#I'm not saying you have to like everything in the source material but by GOD it won't kill you to look at it once in a while

[mad-hatter-memes]

FunkyFrogBait Starters

A collection of dialogue prompts from the videos by FunkyFrogBait. Feel free to edit quotes as necessary.

TW: Swearing, threats, and suggestive references

"My fellow Caucasians astound us with their ingenuity yet again..."

"This is just an evil, evil thing to do with pasta..."

"No spaghetti for you, sir."

"I could be doing any number of things with my life, but I've chosen to share this moment with you...Don't you feel so special?"

"This feels very forbidden..."

"I don't know what this is but it's not fettucine!"

"I just scalded myself! That was uncomfortable..."

"To be clear...I would not feed this to a dog..."

"This esophagus is rated E for everything!"

"Aren't I a lucky little boy? Only 40% of these are broken!"

"Is this a complaint that I'm hearing? Spitters are quitters, [Name]."

"It's just you and me, [Name]. So...who's gonna union with you?"

"If there is a god, he has abandoned us for celestial milk and cigarettes."

"That looks like something that would leak out of an infected wound!"

"This looks like porridge was spilled on the floor of a gym locker room and left to ferment for forty days and forty nights!"

"Trying to boil Pringles to make mashed potatoes is like trying to send her flowers after she's already taken the kids."

"Hahahaha, that's really cute, how about you go fuck yourself?!"

"Being a dad seems pretty fun; All you have to do is sometimes remember their names and forget to pick them up from soccer practice. "

"Now, now, don't be hysterical, dear. This is a nearly painless procedure...For me anyways!"

"I have not been allowed around a glue gun since...The incident..."

"The caveman method usually works in my experience."

"Aw babe, your texture makes me wanna barf."

"Now the nice thing about turkey bacon is that you can eat it raw! I think..."

"This says says it serves twenty four people...They haven't met me."

"Hello, Mr. [Last Name]. I'm here to pick up your daughter."

"Please don't call the police...I know this a weird use of my free time but it's technically not illegal."

"I'm about to give myself an accidental haircut..."

"Can I just call up a priest and have him waterboard me...?"

"Whoookay...This makes me want to join a nunnery."

"Who up praying with they rosary right now?"

"STOP FINGERING EVERYTHING! I AM A CHILD OF GOD!"

"Girl, what foundation is that?! Not a pore in sight!"

"[Name], honey. You're already slaying, you don't need to slay innocent civilians."

"Where did they find this child? The Victorian Era?!"

"ASAB: Assigned Sidekick at Birth. How unfortunate..."

"Who is giving these children access to deadly weapons?! Hello?!"

"The kids like thirteen. Just throw a Roblox gift card as hard as you can and run in the opposite direction."

"[Character Name] is dead, [Muse Name]! And you're worried about the fidelity of this game to it's source material?!"

"Paint a picture for us, [Name]! Don't hold back!"

"I would've bully the fuck outta this kid. And I did musical theater!"

"Where are people getting all this Tannerite?! I want some!"

"Is the cockroach infestation required or optional?"

"I'm being manipulated by a gothic aesthetic and common sense!"

"Yikes! Don't show that to your grandma!"

"That's my heart after the hot girl in my Com Sci class tells me that our star signs are incompatible!"

"I really wouldn't talk how other people look if your eyebrows can't agree on what timezone they're in."

"Is god really rockin' with you? Sinner..."

"Let me eat my oreos in peace goddamnit!"

"I'M GONNA START POWERWASHING THE CEILING!"

"You know what crybaby fumblefingers? At this point you owe me money. Hand over twenty, pretty boy!

"Why is she beckoning me ominously...?"

"That's because you've been selected for ritual sacrifice, [Name]. You know how they are this time of the month..."

"Do you have family, [Name]? Anyone you'd be particularly devastated to lose in a violent and sudden way?"

"You know what, [Name]? I'd probably punch you over a Hot Wheels too!"

"I see god's law not as a restriction...but a challenge!"

"I am deeply dissatisfied with my life choices and I am NOT afraid to make that your problem at five o' clock in the morning!"

"I hope one of your family members is in a car accident this week!"

"It's fucking terrible and I'm overcome by a desire to kill James Corden for some reason!"

"I'm sorry...Do you think mother earth is just lactating blue raspberry surprise, bitch?!"

[hardkookiecookie]

"I like this character a lot I've seen them all over tiktok, no i haven't watched the source material and I don't know what this character is like outside of the tiktoks and fanart/fics I've seen/read about them, but I don't need the source material at all I'm basically the expert about this character" you're so wrong and ignorant I think reading a book would kill you in an instant

[eteledhasanaxe]

so help me I will go into the screen myself

someone hug him

[prokopetz]

On the one hand, it's true that the way Dungeons & Dragons defines terms like "sorcerer" and "warlock" and "wizard" is really only relevant to Dungeons & Dragons and its associated media – indeed, how these terms are used isn't even consistent between editions of D&D! – and trying to apply them in other contexts is rarely productive.

On the other hand, it's not true that these sorts of fine-grained taxonomies of types of magic are strictly a D&D-ism and never occur elsewhere. That folks make this argument is typically a symptom of being unfamiliar with Dungeons & Dragons' source material. D&D's main inspirations are American literary sword and sorcery fantasy spanning roughly the 1930s through the early 1980s, and fine-grained taxonomies of magic users absolutely do appear in these sources; they just aren't anything like as consistent as the folks who try to cram everything into the sorcerer/warlock/wizard model would prefer.

For example, in Lyndon Hardy's "Five Magics" series, the five types of magical practitioners are:

Alchemists: Drawing forth the hidden virtues of common materials to craft magic potions; limited by the fact that the outcomes of their formulas are partially random.

Magicians: Crafting enchanted items through complex manufacturing procedures; limited by the fact that each step in the procedure must be performed perfectly with no margin for error.

Sorcerers: Speaking verbal formulas to basically hack other people's minds, permitting illusion-craft and mind control; limited by the fact that the exercise of their art eventually kills them.

Thaumaturges: Shaping matter by manipulating miniature models; limited by the need to draw on outside sources like fires or flywheels to make up the resulting kinetic energy deficit.

Wizards: Summoning and binding demons from other dimensions; limited by the fact that the binding ritual exposes them to mental domination by the summoned demon if their will is weak.

"Warlock", meanwhile, isn't a type of practitioner, but does appear as pejorative term for a wizard who's lost a contest of wills with one of their own summoned demons.

Conversely, Lawrence Watt-Evans' "Legends of Ethshar" series includes such types of magic-users as:

Sorcerers: Channelling power through metal talismans to produce fixed effects; in the time of the novels, talisman-craft is largely a lost art, and most sorcerers use found or inherited talismans.

