#I was looking up which countries have ''united'' in their name bc the three I knew offhand

[trans-leek-cookie]

TIL Mexico is technically officially named "United Mexican States"??????????

[gghostwriter]

Can i have a fluffy spencer x reader piece. Just something cozy where they are all at rossis maybe after a case for some team bonding and chill time. And like he is offering everyone wine and reader goes along like "i can't" bcs she pregnant? Fluff fluff super fluff pls

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! wc: 0.6k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, hope that's alright. I had fun writing this, hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Special Diet. // Spencer Reid

Your fiancee and his team had been out on the field for three consecutive cases all over the country. Just through Spencer’s nightly ritual calls alone, you could tell how tired and stressed he was and by extension the other members. Which was why, during their second night back in home ground, you volunteered to cook them a small feast—as long as Rossi hosted it in his place, which he readily agreed to as he was never one to say ‘no’ when a culinary chef such as yourself volunteers to cook up a meal.

“So what did our local chef cook up for the night?” Morgan asked as the team sat around the laid out table by the backyard.

You smiled, placing the finishing touches on the table. “I wanted to give the Italian cuisine a break so I present to you, French delicacies. For the starters, we have here salade lyonnaise with slices of baguette—” gesturing to the mid-size plate to their upper left. “—our mains, steak frites, and yes, I remembered to make yours rare, Morgan—” a few chuckles escaped from the team members as the called out profiler sheepishly placed his hand down “—and profiteroles for dessert.”

Rossi then started going around the table with his choice of wine to match the lavish dinner you’ve prepared.

“If you weren’t engaged to Reid, I’d marry you,” Penelope gushed as she took a bite of her meal.

Emily chuckled. “Get in line, Penelope. I get to marry her first if she changes her mind.”

“You never fail to impress me, Bambina. Now can I interest you for a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?” Rossi asked as he reached your seat between Spencer and Emily.

“Actually, no thank you,” your answer eliciting an echo of utensils being dropped on the table. “I’m trying to cut back.”

JJ leaned forward. “Our very own wine connoisseur is saying no to Rossi’s aged wine?”

“I’m trying this special diet,” you shrugged, subtly studying if any of the best profilers the FBI has to offer understood the real reason why. Based on Hotch’s small smile behind his glass wine, the unit chief had caught on quite quickly.

“You don’t need to diet. You’re petite and fit, right kid?” Morgan clarified.

The corners of Spencer’s lips pulled slightly up as he squeezed your hand in his. “Actually, she does need to stick to the diet.”

Penelope gasped, clearly appalled at the stance your fiancee had taken. “Take that back! No way you said that, Reid!”

You giggled at the affronted reactions of the team—minus Hotch and Rossi as the two older profilers clinked their glasses together at the side. “It’s fine, Penny. It’s the truth anyway.”

Emily sent a dirty look to Spencer before asking on. “What else does this special diet entail?”

“Unpasteurized dairy, cold cuts, liver, game meat, and raw sushi to name a few,” Spencer listed out loud and with each, the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger.

“Wait, isn’t that—” JJ mumbled before promptly standing up from her seat and rushing to give you a hug.

Morgan tilted his head to the side. “What? What did I miss?”

Spencer chuckled before revealing the most obvious clue. “She has to follow the strict diet for 36 more weeks.”

There was a beat of silence before shouts and squeals emitted from all ends of the table.

“You’re pregnant?” Penelope gasped.

Emily added on. “With boy genius?”

You both nodded, bringing out a printed sonogram safely tucked in Spencer’s jacket that was draped around your shoulders. It had been a surprise when you went in for your yearly check-up but it was the type of news that Spencer quickly became happy with. His own family was expanding and he couldn’t have chosen a better partner than you.

“We present to you, baby Reid!”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[trickstarbrave]

I will give you a shiny quarter if you explain Morrowind to me like I’m five (pretty please)

its is quite difficult given i dont know how complex of topics 5 year olds can understand. but i can try to explain it in the most simple way possible because i explain it regularly to one of my roommates and wife who do not understand elder scrolls lore at all. be warned: this is still gonna be long and weird bc the story is long and weird.

(also excuse the swearing i wouldnt swear like this to a 5 year old)

a long long times ago, some 3000+ years before the game actually starts, there was a dude named nerevar. he made friends with some dwarves (dwemer) who lived underground and united the whole country of resdayn (later renamed to morrowind) to drive out the nords who had taken over. he also had a rly cool ring named moon-and-star, which was magic and let you be really persuasive, but he also enchanted it to kill anyone besides him wearing it so it couldnt be misused. this is relevant later

well he married the queen almalexia and made a big council of important people mostly made up of his buddies. he called it the first council and important people on it were his bestie voryn, his wife almalexia, and two younger friends sotha sil and vivec, along with the king of the dwemer dumac and dumac's mage kagrenac (the dwarves use weird magic with sound. if i go into details this will get very confusing).

for like 200 years because elves live for a long time, everything was pretty alright.

but it turns out the nords were there for a reason. they were looking for the heart of a dead god. the god's name for the sake of the story is lorkhan, but different places call him different things like shor or shezzar. the nords worshipped lorkhan and wanted to bring him back or something (probably, or at least just find it because hey thats their guy). but after 200 years of peace the dwemer found it underground in a volcano they lived in. and kagrenac had an Idea

the idea was to build a really cool really powerful giant robot mecha god (because the dwemer were really steampunk) to protect them. and it would be powered by the heart lorkhan.

voryn, nerevar's bestie, ended up finding out about this and told nerevar "hey the dwemer are up to something weird". and nerevar went "huh? they are?" and went to ask his goddess, azura, who knows a lot of things. azura said "yeah they are. stop them. what the fuck" and so nerevar went to his other bestie dumac.

and nerevar told dumac "hey why the fuck are you building a giant robot god?" and dumac's reply was "nerevar what the fuck are you talking about?" and nerevar, being mad his friend was Lying to him (maybe dumac didn't know. we dunno) because he already had multiple people confirm they were in fact doing that, he told dumac their friendship was over and kicked him off the first council and they went to war.

the details here get fuzzy. the nords showed up and joined in. the dwemer had steampunk robots everywhere. cat people showed up because why not. there were orcs there too. it was a big clusterfuck and there were different accounts of what happened. some people say voryn was fighting alongside the dwarves. some say he was fighting with the nords. some say he was fighting alongside nerevar. its hard to tell.

but most accounts have one thing kind of in common that a lot of the fandom agrees on: kagrenac grabbed their three cool tools to control the heart of a god, banged on it really hard, and then every single dwemer (except for one who was on holiday) vanished in an instant. and everyone was pretty confused by that, not really knowing what else to do. they now had a giant robot, the heart of a god, and 3 tools to wack the heart with to make weird shit happen.

so nerevar, unsure, said "hey voryn watch the tools for me." and left voryn with the tools and the heart. voryn said they should just destroy the tools, but nerevar wanted a few different opinions before just chucking them in lava or whatever. but while he was gone voryn started fucking around with the tools and the heart to see what would happen.

nerevar asked his buddies. almalexia, vivec, and sotha sil said they can use the tools to help resdayn/morrowind. nerevar didnt know if that was a good idea or not, so he asked azura. azura said "fuck no, dont ever do that". so nerevar made his friends pinkie promise him on azura's behalf not to use the tools on the heart.

and then again the accounts get weird here. some say nerevar died in battle against the dwarves/nords. some say voryn killed him. some say his friends (almalexia, vivec, and sotha sil) killed him. but regardless nerevar and voryn died. almalexia, sotha sil, and vivec had the tools. and they decided to use them on the heart and became gods.

this pissed azura off. they pinkie promised. what the fuck. so she made all the elves that lived there into dark elves. almalexia, sotha sil, and vivec became known as the tribunal and said "we dont need you anymore azura fuck off" and became living gods who could help their people and preform miracles! though they needed to take the tools up to red mountain and recharge their batteries on the heart regularly. azura tells them "nerevar will be back one day and beat all your asses" and made a whole prophecy about it called the nerevarine prophecy (reincarnations get the name+'ine' tacked on in the elder scrolls)

also the tribunal destroy voryn's house/family, the sixth great house of morrowind, house dagoth. just destroy it all. kill a bunch of ppl and the others kinda go somewhere else if they lived. because they sided with voryn or whatever and were deemed traitors

a bunch of other shit happens. septim empire rises to the throne. vivec trades the not working robot to tiber septim who makes it work with a bootleg wish version of the heart of a god and takes over. more time passes. its now the third era and its been 3500 years.

the protagonist is a prisoner who is released from their sentence in morrowind because the current emperor wants to use the prophecy to keep a better hold on morrowind politically. the protagonist was chosen because part of the prophecy is being born under a specific astrology sign and not knowing who your parents are. which could be anyone but y'know.

so the protag/nerevarine has to do a bunch of shit and finds out through weird dreams, oh hey, voryn's back. he's calling himself a god and dagoth ur now. asking nerevar to call him back, go grab the tools, and come meet him at red mountain. also maybe get married to or hook up with him or something. nerevarine thinks that's weird and ends up finding out dagoth ur has also unleashed a plague onto morrowind which turns you into scary eldritch monsters. and then one of dagoth ur's minions infects you with it.

nerevarine finds a cure which makes you not go insane and not turn into a big scary monster. but leaves all the cool shit of "you cant catch any other disease" and "you will never age". the never aging and getting diseases thing was also part of the prophecy. cool.

then the nerevarine needs to go to the nomadic ashlanders who live up north where theres a bunch of ash (hence the name) and worship azura (and the two other og gods) and ask all four tribes to name them nerevarine. they all think youre stupid because an outlander (someone not born and raised in morrowind) cant be the nerevarine. but you find an original copy of the prophecy and go "nuh-uh, i can be" and also go find the moon-and-star ring only nerevar can wear. then they go "well shit" and have you go a bunch of quests and then decide you're cool enough to be nerevarine.

then the nerevarine goes and convinces the three great houses you can talk to (the other two are on the mainland) to name you hortator, which is a war lord/classic roman definition of dictator, and it was the title nerevar had. you do some stuff, kill some guys, boom--named hortator.

then vivec hears about this and calls you in and says "well i guess you are the one doing the prophecy huh. look i need you to kill dagoth ur he's dangerous. here's our plan, are you in? i can give you one of the tools of kagrenac, you need to get the other two from dagoth ur's goons, and then kill dagoth ur's weird brothers he has put his power into. then bang on the heart with the tools and cut him off". vivec then teaches the nerevarine how to use the tools.

you can also just like. kill vivec and take the tool. you wont know how to use it tho and if you use it wrong you will take so much damage you die really fast. if you do this you can go to the only living dwarf who also has that disease but hasnt lost his mind and ask him how to use it and he'll be like "UHHHHHH i'll see what i can. fucking do i guess. i didnt make this." and he'll jerry rig it for you.

then you can kill voryn's brothers or not (you'll need to kill at least 2 for the other tools) and then march up to red mountain. dagoth ur will then be like "yo. are you really nerevar?" and you can say yeah or no or idk. and then have a conversation. and then you fight. but after you kill him he's not really dead, so you gotta run up and start wacking that heart while he yells at you to knock it the fuck off. and then he's cut off from the heart, you run away, and he falls in lava and dies.

and then azura shows up and goes "hey thanks man i have some other shit for you to do though". after which you can do some other content or play the dlc.

thats morrowind baby

[thekuraning]

oh boy oh jeez oh man i hope you guys are ready for kura's tiger and bunny thought of the evening bc i ran across two-year-old comments on the Blue Rose page of the T&B fan wiki and i have OPINIONS

its actually a really benign old comment chain about USD versus Stern Dollars, but everyone pretty much says "yeah but it's still in the USA" and BUDDY BOY NO IT AIN'T. NO. IT. AIN'T.

I'VE GOT SOMETHIN' TO SAY ABOUT STERN BILD AND I'LL FIGHT ANYONE (but like in a silly way)

"But Kura, the creators literally said it's in New York and—" yes they did, this part is very much true and the aerial shot we see of Stern Bild is always around Tribeca/Manhatten area with a really nice shot of the Hudson, but that's not the point (though it does make it much easier to chart the various districts, more on that coming soon)

Something we know about Tiger & Bunny is that it is set in an alternate universe New York, and never once is the United States mentioned by name. In fact, there isn't much about world nations mentioned in general in T&B—the one time I can think of off the top of my head where "country" is even mentioned is in Dragon Kid's flashback of her parents sending her off to Stern Bild, where they tearfully say she is going to become "the pride of [their] country," so I guess we at least know the concept of countries exists. But is Stern Bild in a country? Is Stern Bild a country?

Actually, all evidence points toward Stern Bild being a city-state. It meets all three qualifications of being such: it's an independent, sovereign city that is "the center of political, economic, and cultural life" over its surrounding territories. We see these qualifications met across all three seasons, first and foremost starting with something you've heard characters talk about pretty dang often but probably never thought too much about: the Stern Dollar.

The Stern Dollar (SBD from here on out) has to get its name from somewhere, and the most likely candidate is Stern Bild itself, which means that Stern Bild mints its own currency. Often shortened to "dollars" by the characters, it's used even in neighboring towns like Kotetsu's hometown (i.e., Muramasa charging him "two dollars" for a whiskey in season 1.)

We also know Stern Bild has a very localized culture based on the events of The Rising and a few character scenes in S2. In The Rising, the backdrop to the story is the time leading up to and the day of the Stern Bild holiday of Justice Day, which celebrates the time our lord and savior Jesus Christ appearedunto man in crab form and was unfortunately eaten, resulting in the Goddess bringing her wrath down on the ancient people of Stern Bild. (hello mutuals who haven't seen Tiger & Bunny and are reading this anyways, THIS IS CANON I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP THIS FUCKING HAPPENED, CRAB JESUS) This is a holiday that is, again, celebrated outside of Stern Bild, as Kotetsu's family celebrates Justice Day despite hailing from his hometown. By extension, it's likely the same goddess is worshipped in the territories surrounding Stern Bild.

We also know based on S2 that other cities have their own hero programs, all of them ran wildly differently. However, again, we look to Kotetsu's home town—no mention of other heroes. Just Hero TV heroes. Both the religious and secular mainsteam culture are exported from Stern Bild to its outlying territories.

And finally, political life: the politics of Stern Bild are interesting af because we know basically that we have the mayor and the mayor's cabinet, which includes prominent industry figures and judges from the Justice Bureau. We typically only see them making decisions about the governance of Stern Bild, and it's true that politics exist at all levels in a nation, but the reason why it seems to me that Stern Bild is a center of political life is (SEASON 2 SPOILERS LOOK AWAY LOOK AWAY NOOOWWWW)

Well, mostly it's because of the concentration camps, which seem to exist decidedly outside of Stern Bild's city limits. Stern Bild proper is always shown to be a bustling megalopolis. It's very dense and doesn't have a lot of extra wide-open spaces laying around. However, the mayor of Stern Bild was able to have these NEXT concentration camps set up on short notice in seemingly the middle of nowhere.... Which would very likely be an outlying territory, again, like Kotetsu's very rural hometown. This one's a little bit tricky because we can't be absolutely certain, but for all intents and purposes it seems to me that Stern Bild has some political relevance to its surrounding territories.

