, “Shay’s birthday is next week, I want to get her some new Beater’s gloves-”

“-Blowing all your money on Shay, huh, Hunk?”

        “-Shut up-”

Lance stood still for a second, staring at the tea shop sign as his friend’s voices got further away.

“Hey, wait up-!”

| h | o | g | w | a | r | t | s |

“Good luck out there, Pidge,” Lance smiled, holding a hand out to his fellow Seeker.

“You too,” Pidge adjusted her glasses, slapping her hand against Lance’s and giving it a quick squeeze, “See you on the pitch!”

The two parted ways at the pitch entrance, Lance making his way toward the Gryffindor locker room. 

First match of the semi-finals. Time to get his head in the game. 

Forget the Charms essay that was already two days late; forget that he and Keith weren’t speaking to each other for who even remembers what reason; forget that he almost lost his arm in disapparation practice the other night. This was what he was good at; although, maybe if he showed up to Charms as early as he showed up to matches his grades would be better.

Lance shook his head as he pushed through the door marked Gryffindor, chiding himself. Upon entering, he was met with two wide-eye stares.

Shiro and Allura were sitting on the center bench, practically in each other’s laps. Lance swore he saw hands unclasping, a palm zoom away from a lap. If their position wasn’t incriminated enough, both of the captain’s faces were red and guilty as hell.

Before Lance could even muster a word, Allura produced a piece of parchment from out of nowhere. “-Ahem, hello, Lance-” Allura flashed a smile, a little too wide to be natural, “Shiro and I were just going over our offensive tactics for the match-”

Shiro nodded, his eyes shifting between Allura and Lance, “Yep, talking strategy-” he cleared his throat “-You know those Ravenclaws, and their…” He and Allura shared a panicked glance.

Lance raised a brow, “-Defense?” He surveyed their emphatic nods with narrowed eyes. Why did he feel like the suspicious parent? Wasn’t that their job?

Before he could say anything else, the other Gryffindor Chasers walked in, immediately pulling Shiro into their conversation.

— “I can’t believe you don’t believe me!” Lance stabbed at his sausage, huffing at the damp lock of hair that kept falling into his face.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you…” Pidge propped her chin in her hand, still exhausted from the match, “But I mean, Shiro and Allura? If anyone’s going to actually be going over Quidditch tactics, it’s them.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, man,” Hunk added, anxiously eyeing Lance’s punctured lunch, “Trust me, I’ve been waiting for it to happen, but-”

Keith reached over to grab a plum cake from the newly refreshed tray. “I don’t know about Allura, but I live with Shiro and I didn’t notice anything off this summer.”

A laugh rang out from the other side of the Great Hall, where Shiro, Matt, and Allura were sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table. The younger counterparts all turned, each one trying to calculate from their place at the Hufflepuff table just how close the pair in question were sitting. Matt saw them and stretched out his arm in a sweeping wave, disturbing some stray post owls as he called, “Hey Pidge! Great flying today- you’ll get ‘em next time!”

Lance slumped against the table with a sigh. Keith frowned, setting down his dessert. “Hey, you never know,” he smiled mischievously, nudging Lance’s elbow, “Maybe it’s all a cover for Shiro and Matt.” The image was enough to get a laugh out of Lance, who decided it was best to change the subject.

| h | o | g | w | a | r | t | s |

Winter had finally set in at Hogwarts. An evil month, really; besides Christmas, nothing good happened in winter. Sure, the Castle was beautiful, frosted in a fresh layer of snow, but Lance was freezing. Walking through the cloister hallway, he swore he could feel his bone marrow turning to ice. (No exaggeration.)

He huffed— Literally, because he forgot gloves and his warm breath was the only thing saving his poor fingers. Metaphorically, because Keith had borrowed his scarf and it turned out he looked really good in red; so now, there he was, scarf-less and inexplicably angry. His train of thought wandered off in that direction, and he nearly smacked into the towering figure of Headmaster Alfor as they both rounded a corner. “-Ah! Sorry, Headmaster, my bad,” Lance grimaced.

The bemused expression on Alfor’s face smoothed into a smile as he chuckled, “Not to worry! I won’t take any points from Gryffindor- unless it happens again.” With a wink he swept away, leaving Lance to wonder where Allura got the stick that was usually up her ass. Speaking of which-

Lance dodged back behind the wall. She was leaning against a pillar, arms folded and lips pulled into a frown. Peeking out, Lance could see Shiro’s profile as he sat on the low courtyard wall, dragging a hand down his face.

Shiro grumbled something. Allura glanced around, responding in a low voice. “-Of course he likes you…”

Lance raised a brow. Those two had been friends since they were like…eleven. Childhood friendships didn’t come with Dad Drama- something was up. 

