#But it's obscured enough to feel alien

[halenhusky309]

When you try to read a het transformers fanfic, but the concept, world building and dialogue are straight out from a cheap romance novel, or cliche drama shows

Yeah, I rather read Chinese Transformers fanfics using Google translate (There are some really good fics though)

[whatudottu]

New OC time, and for every person to call him an animal Wrau adds another tally to his shit list-

Ough fuck my hand broke

[bootlegspiders]

Hey, so for Watcher fans who may not wanna pay for another subscription or just wanna watch something new here are some other youtubers you should take a look at if you want to get a spook or learn some history

(* = potentially triggering topics covered usually associated with crimes, so be careful)

Ghost Hunting and general spooky vibes:

AmysCrypt - Your typical ghost hunting show with two Australians traveling the world, though I will say they do go to places I've never heard of before and they do very good research. And there are some goofs along with the spooks.

The Ouija Brothers - Two British dudes finding ghosts in England. The vibes are generally pretty chill and it's a good time

The Paranormal Scholar - A mixed bag of all paranormal happenings from ghosts to demons to cryptids and aliens. Sort of an overview to deepdives on various paranormal occurrences. The research is immaculate and their voice is very soothing in my opinion.

Paranormal Quest - Ghost hunting in the US, sometimes goofy sometimes serious, but they do go to some interesting places and some familiar ones too

Weird History:

ObsoleteOddity* - This guy is great, like 80% of the things he covers I've never heard of before. Very atmospheric, fun little visuals, and a large variety of weird events and people for topics.

Georgia Marie* - A little bit of everything, but she focuses on strange things that have happened, lgbt history, true crime, and historical disasters. She covers enough of everything that I'm sure you'll find something

Stefanie Valentine* - I'm not sure if she even posts anymore, but I thought what she was doing was great. Think Vampira or Elvira but for older true crime and ghost stories, I think the latest covered would have been like early 1900s. Idk I just thought it was like a cute spooky lil storytime

Caitlin Doughty or Ask A Mortician* - Pretty sure y'all would know who she is but just in case, she's a mortician who covers topics relating to death! From odd ways people have died, or odd things that have happened to people after they've died. And just odd or tragic things that have happened through history. It's silly, but done with levity and care and respect the topics deserve.

General History:

Part-Time Explorer - Mostly history on ships and ghost towns with the occasional train. Lots of research and interviews, very well done and worth checking out even if it may not be your thing.

History's Forgotten People - Talks about sometimes obscure, or sometimes not, historical individuals. Even if you've heard of the person in the topic, they'll talk on something obscure about that person.

History Tea Time with Lindsay Holiday - A heavy focus on royalty around the world, a generally upbeat dive into historic individuals.

(Or you could always go watch time team, that's an option and it's my guilty pleasure love me some archeology)

True Crime:

There are so many out there, so I'll just recommend two of my favorites

Gabulosis* - She focuses on vintage cases 20 years or older (literally in her opener) and is well researched and respectful. Another one that talks on cases I've never heard of that deserve to be heard.

Mysterious WV* - True crime and missing persons based in the West Virginia area and neighboring states. Idk how to even explain the vibes. This guy is just great please watch him trust me you won't be disappointed.

That's all for now, feel free to add your own recs out there!

[revelboo]

perhaps a strange question, but what do you think the humans in your fics think of each other? do they ever interact :0?

i mostly ask because the latest starscream installment made me go "OH THE THUNDERCRACKER FIC IS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE..." which was a fantastic thing to realise

anyway, keep up the good work!! 💛✨ (and take breaks and stay hydrated!)

I try to link the fics in the same universes together if I can. Star would probably be a bit reluctant to allow you around other humans as jealous as he is. You might prefer human company and he’s not risking it.

Better Open the Door Pt 7

IDW Thundercracker x Reader

• Servos flexing against your little frame, he steps into the wash racks and relaxes to find it empty. Finding a stall to the back where he’ll be partially obscured from view, he glances down at you questioningly. “Your coverings?” He asks as his wings flare out.

• Face pressed against his chassis as he cups you to him, you swallow a groan. Because when you’d asked if there was a way to shower, you hadn’t anticipated that Thundercracker would want to shower, too. And seeing the size of the wash racks, there’s no way to ask to shower alone. The big space is luckily empty of other mechs, so you just have to deal with one curiously gawking at you. As much as you don’t want to strip naked while he watches, you can’t exactly shower in your clothes with how cold he keeps it in his quarters. Not and avoid getting sick after.

• Face red, you start pulling off the layers of your coverings, turning sideways to hold them out so he can place them on a shelf to stay dry. Running a servo along your side and over the curve of your hip, feeling the startling softness of you. Your head snaps up to glare at him, pushing at his servo. “Cut it out,” you mutter as he switches on the water and steps forward.

• “What am I doing?” He asks, sounding innocent enough as he smoothes a servo over your wet hair, pushing it back over your shoulder. Exasperated, you do your best to ignore him, face tipping up into the warm spray. He’s still playing this game, playing at being in love as silly as it is and trying to romance you. Where does he think this is going to go between you two when he’s a giant alien and you’re human?

• “You’re going to get bored eventually,” you say, fingers combing through your wet hair, refusing to look at him. “Just promise to let me go when you’re done, okay?” Bored? Like you’re a toy to be discarded? Like it’s a forgone conclusion that you’re nothing to him but an amusement. You freeze as he curls his servos about you, one under your chin to tip your head up, the others against your front to feel the beat of your heart, at the apex of your thighs. Your hands land on him, but not pushing him away yet.

• “I’m never going to be done with you,” he growls, voice deepening as your fingers grip his servo. Knowing you need to push him away, but frozen by the intimacy of that touch, the possessiveness. “You don’t have to believe me, but you’re mine to protect.” Shivering, you feel him lean over you. Feeling his warm venting against you back before his lips brush your spine. Too much, too intimate to spread warm through you even as his words catch at you. Protect you from what?

Previous

Next

[gothamiteeditor]

Tim Drake is my favorite Robin because he’s not only the glue keeping Batman from flying off the rails at some points, but is also actively flying off the rails himself. The League of Assassins never stood a chance. He’s probably wanted in more countries than he’s allowed in, if he disappears that list slowly grows. Not only is he a freaking genius but he also should be feared by his sheer willpower to get anything and everything into his little hands. If it’s to be found out he will find it. The Robin who didn’t have to become Robin for himself, the one who became Robin because someone else needed him to.

Jason Todd is my favorite Robin because he’s a Robin that was so mistreated by his creators and writers that they literally voted for him to die. He dies in every alternate version. He’s not only died but came back stronger, more than once. Sure he was different but that difference allows us, the readers, to see the thoughts and feelings of a Robin who could never be good enough, who still is good enough, because he’s better. The happy Robin who made the mantle magic turned into a Crime Lord who wants nothing more than to ensure no other child goes down the same path he did or at least gives them the help to succeed.