So, is it TECHNICALLY POSSIBLE that Stern Bild is in the United States? Yeah, sure, it could be I guess. But it's much more likely that it's an independent city-state, especially since it mints its own currency.

anyways that's my tiger & bunny thought of the night, dont mind me, i just wanted an excuse to rant about this bc the stern dollar's been on my mind for a few days

[artiists]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 … 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 .

CAMILLE OLIVIETTE the TWENTY SEVEN year old is known as THE ARTIST within the group. they are known to be DAUNTLESS and INTRACTABLE which makes sense when you think about how SHE HAS NEARLY FILLED A SKETCHBOOK WITH DRAWINGS OF HER CRUSH but i guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

FULL NAME : camille evangeline oliviette . LABEL : the artist . AGE : twenty seven . DOB��: november nineteenth . STATUS : single . SEXUALITY : bisexual . POSITIVES : altruistic incisive magnanimous steadfast . NEGATIVES : brazen mutinous dupable . AESTHETICS : splashes of paint on a gorgeous white summer dress, glitter highlighter akin to a mirrorball, elegant penmanship in glitter gel pens, the compelling tendency to overshare, daisy chains in the height of summer, the dynamic duo of a sketchpad and takeout coffee, a sweet voice framed by fierce lipliner, the unwavering loyalty of a girls' girl, a denim satchel donned with pins from all over the world, always dotting your letters with hearts .

there was no shortage of love in the oliviette household when camille was growing up. her moms were childhood sweethearts, first loves who stayed together through the complexities of life in the 7O's and 8O's as gay women. it took three rounds of ivf for the pregnancy to carry to term, and she's been doted on ever since .

growing up, there was color everywhere. in her heart and family, metaphorically, but her home never fell victim to the formal black and white furnishings that some of her friends' homes seemed to have. vibrant fluffy rugs and home-painted masterpieces donned the walls, with patterned wallpaper and decor that rotated with the seasons. her genetic mother came from a line of painters who had submitted their work to galleries all across the united states - some even sharing their talent with the world. her other mom came from a creative family who seemed to have creativity sprinkled throughout the family lineage ( see : she's cousins to the director ) .

school was always hard. the academics just weren't for her - not because she wasn't intelligent. camille could be analytical with her reading and crunch her numbers, she could recite her history and point out most countries on a globe by the time she was sixteen. three languages donned her tongue, crafted from travels around the world with her family and an adoration for foreign films and music. she just couldn't sit still for long enough to take a test.

it felt more like a social hub to her, pulled in to this group of friends unexpectedly and suddenly there was a place in her heart for each one of them as she watched them grow and make terrible decisions and craft their teen lives together. there's no one in the group who hasn't at some point become the subject of fascination for a period of time. except ace who she thinks is ugly <3

you'd find her painting on a beautiful summers day, or tracing a quick portrait of one of her friends when she thought the sun was catching them just right, or their expression was too intriguing to let go. she's got hundreds of used canvas' and books in storage back at her home. the creativity extends to poetry, with doodled verses often surrounding the picture she's drawn .

a weekend of fun with her friends sounded like a good time, mostly because her heart ached for reconnection for friends she'd drifted from along the way. honestly, she thought it sucked that it was only going to be a few days ...

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

all of them any gender : someone who has been a constant muse for her, best friend, people she has travelled with, fellow creatives, ex partners, a bad influence, someone who doesn't trust her bc she's too nice, ex friends, hook ups, friends with benefits ( she'd def get too attached we can make it fun lol ), sibling like friendships, first love, fellow dreamers, someone from michigan who looks after her pet bunny while she's on trips for work .

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

���It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (One)

Chapter One: Wins and Losses

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

If you’d have told high school senior Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI after graduating college, she would have never believed you. Not only did she have zero interest in law enforcement, she also seemed to lack any athletic skills to back her up. She was nothing like her fiancé, who’d had his heart set on joining the bureau since middle school. She and Grant Anderson were friends in high school and ended up getting together during their junior year. Anderson proposed to Y/N during her second year of college. She’d graduated almost two years ago now, but the wedding date was unknown. They’d been dating for four years and engaged for another four years with the wedding nowhere to be seen. He’d been the first and only boy–and man, to ever pay her half a mind. To her, that was good enough. Hell, she’d been with him for eight years, if she’d wanted to leave him, she’d have left long ago. Right?

Imagine her surprise when he’d told her that his new boss, Aaron Hotchner, was looking for a receptionist for the BAU. Fresh out of college, landing a secure job? That was a miracle, and she really did have to thank her fiancé for it. But everyone around her was so cool and she was just…there. Her job was basically to sort through files, organize Hotch’s meetings, among other things like making reservations at the hotels the agents stayed at on their cases. 

The Agents of the BAU.

They were essentially the coolest people she knew.

First comes Agent Gideon, one of the founders of the BAU. His ability to read people scares her sometimes. How can one man’s beady little eyes have the ability to read people like they were some kind of book stowed away on a dusty shelf? A shelf only he can reach.

Then, comes Agent Hotchner, the unit chief. A stoic man with an even more stoic face. He’s a man who, to put it lightly, takes his job very seriously. On more than one occasion has she met his wife, Haley. They made a beautiful couple in her eyes and they’d just had their child, Jack Hotchner. She never knew how a baby’s face could be so wrinkly–yet so cute. Haley and Aaron were high school sweethearts, much like she and Grant. But that seemed to be the only aspect they shared. Despite his suffocatingly hard shell, Aaron was a loving man. That much was obvious. She wondered if Grant had ever looked at her the way Aaron looked at Haley.

Agent Derek Morgan, where to begin? He was tall, dark, and every bit handsome. His charming nature made all the ladies of the sixth (and fifth, and seventh, and eighth and–) floor swoon over him anytime he walked by. He is one of the bravest men she’d ever known. His ability to put himself in the place of the unsub was something she’d only heard stories about–but it gave her chills every time.

Next comes Agent Elle Greenaway, one of the most headstrong women Y/N has ever met. Her bluntness can come across as harsh, but she knew a woman in law enforcement had to stand her ground to be treated with as equal respect as her male counterparts. She admired her strength.

Agent Jennifer Jareau, or as Y/N knew her, JJ, was a kind hearted, compassionate woman who’s way with words absolutely blew Y/N away. The way JJ handled the media with such finesse was simply astonishing. She knew she could never string together the right words like JJ seemed to, up on those podiums, in front of all those nosy reporters. It was mind blowing to watch her in her element.

Penelope Garcia, or otherwise known as literal sunshine embodied in a technical analyst. She was the best at what she did, hacking, searching, filtering. It was a science, and Penelope Garcia made it look easy. She and Y/N had grown close since both of them stayed at the office while the other agents flew around the country, solving cases. They’d often spend endless lunches together in Garcia’s ‘batcave’ as she called it and was practically hellbent on teaching Y/N how to use Photoshop every chance she got.

And last but certainly not least, Dr. Spencer Reid. She’d never met a man with a more brilliant brain. He was known as the resident genius, the expert on well–everything. The man had an eidetic memory and the ability to read 20,000 words per minute. Is that not the most impressive thing on the planet? Nope, he just has to have three PhDs in three of the most complicated fields of study: mathematics, physics, and engineering, achieving all three before reaching 22 years of age. 

He had joined the bureau about a year after Y/N had started there. She could remember their first interaction like it was yesterday. 

He had been in and out of meetings before spotting Y/N at her desk, where she usually stayed during her lunch break, at least for the first year she was there. She was halfway through a cup of mixed berry yogurt when Spencer came up to her desk to ask where the breakroom was. Y/N directed him to the room and followed his gaze to the yogurt container in her hands before he left.

“Did you know that the origins of yogurt are pretty much unknown, although historians agree that there was no mention of it before 5000 BC? It’s thought to have been invented by the Mesopotamians.” He said as he pursed his lips and raised his brows, as if realizing he made a mistake too late.

“No, I didn’t know that! That’s super cool. You must be Dr. Spencer Reid, right?” She said, giving him her full attention, which made him slightly more nervous than he had been previously. He nodded, a shy smile on his face.

“And you’re…” he looked for her name holder, “Y/N Y/L/N.” 

She giggled and the sound activated some kind of blood rushing mechanism right up into his cheeks, “Yup! I’m the BAU’s receptionist slash Agent Hotchner’s assistant, you know, nothing fancy but I like to think I’m pretty good at sorting through files.” She raised a brow and gave him an adorable smile and suddenly Spencer wasn’t so nervous to talk to her. 

She seemed way more interactive and easygoing than just about 98% of the people in the building. He wondered if it was because she wasn’t an agent. Spencer also wondered if gaining a title like ‘Supervisory Special Agent’ would make him cold like the others, but then he remembered he has three doctorates and already introduced himself with the honorific. 

She picked up on his silence, “You know, you have nothing to worry about, I overheard Agent Gideon talking about you landing the job with Agent Morgan.” She nodded her head towards a tall, muscular man, who Spencer gathered must be Morgan. Spencer smiled back at her, her words easing even more of the tension he collected in his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, you should see the massive list of exceptions they have to make to let me into the field.” He said with a ghost of a smile on his face. She had to physically repress a laugh. And right then and there, the seed of a beautiful friendship was planted.

Fast forward to two years after that interaction, Spencer and Y/N became pretty much attached at the hip whenever he was actually in the office and not flying around the country catching serial killers. Their desks were quite far from each other, hers right near the glass doors of the BAU and his across the room right near the railing that had Hotch and Gideon’s offices as well as the conference room. It gave them both perfect views of each other, which they used to send each other encouraging smiles throughout the day, maybe a funny face or two. He always had a way of making her smile, she hadn’t felt the fuzzy feeling of friendship in years. Besides Garcia, Spencer was the only person who had made an effort to get to know Y/N. In the past two years, she’d say Spencer knew her better than anyone else, possibly even Anderson, but that was surely because he was a talented genius profiler…

Budget meetings at the FBI were definitely the most boring types of meetings in the world. She had to be there because she was the one making all the reservations at the hotels, but once they began talking about the jet and fuel consumption–Y/N totally spaced out. Spencer enjoyed the meetings, though. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that Y/N would sometimes space out and let her head fall against his shoulder. The weight of her head brought him inexplicable comfort and joy. He hates it when people come near him, when did it become so endearing to him for her to trust him enough with such a simple gesture? He found himself attending the meetings and sitting next to her whenever he got the chance, hoping that one day, maybe, just maybe she’ll allow her head to rest upon his shoulder again. Perhaps it was pathetic, but he found himself feeling overjoyed at the thought of budget meetings, they became the only thing he’d look forward to. 

He wondered if this was how Anderson felt when she rested her head on his shoulder, but then his knee would start bouncing and he’d practically feel the envious monster growing in the pit of his stomach, so he’d stop. It certainly didn’t make it any easier to stop when it was so easy to look over and find Anderson leaning against her desk and flirting with her. Technically, he has every right to flirt with his fiancée, but that didn’t stop jealousy from coursing through Spencer’s veins violently.

The team had just landed last night, they were coming back from a case revolving around the famous actress, Lila Archer. Apparently, she’d had a stalker. Y/N couldn’t wait to hear the details of the case, she had watched almost all of Lila’s movies. She eagerly awaited Spencer’s arrival. Just then, she heard the ding of the elevator and saw a very sheepish -and flushed- Spencer with a very playful Morgan hot on his tail.

“Morning, pretty girl!” Derek halted his seemingly incessant teasing to greet her as they walked towards her. Spencer was oddly quiet as he tried to pass by, offering her a small, awkward wave instead of his usual smiley ‘good morning!’, but Derek grabbed him by the strap of his messenger bag. He made it his mission to embarrass Spencer as much as humanly possible when he woke up this morning. What Derek didn’t know was that Spencer wanted Y/N to be the absolute last person to know of what happened. Spencer shifted uncomfortably and was positive he was sweating more than he ever had in his 24 years of life.

“Morning, Derek! So, tell me all about it! Did you meet her? Of course, you met her, duh! What was she like? Was she a stuck up diva like her character in Wins and Losses or was she more down to earth?” Y/N questioned curiously with a hint of excitement.

“Oh, I think pretty boy here has all the answers you could ever wish for. After all, it wasn’t me who made out with a hot movie star in her own pool.” Derek laughed, eyes squinting as he clapped Spencer on the shoulder proudly. Neither of the two men caught the way Y/N’s face dropped. Spencer was too focused on looking anywhere but at her and Derek was too triumphant to look anywhere but at Spencer’s -alarmingly- red face. He attempted to clear his throat when the few seconds of stunned silence became much too suffocating. Derek turned back to Y/N just in time to see her collect her jaw from off the desk and morph it into a smile.

“Spencer Reid, you did what?!” She attempted to laugh in order to lighten the mood, hoping the two profilers wouldn’t pick up on her dis-ingenuousness. 

They hadn’t, thankfully.

Spencer’s shy eyes met her curious ones as he tried to imitate Derek’s proud smile,and he could have sworn he saw a sort of unfamiliar heaviness in her gaze, but it disappeared as soon as it came. 

Could it be? Was she feeling jealous? There’s no way, she thought. But what else could be behind the not so subtle burning feeling in her chest? 

“Um, yeah. She kind of pulled me into the pool with her…” he recounted with a small voice, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“And?” Derek said in anticipation, despite already knowing.

“Alright! We kissed a few times, what’s the big deal?” He huffed, turning to look at Derek and resisting the urge to punch him in the face for embarrassing him in front of Y/N.

Garcia suddenly appeared next to them, catching the looks between the two agents and Y/N’s shocked expression, “Oh! Are we talking about boy wonder locking lips with miss Lila Archer in her pool?”

Spencer’s face dropped, “How do you know about that?!” he all but screeched.

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere.” Garcia wiggled her eyebrows at Spencer before sharing a knowing look with Derek which led to a prompt punch to Derek’s arm from him which then led to an over exaggerated yelp of pain.

“I’ve also got photos!” Garcia said, quickly pulling out her PDA and showing Y/N.

“Garcia! How?!” Spencer exclaimed, but it was too late. Y/N was already scrolling through the photos, laughing.

“Spencer, you sly dog!” She laughed, though the situation awoke an unprecedented, seemingly underlying feeling of envy. Spencer rolled his eyes in embarrassment and stormed off in the direction of his desk, leaving the three of them behind. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly, although Y/N had to keep fighting against the way her chest felt tight every time she remembered those photos. She had a feeling she was never going to watch Wins and Losses ever again.

next chapter

feedback is always appreciated!!

[poptod]

Make Me Your Queen (Ahkmenrah  x Reader)

Description: He’s never seen anything like you––nothing comes close to your royalty, your beauty, your power, and it draws him in deeper.