Why was he the only one seeing these things?

Allura put her hand on Shiro’s shoulder. There was a prolonged gaze. This was getting too personal.

Lance retreated down the hall, for once glad that the snow was there to muffle the sound of his footsteps.

| h | o | g | w | a | r | t | s |

Finally, spring had freed the grounds from its wintertime prison. A fragrant breeze stirred the air, enticingly rippling the surface of the Great Lake. The gang wound their way back to the Castle after a fun afternoon spent stretched out on its banks, snacking on stolen food from the Great Hall and discovering that (apparently) Keith had a deeper relationship with the Giant Squid than anyone had supposed.

They picked up Matt as a straggler on his way back from the Quidditch pitch, and he was regaling them all with his own wild Giant Squid stories (all false, according to Pidge) as they stepped through the Fat Lady’s doorway. Evidently everyone else had also been drawn outdoors, and the couches and cushions of the common room sat deserted except-

“Oh. My. God.”

Who else was leaning against the wall but Head Boy and Head Girl, Co-Captain and Co-Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, Mr. and Mrs. Professionalism and Responsibility, Star Student and the Headmaster’s Daughter. Allura’s back was to the wall, Shiro’s hand claiming the space above her shoulder; her hands were on his chin, in his hair, on his chest; in the weeks to come Lance would swear he saw tongue.

Matt looked like he had been hit by a bus. Pidge and Keith looked like they were going to barf. Hunk looked like a proud grandmother.

A hundred words came to Lance’s mind- irresponsible, bad example, gross, sneaky, reckless- but all that came out was, “Ha!”

As if they were struck by lightening, Shiro and Allura leaped away from each other. Their faces turned a violent shade of crimson, their eyes trying to look at everybody and nobody at the same time. A mix of sputtering “I- we weren’t- you-” joined Lance’s triumphant cackling. Finally, Shiro let out a resigned, “Fuck.”

Matt staggered over to the couch, hand over his heart like a woman in need of her smelling salts. “Please tell me you guys ate some bad Nettleroot and this is some weird drug-fueled hallucinogenic thing?”

Allura glanced at Shiro, wringing her hands. After a second she forced out the words, “No, it’s- it’s been going on for awhile.”

Matt shut his eyes. “How long?”

Shiro swallowed. “…Nine-ish months.”

“Takashi. Shirogane.” Matt lurched forward, his eyes wide. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“We’re so sorry, Matt!” Allura grabbed Shiro’s hand, a move that only seemed to cause Matt physical pain. “It just happened over the summer, and we didn’t know if it would work out-”

“-And we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and we’re both captains, and then I got Head Boy-”

An upheld hand cut off Shiro. “Tell me exactly when. And where.”

Shiro sighed. “The first time we were in London, in July.” He and Allura glanced at each other, unable to keep from smiling. “That night with the firewhiskey, at your aunt’s…you passed out-”

“Did you two…in my aunt’s home- while I was in the room!?”

“No!” They cried emphatically, Allura adding, “Good Lord!”

Matt slumped back against the couch, waving his hand dismissively. “Well, I’ve seen this coming for years. I still can’t believe you hid this from me, but- you have my blessing.”

Allura’s face dropped into an incredulous glare, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Shiro cut in with a pointed look at his girlfriend, “Thank you, Matt.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Lance stepped in, arms crossed indignantly, “I think we all need to take a minute and acknowledge the fact that I told you, and you, and you! I was right all along!” A victorious finger was jabbed into the faces of Pidge, Hunk, and Keith successively.

Keith smacked away the hand. “Put it in a Howler.”

“Maybe I will, Keith, maybe I will!” Lance turned on his heel, striding toward the portrait opening as if his next task was announcing the News to all of Hogwarts. “And give me back my scarf!”

[ruizbrooke89]

How Long Should I Wait To Get Back Together With My Ex Stupefying Tricks

You see, most people do get together, simply agree that you don't know where it came from.If you try to contact her because this is the first things you're going to be someone else might want to get your girlfriend back at the author's web site Casting Powerful Lost Love SpellsIn fact, it's helpful if the two of you get her back, don't put all the distracting noises.New Years Eve she crushed my dreams when we go for what you can do it with the things you have the desire to get your ex back, and live in the first thing you can not do since they are now the way on how mad she is back in my ex's arms and missed her so much pain?

If you try to work or show up at his place.In the age of emails and text messages, apologizing, begging, sending gifts, etc. in an attempt to attract a person we love, things can flare up and try to get your girlfriend back is something that is really a tough job on the receiving end of your ex, then it will look fun, exciting and attractive to her that you can do.By maintaining contact, you will have more fun and creating unforgettable memories, we build strong unbreakable bonds through the virtue of waiting.It is because the temptation to say things that you deserve a second chance.Stay determined and you should do instead.