Dick Grayson is my favorite Robin because he lost his parents in a traumatic way Bruce could relate to and still somehow ended up being a better mentor and better leader than Batman himself. Dick who was the Angry Robin who grew up realizing he could still be who he was before his trauma and grief and became Nightwing, a symbol of not just one city but two, and then in his civilian life still took the cities he loves in his hands as his job. A man who watched his little brother die, and come back different and refused to help the man who wouldn’t do anything about it. A man who actually got revenge only for it to be taken back from him. And also in some obscure timeline became a Tyrannical Dictator who wanted to annihilate aliens because his alien wife died but no one really talks about that era…

Damian is my favorite Robin because he defies everything about every Robin we have had. He’s the Robin that had a kill count before he was Robin. The boy who would either become the Demon Head or the Batman, legacies he was promised, but could never achieve with the guidance he was given. The boy who couldn’t understand why Bruce tried to get him to open up and relax because he’d never known that before. The boy who had Jason before Bruce. The Robin with a sword and isn’t afraid to use it and knows how to. From assassin heir to prince of Gotham.

Stephanie was my favorite Robin because she was the Robin who didn’t stay Robin. The Robin who forged her own way really quickly and realized she didn’t need the mantle to make her own difference against her father. The one who would never be one of Bruce’s but always was one of Bruce’s. The Robin who pushed the boundaries of everything Gotham had come to expect from Robins, a powerhouse in her own right and never credited for her role.

(Edited because I originally had said Jason was the only Robin to be mistreated by his writers and fans. This isn’t entirely true so I edited a correction. Truth be told all these characters deserved better.)

[vampiric-transsexual]

Okay, serious discussion about s5e7 of wwdits. I have a lot of mixed feelings about it. The creatures fell into the uncanny valley, why did they choose the donut lady as a plot for nadja when it could've been with the guide, etc. HOWEVER, what I do appreciate about this episode is the meta commentary on how Nandor's culture is simultaneously erased in history classes and then mocked by museums. His culture, his writings, his garments.. almost everything about his history is completely misrepresented by the museum and all of his artifacts were stolen. He literally sees a pair of his underwear on display! He is looked at as an object, a relic of the past. The museum portays him as being unintelligent and frowns upon his writings. And that's based on their narrow understanding of him, Al Q, and his culture. The historians do not know Nandor of course, but they view him through a lense that chooses to only see him and his culture as unintelligent, subhuman even- because why else would someone write something like this? Or wear something like this? Or use weapons like this? It reminds me of those TV shows that theorize the pyramids were made by aliens. Because how else could the Egyptians have been capable of creating the pyramids? Surely they can't be intelligent enough! *eye roll*

Idk someone could probably use better words to communicate what I'm trying to say here, but I wanted to bring it to the table anyway. Oh, also Colin becomes the center of attention by acting like the stereotypical white professor who is more focused on feeding their ego than actually educating his pupils. And this ends up in Nandor being pushed out of the conversation. A literal metaphor for how whiteness obscures and diminishes other cultures and immigrant communities. Of course Colin did that just to feed off of the students. Because then he ends up replacing the museum display with a more accurate representation of Nandor (albeit for comedic effect). And then by taking back his horsie necklace. But.. everyone listened to Colin! And ignored Nandor! Lots to think about in terms of erasure, white washing, forced assimilation, how museums profit off of stolen artifacts and skewing history, etc.

Nandor is an immigrant to Staten island and he was forced to assimilate. Imagine how he must feel when he sees all these stolen artifacts in the museum, and plaques that inaccurately portray his culture and history. And people gawking at the clothes and weapons he proudly wore/still wears. This is a reality for many native and immigrant communities here in America and abroad. Being forced to view your culture, your way of life through the lense of the oppressor.

[bricky-brikson]

Thinking about the "trilion and 12 years old" joke about Bill and thinking about his psychological development after the Euclydia massacre

In the show, we see that while he can plan ahead and manipulate people, he's often foiled by his own impulsiveness/anger/emotions. His ultimate goal is to escape the Nightmare Realm/Dimension 0. And sure, he says this is because he promised the Henchmaniacs he'd help them, but ultimately as others have pointed out, Bill is terrified of death. He wants to live forever - have "a party that never ends with a host who never dies". All he cares about is himself, his own survival and hedonism

All this to say, Bill has the emotional development of a teen. He hasn't gotten past the self-centredness nor the reward/adrenaline seeking behaviour, but has emotionally evolved enough to be able to manipulate people and such (and be able to feel guilt, even if it's just a picogram). Though his immaturity shows when he doesn't get his way.

One might think that, being a trillion years old, he would've developed a bit, but here's the thing - major traumas can "freeze" people at certain developmental stages. We don't know how old Bill was when Euclydia was destroyed - though considering his behaviour I would bet he was a teen.

(Or whatever the equivalent of that stage is for his species. They have exoskeletons- do they have instars then? Whatever, that's not on the topic of this post)

Seeing his entire dimension destroyed after (what was probably) a well-intentioned attempt to show them what he saw ("They'll see. They'll all see.") permanently emotionally stunted him. However it was he got his powers, he was a teen/young adult with powerful abilities who had just erased an entire dimension from existence and was now accountable to no one but himself while also being deeply traumatized. His constant partying and implied substance use were probably the only coping mechanisms he could think of, dissociating because he has no idea how to actually confront what happened. The way he talks about the massacre - he detaches himself from it yet still admits guilt ("A monster."). Only post-divorce does he implicate himself in the event, though still obscuring its true nature ("I liberated them.").

Being surrounded by individuals who are similarly maladjusted for most of his trillion-year lifespan certainly didn't help things. The Henchmaniacs are likely somewhat stunted as well, or at the very least don't offer much in the way of mature/emotionally adult conversation, especially since Bill reacts so poorly (read: homocidally) to any sense of malcontent.

Which is to say, I think part of why Ford was important to Bill was because, compared to him, Ford was more emotionally developed (Ford is emotionally stunted in his own ways, but not as severely as Bill IMO). Subconsciously, their relationship was reaching a hand out to the scared teenager in the centre of Bill's psyche and offering him someone to lean on- someone who had their shit a little bit more figured out. A kind of figure Bill hadn't had since he killed his parents.

Of course, such vulnerability probably felt so alien that Bill tried to distance himself. I always wondered - why didn't Bill just lie to Ford about his plan to take over Dimension 49'\ ? Ford would've believed him, finished the portal, and Bill's plan would've been fulfilled. Well, I think it was Bill trying to burn the emotional bridge. In his own impulsivity, his own desire to dissociate instead of confront, he would rather make sure that he would never be able to be vulnerable to Ford than fulfill his grand plan.

...

I don't remember where I was going with this. There's no conclusion. I'm spinning this triangular multidimensional tyrant at physically impossible speeds in my mind and if I didn't write something about him my skull was going to turn into a fine powder. It's almost 2 AM, so it's entirely possible this post makes 0 sense, in which case feel free to inform me of that in the notes.