Notes: based off ‘make me your queen’ by declan mckenna. i wrote this story with a female reader in mind (bc like, hatshepsut but canaanite) but as always its gender neutral, no pronouns WC: 2.6k

+

"Now I want you two to stay quiet. Do you understand that? Under no circumstance should you speak without being spoken to," Merenkahre said under his breath, his voice low as he spoke to his two sons. Ahkmen nodded––Kahmuh did not, but he'd heard his fathers' words nonetheless.

"These are the Canaanites, right?" Kahmuh asked in a flat tone.

"Phoenicians," Ahkmen corrected.

"Same thing, but don't let them know I said that, okay?" His father said.

Before Ahkmen could even chuckle, his mother called the three of them into the throne room. He hurried past his brother to stand beside her, looking over the long, glorious hall adorned with pillars and vases towards the tall double doors. Shrouds of silk hung from the ceiling, clouding the paintings drawn so painstakingly on the ceiling.

The breath of fresh air in his chest left him the moment Kahmuh came up behind him, taking his spot closer to the throne.

"I was -"

"We go by rank, don't you remember?"

He curled his fingers into his palm but said nothing. Kahmuh loved to annoy him, and though he never benefitted from teasing him, he continued to do it. Now, however, was a bad time to give into the urge to retaliate––the doors would open anytime now, bringing with it streaming sunlight and foreign royalty.

For several years now Kemet had been embroiled in a conflict with Phoenicians. It was one begun by his father, who had hoped to control several of the bay cities for the trade links they provided to Mesopotamia. This part of his father's life had been kept secret from him––entirely on purpose––until they began to fight back. A treaty was established the moment Merenkahre realized his armies could be beat, and now here they were, waiting for the one who had stepped up to take control of Phoenicia. Ahkmen had yet to know their name. His mother had given him scant information, and his father was unwilling to tell.

Rustling from outside brought his attention back to the front, eyes training back onto the door as it began to crack open. It was a sight he'd seen before, the opening of those mystical doors––rarely at sunset, but today was lucky. Red light streamed into the room, clashing brightly with the gold built into the pillars and marble floor. The light fell saturated on his tan skin till he and his family practically glowed auburn.

A short train of people came through the doors, their shadows stretched against the red carpet before them. The hall fell silent at their entrance; all eyes locked onto the veiled figure in the middle drifting closer to the throne. His breath halted right up to the moment the train came to a stop before the Pharoah. It was then the soldiers surrounding the cloaked figure fell into a bow, revealing tall tresses of black and red silk, a veil lined in gold, and purple hair framing soft cheeks.

Ahk's mouth opened unwittingly, staring at you. Were you born like that? How was that possible? And you––you couldn't be much older than twenty. This was what his father had to find peace with? This was what they would've died to?

The stone look on your face matched his fathers' bitter politeness perfectly. Merenkahre's jaw set as he smiled, rising from his seat to greet you personally. He raised his hand to shake yours and you matched him, raising a hand adorned in golden rings and blood red nails, shaking his hand without a hint of the Pharaoh's kindness in your eye.

"I thank you for the invitation to your country," you said, your lips twitching upwards just slightly, just enough to look polite.

"I'm glad you took up our invitation. We have a feast prepared––I'm sure you and your men are tired from the journey," said the Pharaoh, gesturing towards the doorway opposite the entrance.

You glanced down at the bowed soldiers. As your eyes flickered upwards they landed upon the youngest Prince, leaving him petrified from the acid in your gaze.

"Yes," you said after a moment, turning back to the Pharaoh. "That would be kind of you."

Several of the palace guards took the lead of your group, leading you through the small hallway to the dining hall. The hall was placed near the court for convenience, but the decision left Ahkmen little time to ask his father anything, leaving him stumbling over which question was more important.

He pushed his way past his mother and brother, landing beside his father, who still had his teeth gritted tight.

"How old are they exactly?" He asked, but earned no response from the distant thoughts of Merenkahre. Clearly his father was a tad preoccupied––Ahkmen would, most likely, not be getting answers from him anytime soon.

Ahkmen stared at you throughout the whole dinner. Not once did you glance to see him––if you had, he probably wouldn't have been staring. At least not so hard. You're impressively hard to look away from, your smile curt and teasing, unearthly purple hair curled around a crown of spindly gold.

Over the course of the conversation, he learned several things, most namely the duration of your stay. No one had an exact count of days, but you and your soldiers would stay until a peace treaty was reached with the Pharaoh. Knowing his father's advisors, Ahkmen surmised you would be here for a while, a fact that brought a smile to his face. Even though you hadn't spared any more than a single glance at him, he found he didn't care as long as he could keep looking at you.

He wasn't invited, but he followed anyway when one of the priests led you to your room. You bid the priest good-night only when two of your soldiers entered the room with you, before turning to Ahkmen, a soft but blank expression on your face.

"You're one of the princes, aren't you?" You asked in the silence. His eyes widened at the unexpected question.

"Well, um – yes," he said, stammering over his words.

"How old are you?"

The question took him by surprise but he didn't hesitate to answer.

"Seventeen years."

You paused to take in his reply, apparently finding much to contemplate in his age.

"When I was your age, I was spending my time uniting my Kingdom and clawing us out of starvation," you said in a lofty tone, but before he could form a response, you continued. "I suggest you do something useful, like that, instead of staring at foreign dignitaries."

Oh.

"I – I'm sorry, I didn't –"

"No need to apologize. Just keep it in mind."

"But... then how old are you now?" He asked, nails digging into his palm. You held his eye so intently now that you were speaking to him.

"Eighteen," you said with a smile, promptly shutting the door in both Ahkmen and the priest's face.

The priest turned to Ahkmen, a single brow raised. An awkward silence stretched between them.

"Can you not tell my father about this?" Ahkmen finally asked.

"As long as I never have to watch you two converse again," he said.

"Deal."

+

Ever since you came he was enchanted by you––that much was obvious to see. His mother knew, as did his father (although reluctantly), and by his count you probably did as well. Fortunately enough for him, you didn't tease him about it. Instead you kept a polite distance from him––a decision he simply couldn't understand.

He's rarely allowed inside the court while something important is in session, but his father called him in, and he didn’t mind an excuse to be in the same room as you.

"Ahk, come here," the Pharaoh said, and he obeyed, standing by his father's side. "You and the princ-"

"King," you said sharply. It's a title you insisted on constantly, one that your soldiers willingly upheld despite the obvious contradiction. The Pharaoh pulled his lips into a thin line in clear irritation.

"You're around the same age, right?"

Ahkmen nodded.

"Why don't you show them around a little? I'm sure they'd like a break from all these meetings," Merenkahre suggested.

"I assure you I am perfectly fine," you said.

"Septy," one of your advisors leaned over to you, whispering in your ear. He couldn't quite make it out but the tension in your face fell. It was almost nice––you're always irritated around the Pharaoh and it showed.

"Very well," you said, and it looks like it took an enormous amount of pain to get the words out. "I will go with your... son."

Ahkmen practically beamed, making his way across the room to you before taking your hand, and leading you out of your seat. Before you could send any more of a scathing glare at Merenkahre, he guided you out of the room and into an empty hall.

The already-quiet voices of the court faded away as the distance grew greater, leaving the two of you in a common silence.

"He's not making your job easy, is he?" Ahkmen asked despite knowing the answer.

"Neither of us truly desire peace," you said bitterly. "Only to destroy the other. We'll both have to get over that if we're to reach any agreement."

"... I agree," he said, still caught up in staring at you.

The purple in your hair glinted in the streaming sunlight, the only color in the barren hallway lined with arches. Outside, the city sat in its' great bustle, ships lining up and down the Nile, markets flooding each section of Memphis. The sight is one he knew well, but you halted. In a flash he remembered you never came from a wealthy country––you had to build it. Unless you visited some other country, you had never seen a thriving city market.

His footsteps fell quiet when you stopped at one of the arches, eyes trained on the tiny subjects below. A lump grew in his throat the closer he stepped to you.

"How does commerce within the city work for you?" You asked.

Truthfully, Ahkmen had little clue on how the government worked. Only the tidbits he'd picked up from his father. Kahmuh was the one becoming Pharaoh––that was why he was in classes and Ahkmen was allowed free roam.

"We use a fair amount of trade," he began, though had little idea on how else to continue. "We, um... we use grain as a form of currency."

"How much in just one unit?"

He sucked in a sharp breath, biting into his lower lip as he tried to recall. Most times he went out to buy things, they priced far above a single bag, as his tastes were heavily influenced by his palace life.

"It's fine," you said curtly, stopping him in his plight. A small, relieved sigh left him.

"You must know quite a lot about your own government," Ahkmen said in a soft voice. You didn't move from your position, didn't tear your eyes from the market, but the edge of your lip quirked up just slightly.

"I should hope so," you said with a growing smile, "I built it, after all. Or... some of it. I must admit I was aided greatly by my advisors."

Ahkmen chuckled, following you when you left your spot at the arch. He took a quiet lead of the path forwards, discreetly guiding you outside the palace, where the sun shone freely on his skin. The warmth of it gave him good reason to wear few clothes. You, on the other hand, were still adorned in your black and red silk.

"I'm curious," Ahkmen said, keeping a keen eye on you, "how did you come to rule the Phoenicians? Were you royal to begin with?"

"Yes," you said with a sage nod. "My parents were descended from our Gods. When I took control, it was a crucial part of me––it was the only way I could unite the entirety of our cities."

"That's fascinating. So you control the entirety of that coast, now?"

"The cities are independent from me, but for the most part, yes. Now; I would love to discuss such matters with you, but I was promised a break from the politics," you said, and Ahkmen quickly remembered his manners.

"Of course, yes. Sorry. I know a few places you might like," he said with a smile, earning a small one in return as he led you down the sunlit street.

The more free-roaming children that passed by, the more relaxed you grew, eyes dancing at every market stall and homefront. Ahkmen had never known anything but this––to see a King who knew none of it at all was rattling to say the least. Even you, in all your majesty, found the same happiness in others that Ahkmen found in his people. The citizens seemed to like you as well, though he would've been surprised if they didn't. It wasn't every day they got to see someone with purple hair.

"I have a question," he said as the two of you passed by a murmuring crowd. "I, uh, hope this isn't rude, but how is your hair that color?"

"Dyed, actually," you answered, staring forward at the approaching Nile. "Half our trade is made up of this dye. We are great craftsmen and traders, but only recently have we been able to show that to the rest of the world."

"Why's that?"

"Well, before I came, we had no way of travelling to other cultures. I managed to befriend a great architect by the name of Batnoam. You've seen him––he stands beside me in court, but... he built these ships of curved hulls and long sails, allowed for us to hold power over your Pharaoh," you said, your accent becoming more pronounced as your hands moved thoughtlessly to the words. "Once we gained that we gained allies and established trade routes that, I believe, turned the war against you. No offense intended."

"None taken. I know my father can be.. difficult," Ahkmen said. He jumped when you belted out a laugh, raising your chin to the sky.

"I know firsthand your father's military tactics. But there are things he wants from me, things that he realizes he can't take by force."

"Such as..?"

"Look at me," you said, and as he stopped before you, he noticed the sudden quiet of the world around you. You'd made it to the Nile, and walked down far enough to escape the bustle. "Do you see my beauty?"

He nodded.

"Can you feel the power I have?"

He nodded again, too absorbed in your dulcet tone to notice the meaning of your words.

"I have made myself like this, but Merenkahre doesn't know that. He believes my power comes from my riches, from the items my people trade with those around us, and he wants that power. I don't blame him."

"You are so beautiful," he blurted out, eyes still wide as he stared at you.

"I know, dearest. You can close your mouth. I have no need for a prince, and I'm not looking for a Queen."

A soft, dreamy sigh left him as you turned, your attention shifting to the slow waters of the river. He just smiled––his heart burned warm in his chest, leaving tingling in his limbs each time they moved.

I can be your Queen, he thought without much logic behind his words besides the adoration he held for you. You took the title of King when you rose to power; there was no need for a Phoenician King, but they could do––you could do––with a queen such as himself. At least, that's what he liked to think. That's what made his heart giddy.

"Do you come down here often?"

"As much as I can," he answered. You smiled imperceptibly.

"I've always enjoyed the water," you murmured, staring at your reflection. In a split second you seemed to return to yourself, looking up to Ahkmen. "I grew up on the coast."

"I'm happy to take you down here anytime you need a break from the pressure," Ahkmen offered, his heart skipping at the thought of this happening more often. You contemplated his words for a moment before answering.

"I would like that."

[tanoraqui]

Hi! I see you posting all this stuff about the Queen's Thief series and it really looks like my type of literature, but I can't keep up with all the names and locations. Would it be okay to ask for a non-spoilery rundown of who, what, and where?

Hell yeah [at a delay]. So, most of the series takes place on the Attolian Peninsula, which comprises of 3 countries: Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia. There are also a scattering of small islands generally associated with the peninsula. Eddis is a narrow country in the mountains between Sounis and Attolia and only has, like, 1 small port; Sounis and Attolia both have substantial coastlines. All are monarchies. The basic geopolitical plot of the books is these three countries making peace with one another so that together they can hold off hte encroaching Mede Empire. 

It’s very low fantasy. Rifles and cannons exist, but they’re not that good yet; complex clockwork exists; steam engines do not. The Attolian Peninsua are heavily Ancient Greece-inspired, and the Mede are Persian-ish. Most importantly, there’s an entire made-up Greek-flavored mythology, as well as a Gilgamesh remix, stories of which are scattered through the books. Not only is this very neat, but the mythological figures often mirror the characters and are often vital to the plot. In fact, one of my favorite things about the series is how the whole thing feels very much like a myth in its own right, which some modern-day-in-that-world author has delved into and expanded on with fleshed-out characters and complex politics.

But you wanted a cast list. Most significant characters, in (probably) order of introduction, spoiler-free:

Eugenides, aka Gen, the central character of the series - though only the protagonist for the first couple books. Book and a half, really (the second is shared). Gen is a young progessional thief who is very good at calculating and carrying out complex and implausibly possible plans, and not always good at considering in advance consequences like “I will spend 6 months in jail” “I will have to move countries and take up a job I will hate”, “people might unironically admire and respect me, even though I don’t think I deserve it.” A wildly endearing manipulative asshole. Iconic quote: “I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT!”

the Magus (never named), a chief advisor to the King of Sounis. Canny old soldier-turned-scholar/politician who is the first person to hold a braincell re: “we need to unite or die.” Iconic quote: “I meant convince your queen to sue for peace, not burn our navy in its own harbor!”

Sophos, later Sounis*, the Nicest Young Man to ever be a Nice Young Man. Sweet muffin. Canonical bunny. Also canonical mankiller. Iconic line: “Not on the first vote.”

Attolia* Irene, Queen of Attolia. Her people love her and fear her; her barons, for the most part, just fear her; she kicks and screams (non-literally) and throws inkpots (literally), but she does relearn how to both be loved and give love in return.  Iconic line [narration]: And she believed him.