Theurges: Summoning gods; the setting's gods have no interest in human worship, but are bound not to interfere in the mortal world unless summoned, and are thus amenable to cutting deals.

Warlocks: Wielding X-Men style psychokinesis by virtue of their attunement to the telepathic whispers emanating from the wreckage of a crashed alien starship. (They're the edgy ones!)

Witches: Producing improvisational effects mostly related to healing, telepathy, precognition, and minor telekinesis by drawing on their own internal energy.

Wizards: Drawing down the infinite power of Chaos and shaping it with complex rituals. Basically D&D wizards, albeit with a much greater propensity for exploding.

You'll note that both taxonomies include something called a "sorcerer", something called a "warlock", and something called a "wizard", but what those terms mean in their respective contexts agrees neither with the Dungeons & Dragons definitions, nor with each other.

(Admittedly, these examples are from the 1980s, and are thus not free of D&D's influence; I picked them because they both happened to use all three of the terms in question in ways that are at odds with how D&D uses them. You can find similar taxonomies of magic use in earlier works, but I would have had to use many more examples to offer multiple competing definitions of each of "sorcerer", "warlock" and "wizard", and this post is already long enough!)

So basically what I'm saying is giving people a hard time about using these terms "wrong" – particularly if your objection is that they're not using them in a way that's congruent with however D&D's flavour of the week uses them – makes you a dick, but simply having this sort of taxonomy has a rich history within the genre. Wizard phylogeny is a time-honoured tradition!

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[januaryembrs]

I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]

GIF by fightingdragonswithwho

decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone

word count: 17.5k

warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.

author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,

I might just be in la la la la la love’

The one with the revenge.

“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck. 

“Only if they have evidence,”  Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins. 

Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth. 

“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark. 

“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.

She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss. 

She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won. 

Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long. 

And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another. 

David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him. 

Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another. 

“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section. 

They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing. 

“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer. 

“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle. 

Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.

Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so. 

He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab. 

“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face. 

“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore. 

If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on. 

-

Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her. 

“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.  

“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?” 

“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,” 

Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”

The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer. 

He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love. 

Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch. 

He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen. 

“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”

Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years. 

Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks. 

Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted. 

Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.

Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer. 

He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried. 

He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless. 

“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.

He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.

“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear. 

He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set. 

“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now. 

Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office. 

“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so. 

And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him. 

Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.

2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.

She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently. 

“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness. 

“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?” 

He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.

Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances. 

“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance. 

“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so. 

She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself. 

“You��re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms. 

“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it. 

“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking. 

“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried. 

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,” 

He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”

“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this. 

“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?” 

“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”

He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.

She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other. 

“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children. 

She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material. 

He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do. 

Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him. 

He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on. 

Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke. 

“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”

“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”

Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to. 

“...Shit,”

“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.

“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered. 

Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out. 

“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom. 

Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit. 

Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”

“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?” 

“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”

Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy. 

After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time,  Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer. 

The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.

Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-

A window. A window. That was it. 

Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough. 

Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself. 

As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze. 

Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall. 

Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror. 

A beat of silence passed between them. 

“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding. 

“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?” 

“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things. 

Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!” 

And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car. 

Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.

Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that. 

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head. 

“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead. 

Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights. 

“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror. 

“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual. 

He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips. 

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing. 

“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-”  Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,” 

He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really. 

He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become. 

“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”

“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,” 

He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more. 

“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman. 

And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep. 

And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died. 

3. The one with the fake boyfriend.

Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen. 

Because it was their room now. Not just his. 

She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work. 

It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-

He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?” 

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light. 

His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror. 

His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.

Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”

Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth. 

“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.

“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.

“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that. 

“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”

Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”

“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”

His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”

“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”

“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”

“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.

“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations. 

“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.

“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.

–

“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life. 

If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.

Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.

“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.

“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap. 

“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.

“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression. 

“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant. 

She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that. 

“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,” 

Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands. 

“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it. 

“Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”

He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin. 

“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room. 

“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more. 

“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step. 

“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer. 

“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.

He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date. 

“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them. 

“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after. 

He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second. 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”

But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime. 

He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus. 

And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry. 

–

“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat. 

“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more. 

“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,” 

“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet. 

“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,” 

“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?” 

“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”

There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly. 

And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details. 

“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations. 

And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely. 

“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”

“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”

Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,” 

“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head. 

And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend. 

God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over. 

Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego. 

But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her. 

His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh. 

“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?” 

Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker. 

4. The one where someone finds out.

“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.

“Oh, of course!  I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,” 

Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”

Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,” She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?” 

Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together. 

Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams? 

Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay. 

It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly  if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree. 

She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked. 

She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be. 

Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”

Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork. 

“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz. 

“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,” 

“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.

“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?” 

Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,” 

Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact. 

“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”

Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.

 “What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase. 

“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic. 

“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,” 

‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care. 

Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day. 

Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,” 

Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed. 

If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her. 

“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”

“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off. 

Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”

“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving. 

“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light. 

Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”

And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.

–

She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes. 

Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.

His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it. 

“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created. 

Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her. 

Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking. 

And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk. 

It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious. 

“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless. 

And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate. 

Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman. 

“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.

“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-” 

“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.

This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.

But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field. 

And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye. 

“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”

“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”

“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman. 

“Pen, I’ll explain-”

“But you- YOU!” 

“Shhh!” 

“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,” 

JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down. 

“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.

“You don’t wanna know,”

–

“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly. 

“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast. 

“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-” 

“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,” 

Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”

If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again. 

“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze. 

“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home. 

“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden. 

“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”

“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,” 

They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.

Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,” 

Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,” 

Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.

“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”

And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul. 

Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast. 

Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate. 

“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair. 

“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,” 

And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was. 

5. The one where he gets shot.

“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,” 

“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp. 

Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step. 

So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders. 

She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd. 

She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it. 

Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public. 

So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.

And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster. 

His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met. 

I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you. 

–

“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”

“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..” 

Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now. 

“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,” 

Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.

“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!” 

There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her. 

“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,” 

Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?

“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.” 

She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly. 

“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her. 

“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her. 

Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub. 

He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of. 

Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy. 

Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently. 

“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”

Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.

–

Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.

“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line. 

Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.

Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid. 

“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her. 

Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay. 

“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?” 

“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,” 

“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,” 

Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders. 

“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword. 

She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-

“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first. 

She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face. 

Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.  

She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse. 

“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip. 

It was going to be a long night. 

–

Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice. 

He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery. 

Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. 

She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it. 

“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him. 

“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”

“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,” 

It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same. 

Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew. 

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”

“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”

Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly. 

“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,” 

Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile. 

He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?” 

Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had. 

+1. The one where they tell everyone

She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast. 

Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend. 

And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer. 

And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least. 

She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor. 

She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be. 