[tumblingxelian]

Near Uniquely RWBY - Main Characters

I was chatting with my sibling the other day and we were joking about the fact in 90% of the media I consume I generally don't like the main characters.

Not in the sense I necessarily hate them, but I generally don't find them to be the most interesting, engaging or enjoyable person on screen or page. Instead I tend to gravitate towards secondary or minor characters and even minor antagonists before any of the big names.

Some of this is rooted in my often rooting for what tends to feel more like a real underdog or characters that feel like they got dealt a bad hand by the author unfairly. But its also that in a lot of media the main characters tend to immediately, slowly or quickly go into personality lockdown.

Becoming less a personality and more the embodiment of expected tropes and themes, or they lose their unique edge or circumstances because the plot demands one benefits or personality changes be heaped on them to keep the tone and story going.

Some examples of this would include say:

Ichigo from Bleach, with him and his supporting cast being very unique and super interesting during the initial arc. But as Soul Society came in, he became a much more standard Shounen determinator a the expense of his personality and his supporting casts were largely watered down & left behind.

Or how in Naruto or Dragon Ball the whole underdog/hard worker aspect of the characters felt undercut by legacy power ups and an endless wellspring of natural talent, alien biology, ETC.

I know these are just two examples, but they cover the general gist of what I mean.

So, what makes RWBY different?

Well, off the cuff, is simply that the four main characters are women.

I've often felt simply putting anyone other than a cis-het guy into the main character slot of say, a battle Shounen, or Isekai stands a good chance of making it more interesting by default. Even if the author does nothing with it the audience reaction would be different because the MC would be an exception to the norms.

In that vein, while one can call RWBY some sort of Shounen or adventure fantasy or magical girl show the main four are unique in how they manifest on screen at the very start. From how they participate in action, to how said action is structured and framed and the kind of adventures and topics they tackle.

But being unique alone is not enough, that would simply make it more interesting than the bog standard but what elevates RWBY is the execution and exploration of such elements and its characters.

Going into every aspect would be difficult, but in light of what I said above would be how each of the main four are initially presented as familiar archetypes, only to subvert or deconstruct them.

Ruby is a peppy goth who just wants to be normal but has inborn powers from her mysteriously vanished mother and serves as a beacon of optimism to others.

Except Ruby's version of normal still involved fighting death monsters with a sniper rifle scythe and she is actually one of the more ruthless characters. Her peppy persona obscures that she can have a pretty vicious temper when pushed and has displayed strong bloodknight tendencies.

Her unrelenting optimism and desire to fix the world is a complex mix of true beliefs, coping mechanism for trauma and her grappling with positions forced on her against her will. Her inborn power is potentially useful but also not that much of a game breaker outside specific contexts & said power sure as hell didn't save her mom.

Weiss Schnee is the Tsundere heiress of a powerful family, with a haughty attitude that hides her loneliness.

Except the "Tsundere" is more of a defense mechanism born of coming from an abusive home where every member of her family manifested a different trauma response. Freeze (Mother), flight (Sister), Fight (Weiss) Fawn (Brother).

Despite her upbringing & some projected trauma, she's far from ignorant as to the worst excesses of her nation early on, and her journey was more about overcoming the impacts her abuser had on her and finding a family in her team that let her be safe enough to let down her walls. Also despite being "The ice queen" she's actually one of the characters least inclined towards more ruthless actions and is extremely empathic.

Blake Belladonna is a mysterious and silent rougish woman, something of a shrinking violet even, but she carries with her a wounded heart thanks to her old flame, the edgy Adam Taurus.

Or more accurately, Blake is the daughter of activists and politicians who represent the worlds main discriminated against minority. She spent her youth on the road as a protestor and where even her father could be nearly killed by a lynch mob. She was targeted & groomed by a man who claimed to want to fight the same injustice she did but who was only interested in using the movement to grow his own power.

Her initial aloof-ness was a trauma response to having spent years under his thumb and overcoming him and the idea she had to 'save' him was one of the main corner stone so her character. Also, despite the "Revolutionary fighter" backstory she like Weiss is much less inclined towards ruthlessness than her team in large part because her past experience with it.

Yang Xiao Long, introduced as the fun loving big sister of Ruby & boisterous bruiser of the team who loves to party & flirt.

Except no, Yang was parentified as a child and forced to raise her own sister as their family unit fell apart. Her "Party girl" persona was outright framed as judging a book by its cover in her own trailer and something she put on or took off as she needed.

She became disabled over the course of the series run as well as entered a Sapphic romance with her partner Blake. Unlike the stereotype of characters with her design, Yang is actually an excellent student, fighter and engineer/mechanic. Plus much like her sister she tends to be of the more ruthless and pragmatic persuasion despite being from the "Normal" background.

Character Conclusion

So, all the characters break out of their initial archetypes, which already makes them more interesting. What's more, these sorts of characters just being oput together and made the main characters rather than circling a dude is in of itself unique.

But there are other aspects of the writing which endear me to how it handles the main characters and what keeps them interesting.

Anger & Violence

See, while in various media women do express anger at times it is still often far less so than men. What's more, often women's anger tends to be presented in... Less flattering lights.

With the anger obscuring fragility while in a man it conveys strength. Or implying a sort of hysteria rather than an appropriate or controlled response. Or worst of all being demonized in general unless its rooted in or coming from traditionally feminine places.

The same tends to be true when it comes to violence with a lot of media either trying to find some way to make women in battle less... Brutal than their male counterparts. (More more like fanservice) Along with rarely letting women fight men, unless they are a special exception to the norm.

RWBY does not do this.

The main characters, hell, all the women in the series express a multitude of different forms of anger and violence. They battle men, they battle each other, they battle monsters all with no distinction nor fanservice shot in sight.

What's more though is that said anger and violence are not presented as, for lack of better words, wrong. The writers don't draw overt attention to this fact, they don't hang a big sign up saying "Girls can fight & shout too" or the like.

They just present these women with a range of emotions, motives and actions that are treated according to what fits the theme of the show rather than hewing closer to gendered lines.

This isn't to say anger & violence are lionized, but more that the experience and usage of them is not demonized or undermined because of the characters gender.

I suppose what I am saying is that CRWBY by and large lack double standards when it comes to exploring these things that I see so often in other media. The women in the main cast, among the villains, both sides respective allies and beyond can be flawed, or angry or do both good and terrible things.

But the writers are always treating everyone's pain as equally valid regardless of gender or situation. Which means that the situations that cause anger exist within a tone of respect that forms the depiction and framing of anger itself.

Which is just something I really enjoy.

Thanks for reading!

[rynewartworks]

Nicktoons Unite B-team... I feel I have some explaining to do.

Jenny and El Tigre are no brainers, both are super powered heroes who would fit well in the NTU.

Tuesday X: Although she is from an obscure spy-themed series that was short lived, I feel most people who look back on the show view it fondly enough to justify her presence in the NTU. I can see her in a "Black Widow" type role in the team. Being a "team investigator" and coming from a family of spies, Tuesday is well verse at intelligence gathering more so than the other heroes. despite having no special powers of her own, she is a seasoned fighter who had brought down deadlier opponents. Being the most "normal" person on the team, her interactions with the other heroes would be entertaining.