Eddis* Helen, Queen of Eddis. There’s a mild running joke over the course of the series of mentioning that there’s nothing to do during Eddisian winters but [X], the 3 things mentioned are weapons training, threadcraft, and seducing one another’s spouses. The only one Eddis is suggested to be good at is weapons, but she’s the beloved and (almost entirely) undisputed queen of her country anyway. Iconic quote: “War, then.”

Nahuseresh, Medean ambassador, a mansplainer but competent as sneakily taking over someone else’s country while pretending to help them. More or less. Does not get an iconic line bc fuck him.

Kamet, later called Kamet Kingnamer, Nahuseresh’s slave and personal secretary. Nearsighted, translates poetry for fun, does NOT want to go on a multi-month (b)romance-building roadtrip. Does not have much choice in the matter, because he wants to be free and, more importantly, to survive. Iconic line [narration]: I noticed that a man on the dock with a duffel on one shoulder was very like Costis in poise and gait. The man turned onto the gangplank to board the ship, and my heart lifted, though I tried to squash what I thought was a ridiculous hope.**

 Costis Ormentides, a lieutenant in the Attolian palace guard. Not remotely prepared for the political snakepit he’s thrown into through very little fault of his own, oh god this poor man, he just wants to serve his queen and have a little spare money to go out for wine with friends. Why are people trying to kill him. Why is he third wheeling his monarchs making out in the courtyard. Why is he being passive-aggressively forced to learn a foreign language.  Iconic line action: *punches the king in the face*

Pheris Mostrus Erondites, second grandson of Baron Erondites of Attolia; historian and narrator of the last book in the series. Severely physically disabled, purposefully overlooked for all his life until particularly bitchy politics had him sent to the Attolian royal court (purposely on his part and on everyone else’s), very observant and twice as clever. Writes humanity beautifully. Iconic line [narration]: If I cannot record exactly what words were spoken at every moment, I can say with confidence what those words might have been, and in some cases what they must as been, as I saw what resulted from them being spoken, and can we not derive the words when we know the consequences of their utterance? *proceeds to write a historical account/novel more full of small moments of personhood and love both dramatic and casual than almost the rest of the series combined*

Relius, Attolian Master of the Archives (spymaster), trusted first within reason and then beyond it. Has many, many lovers.***

Teleus, Attolian Captain of the Palace Guard, A bit staid, but loyal, reliable, and entirely excellent at his job. Has only one lover.***

the Eddisian Minister of War, unnamed until the very end, fights with his youngest son a great deal in multiple senses of the word. 

* It’s possible that some of your confusion may stem from people taking the names of their countries as titles upon ascending to the thrones. ** Yes I chose this quote bc it’s sweet but also bc it’s SUCH a nearsighted mood. *** Direct quotes from the character list at the end of the last book.

[laundryandtaxes]

Hi Julia, I'm gonna push back on your post re: nyc. I grew up in another city in New York State and moved to the city at 17 for work, never going to college. I've lived in three different boroughs, and never held a lease, just for context. I think the divide of "native New Yorker" vs "transplant" is in many ways created as a way of sewing division and doesn't reflect that in every strongly-rooted ethnic group, immigrant or otherwise, there is a certain amount of coming and going. For me, every generation of my fam has come here to live for a time since immigrating, despite moving to the south or Midwest. That's super common for my ethnicity and common in many other groups here.

Many if not most of my friends who grew up here have nuanced views on this, and when it gets down to it see it beyond a binary of "native vs nonnative". I think that viewing it as a binary isn't particularly useful. There are definitely alienated internal migrants and people who move to join elite communties, but most of my friends who grew up here have lived elsewhere for a time, and if there have family or ethnic community here aren't weird about it.

This model of discourse doesnt usually talk about the strongly rooted elite/borgeiouse here, and many people who migrate to NYC internally do it for social and economic reasons. Particularly pre-pandemic, the gay and ballroom scenes were massive draws, and jobs in certain industries are concentrated here. Wealthy residents are catered to, and certain type of internal migrant/wealthy expat/wealthy immigrant is definitely catered to by legislation that favors gentrification and has made the city a playground for the rich. The city has intentionally eroded public housing, but it remains that a higher percentage of residents live in public housing, rent controlled apartments well-below market value or recieve housing subsidies here than nearly any other city in the country. People will get on public housing and section 8 waiting lists and leave the city or even country. To be here and to stay here is very tenuous for many multigenerational residents. Regardless, migration and immigrantion have been part of NYC since it began having a distinct culture towards the 1820's. Culture and social creation has never been the exclusive domain of people born here, and NYC is what it is because of born-residents, immigrants, internal migrants and being a center of cultural and social community that draws people from around the world. If it was just one of these things it wouldn't be NYC.

NYC is a place that feels disconnected from the (rest of) the USA and I think that the politicization of desire to be here will have implications exacerbated by the pandemic.

Re: nyc again:

Many wealthy people leave nyc because there isn't a great bang for your buck in the same way as other parts of the country. It's honestly a shitty and expensive place for the rich lmao.

And many poor/working class people come here bc of enviable renters protections, higher wages, and special education for disabled kids. In particular people come from within the eastern seaboard, New England and south for all of these things.

Thank you for another perspective! I am not from New York myself, so my perception of the city comes largely from the accounts of friends who are from NYC, and media, but just like with anywhere you can’t get a complete picture of what a place is like based on those two things.

I will say that a lot of what you’ve said here strongly contradicts my idea of what the city is like, some of which is based on personal experience. I considered a move to NYC at some point with an ex girlfriend (which, holy shit thank goodness that didn’t work out) and I have to say that in particular the idea of NYC as a place with “enviable renters protections [and] higher wages” specifically doesn’t square with what I saw when I researched those two things. Wages in NYC for work that doesn’t require degrees didn’t look good at all, and as far as renter’s protections go, my current understanding is that rent control is awesome but that landlords regularly engage in tenant harassment to pressure rent controlled tenants out of units and the city does almost nothing about it. The second is based more on recent articles I read and news pieces I watched about NYC, but the last time I looked at wages in NYC I was extremely unimpressed given the cost of housing alone, and when I was running the numbers for myself (this was maybe 2015ish) I came away not understanding how anyone could possibly afford to live in the city unless they 1) made a ton of money, in order to afford the outstanding rents, or 2) got into a rent-controlled apartment, which it seemed it was not easy to do unless you knew someone, like I did at the time, who was basically going to tell their landlord to hand you the lease. Obviously I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that I am very surprised to hear that anyone thinks of NYC as a place with genuinely solid rent protections and good wages, because the last time I looked it really did not seem like either of those was the case. If that is the case, that’s awesome and I am very glad to hear it. The story I was told by friends was largely one of intense, almost unbearable pressure from gentrification and jobs not paying nearly enough for the cost of living and being actively displaced by people who came to the city with an absurd amount of money to spend. So if that isn’t actually the case, that’s very very good news because I kind of had what I THINK of as contemporary NYC built up in my head as this horror story of the worst things that could happen to a city.

I also am not intimately familiar with the culture of NYC, but I have to say that I don’t think I agree with the idea that ‘ "native New Yorker" vs "transplant" is in many ways created as a way of sewing division’ because I don’t think that concept is unique at all to NYC- I certainly have a lot of a specific kind of pride in having been born and raised in Chicago, I and most other Chicagoans consider it genuinely offensive and rude when people who grew up in suburbs nearby tell people they are from Chicago, I and most other Chicagoans see ourselves, I would say, as a particular breed of people who share a particular kind of roots in this place, and I don’t think that pride is harmful or bad in any way. I would never tell someone that moving here is an evil thing to do- I consider roughly 10 years of residency to grant you the right to refer to yourself as a Chicagoan and not just a Chicago resident lol- or say that transplants to Chicago are categorically bad people. Half of that is just stupid cultural stuff, really, and shouldn’t be taken very seriously. But I don’t think the concept itself is bad. I have a fundamentally different relationship to Chicago than someone who grew up anywhere else and moved here, no matter how long they moved here, and I don’t think it is harmful at all to be open about and proud of that. I would never make the claim that transplants haven’t made massive contributions to the city, and I would assume most native New Yorkers wouldn’t make that claim about transplants to NYC.

Thank you for sharing your personal understanding of the situation there, and I am very surprised to hear that the proportion of residents in NYC who live in public or rent controlled housing is quite high, and glad to hear it. As needlessly aggressive as Chicagoans (myself included) can be when “New York” is even uttered aloud, I obviously have a lot of real respect for the city and I am glad to hear that it hasn’t just been mostly ruined in the way I had imagined it. This is a good lesson in taking any media you see about a place whose name will get clicks/engagement just by virtue of the aura of the place (New York, Chicago, San Francisco, etc) with several grains of salt. If I was only familiar with Chicago through media I’d think it was some super dangerous place when it definitely isn’t categorically. 

[bigbrotherlouis]

the bag of chips scene from 'i ate you up the day we first spoke' for the director's cut meme!

whoohoo i actually loved writing this scene and i’m so glad someone asked about it yeeee

(director’s cut meme)

everything eases back into normal. tk picks nolan up for practice, because nolan’s car is inexplicably always out of gas, (this is true, i read an article about it somewhere) and ties nolan’s ties for him on game days, and follows him into his living room to eat all the good snacks nolan hides on increasingly higher shelves.

“how did you even get those?” he asks when he comes out of the washroom and finds travis eating illegal all-dressed his mom had sent down in his last care package. he’s pretty sure they were hidden, like, on top of the cupboards this time. he literally had to throw them up there. (food, when you move countries, is a really big deal. i always want to keep the mutlicultural aspect of a lot of hockey players in mind, because i was a young multicutural person in the united states, and home foods is usually a good way to do it. all-dressed are pretty distinctly canadian, and my cousin gets her parents to send them to her in california, so i borrowed that from her. also i liked the image of TK climbing on the counters to try and get at a bag of chips.)

tk shrugs and crams a handful of chips into his mouth. “smart thinking.”

“those are mine.”

“i don’t see you eating them,” tk says smugly and nolan thinks about it for precisely point two seconds before he launches himself at the sofa. (no thoughts, head empty)

it’s a familiar ritual, this one. tk cackles, going limp so he can noodle off the cushions onto the floor, the bag still clamped in his hand. he scrabbles backwards until he’s out of reach of nolan’s admittedly long arms.

“sucks to suck, babe,” he gloats, except nolan is not emphatically giving up, those are his chips, and he’s not going to let his idiot of a best friend eat them all. tk grunts when nolan lands on his lower half, hard, and pins down his legs so he can’t escape. he sits on tk’s knees and ignores the yelling. (travis “has never shut up once in his life” konecny strikes again)

“mine,” he says savagely, snatching the bag out of his hands. tk huffs, shoving at his legs.

“it’s rude— not to— share— fuck, patty, what are you doing in the gym?”

“some of us don’t skip leg day.”

“yeah, well, some of us aren’t built like a fuckin’ ox,” tk complains, as if he’s not just as in shape as nolan is. “i can’t even fuckin’ pinch you because you’re wearing jeans.”

“now who’s the smart think—  fuck!” (not you, pat. not tk either but still not you.) he shouts, flinching and rubbing at his side. that pinch is definitely going to bruise. tk uses it as a distraction to roll them, nolan’s shoulders thudding painfully against the floor, and straddles nolan’s stomach with his thighs. there’s another struggle but tk gets hold of nolan’s arms, pins them under his knees so nolan’s fists are at his sides. he’s effectively trapped. (too many nolans but what do you do when writing m/m. also this isn’t specific to this scene, but especially in hockey with all its nicknames, i like to write people’s internal narrative with whatever name they probably think of themselves as. that’s why nolan isn’t pat/patty here, and why tk is usually not travis)

“still me,” tk says, grinning at him with undisguised glee. he works the chips free and sits up, putting his weight just under nolan’s ribs so all the breath gets knocked out of him for a second.

“fucker,” nolan hisses, trying and failing to wriggle his way out. “what the fuck, teeks?”

“that’s what you get for not growing up with brothers, bro. gotta fight to survive. survival skills.”

“bud, you don’t even know. sisters have nails and they’re not fucking afraid to use them,” nolan says, his best murder glare in effect. he probably still has the scars in some places. (i know i do) tk snorts.

“sorry, i don’t see you scratching me here,” he says.  

“let me go and i’ll scratch you up real good,” he threatens and then his brain catches up with his mouth, his face going red as he realises what he’s maybe implied. “uh.”

tk doesn’t take the obvious chirp, just raises an eyebrow. there’s a considering look on his face, one that makes nolan want to squirm more and it settles somewhere down deep in his stomach. (so i wrote this scene because i needed a turn for both of them, relationship-wise. iirc, there’s been a few places where tk’s interest might be noticeable, but nothing super concrete for pat or for the reader. meanwhile, on tk’s side, he needed clear signals that pat’s into him before he tries to tell him again.)

“uh,” he says again because his brain is just fucking offline and his arms are still locked under travis’ legs and travis burns hot because nolan can feel it against his skin, through his t-shirt, and this is all going to get incredibly, incredibly awkward in about three seconds. (unfortunately, i love a good run-on sentence to build tension) he’s pretty sure popping a boner because a teammate is sitting on you is, like, not something you can get away with by laughing.

tk shifts, sitting up the tiniest bit, and reaches out the hand that’s not currently occupied with the fuckin’ chips— probably all crushed to hell now, anyway (foreshadowing!! also strategic last mention here so we know that tk is still holding them, and then they aren’t mentioned until the shoe drops for optimal dramatic effect) — and brushes his fingers against nolan’s cheek. he traces the blush from his cheekbone carefully down his neck, pausing to thumb at his jaw, and then bumps his fingers against his collar, where it disappears down into his shirt. (i really liked building the tension here. also this is fully just projection bc i would love to touch patty’s blush once in my life)

“you’re glowing, pat,” he says, so soft, and it makes nolan go redder. he glowers at a spot by tk’s ear, unwilling to look him in the face and see whatever is written there. (would tk actually tell nolan he’s glowing? probably not, but fictionally it gives the reader a good picture of what nolan looks like to someone else. i didn’t want to overuse red-- which didn’t quite feel like a strong enough word-- or blush, so glowing it was.) tk hooks his index into the collar and there’s a moment when nolan thinks he’s going to pull it down, see if his blush goes all the way down his chest— it does, if he’s embarrassed enough. it’s fucking terrible— and he turns his head away, dragging in a breath through his nose. he’s, like, so incredibly fucked that he can’t even think about it without going dizzy. (you’ll probably see this a lot if you look for it in my writing, but i like to add in a “like” or something similarly bro-ish when things get particularly emotionally fraught, to keep it more realistic. also i think it’s funny. anyway, i like the contrast of tk not being able to take his eyes away from something he wanted and nolan not being able to look at it. characterisation, wahey!) it’s better to just not look.

of course, it’s the exact opposite of what tk wants.