“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”

But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain. 

And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers. 

Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him. 

She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle. 

“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.

He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending. 

--

@release-your-sweets s @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal l @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3

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[mvmnbnv]

Please tell me I'm not the only one who doesn't see sex solely as a fucking submissive and dominant dynamic...pls tell me that some of us just like the idea of pleasing our partner without having to be submissive to them..

Because the thing with caitvi is that people will bring up this stuff solely in this sub dom way and straight up tell on themselves and let us know why this dynamic is toxic

"If Cait topped vi that'd be seen as abuse of power or taking advantage of vi" then she shouldn't be trusted around vi during sex at all???

"Vis topping Cait so it's okay!" Vis on her knees in a damn jail cell with a submissive expression with lyrics over the scene implying Cait is "higher than god" and that vis "down there being a doll" and having to "take it" if she wants someone like caitlyn..she has NO power in this dynamic no matter what acts she's performing. People are literally out here calling her a SERVICE top and saying she's WORSHIPPING caitlyns body...yall tell on yourselves with everything you say. Yall know vi is not in control here...from the lyrics to the scenery to the position vi is in...that scene is gross.

This is not me saying "lol vi is a bottom" either, i couldn't give less of a fuck what position she takes in bed canonically. This is me saying this shit isn't healthy...and yall seeing something this degrading and praising it is wild, while also trying to say vi is exercising any power here but everything else that comes out of your mouth and from the source material says something totally different. Vi "topping" doesn't fix shit, because regardless she's still seen as lesser and someone who has to take bullshit for this relationship to work. On her knees in a dirty jail cell. Seen being desperate as fuck in previous eps for someone who couldnt give less of a shit. Sending her to battle after being wounded and putting her in the hands of someone like ambessa...not even given the comfort of a bed or anything. She's not important in this dynamic

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

One Day More (Les Miserables)

Watch 'em run amok (tomorrow you'll be worlds away)/Catch 'em as they fall/Never know your luckWhen there's a free-for-all/We'll be ready for these schoolboys (and yet with you, my world has started)/Tomorrow we'll be far away/Tomorrow is the judgment day/Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store

"You have like ten different choruses all at the same time making a harmonious closing to Act I of Les Miserables."

Super Star Spectacle (Revue Starlight)

It's beautiful, it's dazzling, it's painful, it's frustrating/To take, to be taken from, it's heartrending/Being captivated, growing closer, being attracted, parting/In you, I end up losing myself

"I'm going to try to not say anything about the source material itself and start by saying this song has everything. It has the somber ballad at the start! It has the audio nightmare (loving) for dramatic effect! It has the more upbeat, catchy melody! It has the flute solo! It has the moment where it finally turns somber again, but in a more bittersweet way! Finally, it has the grand closing audio, sending off the song, the scene and the series as a whole! I will admit right now, between the scene it was in and the song itself, I began weeping the first time I heard that ending because of what it represented, and I won't deny that I sometimes cry over it! There might be songs from this series which I ultimately prefer just by a little, but no song fucked me up as much as this one did."

Super Star Spectacle submitted by @insertbrowsinghere

[rottenfyre]

I'm so tired of being labeled a "book purist" just because I prefer the source material. Believe me, honey, when I say this: I couldn't care less about two spoiled brats squabbling over a throne they’re both woefully unfit to sit on.

Like, are we seriously going to pretend that when we've got titans like Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel, Daeron the Young Dragon, and the Great Bastards, I'm supposed to give a damn about a catfight between two weaklings? Please. That's like putting a schoolyard slap fight next to a gladiator brawl. And don’t even get me started on the people who only crawled out of the woodwork when the House of the Dragon dropped, acting like they've been die-hard fans from day one. Bitch, shut up and spare me your pseudo-expertise. You probably couldn't even tell me who Septon Barth was if I handed you Fire & Blood on a silver platter.

And oh, the takes these people have—God, it's actually funny. They'll call Helaena "useless" while stanning show-Rhaenyra, who's basically a cheap mash-up of Daenerys and book Helaena, minus any of the nuance. Make it make sense, because I’m lost.

And then there's the blasphemy about Daeron. Like, excuse me, but what in the Seven Hells are you even talking about? Daeron was the only one of Viserys' children truly worthy of the throne. He was perfect—kind, gentle, brave, loving, capable, strong, and intelligent. In other words, everything his siblings weren’t. Daeron would've actually made a good king, which, funnily enough, is probably why he gets ignored.

As for the show? It’s a steaming pile of trash. The only reason I’m still tuning in is because the actors are hot. That's it. I’m just being honest here—call it shallow if you want, but at least I'm not pretending there's some deep, compelling narrative worth sticking around for.

[goddessxeffect]

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A BEGINNERS GUIDE TO ALL THINGS CONSCIOUSNESS

This blog used to be a journal in the process of self realization of it's creator but has yet turned out to be a collection of sources and information guiding you too on your way back to your true Being. It all started with the question: “Who are you really?” and the realization that reality is not what it seems. I'm at a point now where I do not follow any teachings or concepts anymore nor did I consent in strictly deviding law of assumption from non dualism in the past. Nowadays, I see myself as an advocate for Self-realization. That being said, I really want to distance myself from any "new age manifestation/law of assumption" (do this to get xyz) teachings practised on youtube or tiktok.

I did create my own content in the past but stopped because there is nothing new to say and my understanding has deepened. Posts and annotations written by me are easily recognisable by my typical colour code, which is obviously displayed here. I only answer questions for understanding or clarification, guidelines here.

HOW TO START

Advaita Vendata (Non Dualism): an Introduction

Core of non dual understanding

If everything is consciousness, I am everything and everything is me? I still feel like "me", I don't feel like god of my reality How to become aware(ness) How to control the thoughts How to be free from emotions and thoughts Stop concerning yourself with the wants and needs of Ego How to loose attachment to Ego What you really are How to be Consciousness/ Awareness

In the end, the only question remaining should be who you are without all the labels attached to "I am". You will come to discover you do not want freedom from this shape alone, but from all shapes. Be aware of your past being over. "External world shows otherwise? Just be like "for how long do you think it can keep this up when you have nothing to do with it?" @Ada

MY CONTENT/ EPIPHANIES

You can experience pain in your life but you don’t have to ‘suffer’ the pain.”  - Anon I mus

#masterpost, #goddessawakening

» Mosaic » Be yourself first »"Manifesting" » Freedom » Being » Why everbody misinterprets Self concept » Is there a real difference? »Misidentification » Consciousness & Limitation » No others » Question Reality » Missing » Ego & Time

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

... what to find on my blog through the tags

Advise/FAQs: Koda, Nova, iam-you, Cassie, Bry, Jag, Vesora, Lain, more What is Ego? How it feels to be Self / Awareness All on Self Realization and Detachment All on LOA trough a non dualistic view Books

If you still want to focus on "getting your desires" after been through all the info, search Neville Goddard (all his books and lectures). If you have a hard time understanding Neville, I advise some people who break down his teachings in a short and modern way of speaking: Edward Art (Reddit(Series), Audio), embodythestate, niclasupgradetolife, Josiah Brandt on YouTube

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twenty-four

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: yayyyy omg i didn't mean to wait so long to post this sorry y'all. also i think i have a coryo oneshot on the way soon maybe. unrelated to BOTH of these series, which is unheard of from me lol. oh, and i'm planning a few for this series for once it's done. (which is creeping up on us, somehow)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Coryo." Tigris says as he comes back from walking their grandmother back to her room. With the "horrible" news that a District girl would be living with them, she insisted she had to lie down or she may just die.