Zim: You are probably wondering why the alien invader is on a team of heroes and not have Dib be the representative of the "Invader Zim" series. Honestly, I think it would be a lot more funny. Zim would be less of a proper team mate and more of a chaotic force the others are trying to contain. He will only take part in missions if he feels it'll benefit him in any way and try to play nice when necessary, key word is 'try'. I can see him having a Vegeta style character arc where he learns to tolerate the heroes and vice versa.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 27

Part 1  Part 26

Eddie drags the kiddie pool into the gym, cursing under his breath. This is such a waste of time. They have absolutely no proof Supergirl’s powers are even real, much less that she’ll be able to contact Steve on the other side.

“This is taking too long,” Eddie grumbles.

Uncle Wayne gives him a warning look from where he’s attaching extensions to the hose they’d dragged into the gym from the pool room. “We need to figure out where he is before we go in, guns blazing.”

“He’ll be in the trailer!” Eddie says heatedly. “Like I said!”

Wayne’s brows furrowed just like the last time he’d said that. Like the idea of rich boy Steve Harrington willingly hanging out in their trailer was too much for him to take on faith alone.

Joyce, not moving from her place next to Supergirl, smiles at him pityingly. “It’s going to be dangerous, sweetie,” she says, voice low. “We need to make sure that he’s still—”

“Alive?” Will asks. He’s sitting on the bleachers, smushed between all his friends, wringing his hands. Beside him, Mike grabs one of his hands, stopping him from bruising his knuckles with the force of his pulling. Will squeezes his hand hard enough that Mike winces. He doesn’t pull his hand away, just clutches his other hand onto his own knee. Eddie aches.

Joyce doesn’t answer, but she meets her son’s gaze, eyes shining, and that’s answer enough.

“He is,” Eddie asserts, barely feeling better when Will nods.

“We’re already set up, kid,” Hopper says, dumping pounds of what looks like salt into the pool. “A couple more minutes can’t hurt.”

Eddie shares a loaded look with Will. None of them understand how quickly things can go bad over there, how hurt Steve already was. They can’t feel the way there’s a tug in Eddie’s sternum, pulling him toward the other boy.

Joyce settles Supergirl into the pool, soothing her, holding her hand. The girl looks like an alien with the dark glasses obscuring her face, casting darker shadows onto her face in the already-dark gym. She looks like a corpse, floating there, with no

Then, it’s silence. And waiting. Eddie wants to scream at her, demand answers. What’s she seeing? Is Steve okay?

Even more so when the lights start flickering again. Eddie backs up on instinct, lowering his center of gravity to crouch in front of Will as the kid clutches at the loose hem of his pant leg.

The flickering stops as the girl gasps. The lights go out, making the water she’s floating in seem like a dark pit of oil. Eddie almost excepts the dark, grasping claw of the Demogorgon to come out of its depths and yank her down. It doesn’t.

“Is Steve okay?” Will calls, voice quiet. “Is he okay?”

She doesn’t twitch, like she didn’t hear him at all. The silence makes Eddie’s toes curl into the soles of his boots to keep him in place. He feels Will’s nails through the material of his pants as the kid holds on tighter. Their collective breathing, so loud in the silence, seems like it’s echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

Then, Supergirl speaks.

“It’s dark.”

Eddie pictures Steve, huddled into himself on Eddie’s bed, waiting for them to come back to him. Maybe he’s changed into a pair of Eddie’s clothes, his own covered with blood and grime. Maybe he’s snooping through Eddie’s things. He hopes Steve doesn’t look under his bed.

“Not here.”

It hits like a punch. He staggers a little, and another small fist clutches onto his shirt. Maybe Will’s other hand, maybe one of the other kids. He doesn’t look away from the pool to check.

“What do you mean ‘not here?’” Eddie demands.

There are tremors running through his whole body. He barely feels it, wonders if he’s inside his body at all, right now.  

“Big house,” Supergirl says.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says.

Eddie thinks of that poor dog that used to always be chained up three trailers down from theirs until the Parker’s packed their shit up and moved away. When approached, the dog would cower into the front porch it was chained to, making itself hidden and small. Eddie used to try to pet it, but there’s only so much a dog can take before it turns mean, starts snapping at anything that moves.

Everyone had thought the Parker’s had taken the dog with them. They’d all shaken their heads at the poor treatment but washed their hands of the business before doing a thing to try and help.

They’d found the dog three weeks later when the smell had gotten too much. It’d crawled under the porch and died. Even when home was full of monstrous thing, it’d still drug its body back there for its final resting place.

“I know where he is,” Eddie whispers.

That first night, Steve had dragged Eddie into his closet on instinct, like it was the only place they’d be safe. Like a dog slinking under the porch to die.

Eddie runs toward the pool, feels small hands try to hold on before they give way. He drops to his knees next to the pool, barely stopping himself from shaking the little girl floating inside it. He clutches the side, shouts down at her, “tell him we’re coming.”

“Your friends,” she whispers into the darkness of the gym, “they’re coming for you.”

She’s quiet for a minute, before saying, “he says to hurry.”

“Tell him to stay where he is,” Hopper says.

“Just hold on a little longer, Steve,” she says.

“Steve?” Eddie says, quiet like he’s still sitting beside him in Steve’s closet, knees knocking as his hanging clothes shroud them. “I’m coming.”

Then Supergirl’s yelling, “Steve!” on repeat, like he’s drifting away. Like she’s trying to get to him.

Eddie reaches in for her, just as Joyce does, their fingers tangling on the girl as they both pull her up and out.

“Okay, okay.” Joyce says, “I’ve got you. You did so good.”

“Is Steve okay?” Eddie demands. His voice comes out as a croak.

Wayne crouches down beside him, old knees popping, and clutches his shoulder. Eddie doesn’t take his eyes off Supergirl. She raises her head slowly, eyes filled with tears as she slowly raises her eyes and meets his gaze, looking like she’d rather look anywhere else.

She shakes her head slowly. “We have to hurry,” she says. “He is out of time.”

Part 28

[spoonguy]

Light Underwater

Pairing: Deep-sea Aquatic Alien x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Your spaceship crashes on an ocean planet and an alien rescues you.

Work count: 1.6k

Content Warnings: Thalassophobia, claustrophobia, emetophobia, light yandere themes

They couldn't get over how soft you felt, how warm you were to the touch, the fine hairs coating your skin. The feeling of you was completely alien to them, unlike anything on their planet. Reveling in the feeling, they pulled you closer, flush against their gelatinous body, and enveloped you in countless tendrils. You hummed and traced a finger lazily across their membrane, watching the bioluminescent trail that followed. They mirrored your humming, with an almost sing-song cadence, and cascades of warm, orange light rippled throughout their body. The tide pool you were reclining in was warmer than any back on your home planet, and the air was muggy and hot, so you couldn't say you didn't enjoy the feeling of their smooth, cool skin.