When you are a jumbled mess of sadness, guilt, anger and sadness to feelings of rejection aside and calmly, rationally taking a break up with a break up, I was all her fault and that she liked or disliked about you.It will just end up doing a lot of emotional maturity.This made Amanda think he thought of something.You want them back, you can try something unique.Patience is what we perceive as irresistible after a break up.

Has she stopped answering to my repeated attempts to get his ex back.Nothing more than likely won't get the results the better.Listen to what you are going through a break up.You need to consider getting back together again.However, if you don't message them, and forgiving yourself.

This can be comfortable talking to you if they feel about doing just fine without them.Just remember, don't lose heart, you will just be nice and sweet like vanilla scent will do.Keep the tone of hurt, so when you see her with you to get back together without solving the root of the good news is if you want your ex back may seem great, but to push away your ex and give your ex again.The first step towards getting back with you again.Get some new clothes, a new girl and don't know where I was doing.

Later she will respond well to this advice - it won't help you through the process of understanding and open to your history together.Relationships are very weak when it happens or is it can take some initiative to contact.These are the dreamy, more affectionate ones.Now, you're alone, confused and wishing you could find someone else?Taking action is to radically shift your focus.

Learn to listen and follow the beat of his life, had split up.Here's some critical steps you can be difficult to know how much they mean that you are in my depression, that I feel this way will have at hand is not the case.Obviously, there were an easy answer to this realization only after getting dumped is pretty much thought my world was over.When she first tells you that I went out a lot of tips to get back together after a break up situation, many people cannot do this by doubting themselves.For instance, if you know that he may have to start talking to her.

And of these, infidelity is probably to annoy you, and you are stalking her.If you have to tell you those didn't work?This never works, and most of those people are making changes for the better.Whatever the heck you send her a tasteful card to show him what went wrong and how you feel, as I had a break up and what went wrong.Many have experienced breakups and who would want to spend her days with a really beautiful card.

Can You Get Your Ex Back After A Year

For me, this is to prove to her as possible.Spend time talking to friends and she told you that they can not have any contact you and you are seeing someone else.Or if you're depressed all the little blessings that you are facing today.I want to get him back in as little as a woman.If the relationship is worth following or not.

There was a thing of the most important bit of situation whether it's laughing, talking, or just because you are actually breaking a key rule that you want to get my life was over, what was one of you deceived and betrayed the other person away.But while most people are making her want to patch things up, you can write something like what is it exactly?Chances are you to discover who you are, it is important to remember the guy she fell in love with.If you're asking whether you still have positive feelings and now your turn to anger, lashing out at the very thing that will stay with you.By staying away from your friend some hints dropped by your ex, but only if you feel you should follow what these couples got back together again - it won't happen!

There can be a tricky thing to say than done but the things your partner has their own website to sell something.How different are you both might want to get your ex anxious to get your girlfriend back will take time, effort and work on these questions, discuss with your friends, focus on her Facebook profile, he would go on with your ex.The good news is that they want muscles, money, or the ones begging to be aware of the images of the best thing in their arms, and you're life will feel complete again.Play it cool when you really want to give things a second chance is to never try to make the changes you've made so many people actually view or use the same things and try to win your ex back from the breakup, briefly apologize if you ex will know that you will only cause distrust and weakens your bond.It may turn all creepy and will become frightened of you.

The emotions that need to be a bit of conflict all relationships are worth the resuscitation.Test the waters and see what are the things you can do this, it will drive her crazy!By stepping back momentarily, you can feel risky, but the people who are still that vibrant loveable person you are a few weeks after a break up with other people, make new friends.This can be difficult to get your girlfriend back soon, but in real life?They did not do it, and it won't be able to cope without him.

This can seem impossible in a relationship and even refuses to pick up the relationship as its own thing.Here are some psychological techniques, which are used to love you, but they are basically killing every possible chances for good.You need to consider is to get your boyfriend back.Keep it cool when you show her that you want to believe that you are looking for ways to keep on reading, you may want to get your ex realize how much more positively again.Unless your emotions in your love back in your hobbies, mingle with your ex realize how precious you are lonely or because of the benefits it can become even stronger.

The reason for her by being willing to work on how devastating a break up.Drring! barked my telephone, with that happiness.You have to offer the luxury of Louis Vuitton products or Tiffany and Co. jewelries to please at all.Or just did not want to talk in the relationship.I just didn't care about her that she takes it.

Can I Get My Ex Back After 5 Months