"She's fine." He waves his cousin off, brushing past her to grab your bag for you. "Just her typical theatrics, she'll love Y/N when she gets to know her. Don't worry."

"It's not grandma'am I'm worried about." She whispers, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"Y/N?" He frowns, pausing and looking at her. "Is she okay? God- I was scared of grandma'am saying something like that to her..."

"She's fine, but you called her 'love', Coryo. In the elevator. Is she your girlfriend now, or something like that?" Tigris asks, looking back down the hall to make sure neither you nor their grandmother were overhearing.

"I mean, kind of? Not really, I don't know." He stammers, avoiding her eyes. "We never talked about it."

"Coryo!" She hisses. "If grandma'am finds out she'll have a heart attack!"

"Okay, then she doesn't have to know yet. As I said, one, we haven't talked about it and two, grandma'am will get used to her eventually and it will be fine."

"I know that." Tigris sighs, taking a step back and rubbing her head. "I'm making up the guest room for her. Just... don't let grandma'am find out."

"Obviously not." He mutters, picking up your bag to carry into the guest room.

"But Coryo-" She stops him in his tracks and he turns, looking at her expectantly. "Don't think I'm not happy for you, okay? She's incredibly sweet. Just... keep it between you guys for now. Be gentle with her."

He nods, giving her a small smile before carrying on down the hall.

When Coryo opens the door to his bedroom, you're sitting in the middle of the floor, leaning over your crossed legs as you write against the floor. "Y/N/N." He laughs slightly, closing the door behind himself. "What are you doing?"

You look up, and can't help but smile when you see him. "Hi." You grin, straightening up and standing, unfinished letter and pencil still in hand. "I was writing a letter to Lennox."

"On the floor?"

"Yes."

"There's a perfectly functional desk right behind you, love." He points as he closes the gap between the two of you.

"Yes, well, I did not want to overstep or seem nosey." You explain, looking at the desk and then back up at him.

He smiles, placing his hands on your waist. "This is my room."

"Exactly."

"What I meant," He chuckles, thumbs running over the sides of your stomach on your top. "Is that you can do whatever you want."

"Oh, well, thank you." You nod, looking down at the bed. "I'm glad to hear that because Tybs has already taken over your bed."

When he follows your eyes to the cat sprawled out on top of his sheets, he laughs. "See? He's already made himself at home."

"I am so sorry, I tried to keep him off. His hair gets on everything." You quickly say, already reaching to pick up your stubborn cat again.

"I have a lint roller." He shrugs, grabbing your wrist to stop you and leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"A lint roller?"

"Oh, love..." He chuckles, crouching down slightly to be able to pull you closer as he lifts you and spins you in a circle.

You laugh, trying not to crush your letter as you hold onto him.

"I can't wait to show you everything. You're going to love it here." He grins, letting you back down onto your feet. "I know you will."

You bite your lip over a fading smile, nodding up at him.

"I know it's scary, I know that." He assures you, once again running his hands up and down the side of your waist. "But you'll get used to it, and you'll be happy here. I promise."

"How are you finding things so far?" Tigris asks, curious as you make eye contact with her while making an extremely conscious effort to not spill the tea from the cup in your hand. It felt so delicate in your hands, and you have never felt filthier- as if just sitting on their couch or touching their things would ruin them. "Not that you've seen much, yet."

"It's..." You start, deciding just to put the steaming tea down so you don't spill it on your lap. "It really is like I've never been here before. Which is nice, because I was scared to come back, if I am being totally honest."

"I can imagine." She nods in understanding.

"When, um, when I was last here," You clear your throat. "We didn't see much of anything. We were always moved in vehicles with no windows except for the funeral, so..."

We.

"You could see some of the city from the zoo, though." Coryo adds.

"I could." You nod, swallowing over the dryness suddenly overbearing in your mouth. "Tigris, Coryo says you're a designer?" Changing the subject was the only thing you could do to help it.

"Yes, well, I'm trying." She laughs.

"My Ma is a seamstress." You tell her. "She's made everythin' I've ever worn." The way your District accent seems to reappear makes Coryo smile to himself- that's who you were at home. He can hear the tension and nerves leaving your tone.

"Really?" She smiles. "That's amazing. I've made much of our clothes, too, but it's just so hard to find the time."

"It is extremely time-consuming." You agree, looking over at Coryo next to you as he pats your shoulder. He points to the tray of snacks Tigris had brought out, and you reach out to take a cookie. You hadn't eaten all day, which was likely contributing to your shakiness. Though, you also hadn't felt hungry at all since you left home.

"Your mother is very talented." Tigris says, taking a sip of her tea and gesturing to the skirt and top you were currently wearing. "Does she embroider too?"

You look down, taking note of the detailing on the trim of your sweater. "Yes. All by hand."

"I've never tried it, I wouldn't know where to start." Tigris laughs.

"Oh, me neither." You laugh slightly, shaking your head. You did know, you weren't as good at it as your ma, but she still put in the effort of teaching you the basics.

"Don't talk too much about this- Tigris will turn you into a human pin cushion." Coryo teases, looking back to the hall to make sure grandma'am hadn't somehow made an early recovery and come out of her room before he can place his arm over your shoulders.

"Oh, hush." She laughs, pretending to throw a cookie at him as you chew slowly on yours, smiling. They remind you of you and Lennox, almost. The way they talk to each other, and how much it's obvious they love each other. Anywhere in Panem, kids are just kids.

The wave of a sick, gut-wrenching feeling hits you so fast that you stand up before you can even think about it. "Would you excuse me?" You mumble, turning and retreating down the hall to look for the bathroom Tigris pointed out earlier without even hearing either of their responses.

By the time you gently close the door and slide the lock shut, you're near hyperventilating. You hadn't even said goodbye to your own brother. You wrote him a note promising to write him every week and call once they had the phone that Coryo left them money for, but it wasn't enough. The idea of him waking to find you just gone, again, was all it took to have you sliding down the wall and curling up with your knees to your chest.