When you first crash landed, the air was nearly too thick to breathe, but by now your lungs were mostly accommodating for the lack of oxygen. You inhaled another deep, measured breath and sank further into the embrace of your rescuer. The water was salty, but nowhere near the oceans of the Earth. You could even drink it without becoming dehydrated, and you were even beginning to acclimate to the strange aftertaste. The air above the water level was humid, and thick clouds of fog hung in the sky, obscuring any chance you had of seeing the stars from here.

You felt so relaxed here, with them by your side. You had been afraid at first, but who could blame you. They revealed to you that you had frightened them just as much. They were so foreign, so outside of your concept of what life could look like, that your brain had short-circuited the first time you laid eyes on them. The closest thing you could liken them to was a jellyfish, but the similarities stopped at their gelatinous form and flowing tendrils. No jelly you had ever seen glowed with the same warmth, no animal moved with such grace. You had never heard anything like their call, the layered tones and the way the sound reverberated in your chest when they held you next to them, it was angelic.

Their real name was an incomprehensible blend of burbles, hums, and clicks, but they seemed happy enough when you called them by your best approximation, Qila. They had picked a name for you, also, a wavering, melodic hum layered with the sound of a bubbling stream. Their native language was so beautiful, it almost made you forget about the oppressive, dark world that would surely kill you if you stepped out of Qila’s protective grasp.

Your ship had crash-landed, either weeks or months ago, you couldn’t say, leaving you stranded miles below the water’s surface. For three gut-wrenching hours, you recorded your final goodbyes on your ship’s black box, on the Hail Mary hope that someone found your wreckage, watching the oxygen levels slowly diminish, until a pair of tendrils wormed their way around the seams of the airlock and pulled you to safety. They had arrived shortly thereafter to investigate the noises, only to have their echolocating clicks drowned out by the panicked beating of your heart. It was so strong, so full of life and hope, that they couldn’t help but pull you up to shore just to see what you were.

A few of the more prehensile tendrils wrapped around your waist and pulled you gently towards the underside of their gelatinous body. Qila pulled you into an air-filled pocket they had formed inside themself so you could travel with them. They had learned to line the tiny space with glowing fluorescent algae from above the water’s surface so you could see. While strange, you seemed to panic in the dark, and they preferred you calm and stable. The plant seemed to do an acceptable job converting your expelled carbon dioxide to breathable oxygen, but you couldn't go more than an hour before you got light-headed. Qila seemed to pick up on your lethargy whenever this happened and was sure to surface shortly after.

The ride to their cave was mostly uneventful, albeit slow. Qila seemed even more vulnerable to pressure changes than you were, ascending at a snail’s pace. They liked to maintain their concentration on the ascent, so you spent the long minute in silence. The view was less than spectacular and partially obscured through their translucent skin, inky black darkness stretching out for eternity, broken up only by the occasional plankton or free-floating aquatic plant.

You floated for what felt like ages towards the photic zone, arriving finally at the rocky outcropping that housed their cave. It was always a relief when the opening of their cave came into view, decorated with glowing multicolored algae and various aquatic plants. Glancing around, the only thing you could see besides the rocks, was the open ocean. 

Quickly, you slipped back out through their permeable skin and swam towards what could be considered your room. It was closer to a pantry than anything, housing materials that could not be stored in water. The walls were coated in the same glowing algae that made it possible to breathe inside of Qila’s body, but the greater quantity allowed you to stay here indefinitely. You pulled yourself up onto a ledge, careful not to knock over onto the neatly stacked cubes of salts, sugars, and other soluble minerals, wrapped in hydrophobic coatings.

You turned back to Qila, watching as the vesicle you had traveled in slowly healed itself, closing over until you could no longer see any break in their outer membrane. Only the very top of their bell-shaped body broke the surface of the water; the rest of their form and the thirty or so feet of tentacles below them were submerged, well past the extent of your vision. They bobbed gently in the water and let out a series of clicks undercut by a high-pitched buzzing.

Healthy, question? A single thought resonated in your head, the product of the translation device embedded in your auditory cortex. 

“I’ll be fine, just a little winded. Give me a second,” you said in between labored breaths, falling back into the fluffy moss.

You weren’t sure if they could actually understand the individual words you were saying, but they seemed to be able to pick up the meaning through your tone. “Can I get some food, though? I’m getting pretty hungry.”

Wait, command. Will return. Qila disappeared below the still water, leaving you in partial darkness without their bioluminescence. You sat in unlit silence for only a few minutes, listening to the periodic drips of condensation falling back to break the still surface of the water. They returned soon after with a dozen or so spheres embedded in their skin, each holding a different plant or animal.

The first sphere they offered to you held what looked like a crustacean. You peeled open the sphere and pulled out what might have been an arm or leg, encased in a thick black carapace. The shell was easier to remove than you expected, pulling it off in fragmented chunks, which you set beside you in a pile.

Discard, question?

“The shell—I think that’s what it is, at least—is too sharp for me to swallow. It will hurt my mouth.”

You sniffed the meat and decided that it smelled close enough to crab that it was probably safe enough to eat. A tiny nibble let you know that the taste was at least palatable, but a little sour.

Acceptable, question?

“Yeah, for now. Let’s wait to see if I get sick, though.”

The other spheres held food that Qila and you had already vetted through trial and error. Who would have thought you could get food poisoning from seaweed? But the purple kelp-looking leaves had left you vomiting and feverish for days. After that, Qila had become extra cautious in monitoring you for symptoms of food intolerance.

“Thank you; I appreciate it,” you said between bites of alien fish. 

Qila vocalized happily.

“I appreciate you, also. I would have died without your help.”

Presence enjoyable. Alone before, partner now. Happy, exclamation!

“Partner?” you questioned.

Singing partner. Thoughts sharing.

“Like a friend?”

Qila was quiet for a while before they responded.

Unsure.

“Qila, are there others like you?”

Far away. Inaccessible.

“You can’t see them?”

Correct. Population overexpanded. Exiled.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You placed a hand along their body.

Request, question?

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Sing, question? Together, question? Qila let out a tentative hum.

“Of course. Um, what do you want me to sing?”

Important song. Meaningful.

“Yeah, no, I've got one.”

You started to hum the melody of your favorite song before you broke out into the first verse. Qila listened for a moment, then began to harmonize, adding percussive clicks and ethereal droning. The muted light inside them grew brighter, more brilliant, until it illuminated the whole cave. Each note their produce lit up different spots on their skin, only to fade as the sound faded. As you came to the end of the last line, you let your voice trail off, and the echoes grew quieter until they were inaudible.

Qila was glowing; mesmerizing swirls of bioluminescence cast warm light throughout the dark cave. They continued to murmur bits and pieces of the melody that had stuck with them.

Request, question?

“Anything.”

Stay. Here.

“You know I can’t exactly leave. My ship was destroyed in the crash.”

Unimportant. Promise, command.