“hey,” he says. “look at me.”

nolan refuses, a muscle ticking in his jaw. (this is hot to me idc) tk lets go of his collar to pull on his hair instead, just a little tug of a piece by his ear, and nolan can’t quite bite back the punched-out sound that he lets out. (also hot.)

“look at me,” tk says again, an edge to his voice, and nolan does. tk won’t stop until he does, he knows that well enough. (another look at their dynamic and how well they know each other) he lifts his chin, just a tiny bit, because he’s not going to do anything without a fight. tk’s hand tightens in his hair and it keeps him in place, nailed— ha— to the floor. (i write for the people whose brains make inappropriate jokes at the wrong moments) he couldn’t move if he wanted to, watches helplessly as tk leans down.

the hope in his chest is so thick, nolan thinks it might actually smother him, stop his heart. he’s breathing fast and shallow, almost on the verge of panting, and jesus fuck, isn’t that embarrassing. he’s so desperate, he could squirm with it and he briefly remembers travis months ago, writhing on his very rug and how much nolan wanted to help. he can smell snow again, sharp in the back of his nose. (this does the double work of calling back to an earlier scene-- ya girl loves a good callback-- and also building the anticipation some more. the snow reference reminds the reader that this is still a werewolf au, even in the midst of this. also, once when i was like fifteen, i read something about how to write kisses/romance and it talked about picking one or two aspects of the kiss to focus on-- breathing, hands, the feeling of someone’s mouth, etc. i still use that advice.)

tk shifts his weight and nolan has enough time to think holy fuck, is this happening? before travis fucking konecny upends the bag of all dressed-flavoured crumbs all over his face. (OKAY a lot going on here! it’s one of my favourite moments, really. first of all, here’s the resolution of all the chips talk! sure, i could’ve just abandoned them, but the subverting of expectations was a lot more fun and the story still wasn’t quite ready for them to kiss yet. second, this is tk chickening out. he had two choices and he chose violence. or, like, the buddies option, which is amusing to me because this is not buddies, boys. finally, the full name was necessary to convey nolan’s disappointment and anger, as was the full description of the chips. nolan is upset, and he’s going to notice these things, and that shows up in his internal narrative.)

“got ‘em,” he crows over nolan’s sputtering, letting himself get bucked off onto the floor. nolan wipes furiously at his face, all his feelings a confusing mix of horny and angry and confused, all with the thick overtone of humiliation.

“you’re a fucking dick,” he says and it’s flat, but tk is gloating too much to care. (he’s not, he’s trying to cover, but nolan’s too embarrassed to realise)

“you should’ve seen your face, pat.”

nolan glares daggers at the carpet, the chips spread out everywhere. it’s going to be a bitch to clean up. tk had better help. (makes sure the punch landed, and to give a final resolution.)

he leans against the sofa and waits for tk to tire himself out, listening to the laughter and trying not to get too angry or, like, cry. his neck feels hot, prickling uneasily. he rubs at it with his hand, startles when tk kicks him gently in the ankle. (in order for tk to not come out of this looking like an asshole, i needed him to make up his obliviousness by being observant in other times. and in order for tk to notice patty being mad, i needed to give patty actions that could be noticed, like not laughing along with the joke)

“sorry if i made you mad,” tk says quietly, all the giggles finally worked out of him. “you looked tense (no shit bud) and i thought it would make you laugh.”

it’s not tk’s fault nolan thought he was gonna, like, kiss him. (”like” again, to break up a too-honest moment) it was a dick move but tk doesn't have a cruel bone in his body, so: “it’s fine,” he mumbles and shrugs his shoulder. “it was funny.”

tk preens for a second. “i know.”

“you owe me a bag now.”

“i’ll buy you a family-sized pack. i’m sure they’ll ship it down here, amazon or ups or somethin’.” (patty’s attempting to be normal and tk is attempting to make amends.)

nolan nods and scratches at his face, tipping his head against the couch cushions. (little motions like him scratching his face aren’t super necessary for like plot or development, but it helps humanize characters and i like to add them in whenever i can, as long as it’s not overkill. they can also be helpful in pointing to emotional state without directly saying it.) it’s quiet for a few seconds, just the sound of them breathing heavier than usual, and it would be so normal. should be normal, by all counts, but nolan still kind of wants to crawl into a hole for while. wants to push tk out of the apartment and eat ice cream and google ‘how to stop a crush,’ like his sisters used to do when they were upset. he’s already googled it, a few days ago, and there was nothing but maybe someone’s offered good advice since then. (people make an impact on you, and family even more so, and i always like reminders of how close nolan seems to be with his sisters. also, it’s funny.)

tk flicks him on the wrist. (this is something that tk does consistently through the story, and even though it’s not super important to this scene, it establishes a behaviour in the larger story. that’s important too!)

“pat,” he says and it sounds it’s not the first time. nolan blinks.

“yeah?”

“i just asked you if you were hungry.”

“oh. uh. no, not really,” he answers truthfully. tk wrinkles his nose.

“do you, like, have anything in your fridge to eat?”

“mm, probably not.”

“typical,” tk mutters under his breath, as if he ever has anything regularly stocked besides protein powder and bacon. (protein rich foods that are easy to eat after a full moon, or after a workout) at least nolan has eggs pretty consistently. (also a protein rich food that’s less easy to eat after a full moon, but are easy to make when you aren’t a werewolf) “wanna go get sushi?”

nolan thinks about it. shoves his sweaty hair behind his ear and considers going out to their favourite place and pretending he’s not still fucking mortified. and, like, a little turned on. it makes him nauseous. (i get such physical reactions to emotional things that i write everyone into having them) 

“no,” he says. he’s not facing tk but he can still see him deflate, his shoulders hunching over. “i don’t— no.”

“okay. that’s… okay.”

“i think i’m getting a migraine,” lies nolan. “think i’m just gonna lay down.”

“do you need me to stay with you? keep you company?”

nolan’s shaking his head before tk even finishes the thought. “no, trav. i’m fine, i promise.” (the trav here works as a signal that something isn’t right! it’s why tk looks at him for so long in the next line.)

tk studies him for a long minute, his eyes searching the side of patty’s face presented to him. nolan keeps his expression as blank as possible and stares hard at his feet.

“text me if you need anything,” he says finally, the words coming out slow and gentle. it’s a lot to handle. “i’ll come back.”

“i know. i will.” he won’t, but that’s not for tk to know. he doesn’t move when tk goes out the door, squeezes his eyes shut when the door doesn’t slam into its frame, (tk’s taking care of him, still!) and decides to leave the pile of crumbs to deal with later. (the climax of this scene happened a while ago so this is another little reminder of what happened, just so it’s solidified in the reader’s head after the longish comedown. i end scenes a LOT like this-- two actions, and then a callback-- because they’re simple and effective, and usually sound great!)  /fin

ahh thank you so much for asking!! this was really fun to, like, process through and remember my logic for! i was actually really nervous writing this scene, because i knew the tension and the break had to be PERFECT for it to land right. but i do like how it turned out so at least there’s that. ily!!

[freevoidman]

Tell us more things you have issue with in rwby and maybe some things you'd change.

Oh god, there’s plenty.

General World Structure/Building

- Please, for the love of god, outline what the government systems are. This isn’t a minor nitpick--knowing how the world works is, y’know, important. It would make the stakes of Volume 7 so much better if I fucking knew just how important a seat on the council is. The WoR tries to outline it better but 1) they sucked at explaining it even then and I still can’t understand it and 2) the WoR’s are considered semi-non-canon due to how much of the information in it is ret-conned, so I genuinely can’t tell what is still relevant or not.

- Please clarify how passive semblances work because if you’re going to have three important characters have them (so far it’s Qrow, Ironwood, and Maria who have somewhat “passive” semblances confirmed at least out of the show) we really need to know the rules behind them.

- Narrow down Dust Types and further clarify what does what holy shit. On the wiki, there are three(!!!) different types of dust that have to do with fire! Ice, “Steam,” and Water dust are considered separate, despite the fact they all deal with water, just in different forms of matter--why aren’t they the same and water dust covers all of it, and more experienced dust users be able to manipulate the state of matter? This makes things so much less complicated and narrows things down.

Rewrite parts of Jaune and Sun’s background

- Look it’s ridiculous that neither of these idiots know how the world works and I’m still salty about it. 

- Sun doesn’t know the history of the past 100-or-so years about Faunus and why Menagerie is the way it is (which??? why would he not??? He seriously should’ve known more than he did upon arriving there with Blake). I know it’s bc he’s supposed to be the audience explainer but gdi there are ways to do it without making your character look like a massive idiot.

- Jaune doesn’t know about Hunters (who are basically celebrities??? there is a semi-annual tournament broadcasted across the whole world how does he not know at least some famous names) or Aura which, based on the very shitty worldbuilding in RWBY, would be the real-world equivalent of not knowing how blood works and that’s honestly ridiculous.

- Basically I just want to make it so these two don’t look as dumb as they are bc their roles as Audience Inserts/Exposition Catalysts sacrifice any intelligence they have by making them dumb as hell.

Yang’s PTSD

- My god. My fucking god. 

- Either don’t do it or do proper research on how PTSD affects people and that their symptoms involve more than “having their hand shake” and have her “conquer” said PTSD by having her pass on a fight by getting her arm detached, thus putting her at a severe disadvantage when going to fight basically two demigods.

- Fuck’s sake she just casually detaches her arm when arm-wrestling Nora! She laughs about it! Someone with PTSD shouldn’t be laughing over basically what created the PTSD I am still so salty about this.

The entire racism subplot with the White Fang

- So... okay, I’m never going to FULLY understand the problems with the WF, mostly because my experiences as a white person don’t give me the same insight as someone who is a POC. However, I know it’s written poorly, and I listen to fan who are POC, this entire plotline NEEDS to be rewritten, preferably with actual research and POC writers contributing it it. As for what I find annoying or what I would change...

Why is it that the only person of the main cast who gives a fuck about racism Blake? I mean, yeah, it’s obviously because she’s a Faunus, but Yang doesn’t have any indication she cares beyond beating up Adam, Weiss only cares about reclaiming her family’s honor (which, yes, ties into faunus racism, but the way it’s portrayed seems to show she cares more about one-upping Jaques than actually improving things for Faunus, both as a whole and those personally afflicted by the SDC’s actions), and Ruby doesn’t seem to care at all. Make more than one main character care about equality, and make them care about it before they learn about the Gods, whose ultimatum is “the world must be united, or else everything will die.” If that is the motivator for 7/8 of the cast finally giving a fuck about racism instead of, y’know, actual racial injustices and oppression, you’ve fucked up.

I’m not a fan of terrorism either but, when you say “look at faunus-on-faunus crime, we’re just as bad as the terrorists for letting this happen, let’s make a small army out of never-before-trained Faunus to defend the humans of the second-most-racist-country and prove them wrong” it’s... just a dumb plan? I’m honestly partially convinced that the reason why so many people joined in was bc Illia said “I’ll do it” and the Menagerie citizens simultaneously got FOMO, holy shit.

Please do not reduce the power-hungry leader of the civil-rights-turned-terrorist organization to a whiny incel yandere. If you’re going to do that, you have to give more than a character short (which not everyone is going to see--that shit should’ve been in the main show) to ‘flesh out’ his character and make me think this is a logical leap.

Seriously Adam needed to be developed more before this to make this character arc 1) progress logically and 2) make me give a single fuck about him, his affect on Blake and Yang, and his death. You cannot rely on out-of-show material (like the character shorts, comics, and director commentary) to build character.

srsly why the fuck is Weiss never involved in White Fang stuff outside of telling Blake “I deeply regret what my father did :(” like make her fucking proactive outside of going “my dad is an abusive piece of shit and I hate him, and he’s also a racist so I hate him for that too I guess”??? have her go to the election party w/ Robin who appears to be pro-Faunus, actively condemn Jacques and give support to Robin, instead of going to a fucking movie with Oscar and Jaune of all people??? make her actually give a shit about civil rights instead of having her whine about feeling bad my fucking god.

[cafeinthemoon]

Purple Dragon - Chapter 1

Title: Purple Dragon

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: none yet

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2405

Chapter: 1/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶️ | ▶️

Warnings: canon divergence, past trauma and other stuff in the next chapters, but the appropriate warnings will be included 👍

N. A.: God I'm so happy and nervous at the same time bc this is my first bnha fic! 🥺 Just binge watched 3 seasons in less than a week and now I'm reluctant to finish season 4 and face bnha hangover so I'm probably don't know exactly what I'm doing here, but here we go! Yay!

Chapter 1 - American Girl

The morning outside the U.A.’s building was so quiet that Midoriya Izuku would never believe that all the disturbance he heard once he walked into it was possible. A confusion of whispered words, exclamations of surprise and excitement and muffled laughs came from his classroom, at some point of the corridor through which he was walking now, and seemed to meet him as a morning greeting.

Well, soon he noticed that some of his friends were actually coming to greet him besides the noise, their faces showing the exact expression he would expect from what he heard. Uraraka Ochacho reached him first, her big eyes shinning as if she was proud of herself for being the first one to speak to the newcomer.

- Good morning, Deku-kun! – she showed the boy her best smile – I think you’re going to regret not coming earlier today!

Midoriya was not regretting anything at the moment. In fact, meeting Uraraka before anyone else at school was not something about which he would complain: the warmth that always came up to his cheeks when he put his eyes on her was both embarrassing and comforting, if such thing was possible. The only problem was that he used to struggle to pay attention to anything around him or to control his actions every time this happened, and that was his precise situation at that time.

- G-good morning, Uraraka-san – he heard his own voice as if it belonged to someone else, the words coming out by themselves – What are you talking about?

The girl took a breath and was about to spread the news, but another voice was heard behind her.

- Oh, Midoriya! Good morning! I suppose you already know by now... we are going to meet a new classmate today!

Iida Tenya, with his composed manners, joined them with that discreet smile he believed to be appropriate for a class representative to express how excited he was with the arrival of another student at the heroes’ course, but both Midoriya and Uraraka knew that more than any of their friends he was urging to meet the new aspiring hero.

Uraraka’s face was now red and her lips were closed so tight that she could suffocate. Maybe she was irritated by Iida’s interruption or something, but whatever the case that was how he saw things, and he started to apologize in his well known way.

- I am so sorry for my rude behavior, Uraraka-san! – he bent down at her, his arms glued to the sides of his body, his head almost touching the floor – Please, tell Midoriya the whole story and I will not open my mouth until you are finished! This is a promise!

While the girl was doing her best to convince Iida that she wasn’t offended at all, Midoriya was still a bit lost with all that information coming to him at once. He started to walk toward the class as the others followed him.

So we are going to have a new classmate soon, right?

- Yes! – Uraraka have completely forgotten all the irritation with the urge to speak – According to what I’ve heard, her name is Ryu and she just came from the United States. Well, actually she was born in Japan but her family moved to the United States when she was little, so this makes her almost a foreigner – she clenched her fists – It’s unbelievable! She can communicate in both Japanese and English, if what I’ve heard is correct. She must be a very smart person. At least we will be able to talk to her, and she might help us during English lessons! Isn’t it fantastic, Deku-kun?