You were alone, and you missed your brother. Your family, the Covey. You should have said a longer goodbye to Lucy Gray, you should have woken Lennox and faced his anger about you leaving because that would mean you could have at least given him a hug. You felt like an awful sister, and an awful friend.

Even as you screw your eyes shut to try and pretend you're in your own bathroom, it doesn't do a thing to hold back the tears that have begun to stream freely down your face.

You have to be quiet.

What helped last time? Last time, you ran over lines. Coryo asked you to talk to him. Coryo was there.

Oh, she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her. 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.

Thinking about it does very little as well, so you continue. With your forehead pressed to your knees, random lines and quotes flow through your head and are endlessly whispered from your lips. You don't have time to think of anything else.

You were getting better at managing your own panic attacks before Coryo came to Twelve, but since then you had been set back to square one. The games ended over two months ago now, and it still feels like it was only a week ago; the shock had worn off and you felt like you were losing your mind. Other times, other days, you were completely fine. As if none of it had ever happened, but would this move be the beginning of round three? Was this what your life was now? A never-ending cycle of feeling normal followed suddenly by the need to pull yourself up and out of rock bottom?

You didn't know if you could take it.

The nightmares came back day in and day out in that first week. You hadn't slept well, and you only left the apartment a small handful of times and even that was only for the sake of sending letters, getting things for Tybalt, and taking him to the vet.

Coryo really wanted you to get out with him for something you wanted to do or see, but at the same time, he understood why you wouldn't want to leave. When you finally agreed to leave with him, to go to the university campus with him to pick up an application and so he could give you a tour, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning.

"So, we live in The Corso. That main street we were just on, obviously. That's where all the Capitols Elites live, for the most part." Coryo explains, but you're having trouble paying attention. There were just so many people. You'd seen large groups of people before in Twelve, at the market or The Hob or the reaping, but never when everyone looked so different. At the same time, this also made it easier for you to blend in. Hardly anyone had stopped you, and you hoped it would be less and less from here on out. "Hey- you still with me?"

You look up at him, nodding. "Yes, that's lovely."

"You have no idea what I just said, do you?" He laughs, reaching out to gently fix the orange scarf you had draped around your neck and over your head that had begun to slide back over your hair. It was another effort to hide- it made you feel safe. You intended to return the scarf to him, but he insisted you keep it. Suddenly, you went nowhere without it.

"Sorry, it's just... quite loud. There's a lot of people." You explain, and he has to lean down slightly to hear you.

"Yeah, well, it is a Monday morning." He says, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Lots of people going to work."

You just nod, subconsciously drifting closer to his side as you walk.

"I was just saying that this is the route we'll take to get to school." Coryo grins, gently nudging your side.

"If I get accepted."

"You will." He assures you. "I don't doubt it for a minute."

Walking onto what must be the university campus, you already see fewer people. Classes for the fall semester didn't begin for a couple of weeks, Coryo said, so that allowed you to tour the buildings and property peacefully after you picked up your application.

It was another ornate building- outside and in, you realized as Coryo opened the double doors for you. You look around, eyes wide.

"Nice, hey?" He smiles, taking your hand. "Come on, the registrar's office is this way."

You follow him blindly down a few hallways, looking up at the tall ceilings and the paintings and out the windows and even at the architecture of the building itself. It was a lot to take in, but you were pleased it was so quiet. It wouldn't always be like this, and given that you do get accepted the way he promised, you wouldn't have time to process the beauty of it later.

Entering the office behind Coryo, you decide to keep your position mostly behind him as he walks up to the desk. There's not an ounce of hesitation in his gait- or in the smile on his face. He's all confidence. This is him in his natural state- it was nice to see him truly happy.

"Good morning, Mister Snow, what can we do for you? Did you want a paper copy of your schedule?" The woman behind the counter asks him, neatly stacking some papers and placing them down next to some books on her desk.

"Hello," He grins. "I actually was hoping I could get another copy of the application forms."

"Oh? Registration and acceptance closed weeks ago."

"I know that, but..." He steps to the side, nodding for you to join him. Nervously, you do, grabbing his hand under the counter. "This is Y/N, she'd like to apply. I know it's late but she just moved to the city so I was hoping we could work around it."

The woman's eyes widen. "I- Uh, yes, okay. Yes. We can certainly try." She nods quickly. "What program will you be applying for, Miss Y/L/N?" Of course she knew who you were, and maybe now it would benefit you.

You look up at Coryo, but he just nods at you to answer. "Oh, um, English Literature, please." You answer quietly.

"Arts." Coryo corrects you kindly, squeezing your hand and nodding to her.

"Alright, let me just grab those for you." She smiles, heels clicking on the floor as she walks toward a back room.

"And I would like my schedule, if that's possible!" Coryo calls after her and she turns to give him a quick nod before disappearing behind a polished dark-wood door. "English Lit will be your major, love, but you don't need to decide on that yet." He whispers to you.

"Gosh, I'm already embarrassing myself." You laugh slightly.

"No, no you're not. It's a little confusing. I should have told you."

"I didn't know registration was already closed, Coryo." You frown. "If it's inconvenient for them we should just go. I'll just find a job instead."

"Nonsense." He shakes his head. "Like I said, they want you here. They will make it happen, trust me."

"That's not fair though, is it?"

"It's more fair because you couldn't have handed it in on time if you wanted to." He says, dropping your hand in favour of sliding his onto your lower back.

"I suppose..."

"Okay! I've got it here..." The woman reappears and you paint on your smile, reaching out for the small folder as she walks up. "There's the application and some testing questions. If you could get it to us by tomorrow night that would be amazing."

"Yes, of course, I-"

"Tomorrow night?" Coryo asks, eyebrows raised at her. "Miss, respectfully, I worked on my application for weeks, and my tests were conducted by the school."

"You'll do just fine. Just try your best." She winks at you and he purses his lips, displeased that they hardly were even giving you a chance to submit an adequate application that would accurately reflect the extent of your intelligence.

"Thank you." You tell her honestly, clutching the stack of papers to your chest. "I shall have it done tomorrow."

Coryo assumes it must be different- shorter or lacking one (or several) of the essay portions. He grabs his schedule from her with a small smile, nodding before guiding you out of the room.

"Are you hungry or anything, love?" He asks you, sliding his hand up your back to rest between your shoulder blades as you move down the same empty hall. "I could show you around and then we could stop on our way back."

You chew your lip, papers clutched against your chest. "Perhaps you can give me the tour tomorrow when we come back to drop this off?" You ask, looking up at him. "I think it is more important I go home and get this finished, there is no time to waste."

He smiles, leaning over to kiss the crown of your head while you walk. "Yes, of course. Whatever you want."

'The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?'