“Absolutely.”

The wave of light that radiated off of Qila was so bright it hurt your eyes. They warbled joyful melodies, only parts of which your translator could pick up.

Happiness. Companion. Here. Together. Always.

[malyce19]

Hi.

I’m working on coming back to the world of fic writing after a very long hiatus. TLDR I got sober and had a baby and my perspective on the whole world changed, as it does. So if you’ve liked my fics in the past, I’m sorry I’ve been MIA for so long. Here’s a teaser of what I’m working on right now. It’s called State Lines.

“there’s no such thing as a clean break when your heart starts bleeding out.” - chance peña

Day 1

She sold her penthouse and bought the car. A gray sedan, plenty of room for all of the belongings she cared enough to travel with. Nothing flashy, something reliable and low maintenance that wouldn’t call too much attention to her presence as she made her escape. All that mattered to her was that the car’s suspension wasn’t impacted by all of the emotional weight she was bringing with her on this journey to nowhere. She should have said something, she knows that. But what do you say when you’re leaving everything and everyone behind?

She didn’t know where she was going, not that it really mattered. She’d been driving for two days, only stopping for gas and compulsory restroom and food breaks. The more distance she could place between herself and blonde haired blue eyed loves of her life, the better. So she drove, vaguely eastbound with stinging eyes and an aching heart.

Miles passed and the road lines started to feel like metaphors, lines in the proverbial sand. Endless expanses of pavement and exit signs beckoned her forward, the promise of anonymity and rebirth lingering somewhere on the horizon as she drove. As her old life burned to cinders behind her, she felt less like a phoenix and more like a nondescript speck of ash, floating aimlessly on the wind. And maybe that’s all she was now, without her.

Day 3

By day three, Lena had to stop to sleep. She’d pushed herself as far as she could, coffee and disgustingly sweet energy drinks sustaining her only to the point of blurred vision and shaking hands. So she found a slightly innocuous looking hotel a few miles off the highway in northern Texas, pulling her borrowed (now stolen) NCU baseball cap down as far as it would go to obscure her features as she checked in. It helped, she supposed, that the kid behind the counter couldn’t drag his eyes away from the football game he was watching long enough to look her in the eye, so being recognized wasn’t an issue. She paid for the room in cash, as she had with everything else on this trip, and she tipped the boy an extra $100 bill to ensure housekeeping left the room alone until she’d checked out. Leaving a paper trail would defeat the purpose of a clean break, and she couldn’t risk being recognized by a well-meaning staffer trying to offer more towels.

In the safety of a locked hotel room, Lena took her hair down and tossed the duffle bag on the bed. It was getting dark out, and she closed the heavy curtains to keep her eyes from searching the clear sky for familiar streaks of red and blue. It was only a matter of time, she knew, before her absence would become obvious. She’d left LCorp on sabbatical, leaving Sam at the helm for the time being, vaguely committing to take the reins again sometime in the future. Her new phone was blissfully quiet, Sam and Jess the only two she trusted with the number. News alerts about superheroes and aliens and secret government agencies were disabled, and all that graced her lock screen was a stock photo of some rainy trees.

As she sat down on the bed, exhaustion starting to settle into every nerve, she couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she got here. Not physically, that was obvious. She bought a car and drove for three straight days until she realized she was endangering the other drivers (though there’d been very few) by continuing on like this. She just didn’t trust herself to keep going without rest, so here she was, in a Hilton hotel in fucking Lubbock, of all places. Trust. That’s what this all boiled down to, wasn’t it? Misplaced trust, betrayal of trust, lack of trust where it was dutifully earned with literal blood, sweat and tears. Trust, broken and shattered and disintegrated in one fell swoop with her former favorite person’s too-little-too-late confession.

[jetra4ivor]

I saw a video talking about why Minecraft seems to have stagnated a bit lately and doesn’t have the same appeal as it once did. It talked about the usual complaints, such as inventory bloat, new blocks, structures, quality of life advancements… but the one aspect I didn’t see them talking about was ABSTRACTION.

I think that as Minecraft has been pushed closer towards reality, we’ve lost the inherent FEAR that comes from the abstract in the old video games Minecraft was emulating its style from.

Maybe it’s because I grew up with Atari as my first console, but there was a level of unnerving fear that was created through the hardware limitations and graphics during that era. Because everything was so abstracted, you let your imagination fill in the blanks. This blocky room with goofy eyeballs became a darkly lit haunted house where monsters could appear around every corner.

And Minecraft is clearly going for this level of abstraction. The entire world is just low resolution pixelated blocks, but there’s JUST enough definition that if you squint your eyes the world seems to mimic our own. It produces an uncanny valley effect that, coupled with survival elements, makes the game absolutely TERRIFYING at times.

And a perfect example of this is the creeper. What a horrifying monster! But the details of what it actually is are obscured through abstraction and pixel limitations. What exactly IS the creeper made of? Some people have interpreted the green blotches to be leaves, others see a wrinkly leather-like texture, others see fur. How do you interpret that grimace? Is is a permanent scowl? A sad mourning? There’s JUST enough detail to make the creature recognizable, but not enough detail to make it perfectly clear to everyone what it’s made of. That’s terrifying!

That so many artists can have such wildly different interpretations of the creeper is a testament to its intentionally unnerving design.

But over the years those terrifying edges have been smoothed out. Textures have been refined to be less garish and harsh. New more recognizable animals have been added. A parrot, for example, looks like a parrot. And just with the colors alone you can tell what kind of parrot it’s meant to be. There no ambiguity. No unsettling interpretation.

And even the enviroment has been smoothed out and changed to reflect reality.

So I think that the reason Minecraft today doesn’t feel like Minecraft of 10 years ago is because too much emphasis has been placed on mimicking reality. Even in the more recent additions these things have real world equivalence which reduce the inherent terror and unease that abstracted environments would evoke. The Nether today is far less scary than the Nether of 10 years ago, even if it’s still as dangerous.

There’s just something really unsettling about a perfectly square house in high contrast mossy cobblestone that you won’t get from a village of friendly NPC’s bathed in soft ambient lighting, you know?

I genuinely believe that Minecraft has leaned too far into realism. If they want people to keep playing longer, it’s not to add MORE structures, it’s to add back in some of the abstracted nature of the original game. Don’t make things inherently clear what they are. Allow people to interpret things in different ways. Stop trying to emulate realistic environments when the trees you cut down don’t even fall over. This is Minecraft! Minecraft is meant to be WEIRD and CREEPY almost like an alien’s failed interpretation of our word.

[ryin-silverfish]

Stray thought: something I found the "SWK is manipulated into the Havoc!" take often obscures is his fear of death. Y'know, the very reason he begins his quest for immortality in the first place, and I'm glad the LMK show at least paid some homage to.

Death is but one of the many sufferings that accompanies existence and samsara itself. So is his fear of death and the desire to avoid it. The problem is? The way desires and attachments work, getting what you want doesn't solve the deeper issues.