Midoriya smiled, for the first time contemplating the idea of having a new classmate, and one who came from such a distant place as the United States.

- Yes, that’s amazing. But where is she?

This time, Iida, back to his composed attitude, didn’t see any problem in taking the floor:

- She’s talking to Aizawa sensei right now, but nobody can enter the room. Apart from what Uraraka said, we don’t have much more information about her. We don’t even know what type of quirk she has. We will have to wait until she is officially introduced to us.

They stopped at the classroom’s entry when Midoriya questioned how they got the little information they just spread. The answer to this came from the first person who greeted them at the door.

- We got a little help in this! – the pink, round face of Mina Ashido popped out in front of the trio with a smile that could be both of joy and embarrassment; she pointed her thumb to someone behind her back – Shouji kind of refused to collaborate, so fortunately we had Jirou by our side – and lowering her tone – She was dying to gather as much information as she could, but if you say that to her, she will deny, of course.

Midoriya pointed his finger to Jirou.

- So you asked her to listen behind the door?

Mina’s cheeks passed from pink to red in an instant. Jirou was not so close from the group to hear what was being said, but she looked away as to avoid additional questions. Midoriya looked at Iida and Uraraka seeking for a confirmation; it came in the form of clenched fists and lips bitten.

At the bottom of the class, there were more people who weren’t willing to discuss the bad habit of listening private conversations when such important events were about to take place: Kaminari was wondering if the new student’s quirk was similar to his; Kirishima, with his sharp smile at sight, agreed that it would be quite an experience if it happened; Sero was arguing that her quirk would be more impressive if it resembled his own; Mineta, lost in his own thoughts, didn’t say a word, but it would be no surprise if he was questioning himself about the girl’s physical attributes.

Though he could understand his classmates’ feelings, Midoriya couldn’t say he relate to the way in which they express their interest in the new girl. On his side, it was better not to create great expectations and let the facts surprise him by themselves. Maybe that was the opinion of some of the students who kept quiet in the middle of that noise, like Tsuyu Asui and Momo Yaoyorozu, engaged in a private and calm talking.

The only ones who seemed to have no particular interest in meeting the mysterious girl were Todoroki and Kacchan, the first one, with a book open in front of him, too concentrated in his own things to give his surroundings any attention, the second too irritated with all the mess to say anything.

***

Moments before

There were enough seats for at least ten people to occupy in that room, as well as a good space between each of them, but waiting in one of them somehow was not possible for Ryu Murasaki. There was something in the silence of those four walls that would not let her nerves relax. Was it the fact that she haven’t enough rest before attending to the U.A.’s call or was it the lack of time to process the fact that she was back in the country from where she moved at three? It wasn’t possible to tell, and neither she wanted to think about it. Not now.

The only thing Ryu could wish for now was the noise of her own thoughts to diminish. In normal circumstances, this could be reached while she would stand beside a window and just stare at the things outside, but now it didn’t seem to work though she has been in front of the room’s large windows for about ten minutes.

That was the funny thing about all of this: nothing under her sight – the morning sky out there, the trees, the school’s gates – was out of place. Yet not everything felt right. Ryu sighed; it was not so easy to stop projecting one’s impressions in lifeless things.

The door was opened at the opposite side of the room and she turned her neck toward it. A man entered the place without making a sound. He closed it behind his back and came to the center of the room, still in silence. Ryu has no great familiarity with the habits of the people there, but it was easy to suppose that she had to leave her spot and approach to greet him.

The man, tall and all dressed in black, carried a white fabric stripe wrapped around his neck, too thin and too long to be called a scarf. Was it an eccentricity of him or something else? There was no way to find out. This dress code was not the only unusual thing noticed by her: his hair, black and falling in waves around his shoulder and over his forehead, almost hiding his eyes, seemed to have grown for a long time without the interruption of a regular cut, and the same situation applied to his beard, all dark dots growing out the pale skin of his face. Everything in his appearance and presence reminded of tiredness and silence. Ryu didn’t try to guess what type of quirk he had, but she was convinced that it had something to do with put people to sleep.

The man’s greeting was simple.

- Good morning. You must be Ryu Murasaki, the girl who we are supposed to receive as our new student in the heroes course. According to what was sent to us, you were born in japan, but your parents moved to the United States with you when you were younger than five. So you manifested your quirk while you lived there.

The girl nodded.

- And thanks to your dual nationality, you are also fluent in English and Japanese.

- Yes.

His tone, low and slow, fitted him: it was not what she would call encouraging, so no question was made and he just kept speaking.

- I apologize for not giving enough time to rest after your long travel to Japan. My name is Shouta Aizawa and I am the teacher of 1 A Class, of which you are going to be part of. I’ve received some information about your quirk and your history, and what I can say is that it is something different from what I’ve seen in my years of experience as a hero and a teacher. So I’d like to hear an explanation from you. Can you give me details about your quirk?

Ryu felt warm sweat gathering in her palms and between her fingers. Speaking about her quirk always brought her the same sensation she thought she would have if someone asked her to take her clothes off in front of a crowd. Among the replies she had for that type of question was running away or hiding part of the answer.

This latter was what she tried to do at that time.

- I can… do things with my mind. I think of something I want to do and materialize my thought thanks to the energy I’m able to gather in my hands.

The next question came as no surprise after a short explanation like that.

- Can you show me how you do it?

Ryu swallowed. She looked around and found a small vase upon a table. When she raised her hand toward it, a purple, moving shade surrounded her fingers at the same time it manifested in the object’s surface; one movement from Ryu’s hand and the vase floated above the table. After a moment, she used the same delicacy to put it back in its place, and the purple shade finally disappeared from it and from her hand.

That was enough for now. It had to be enough…

- Is this everything you can do today?

The question hit her like a slap on her face.

- What do you mean, Aizawa-sensei?

- According to your history, you are currently able to modify, hide or destroy things with your quirk. However, instead of using your skills to change the object’s configuration , you just choose to make it float.

- And what’s the problem with it? – she interrupted.

Though his tone didn’t alter, something in his eyes intensified when Aizawa replied this time. Ryu didn’t like that.

- I hope you understand that I need to know exactly what you can do. It seemed that the best way to get an answer from you was by talking, but apparently I was deceived.

And what if I have my reasons to not talk to a stranger? was the first thing that came as an answer. But the words never came to her tongue. What she was supposed to say to that? Didn’t that man have no consideration at all?

Well, maybe not.

- Ryu Murasaki, activate your quirk and try to attack me now.

The girl took a step back without realizing it.

- You… You cannot be serious!

The silence Aizawa gave her as reply showed that yes, he was serious. Ryu had no choice. The purple energy appeared on her hand for the second time, more intense, faster in its swirling. She raised her hand and tried not to think of the results when she blasted the shade at his direction… and nothing happened.

She looked at the teacher and saw his hair floating above his head, while a reddish glimmer covered his pupils. She dropped her hand at the same time his hair and eyes went back to normal. The air in the room, suddenly disturbed with the conflict, was calm again. Ryu opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to speak, but the latent question was in her eyes. What did you just do?

- I forgot to mention, but I am also known as my hero name, Eraserhead. You must know what it means.

So, Aizawa’s quirk is to erase other people’s power. The fact that he was a teacher to aspiring heroes was suggesting, then. When she looked at him again, something assuring was perceived in his monotone traits.

- Overthinking your situation won’t help you at all. I know it seems too much to ask this from you now, but trust the U.A.’s program and you new teacher. As long as you are here, there’s nothing to worry about.

[angrypixie-sarisa]

Of Death and a Baby

Piedras Rodantes Pt. 23

Sam xMexican!Witch!fem!readerx Dean (polyamorous)

Author’s note: There’s the use of indigenous language, Nahuatl, casually but magically as well. Nahuatl is the language used by the Aztecs. It doesn’t mean they were magical, but Día de muertos was celebrated long before the Spanish conquista. Because of the focus of death in this chapter I personally think that the connection between the tradition and language is quite beautiful and I wanted to use it in a way with respect. I personally am learning Nahuatl and felt the enthusiasm of incoporating it to the story. If someone finds it offensive or has notes about it I will gladly take them and even erase the chapter if necessary.

Warnings: kinda long, swearing.

(no gifs bc my wifi sucks)

“Okay, so, are you sure he had no aura? Like, not even a spark of red? Yellow? Heck, not even blue?” Diego was sitting criss cross in front of you. You shook your head as you finished drawing on your floor.

“Nothing, and when I say nothing, believe me, it was nothing. You remember that spooky book at school? The one with the weird gray lump?”

“Wha-the weird one?”

“It reminded me so much of that.”

“Word?”

“Word. Hence this.” You signaled towards the things drawn on your floor, all surrounded by the respected color, tarot cards, crystals and herbs. Diego sighed as he helped you light up all the candles. 

“You know, if they find out about this, they’ll get mad.” He said as he placed his hands on his knees, palms hugging them lazily. 

“¿Quién?” You asked as you did the same thing. He gave you a look as if you were supposed to know who he was talking about. 

“Sam and Dean?”

“Oh, pft, who cares if they get mad? Esto es justo y necesario. Además sus sentimientos no tienen nada que ver en si hago magia o no. Screw them.” he dedicated you a proud look, before clearing his throat. “Ready?” 

“On three?”

He nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three. Nihuinti, nichoca, nicnotlamati, nicmati, nic-itoa, nic-elnamiqui: ¡Maca aic nimiqui, maca aic nipolihui! Incan ahmicohua, incan ontepetihua, in ma oncan niauh: ¡maca aic nimiqui, maca aic nipolihui! Estoy ebrio, lloro, me duelo, digo, me acuerdo: ¡ojalá no muera yo, ojalá nunca perezca! Donde no se muere, donde se encumbra, allá vaya yo- Ojalá.” You both chanted in unison. The circle started to illuminate with variety of colors, though the ones that repeated the most were red, purple, orange, green and blue. You kept chanting the same words over and over until in the center of it all, you got an answer. 

Slowly, you both opened your eyes and moved your hands from your knees as you looked at the center on the circle. 

You sighed. In temporal burnt letters it was written “Tetlapopolhuiliztli. Atlenkauitl.” Which meant sorry, no time or bussy.

“Well, there’s another way.” 

“I know, but it’s the longest way of invoking death.” 

“But it’ll be worth it. You’ll have your answers.” 

You sighed while passing a hand through your hair. 

“Es la muerte. Tiene sentido que esté ocupada.”

“Ni modo.” Your phone vibrated in your backpocket. You took it out and checked it only to find a text from Lisa. She managed to convince Dean to get on board with the gun lesson and the knife throwing. Verga. You forgot about it or rather you were utterly convinced that he wouldn’t give in that you decided to focus all your energy and thoughts to summoning Death. But well, she was busy and now you were stuck multitasking. 

“It’s not fair. I wanted to learn how to throw it.”

“I know champ. But for now your mom gets this privilege.” You caressed his hair slightly. Though Lisa didn’t feel it like a privilege. She would rather not have to know how to fire a gun and throw a knife, but her situation demanded it so here she was. 

“Okay, once you master the movement of your throwing hand and you don’t fear to hit your foot instead of the wood your standing on-” 

She looked at you with a mock on her eyes at your teasing. 

“Then you’ll move from throwing at the floor to throwing at a wall. For now, stick to the other method, the precautions and keep practising. Salt in the windows and doors, the whole shebang.” 

She nodded as she and Ben helped you get the set up you brought for her practicing. Next thing you were at the door, already saying your goodbyes and as you walked a block away your phone vibrated again. Since you wanted to summon her, you kept thinking everything could be a signal that death actually made some time to pay you a quick visit. But sending a text wasn’t her style and when you saw your screen it was Dean’s name that appear. It was a text, however, you didn’t get the chance to read as a call came to replace it. 

“Hey. I was just with Lisa and Ben, made sure the house’s properly safe and all. What’s-”

“Y/N, we need your help.” He sounded desperate, his voice was rushed and it sounded as if it came from different places, kind of like up and down, for some reason. 

“Wha-Why? With what?” Just after you asked your ears were filled with the sound of whales, very noisy and demanding whales with a tiny sob here and there. 

“Is that a baby?!” 

“Yeah! I told you we need you! Quick, I don’t know for how much longer we can handle this!” 

“Okay, but-”

“Perfect. See you here.” And then he hung up.

+++++

There was a knock on the other side of the door, a very loud knock. "No, no please don't…" Dean muttered as he heard the baby starting to cry again. Sam passed a frustrated hand over his face as he saw his brother open the door only to be met by another catastrophe. Your eyes were flames and he could swear you could kill anybody with that glare. 

"What. The. Hell? At least if you ask me to come over give me the fucking place where you're at! I had to open five different doors to come here! There's a Swedish family you owe an apology to!" You practically helped yourself in. Taking deep breaths to calm yourself as you walk through all the room. Your eyes landed on the whaling baby. "Hi. I'm sorry, did I scare you, darling?" You went to pick him up and to the brothers surprise the baby lifted his arms at you. "Yeah, come here buddy. Hi! Are these evil men not attending to your needs? They're pretty awful aren't they?" 

"Excuse me?" Dean glared at you and the baby as he settled his head on your chest, on top of your heart. You passed a soothing hand through his back and rocked him gently. 

"Sorry I woke you up. They were awful to me as well." You whispered to him.

"Oh, come on!" Dean, once again, complained.

"That's a lie." You heard Sam say at the table.

"Don't believe them. They would say anything to save their necks. A bet they don't even hold you. Tsk. Muy mal." With every word you felt him relax and you looked down to confirm that his eyes were droopy. 

"Hey, about your spanish." Started the older Winchester and measured his words as he was met up by a murderous gaze. 

"What about my Spanish?"

"I'm tired of wondering whatever you're saying all the time. Could you just cast that spell that Diego did for Tyler?" 

"Me too." 

You turned to look at Sam and you couldn't see anything other than mere curiosity. You rolled your eyes as you whispered the spell and a light orange smoke appeared at your feet before dispersing quickly, as though something scared it. 

"Did it-did it work?"

"Pues claro que funcionó. ¿Verdad que sí mi niño?" And as you spoke words started appearing as if they were watching a movie with subtitles. 

"Wow! That's awesome! Say something more." 

You thought for a while as if suddenly you didn't know any Spanish. Funny enough, the next words you spoke weren't Spanish. 

"Ma cochi, pitentzin. Maconexteca pitelontzin. Ma cochi cochi noxocoyotl. Maconexteca noxocoyotzin. Maconexteca pitelontzin. Ma cochi cochi pitelontzin. Maconexteca noxocoyotzin. Maconexteca pitelontzin. Ma cochi cochi pitentzin." But it worked, the spell translated the Nahuatl words, the song to them. But of course, the sound of it wasn't familiar to the brothers. 