Staring at the essay question on the page didn't make it any easier to answer. You almost wish you had started with this so you had more time, rather than filling out all the personal information on the first and second pages and the financial information Coryo helped you with.

The answer was painfully obvious. You didn't want to write about the games, how they challenged you both mentally and physically, and what you learned from them. A lot about yourself, very little about the city you now found yourself living in.

Tapping your pen against the desk, you roll over in your mind how you want to word this. It was a delicate line to walk- it had to be honest, but also favourable to the people who lived here.

"Coryo?" You call out, turning in your chair and standing up to head across down the hall to his room.

He had left the door open, laying overtop of his ironed bedsheets and reading one of the many books you brought for him. "Can you come help me, please?"

He smiles, dropping the book immediately. "What do you need?"

"The essay... I don't know what to write." Mostly a lie, you just needed clarification on the best possible route to take the paper.

"What was the question again?" He asks as he gets up.

"What is a challenge I faced, how did it affect me, and what did I learn from it."

"What about the games?" He suggests as he brushes past you, heading into your room as you trail behind.

"Well, yes, but I don't know how to best approach it. I feel like that is a very delicate subject from my perspective." You explain. "I want to be honest but I also want them to like it."

Coryo hums, leaning over your desk to look at what has been completed on the application so far. "That's... yeah that's tough." He agrees. "If you were to answer it fully honestly, no watering it down for them, what would you want to say?"

"That..." You pause, thinking about it for a moment. "That it ruined my life. I'll never be the same person again- and neither will my loved ones, and I learned that my morals crumbled quickly under pressure." And that it's better to die in the games than live to tell the tale.

"Okay, so... it gave you a new outlook on life and a more profound appreciation for the life you had before, and you learned that people can change quickly to adapt and overcome their circumstances," Coryo says, and you frown. "Not that it is necessarily true, but that's what they'd like to hear and you wouldn't be completely lying."

He was good at twisting words and telling people what they wanted to hear in order to get what he needed from them; after all, he'd been doing it his whole life just to stay alive. His future depended on it, but you had never noticed that before. Maybe that came with a Capitol education, 'people pleasing' could be a course they taught at his academy, you wouldn't know. Power is everything here, apparently.

"And... I suppose if I had to think of an honestly good thing, I did make some friends out of it." You say, smiling up at him hopefully.

"And I am so glad," He nods, patting your shoulder. You always tried to look at the bright side- he remembered getting that impression from you even just watching the reaping. "But you can't include that."

"Why not?" You tilt your head at him.

"They won't like it, love. I mean, I would, but unfortunately, it's not for me to read."

"I see. Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. Your priorities had to shift if you wanted to get into the university, and that is a condition you could accept with a bit of practice.

"Want me to stay in here?" Coryo offers. "In case you have more questions?"

"I would like you to stay regardless." You giggle, sliding your arms around his waist to hug him.

"Good." He chuckles. "I didn't want to leave."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[queer-ragnelle]

I'm honestly kinda disgusted by the way a lot of authors just seeped their misogyny onto Guinevere to make her so horrible, lol. effectively destroyed a lot of people's view of her and she gets blamed for everything?? people keep shitting on her, saying Lancelot should be shipped with "someone better" and I'm just really annoyed because.. Guinevere is horribly characterized by these weirdos authors 💀. It does not take much to portray her as a complex character while also not making her shitty on purpose because you don't like her for her affair, lol.

I love her so much and it's disappointing how she's been treated :(( which is why I'll never be able to hate Guinevere or her ship with Lancelot

My friend it’s honestly so exhausting at this point. It’s not even limited to writing Guinevere herself as insufferable, but writing other characters behaving worse toward her than they ever were in medlit. Arthur hitting and degrading her when he cheats on her? (Warrior of the West by M. K. Hume) Lancelot using her for political gain and never loving her at all? (Enemy of God by Bernard Cornwell) Owain blocking her passage as she flees danger? (Legend in Autumn by Persia Woolley) Agravaine threatening to rape her? (The Road to Avalon by Joan Wolf) Gawain threatening to rape her? (Guinevere by Lavinia Collins) WHO are these characters bro you got me fucked up!!! The subtext here is that the authors hate Guinevere (read: women) so much they’re willing to warp everyone around her to treat her like garbage!!!

“Guinevere is bad because she has sex outside marriage.” Yeah so does Arthur. He fucked his own sister. In the dark. Leading her to believe he was her husband. So there’s Mordred, but there’s also Loholt and Arthur the Less etc. Arthur has many bastards from his extramarital affairs. (Vulgate and Post-Vulgate) Yet he isn’t canceled. Hm. Wonder what the difference could be? Let’s investigate. Seems authors treat Morgause and Morgan similarly to Guinevere. Gee, what is the common denominator here? Meanwhile in medlit, Morgause didn’t commit any crimes—she didn’t rape Arthur to have Mordred, she never neglected her children, she never cheated on Lot, and she didn’t prey on young men, she had ONE consistent lover who was younger than her AFTER her husband died. And she was murdered for it. (Post-Vulgate) Yet every other author writes her as a rapist (The Once and Future King by T. H. White), child grooming (The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart), pedophile (The Book of Gaheris by Kari Sperring), trying to put one of her sons on the throne (many examples). Now, Morgan is evil. But not for lewdness, for trying to murder people. In literally every source. Hello. It’s very simple. These authors are ridiculous. They care more about highlighting their opinion that fictional women having sex is BAD than writing a good story. When there are plenty of actually bad things happening in medlit they could condemn instead. You know, like the misogyny? Burning Guinevere at the stake??? You couldn’t make this up. It’s the utter disdain for the material for me. Assuming these dumbasses are even reading the material. Write something else where I can’t see it. (To be clear, I don’t even hate all the books I listed as examples, but they are unfortunately examples.)

Thankfully I haven’t encountered the blogger discourse regarding this. At least not lately. My advice to anyone who sees people shitting on something you like is to block them. Just do it. Fuck that noise. It’s not worth it.

Also I have to laugh at ship discourse about Guinevere/Lancelot. Of all pairs! It’s so unserious. They’re not some random comphet duo from the newest tumblr trending fandom. They’re mythological characters from a medieval literary tradition. Lancelot was created for her. In the 12th century. That was 900 years ago. It feels juvenile to reduce them to ship discourse. Especially because the story is fluid, it can be reshaped to fit the author’s narrative. So if Guinevere sucks, it’s because they made her that way. This is the epitome of making up a girl to be mad at.

“Oh but in Knight of the Cart—” Shh stop talking. If you’re pulling out KotC like some “gotcha” about Guinevere’s treatment of Lancelot, then you’re lost, buddy. You may be seeking entertainment in the wrong place! Guinevere and Lancelot aren’t real. Nobody was “abused” because they’re characters, narrative tools, to tell a story. Guinevere is flawed. Nobody ever said she wasn’t. If that’s too much complexity for you then I don’t know what else there is to say.