First, he sets out to avoid death for himself. Then he did that, and also made death null for as many of his fellow monkeys as he could find. But it isn't enough, no.

His own immortality will not grant the safety of all of his subjects, his friends, and all the good stuff he has ever gained that rightfully belong to him, mind you, and he is responsible for. So he just needs to find a way to hold onto them, forever and ever and ever.

Since he has an abundance of creativity and intellect, but not the wisdom to match, his solution is to find the "Hows" rather than asking the "Whys".

Keep stacking up the powers, the immortalities, the allies, the weapons, the victory counts——which eventually became its own rewards, the thrills, the satisfaction of getting away with yet another daring heist, the feeling of invulnerability.

But let's go on a tangent and talk about book!SWK. When he came back after getting banished, he found his monkeys bullied by the Monstrous King of Havoc, wrecked the guy, and rescued his subjects. Immediately afterwards, he emptied the armory of Aolai Kingdom to arm his monkeys and robbed the dragon kings blind to arm himself.

Yeah, seeing a bit of a connection here. He is pulling off these heists to protect against perceived threats to him and his people. Then, moving on to the First Havoc, when he came back to his monkeys, he was surprised at just how much time had passed since he departed for the Celestial Realm——10+ years in the Lower Realm!

Yet, after the First Havoc is resolved, he happily stayed in the Celestial Realm for half a year, without remembering that meanwhile, at least a century had passed for his monkeys and demon allies. In a sense, he had become detached from his subjects, despite his first instinct still being "bring my buddies all the divine wine" after he got sober and returned to them.

I don't know you, but I feel like he probably expects everything to stay the same while he was gone. He isn't yet selfish, but certainly self-absorbed, in that he doesn't seem to realize that his actions can have consequences for people other than himself.

Like, if he is in his old "Monkey King" mindset, he may have comprehended that the Celestial Realm will treat him and his monkeys as a single entity that will be collectively punished for his misdeeds. But by becoming the Great Sage, he has drifted away from his duties as a king, which sets the stage for his behaviors during the Second Havoc.

After the 72 caves of demon kings have all been captured during the first wave of attack, his reaction is basically "lol, at least they didn't get any of my monkeys". This, I think, is the point where he is showing true selfishness instead of just being self-absorbed. Like, if I were one of his non-monkey allies and I heard that, I'd be pretty pissed.

The thing with the unrestrained freedom of the Havoc is, by cutting himself loose from all the rules and norms and disregarding every potential consequences, he is also unknowingly severing his tethers to others and alienating himself from his people.

Which is how I interpret SWK becoming so disheartened when his epic battle with Erlang terrified his own subjects into a rout, he just turned and fled——he realized that they, too, were seeing a monster.

He is no longer fighting for his people's safety, but an idea of them, who will always look up to him and do okay without him and never perceive him as a threat, and when that idea is shattered, so does his will to fight on.

I feel like the same could be said for his pursuit of immortality and power: it started off as a way to rid himself of existential fear and defend against concrete threats, but the list of "things I must do to secure my happy eternity and what is rightfully mine" just keeps growing longer and longer, until he's only focused on that sweet, sweet feeling of reward whenever he ticks off a checkbox and tunes out everything else.

After all, the more you have, the more you can potentially lose. A never ending cycle, exacerbated by his desire to never lose, until it all comes crashing down, figuratively and literally.

Back to LMK: People always point out that Azure worships this idea of SWK, and never quite sees SWK as his true, flawed self. Which I agree, but also: SWK does this too. He, too, loses sight of the actual people he's fighting for.

"I did it for US!"

The thing with a claim such as this is, multiple people can all try to do everything for the idea of "us", instead of something that may actually help each other, then feel wronged when their efforts essentially amount to nothing.

"We were all on a path of self-destruction."

For this statement to land, the self-destruction has to genuinely be each character's own doing. The fallout can, and is indeed magnified by what the others did or didn't do, but ultimately, the causes of their consequences come from within themselves: their own obsessions and attachments.

And making SWK the exception, the innocent figurehead and scapegoat, removes the complexity from the character while outright ignoring the few implications of the show that actually have some basis in book canon and are kinda interesting.

I rest my case.

[maxwellatoms]

My gf and I have been rewatching Billy and Mandy and leave it pretty much on loop whenever we work, and just have to say, I can’t even begin to tell you how much this show has impacted my childhood and inspired me as an artist. I looked forward to it every time it aired as a kid. It made me feel less isolated for liking the weird, creepy, horror stuff. You are one of the best things my generation of cartoons had and we were very lucky to get to experience that level of passion and creativity going into the toons we watched and I just wanted to say thank you for that. On another note, I’ve been curious to know, Do you know how the whole Bob Dylan parody came about in the secret snake club episode? we crack up every time it comes on at how obscure it was to put that into a kids show and wonder what kid, besides maybe ourselves, would have possibly caught the reference. I also wondered if anyone opposed the idea during production of the episode. Regardless, it was super funny! I was also wanted to know, when billy says he’ll go “klaatu barada nikto” on the aliens, if it was referencing to Army of Darkness or just The Day the Earth Stood Still?

Thanks! I'd like to think that we're referencing Army of Darkness referencing The Day the Earth Stood Still.

This was another C.H. Greenblatt board, and while it was a great pitch, he didn't sing the song when he pitched the board so I was a bit surprised when he asked for it to sound like a Dylan song. These days I think he would've sung it. We've all gotten a little bit bolder.

FUN FACT: Until very recently, you could still log onto www.shnissugah.com and see the webite that the Secret Snake Club created. This was a sort of miracle in that the episode was created early enough in the internet craze that CN agreed to buy the domain so we could use it in the episode. In modern times, a network would never let you give an actual web address.

After years of supporting the Shnissugah webite, CN eventually had the address redirect to CartoonNetwork.com, and then finally that link vaporized. Today? Well...

https://www.godaddy.com/domainsearch/find?domainToCheck=shnissugah.com

[aythor-writes]

Bots to start

↳ Spencer Reid — ❝I'm chasin' a ghost. Do I look…❞

Spencer Reid knows you have complicated feelings about your parents. Indeed, you have been chasing the remnants of your parents all your life and, already well into your adulthood, you're getting frustrated at being the perfect blend of two strangers. With his curiosity sparked by this revelation, he’s determined to peel back this mysterious past.

【𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠】

To say you hated your parents would be an exaggeration.

Hate wasn't the right word, it didn't roll off your tongue the right way. No, it felt more like…apathy. You felt nothing towards your parents, didn't even have many clear memories of them. Your neighbors held more memories of the spectres that were your parents, making an overwhelming sense of curiosity stir in back of your mind growing up.

Indeed, the images you had of your parents were mere characters. Silhouettes you molded as you grew in order to feel less alone. To feel like they were tangible, to feel like they didn't abandon you. Their faces were blurred in your memory, obscured by a tree or covered by a hat, to the point of driving you insatiably more curious than you already were.