The baby in your arms cooed lazily at the sound of the song. Instead of bothering to answer the brother's questions you kept singing to the babe until he fell asleep. Only then did you stop singing and placed him in the crib. 

"What was that?" Sam asked. He had stood up from his place on the table to lean nearby on a wall. 

"Nahuatl." You said nonchalantly. But of course that wasn't a satisfying answer. 

"I studied Nahuatl so it makes sense that I know how to speak the language." You looked at their dumbfounded faces and sighed. 

"Do you need a quick class of Mexico's history?" Seeming that there was no response you continued. "As in the United States, México was also populated by indigenous cultures. The dominant, and I'm not proud about this, culture was the Aztec/Mexica. They dominated great part of the country so it's the most spoken indigenous language, although there's still a small number of people that speak it. I personally fell in love with it and so wanted to learn it and did." You shrugged when no response came from them. "What can I say? I'm a woman of many surprises." 

“I see that.” Sam said, patting your head gently as he went to head outside. 

“Where are you going? I hope you didn’t just drag me around here to babysit.”

“I just have to cover something I missed. Brb.” He winked at you before disappearing behind the shut door. 

You sighed and passed a hand through your hair, then turned to look at Dean, who was resting in one of the beds. “Well at least you’re here to keep me company.” 

You sat beside him, looking at the wooden bars of the crib whilst biting your lip, deep in thought. He never used to pat your head, he only did it once before you told him to stop because you felt like a dog. 

You felt heavy fingers tapping at your back lazily. You turned around to face the tired look on his face. “What ‘cha thinking?” 

You released your lip and turned your attention back to the crib.

“Nothing.” It would’ve convinced him if it wasn’t for the fact  that your voice sounded low and dark, causing him to sat up. 

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.” When you didn’t answer, he pressed. “Is it Sam?” 

At that he caught your attention, seeing as your head quickly spun around to face him with a puzzled look painted in it. 

“You feel it too?”

“Feel what?” He thought the distance between you and his brother was bothering you and he didn’t know why it was there in the first place. You two should be like newly weds or something, after all, you were reunited again. 

“Nothing, nothing.” You panicked and closed your mouth before you could say something else. 

“Y/N.” He warned. Well now he needed answers. He wanted to know what was happening. 

“Dean, you don’t wanna know, okay?”

“Except I do, you’ve just called me Dean.” 

Finally, you met him in the eye again. “What?”

“You only call me Dean when you’re serious.”

“That’s not true.”

“Mhm, sure.”

You laid back on your forearms, still looking forward. “Don’t know what you talkin’ ‘bout win- I mean, De-”

“See, I told you!” He slapped your thigh playfully as he chuckled, earning a few silent laughs from you. 

“Okay, alright, you’re right. I do call you Winchester frequently.” His hand wrapped above your knee and squeezed gently. He gave you some time in silence before he planned to press again. He didn’t want to give the impression that he wouldn’t ask again but also he didn’t want to annoy you with his insistence. 

“What is it? What about Sam?”

You groaned. “You never give up, do you?”

He shrugged as his thumb made tiny circles on your jean wrapped knee. 

You sighed. “Fine. Si te vas a poner en ese plan, pues ya que.” You huffed as you sat up again. 

He smiled softly. “ I love this spell.”

“Yeah, except now I can’t talk shit with you in the room anymore.” 

He bumped his shoulder with yours. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Wha- you were the one who did.”

“Y/N.”

“Ay, sí, ya sé.” You rolled your eyes, took a deep breath and let go. “Do you think Sam is… You know, our Sammy?” There was a pause as his hand stopped moving abruptly. You started playing with one of your beaded bracelets nervously as you waited for his answer. “What do you mean?”

You sighed before answer. “He’s not Sammy, Dean. He’s… Different and not in a good way.”

“What- How is he different?”

“Well he doesn't fight with you.”

“Oh, so you prefer it that we fight?”

“No, i don’t mean it like that. I mean it’s not natural. You guys fight and now he rises from the depths of hell and suddenly your brotherhood is just paradise?”

“How do you even know that we fight normally?”

“He told me before going back to hunting, before going to hell. Dean he’s not Sam. There’s something wrong with him, he-he has no aura. He’s way to poised and calm all the time. He patted my head.” You started listing all the things, carefully toning down your voice so you wouldn’t wake up the baby again. 

“Wow, what? Your basing all this on him patting your head?”

“It’s not just that, didn’t you hear what I said? He had literally no AURA. And him patting my head? I asked him not to once and he never did it again through the time we were together.”

“So he’s awkward, he’s remembering how it was having you around it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well, how do you explain the aura then?” You crossed your arms. 

At that, he remained silent, clenching his jaw as he thought. “Maybe you’re still tired, from the djinn thing.”

You took a deep breath and clenched your fists. You knew he wouldn’t understand.

“Just forget I told you this.”

“No, Y/N, I-” But whatever he was about to say got muffled by the sound of something splattering, followed by baby cries. You both looked up to see skin and blood on the wall. 

You both hurried to aid him, you beating Dean to it as he answered a call from Sam. 

“Dean.” You called as you picked the baby covered in green goo. He hanged up the phone and took the baby from you. But neither of you knew what to do except for panicking and do a funny dance where you stood. 

“Shapeshifter.” 

“I know.”

“The baby, he’s…”

“I know.” 

“What do we do, Y/N?!” 

“Um, okay, well…” You stammered. “No need panicking.” But what could you do? Was there anything to do, really? All you could do was take care of him until you could figure out something better. “Um, we- we can’t have a dirty baby. Let’s clean him and for once stop him from crying.” 

The Winchester nodded rapidly. “Yeah, yeah that sounds like a plan.” He took the baby to the bathroom, living you staring at the mess left behind. 

“I guess I’ll deal with this.”

+++

You finally got everything clean except that the baby kept crying. You tried cooing at him and playing with him but nothing worked. It would’ve been easier if you had a baby toy but, the brothers didn’t buy any. 

“Y/N, come on. You were supposed to be the baby whisperer.”

“Oye! Just because I’m a woman it doesn’t mean I’m the baby whisperer.” 

Then, there were knocks on the door before a voice came through. “Manager. Everything okay in there?” You frowned as you both shared a look before glaring at the door. 

“Yeah, no, we’re fine. Thank you. Good night.”

“There’s been complaints. Mind opening the door, sir?”

“Ay, pinche wey, pues que le valga a la verga.” You whispered. The older Winchester pressed a hand on your mouth despite your complaints. “You cannot curse in front of a baby.” He scolded. 

You shrugged his hand away. “Oh, grow up, everybody does.”

“Sir?”

“Uh, it’s not a good time. J-Just got out of the shower.” 

The doorknob started moving impatiently. You shared a look with the hunter. In your eyes he found an ice cold blue that wasn’t supposed to be there. He saw you move to hide on one side of the door, leaving the baby to him as he placed the him in the crib, before mimicking your actions. 

The door opened up to reveal a police man with a knife. Manager, mis huevos. Dean heard your voice in his head, not affording to look at the translation.  The intruder just needed to advance a couple of steps before he grabbed his arm and you got the knife out his hand. 

Struggling, the man pushed you two away from him, making the stupidest thing and pushing you two in between the baby and him.

“Get the hell out of the way.”

“No that’s not gonna happen.”

“A child should be with his father.” 

“Prove he’s your son, then we’ll consider it.” You said. 

“I’m not just talking about me, I’m talking about our father.” 

You masked your confusion well enough but the hunter looked as if he took the bait. You mentally facepalmed.  And as the guy went to make his move you quickly dodged his kick before you kneeled and kicked his other leg. 

“Y/N, look out!” 

He grabbed you by your hair and pulled. But just as sudden as it was it stopped. Dean had jumped into action and wrestled with the man. 

“The knife!” 

You felt it beneath you and you grabbed it as you went and pressed it on the shapeshifter’s throat. He groaned, placing his hands around the hunter’s throat. 

“Try me, I’ll choke him before you could slice my throat.”

“You talk to much.” As you went to move your hand he slammed his head with yours, freeing himself from your threat. 

You placed a hand on your forehead and saw him towering over you. But before he could do anything else a gunshot was heard and his body met the floor with a thump. 

“Well, there goes our deposit.” You heard Dean say towards the door. You needn’t see it to know that it was Sam.

+++

You were driving to meet up with Samuel and the cousins. The boys had discussed about the events and Sam had suggested to go to Samuel. You weren't happy about it, your gut kept telling you that something was wrong. Still, there you were, sitting at the back of the car, keeping an eye on the sleeping baby. 

You looked out your window, not really knowing where to look at, but you certainly didn’t want to face forw, when something caught your eye. As if the world had slowed down, you perfectly saw a lost soul watching dumbfounded at the cars as if they didn't know how they got into the road. 

Your fingertips started tingling and you glanced down at them to find them colored a coal black tone. 

Verga. You glanced around shoving everything trying to find anything that could help you; there had to be something you could use to hide them. 

"Hey, what's up?" Dean asked watching you through the rear mirror. 

"Uh. Sammy…" you cleared your throat. "Sam, do you happen to have the other day's gloves?" 

"Uh, I think so. I think there somewhere back there." 

You sighed and mumbled a thank you. You were sure to move carefully, trying not to flash them your fingertips. 

Just as you thought you had no exit to your problem you saw crushed leather fingers beneath the baby's car chair.

"Ay Dios mío, gracias!" You quickly retrieved them, shoving your hands swiftly into the soft fabric from the inside. 

"So, what's with you and the gloves?" The older brother asked. 

"I- I well, you know, I tend to wear them when I get too overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed, 'bout what?"

"Er, um, pues, 'bout the energy of people or a place, sometimes certain hours of the day. It depends but the feeling's rare."

While it was a true statement, it had more to do with the fact that death started surrounding you and it would only intensify once the summoning was complete. But, the fingers usually happened if the spell for summoning death worked a little too well.

+++

It was night time when you arrived and the chills down your spine intensified. There was no way you were leaving the baby’s side now. 

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Soon all of this mess would be over. 

You held the baby close to you, careful not to crush him, and the cousins gave you weird looks about it that you decided to take care of by giving them the finger. Every time you did, Dean shook his head. 

“Oh, relax he’s asleep. He can’t see me.” 

Gwen approached you with her eyes fixed on the baby. She went to caress his head softly as she said. “Well, aren’t you the best disguise a monster ever wore?”

You looked away from her, sure that if you stared at her for too long her head would explode. Instead you locked eyes with Dean and you both rolled eyes in unison at his cousin’s words.

However, she noticed. “I’m kidding, guys. Relax.” She said before going away. 

You lifted the baby softly so he could hear your words. “Cura, cura, cura. Sana todo lo que llevas. Que tus abuelos están contigo y sus espíritus te protegen.” It was an incantation to wash away the energy of the brother’s cousin, you didn’t want it sticking around where it didn’t belong. No one heard, but they did see you and questioned you. When asked what the hell you were doing, you shrugged. 

“Que te valga madre, ¿no?” 

When you fully lifted your gaze, the Sams were already heading towards you and the older brother had already stood besides you. 

“Hey, let me see the little guy.”

“That’s alright I got it.” You said firmly. 

Samuel smiled. “What do you think I’m gonna do?”

There it was, your ice cold eyes again. “I don’t know. What do you think you’re gonna do?”

“You don’t want an answer to that question.” Dean backed you up. 

“Well, I’m curious. Who exactly do you think we are?” Christian asked from his chair. 

“Hunters.” You both answered. But that didn’t matter because his response was only directed to the one on your right side. 

“Funny. Here i thought we were family.”

“Hey, let’s not get worked up.” Sam started. 

“Yeah, let’s not.” His cousin finished before directing his attention to something else. 

“Here, Y/N, it’s fine.” He neared you and looked at you. “Let me take him. It’s okay.”

“Heh, well you’ll have to rip him off of my arms.” You didn’t move. You stood your ground because stepping back would’ve ment intimidation and you weren’t intimidated you were furious. 

“Y/N.” Sam said quietly.

“No, don’t talk that bullshit to me. What do you want him for? Hm? Tell me, give me a good reason why you want me to hand him and I will.”

The room fell silent, more than it already was. You scoffed. “What you can’t think of a good one? He’s fine, he’s healthy, he isn’t injured. You want to take a look at him? Hear your words. Look. You can do that shit with your eyes, I don’t need to hand him over for that.”

Samuel, sighed, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. 

He’s nervous. The older brother heard your words in his head. His back shuddered, but when he turned to look at you he saw that your attention wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t even think you actually intended to talk to him. What did you said once? You tended to think loudly. 

“What are you gonna do with him?” The attention of the good ol’ Campbell shifted from you to his grandson. 

“Raise him.”

You scoffed. “Simón, wey. Esa ni tu te la crees.” 

“Raise him?”

“You got another suggestion?” 

“But-”

“It’s dangerous out there for him.”

“What about in here? What are we gonna study him? Poke at ‘im?”

“Your mind goes right to torture, Dean. Don’t assume that for everyone.” 

“What exactly you’re tryna say?” Great, now you got two angry people. Good luck fighting us.

“Sorry, I heard what you majored in. Down in the pit.” Christian retorted.

“Ay, pinche puñetas! Que te valga madre, pinche cabron de mierda!”

“Sorry, I don’t speak mexican.” 

You gritted your teeth. “And I don’t speak bozo, yet here we are.” 

“The hell is your problem, man?”

His cousin stood up and walked directly towards you. “You’re starting to become a pain in my ass.” 

“Take it easy. They’re my family.” Sam stepped in. 

Christian took a look at you. “I’m not scared of fighting a girl.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.” 

Dean gulped and looked at your eyes, they were no longer icy blue, they were pure red, as fire and blood. As if you could burst something into flames by just looking at it. 

“We’re done bristling up here or what? Nobody’s doing anything to him, guys. When he’s old enough we throw it to him.” Samuel spoke. “He wants to volunteer to help out, that’s fine.” 

“Could be great.” Mark added. 

“How?” You asked lowly. 

“Think of the kind of hunter he’ll grow up to be.” 

“Hm. See I didn’t see it before but now I do. Thank you for that, you’ve opened my eyes.” You said sarcastically. 

“You have to be joking! I mean, come on. You can’t Angelina Jolie a shapeshifter.”

“Why can’t you give me an inch of trust, Dean?”

“Y/N, give him the baby.” Mark commanded. 

“Uy, sí, mamón. Lo que usted ordene. Se me olvidaba que le tengo que hacer caso a cualquier pendejo que abra la boca.” 

“Maybe because you two are back from the dead and I seem to be the only one who wants to know how.”

“You’re not the only who wants to know.” Sam said softly. That took you off guard, it sounded so genuine yet only in that moment he felt honest. 

“Well, there’s too much of mystery in this family for me to get comfy.”

“Then don’t. But don’t put it on us. All we’re trying to do is invite you in. You too, young lady. You think we are some merciless hunters but we’ve been nothing but open to you. Christian, you’ve always wanted a baby, haven’t you?”

“I mean, yeah.” 