Honestly? Nobody is obligated to like Guinevere. I think it’s stupid to dislike her but the real take away is—if you dislike Guinevere so much, hate her even, why the are you writing so poorly about her? She’s as old a character as Arthur himself. Show some fucking respect or get out.

Anyway I’m going to end this with a recommendation! Today I started the third book of Sharan Newman’s Guinevere trilogy. The first two, Guinevere and The Chessboard Queen were utterly AWESOME!! Lots and lots of named women, like Guinevere’s mother Guenlain, Cador’s wife Sidna and daughter Lydia, Guinevere’s handmaiden Risa, and so on. The one downside is Morgause and Morgan are your typical modern retelling baddies, but overall it’s two thumbs up from me. Many points of view, but Guinevere is fascinating and complex and most importantly she is beloved!!!!!! Really hoping it stays enjoyable through to the end. Miss Newman is still in print, so I encourage everyone to seek these books out at your local library or from your favorite bookseller. Here’s a quote from book 2, The Chessboard Queen.

[windcarvedlyre]

Venti truly is the epitome of "he WOULD fucking say that, as part of his facade, but you seem to think he would mean it genuinely" the fact that interpreation of him ranges from "drunkard, weak god, doesn't care for his people" to "he lied about being the weakest, his drunkeness is a facade, he's the best archon in regards to the management of his people" and everything in between. It's amazing, what a guy of all time.

Right??

He's fascinating, because he's such a black box that there are a variety of ways to get him really wrong but there are also a variety of ways to interpret him that are reasonable. How strong is he really? How emotional? Can he form truly equal relationships with mortals (edit: at least post-becoming-a-god) or will they always feel like children to some extent to him? Are his time abilities very limited, or does he fuck around with timelines like the player navigates hangout events, or something in between? Why does he sleep? What did he do in Khaenri'ah? What the hell are his long-term goals, if any?

There's a chunk of fan interpretations where I'm like 'bro you are being played, reread the source material'. The main example is people taking the Signora cutscene at face value; it gets more obvious Venti sandbagged the more you think about it lmfao. Fanworks that hyperwoobify him or lean really really hard into him being a god and treat any humility from him as a facade also feel wrong to me.

But then there's a lot in between that I might not vibe with but are completely reasonable interpretations. And we're probably all wrong considering we're missing major parts of his backstory and have no idea what the pov of a wind-spirit-with-time-powers-turned-deity would be like.

[annabel-lee-nevermore]

Hey All

I know I've been quiet aside from a few fic posts recently (especially since I've never been one to post my own thoughts to tumblr quite often) but I've noticed a growing issue and want to say something.

I love Nevermore, I truly do. It consumes my thoughts alongside everything else I do, I still consider things I do that are things Annabel would do "Annabelisms", hell I even still write fics (my wip gallery is a graveyard that I hope to conquer).

The following is a critique of the fandom at present, and though I know it will piss some people off, I hope those who are pissed off take the time to read this. Take this as your content warning before you whine at me, I will argue with you if complaining about it being in the tag is all you have to say.

But still, I've quieted down in the fandom, I no longer talk as often in the server, this blog lies dormant, and there's a reason. Between a few personal feelings about the Montrada developments and the events of the most recent free chapters and picking up more hobbies, I've kept my eye on the fandom, albeit from afar, and I've watched as it grows more and more hostile towards anyone who chooses to voice a negative opinion, especially through the anonymous confessions blog.

This is a Fandom. A [Tumblr] fandom. Surely you all have heard the stories of infighting growing worse and worse in fandoms until they rip themselves and the creation of their source material apart. Voltron Legendary Defender, for example, fell to infighting over a few ship opinions and led to a blackmail incident in an attempt to make things go their way, as well as who knows how many people being doxxed for having "bad opinions".

This is not limited to VLD, but I fear I'm starting to see the same sort of cracks form. People having critiques of the comic is a Healthy and Normal way for people to engage in media, especially media they love. Any sort of theorizing that it's meant to sow discourse and toxicity in the fandom is a product of an echo chamber coming to form, and a toxic one at that, where everyone has to share the same, positive, opinions or face ostracisation from the fandom they claim to be a fan of. This is only going to lead to the fandom cannibalizing itself. Especially with the size of the Nevermore fandom, if we drive out everyone who loves the comic and has critiques and soon the healthy fun ecosystem of people drawing fanart and writing fic out of love will wither away.

And alongside that, though interaction with the creator of a fandom can be a fun novelty, the ways that the nevermore fandom has a wealth of "word of god" information that is never present in the comic, and acts like everyone should know it is fully ridiculous. Not everyone who reads the comic is in the discord. Not everyone in the discord has backread every single factoid about the comic that Red and Flynn have shared. In my opinion parts of this have led to a parasocial relationship with the creators, and alongside that, led to a fierce need to defend them whenever any critical opinion shows up, immediately writing it off as hate and rushing to call them out, despite critique being a normal way to interpret media.

I love this Fandom, but from my (albeit less involved than I used to be) view, its tearing itself apart and I really hate to see it go like this, especially since we're not even a full season deep.

[forgetmynamepleasethanks]

IF YOU write for hazbin x helluva boss could you do a oneshot stolas x raven!reader whos family only recently became royals and are treated as lesser by the other royal families. the ravens arent as fancy as the other families and dont really care about all the royal stuff so they're kinda looked down upon. they meet at some meeting or you can decide. and make this take place after season 2 episode 9 so blitzo and him have broken up at least for now. thank you a ton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I write for everything. That's why it takes me so long to write because I get a request, watch the entire show/consume the entire source material, then I start writing until I get a new request and the cycle continues. I am the Sisyphus of fanfiction. One must imagine forgetmyname happy. Anyways. Thank you for the request. I needed an excuse to watch season 2 of Helluva Boss. And shoutout to my favorite mutual for inspo for this I lowkey stole major plot elements from your story please forgive me. They're a better writer than I am so if you're interested in reading the inspiration for the latter half of this fic check out this. Also this isn't particularly romantic, just two straight guy cool guy besties (peak reference).

-----

If the parties weren't bad enough, the meetings were. Was being a royal really worth it? Sure, immortality, woo. How nice it is to spend the next ten thousand years sucking up to other pompous avians.

Despite your less-than-enthusiastic outlook on royalty, being the youngest of your brothers made you the prime target for all the busy work one could hope for.

That's why you found yourself here. Due to your family's relative youth in terms of royalty, you're positioned to the very far end of an uncomfortably long table seating representatives from all the royal houses in hell.

What a bunch of pricks.