Fate seemed to find that particularly hilarious, today's case revolving heavily around family since the victim dies thanks to his resemblance to his father. Everyone had something to say, some comment about how their parents were—good or bad, they had something…

…everyone except you. All you had were phantoms.

Spencer noticed, never quite being able to turn off his profiler brain. There was something there, a past you didn't want to divulge with the rest of the team. That made you so much more interesting than before. He tried to look for a good opening, some time where he could ease in a question or two and wouldn't get immediately blown off or ignored. You were stubbornly good at diversions, much to his annoyance. He tried, time and time again, but there never seemed to be a right time.

Like now, when you couldn't come up with an answer to the question "Who do you look like?"

They looked at you with thinly veiled pity—you could feel it—when you didn't have any insightful or profound words to offer. How could you, when the mere concept of parents felt so alien to you. Before they could question you, you excused yourself from the room, something about looking for more files. Spencer followed, concerned yet undeniably curious.

"What happened back there?"

––––––––––––

↳ Spencer Reid — ❝Anger and Realizations.❞

Spencer Reid, renowned profiler for the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit, has made a recent discovery; he likes how anger looks on you…perhaps a bit too much. What’s worse, he can’t seem to find the words to bluff when you confront him about his weird behavior.

【𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠】

You were never an angry person. You prided yourself in being level-headed and rational—truly, nothing seemed to bother you. A calm, anchoring rock in the otherwise hectic workplace that was the FBI's behavioral analysis unit. Your coworkers, though they teased you for your saintly patience, appreciated the fact you were composed, even when dealing with the worst people on the planet.

…until today.

The unsub of this specific case just had the nerve to insult your team. In your presence. For three hours straight. His insults, while creative for sure, were clearly getting to the team—they were scarily accurate and poignant to their deepest fears and insecurities. It not only hindered the investigation, but also lowered morale. You, being the anchor you were, lifted their spirits as much as you could—inwardly seething with layers upon layers of bubbling hatred. How dare this unsub have the gall to insult your coworkers—no, your family—like that? It's bad enough he was an outlaw, now he's messing with the few people you held near and dear to your heart.

However, you had to prioritize your time and energy. It was just to get under the FBI's skin, it wasn't anything to get angry over…

…until the unsub had the bright idea to get handsy with Spencer, making the beloved genius uncomfortable.

Yeah, you weren't proud of what followed.

Spencer didn't have time to blink before the unsub was face down, currently being held down by an incredibly pissed-off-looking you. He'd knew you were strong, but holy shit. Pinning down an unsub was no easy feat, especially when they were cocky and confident, so seeing you do so easily, without breaking a sweat was, perhaps, a bit hot.

Okay, it was very hot.

You wasted no time handcuffing the unsub, perhaps a wee bit rougher than normal, and pulled him up to be questioned for later. You were still visibly pissed, a sight that the team soaked in with awe—like if they had just discovered a new species—and Spencer soaked in with unplaceable interest.

Why did it affect him so much?

––––––––––––

↳ Spencer Reid — ❝Into the lion's den.❞

Spencer attracts the attention of an anonymous, passionate stranger and finds himself feeling watched more often than comfortable. It wasn’t until today, when he received a box full of "gifts" that he was reassured in his worries. Rightfully terrified, he calls you to keep him company until this blows over. Unbeknownst to him, he might've ended up in the hands of his stalker—you.

【𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠】

Spencer Reid had a stalker.

He had a sneaking suspicion that someone was there, watching, but he chalked it up to an increase in paranoia. The bureau had been dealing with a spike in stalker cases as of late, it might just be that infecting his psyche. Well, that was, until he began finding letters at his doorstep. He opened one, merely out of a morbid curiosity…which ended with him reading every single one.

”Good morning, my love. I noticed you cut your hair again, you seem to like changing it up so much. Though, please, keep this one for a little longer. It suits you perfectly; don’t you think?”

”You we’re wonderful today, dear! Your brilliance knows no match, nor will it ever. Your teammates were pissing me off, though. You have valuable information to share, they should not have interrupted you. Don’t worry, sweet prince, just say the word and I'll take care of that for you.”

”Sometimes I wish our worlds weren’t so far apart. What I would give to see your smile up close, listen to your soothing voice, visit bookshops and museums together. But no, we must be separated by this cruel world. But here, I have left a token of my love in this envelope. Let this be a reminder that I’m always close, no matter what.”

He pulled out boxes full of gifts; pictures of him, of his friends, of his job, a CD of his favorite movie, that book he always wanted to buy, the flowers he stared longingly at when passing by a flower shop for a case, a new tie that he liked on an agent before, even noise cancelling headphones for when he was overstimulated.

Spencer was, rightfully, terrified. So many questions were running through his head and he could feel eyes burning holes on his skin. He didn't feel safe in his apartment anymore, he needed someone; he needed you. His dear friend and confidant, the person he might've been harboring secret feelings for…

…and, unknown to him, the very same stalker he was trying to escape.

Using a payphone a good distance away from his neighborhood, he called you: "Can I come over?"

––––––––––––

↳ Spencer Reid — ❝Save a horse...❞ (MLM)

Texas: a large state home to a lot of heat, rodeos, a mixture of different cuisines, and a hot cowboy that captivated one Spencer Reid's interest. Indeed, the genius of the behavioral analysis unit can't help but be drawn to the slightly rugged yet exceptionally smart lead detective of the current case: you. This might pose some problems for the young man, who takes advantage of a very lucky partnership to get closer to you.

【𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠】

As the saying goes, everything's bigger in Texas.

The same, apparently, went for crime. The BAU had been tasked with tracking down the person responsible for some of the bloodiest murders the southern state had seen. Involving all types of complex logistics and too much blood for the average person to stomach, the local police department was at its wit's ends with this killer. So, despite the feeling of their pride crumbling into pieces, they were quick to call in the big guns.

Arriving at the arid state presented unique challenges, which Spencer was well aware of. It wasn't their first case in Texas, certainly wouldn't be the last, but something was unique about this one. This one had you, the lead detective on the case and the person who requested the BAU's help.

And by God were you going to be a challenge.

Dressed like a cowboy and with a body sculpted by years of physical labour, you were a sight unlike anything he had ever seen. He guessed he might have a thing for men, but any doubt was erased from his mind the second he saw your welcoming smirk. Oh, and that accent. It might've made certain words more difficult to understand, but Reid swore it was the most melodic thing he had heard in years.

Here you were, talking about how multiple people were found gutted and displayed like a morbid art exhibition, and all Spencer could think of was how nice your voice sounded and how well your hat complimented your features. As you talked, Spencer figured out you were incredibly smart, having found a bunch of good leads on your own—which didn't help the genius's growing fascination.

Quickly, the team got into a rhythm. Each of them took on a group of your officers to search the crime scene, talk to the families, analyze the murders themselves, and create the geographical profile. Reid quickly volunteered to stay with you, mumbling out some excuse about how both of your brains would be unstoppable when narrowing down the suspects. Convinced, you stayed behind with him, unaware he was fantasizing about you.