“Try to take him away from me and see what happens.”

Samuel scoffed. “What you think you can do better?”

“At raising him? Yeah, I do.”

“But didn’t you tell Sam that you didn’t want kids?” Gwen stepped in. 

“Well I changed my mind, sue me. One thing is for certain, I have a better chance. You guys are always on the run, always hopping from one town to another. You don’t have a steady income. I do. And I have a savings account with money enough to start a college fund. If you can’t say the same thing, leave the baby the fuck alone.” Your phone kept buzzing like crazy. Just a little bit more, he’s almost here. 

Everyone fell silent again. This was new to Dean. He had never seen you liked this but he always knew that you had a good way of shutting people the hell up with solid facts. 

Just when Samuel opened his mouth to respond, distant barks were heard and panic overflowed the room. 

You looked at Sam, only to find nothing but confusion. Then you turned to Dean, but he only dedicated you a panic look as well. You felt paralyzed, your body tensed and for the first time in years, you didn’t know what to do. Well, you did, but it was easier for you to think tit than to move your body. You had to blame it on the spell, it was making you slow and frightful, like an old person that had their foot more on the afterlife than on the material world

“Safe room.” Samuel said. He placed a hand on your shoulder and guided you towards a door. “It’s downstairs. The baby’s gonna be safe there, go! We got it, go!”

+++

Loud clanks and footsteps echoed in the safe room where the four of you where at. 

“Come on, Bobby John, you’ve got to be quiet.” Dean cooed at him above of you. You still didn’t feel like handing him to someone else. 

“I’m gonna go check, you guys stay here.” Sam said, but as he looked through the window his image was mirrored and the shapeshifter yanked the door of it’s hinges. He took Sam by the collar, blocking his attack and threw him out of the room, knocking him out. He spotted you and began to walk towards your direction, getting rid of Dean in the process, making him blackout as well. . He then saw you and took your form. 

“Give me the baby.” 

“Took you long enough.” You whispered before handing them the babe. The shapeshifter gave you a thankful look as they carried the baby in his arms. They took a deep breath as they relaxed knowing that his keen was finally with them.  

“Thank you for calling us. And trusting us, Y/N. Thank you for taking care of him, we are in debt with you. It did making the tracking easier”

“There’s no need for that.” You sighed. “I’m only glad he’s safe. I was the only one who thought he was better with his kind.”

Your mirrored self gave you one last nod before walking away. Just as they were about to round the corner, they turned to you. 

“But you didn’t trust one of us before. What changed?” 

“Like I told him. All I needed was proof that he was the father. Now it doesn’t matter anymore. He has no one close to him left. I’m sorry for all the trouble, it wasn’t supposed to go like this.” 

They shrugged and as they walked away they said: “Make sure to make your injuries believable.” 

Yeah. You thought and sighed. That was going to hurt.

The rest of it went like you expected, lots of clean up and confusion. Dean asked about the shapeshifter alpha (which was the one tracking the baby) and his grandparent and Sam answered patiently. 

Now you where at the walk to the car, tending to your black eye, that you funnily gave yourself, while the brothers talked. 

“You know what’s funny.”

“What?”

“Back there, the fight in the motel. That guy said that they had to be with their father. So maybe, he was talking about the alpha.”

“Uh, I guess so.” Sam said nonchalantly. 

“So you heard that?” 

“I don’t know, it was kind of a hot moment? Why?” He looked at his brother and then at you, but whatever he was searching for he didn’t find it.

“Because if you did know the alpha was out there and you knew they were looking for the baby, then that means you took the baby as bait.”

Sam fell silent but looked at his brother as he waited for the question. “So did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Took the baby as bait?”

“Of course not, Dean. I honestly thought Samuel was the best shot we got.”

The older Winchester looked at you for backup and his brother mimicked his action. 

“Ah no, a mí ni me miren, yo tengo mis propios problemas ahorita.” You pointed at your black eye and thankfully that made them take their eyes off of you. And the rest of the ride was silent as a tomb.

+++

When you got back to your house, a tiny shadow was waiting for you, meowing. 

You sighed, relieved. “Schrödinger, hola gato guapo.”

“You have a message. It’s on the altar.” He walked you towards your coffee table, where you had mantled death’s altar. In the center, on top of the tarot death card, there was an envelope with a black wax seal, death’s seal. 

You sighed. “Always so fancy and proper, huesuda.” You opened the enveloped and unfolded the letter that was inside. It was a personal letter to basically tell you to be patient, she had a lot of work but as soon as she felt a space between her schedule she would gladly have a cup of coffee with you. 

“Great. I’ll have to make café de olla de aquí hasta que aparezca.” You clicked your tongue.

“At least she communicated with you.” Schrödinger said as he rubbed his body against your leg. You smiled and picked him up. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

+++

@anathewierdo

[grlfriends]

giovanna give us your #controversial kpop takes!! you seem passionate abt ***** being mediocre 👀👀👀

omg anon this is definitely going under a read more

ok so it's not that I think they are mediocre but rather that I know how much being from a big company can determinate your success, onces will go on and on about how much jyp was broke before them and how sixteen had a low viewership rate and how jyp was almost "out" of the big3 (a lie bc if that was truly the case then yg wouldnt be considered big3 rn, big3 is about how much influence and power you have on media yes it's related to how rich the company is but not all that matters when we all know that's not even being considered by anyone lmao) but at the end of the day no matter what they were still under big3?? the amount of money they had to even START a show about the group and then to film the like ooh ahh mv was huge man, onces make it seem like they had 10 dollars and a dream when that was definitely not the case, I know I seem bitter about this but bc I'm a fan of a group who was truly in that situation it just seems so fake and attention seeking?? yall know how much an mv like like ohh ahh and cheer up cost?? yall know how much producers and outfits and hair and makeup and studio and everything else costs?? jyp was always powerful and just bc they were in a bad time and bc they got more rich after twice it doesnt mean they were # broke before them, of course luck is a factor in any situation but let's be honest, do you think if a company was that broke and if twice had done that badly in their debut an mv like cheer up would even exist?? it's expensive y'all

also about the mediocre thing: I dont think they are mediocre but rather that no twice track has made me fall in love with them, I do like some songs but that's it, I feel like after their cheer up promotions jyp was very smart and played all the right moves and got them even bigger, they are not mediocre but we all know jyp has a fucked up ear that has rejected THE iu and THE yuju which is now considered top3 best vocalists of the 3rd generation (along with eunji from apink and wendy from rv) and I dont think they have been necessarily giving them the songs that fit their voices the best, some of them are able to adapt better (nayeon) and some are not (ie: momo voice was too deep for some of her parts in more and more), at the end of the day it still sounds nice if you're not listening to the live locals, their choreography is okay but is more focused on going viral than anything lmao, it's not bad but you can definitely see the comeback their team opened their email box and found out about all the emails about onces having to defend themselves bc twice had easy choreographies and SOME members were still not doing okay vocally and then decided to turn up their difficultly level to catch up with the current trend among ggs at the time ON THE TOP OF making them a token gg (along bp) to white gays listen and like bc they werent cute like that anymore and were doing hard choreographies so they were # not like the other ggs and this only expanded twice fan numbers in western countries (I also think that the bigger a group is the more their fans get obsessed with them and stop caring about their song quality and only listen to them bc they're a fan not bc they truly enjoy the music anymore you know?? I feel like feel special was okay but if a smaller gg like idk weki meki (I know it's not their sound but bear with me) or even a nugu gg like pink fantasy had released it it wouldnt have achieved 10% of the numbers it did or even made these groups have a bigger fanbase you know??) so do I think if they were from an actual broke nugu company they would have be as famous as they are now releasing the same songs? no and there's nothing wrong with that, kpop isn't a talent show and it's more about how well known you are with the most basic stuff

once again, I know this is too big of an essay for someone who has said they dont think they are mediocre but honestly that's my opinion and at the end of the day it doesn't matter bc they're still million sellers but that's my opinion ✌🏻 also do I think they're the nation's gg? no that's snsd and will always be

other hot and spicy takes:

bgs should go cute again, where's my fresh and energizing concepts?? astro why did you leave us in the dark?? sm why did you ruin nct dream when you could have made them comeback under another name/unit and make dream remain with the cute concept still

if any bigger gg had released queen by 3ye everyone would have lost their minds, it's the girlboss anthem everyone is looking for and no one knows about, everything from choreography to the lyrics is what blinks think bp is doing in terms of power

I miss gfriend intros so much :(( source PLEASE listen to this poor soul and give us intros, i cant stop thinking about how good the sots album intro would have been with that yuju siren call notes

also about gfriend but ma'am. apple supremacy, this is hands down their best release and best album this year (even tho I'm in live with three of cups and grwm for as long and the songs have been out) and also I wish crossroad had a bigger impact in the instrumental, the guitar should have been louder and it should have appeared sooner, the post chorus (that part they sing about the star) should have something more so it wouldn't feel as flat as it kinda did

↳ and I think that the beginning and bridge choreography should have been not that, specially the bridge..... that arm movement and the walking becomes okay after a while and getting used to it but still, it should have been anything else, let sinb choreograph a part of the title track for a change please

normalize people saying gfriend were robbed in 2016, rough WAS the 2016 soty and no one can tell me otherwise, people were so mad a nugu gg had the catchiest song of the year 2 years in a row (me gustas tu and then rough) they literally boycotted my girls 🤒

CONTROVERSIAL but I dont think rv has the best choreography and bsides in kpop..... their fans are just too used to noise and saying everything is # a concept (but the Russian roulette mini album DAMN it was amazing)

↳ also their title tracks..... it's been a wild ride but the ride is in flames and about to explode

I miss seventeen fun songs, now they're all about being edgy and dark and it's okay I guess but I miss their early days so so much, everything since thanks (even tho it was released close to my bday I have to admit I dont think it's that good either....) has not been it and it made me stop being a fan, I loved them so so much once and now all I have is old pretty u performances and funny gifs of them on their gose eps 😔 svt comeback with the pastel colors I miss those days of your youth

↳ also I cant believe pledis still has trainees when they're probably going to debut another bg when svt enters military years and then will be working in their solos and/or units since a gg wil be boycotted by pledis after 2 years maximum

the loona lore is 100% more about orbits going crazy over anything than BBC actually planning out stuff, their mvs are like any other aesthetic mv y'all

↳ also on the loona topic I dont think they're the powerful dancers people make them out to be, they have beautiful choreographies and are in sync that's all

↳ can orbits please STOP the ch*ves madness, yves is so straight it hurts and people are turning this into a l*rry of kpop almost

↳ when is haseul coming back 😭 people are calling Kim lip the leader for the longest time and it makes me mad seeing haseul forgotten like that.... maybe when she comes back loona will stop having those sm adjacent (derogatory) songs

I cant believe korean people have turned as you wish by wjsn the top end of the year song to enter the new year when dreams come true is RIGHT!! THERE!!! as is just much better by simply being good where as you wish, well, it wishes 😶

↳ ot13 wjsn was the best and their only good releases as ot10 was boogie up and save me save you, yuehua and starship if any of you break ot13 I'm going insane and beating everyone involved

cant believe non stop was the sing that made oh my girl famous when closer exists and they were not problematic yet, non stop is an attack on peoples ears and sucks so bad there's nothing remotely good or even okay about it (actually, their last good song was a-ing bc that's when jine was there 😢 other than that bungee was okay and banana allergy monkey was quite catchy too) also yooa has an annoying voice idk how they chose HER to debut solo

[jostenminyrd]

Dig a little deeper

tagged by @strawberrylight and @theleavesoflorien thank you sm!!💛✨🌸

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? black

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? def the city, i could visit the country but it’s too quiet for me to live all the time

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? continue learning languages, also i really wanna learn adobe (illustrator/photoshop etc)

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? nooo

5. what was your favorite book as a child? my first favorite book was goodnight moon. 

6. do you prefer baths or showers? since i probably only take a bath once a year...showers

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? vampire obvi!

8. paper or electronic books? paper/physical books for sure

9. what is your favorite item of clothing? anything i bought from balance athletica aka the best brand of workout clothes

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it? i’ve grown to like it more ya. elizabeth is a really pretty name but it’s way too formal for me so i’m glad i go by libby. 

11. who is a mentor to you? honestly i think my parents

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for? yes, but for making a huge contribution to the field of neuroscience, id love to contribute to alzheimer’s or parkinsons research, find a better way to treat them...

13. are you a restless sleeper? mmm idrk??

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? eh yes and no

15. which element best represents you? water 🌊

16. who do you want to be closer to? my friends

17. do you miss someone at the moment? a bunch of my friends...haven’t seen many in months😔

18. tell us about an early childhood memory. my earliest memory is actually when my mom and dad brought home my brother from the hospital...i was a year and a half old and remember missing my mom for a few days, my grandparents were staying at the house to watch me. but then when they brought my brother home I went over to the carrier to look at him and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten? uhhh idk?

20. what are you most thankful for? my friends and family, also my job.

21. do you like spicy food? oh my god yes! gimme all of the spice! 🌶🌶🌶

22. have you ever met someone famous? nope

23. do you keep a diary or journal? nooo....i’ve never been able to keep up with it. i know it helps so many ppl but i’ve always found it to be such a chore

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil? both

25. what is your star sign? aries ♈️ 

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? don’t come for me but......i don’t like cereal

27. what would you want your legacy to be? my contributions to science

28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read? ohhhh yes i do! currently reading tales from the shadowhunter academy and a clash of kings

29. how do you show someone you love them? just asking how their day went, sending links/photos of things i know they like, being happy for them when something goes well etc

30. do you like ice in your drinks? yes yes yes

31. what are you afraid of? heights, failing

32. what is your favorite scent? peppermint, rose, citrus, cinnamon, pine trees

33. do you address older people by their name or surname? usually surname. i only just started calling a few older ppl i’ve known since i was born by their first name...it’s weird

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? i honestly don’t even know....what’s it like to be financially stable??

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? both! i love my pool at home, public pools are another story tho..and the ocean is my happy place

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? Depends on the context. If I found $50 on the ground but I know that someone has lost it, I give the money back to the person. If I don’t know whose money is that, I keep it to myself. (keeping this answer bc same)

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? yea, and im pretty sure lol

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children? don’t every be afraid to express your emotions, let them out. whatever you’re feeling is valid

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? ik it’s like frowned upon now but i still really want a harry potter tattoo...probably the three stars in the books and probably on my wrist

40. what can you hear now? my ac unit and the princess and the frog movie

41. where do you feel the safest? my parents house, also my apartment

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? the next 6 years of my phd lol

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? i’ve always been drawn to 19th century london...also colonial america idk

44. what is your most used emoji? “🥺”

45. describe yourself using one word. loyal

46. what do you regret the most? i have so many....

47. last movie you saw? the princess and the frog 

48. last tv show you watched? currently watching hannibal

49. invent a word and its meaning yea no yea....means yes

tagging: @quaffled @mollyweasly @severusnpe @killjoylouis and @hathawaywrites