The etiquette that your parents had drilled into you from such a young age- you truly believe they conceived you to be the perfect little delivery boy to turn errands for them- is the only thing keeping you in your seat and this stuffy cape and outfit on your body.

After a wait that could have lasted from 15 minutes to 15 years, the host of this meeting finally makes his entrance. As much as you like to pride yourself in your blasé attitude, being in the presence of King Paimon is enough to shut you up and sit you down.

"Welcome everyone please stop your yammering and listen to me. God when did there get to be so fucking many of you." Paimon announces as he makes his entrance.

"As I'm sure a few of you know hell is currently experiencing some unfortunate economic... blah blah blah"

Could this get any more boring? As you fight to keep your eyes in focus you notice someone standing by the door behind you. It's one of Paimon's sons. Stolas. Long time no see. You and Stolas used to be close, but the weight of royalty split you two apart.

Wow, he looks just as bored as you. I guess being Paimon's son would mean you get dragged along to a lot of borin- "You! Raven boy. Not to be rude or anything but what do you people even do?" Your internal monologue is cut off by Paimon. You don't respond for a beat, internally laughing at how Paimon literally doesn't know who you are or what your family does but you still have to be at this stupid meeting.

"We keep the humans out of hell, Your Highness." You respond dryly. It takes you a second to even notice that you've responded. The line is so ingrained into your lexicon that it practically says itself.

"Right! That's the totally important job I gave your very... snicker... esteemed family." Paimon snorts out, barely containing his mocking laughter. A handful of other representatives stifle laughs at your expense.

Oh, the joys of being a Corvus Arcana. The least royal royal family in hell.

"Yes well, you're dismissed. You're needed for other important tasks. Prince Stolas will direct you. Thank you for your time." Paimon says with mock sincerity.

Oh. Stolas. Yes. You know Stolas. You're flooded with memories of the two of you back at the old "Center for Princes to be" It was a glorified daycare, really. You two got up to a lot. He taught you a lot about the starts, and bugs, and everything he read about. You taught him how to make spit balls and get out of trouble you put yourself in.

You rise from your seat, flipping your cape as you walk to the door. In royal etiquette flipping your cape at someone is somewhat rude. Exactly what you wanted.

The conversation behind you restarts as you reach the door. Stolas is waiting for you with a nervous smile on his face, almost like he's got bad news.

"Ah, I remember you! I didn't know it was you who my father was talking about! Let's head out, shall we?" Stolas remarks oh so professionally. He's looking right at you, using his eyes to try and convince you he's excited about your new task, but you know him well enough to tell he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" you respond sarcastically. Both of you know you were chosen for this because of your less-than-stellar family image.

"Ah! Well! You see- You were chosen for your... unique skills and inspired professionalism! Yes of course!" Stolas sputters out trying to respond without admitting that you were chosen because you're the trailer park trash of the royal family.

A smile creeps onto your face at the owl's half-baked response. He was never the most socially perceptive, even in his youth. You follow the tall owl out of the meeting room and down some of the winding hallways of Paimon's manor.

"Well hopefully my 'inspired professionalism' landed me something to do besides sitting in that room. How bad could it be? As long as it's not something stupid like stacking boxes." You respond lackadaisically. You look to Stolas for a reaction but he seems fully focused on looking at some dusty old paintings on the wall.

Then you round a corner into a freshly moved into bedroom. So fresh that boxes are strewn about. You look up at Stolas who's scratching the back of his head and looking anywhere and everywhere but your direction.

"No way. It's stacking boxes." You state dumbfounded.

"If it's any recourse I will be helping you unpack. That's our mission. Isn't that... heh... fun?" Stolas replies. You look him up and down. Both of you know how stupid this is.

You just sigh.

Twenty minutes later you're unpacking boxes. Your cape is discarded on the bed, the effort of moving boxes with both magic and your birdy body causing you to break a sweat, and as promised Stolas is helping. You can't help but sneak glances at him. He really has changed a lot since you were kids. He's a lot taller for one thing. Besides the obvious physical change, he seems to never have really put himself together. You can tell he's struggling.

Ruffled feathers, quick to anger, and somewhat mopey. To an average royal this would seem pretty normal. Royals aren't known for their vigor and lust for life. To you, these are signs that he's not doing so hot. Struggling to lift a white cardboard box labeled "FRAGILE!" the tall owl is surprisingly human- well, demon? Humanized? He seems a lot more likable than the rest of the royals.

You decide to break the silence. "So tell me. What's a big important bird like you doing unpacking boxes with lil old me?" It's almost self-deprecating the way you look down on yourself.

"Me?- Ah of course he means you- My father brings me along as a secretary of sorts to his meetings when I'm available." Stolas responds while trying to not trip over a box of pillows as he places knickknacks he got out of a box around the dresser.

You snort at his response. "I have a secretary but she doesn't unpack rooms." You banter at him. This seems to irk Stolas. "Yes well since my divorce it seems my father can't resist the urge to assign me silly tasks as if I were some child in need of a distraction." Stolas snaps at you. He drops his volume at the mention of his divorce, which has surely affected how he is perceived by the other royals.

Despite how peeved he sounds by your comment, it sounds more like he's disheartened than truly upset.

You had heard of his divorce. You didn't care. Your family was never huge on the whole arranged marriage thing. You weren't even married yet, which for a prince of your age was unheard of in most other families.

You smile, half sympathetically, half filled with schadenfreude. "Join the club." An uncomfortable silence fills the air after your response. Stolas was aware of how your family is treated. It seemed silly to complain about being assigned trivial tasks like unpacking a room to a Corvus Arcana. It's sort of like complaining about a paper cut to a man missing both his arms.

"I apologize," Stolas says.

"For what?" You respond quizzically. "For how the others treat you. Merely because your lineage is young does not justify the lack of respect or meaningful assignments they've received from the other royals." Stolas says.

The uncomfortable silence fills the air once again. Stolas had always been the only person to treat you like a true royal. Back in the day, he was the only one to play with you, share with you, or even really acknowledge you. You two unpack in silence. After another ten minutes of unpacking you finally can't take it anymore.

"This blows. Wanna ditch this stupid "assignment"?" You stretch your arms and let the box you were carrying fall to the ground with a thump. Stolas looks at you dumbfounded.

"Ditch? Like... 'play hooky'? No... I could never! I'm much to old for that type of behavior now." Stolas seems aghast at the idea of offending his father. You turn around and grin at him. "Oh like anyone's gonna miss us! There's a million servants around here that can unpack this dumb room. Let's ditch this. Or are you gonna tell me you're having a blast?"

"That's not the point. I can't just leave!" Stolas retorts.

"You're an adult now. Plus King Paimon clearly doesn't care what we're up to. No one's checked on us. C'mon, we used to do this all the time. It'll be like back then when we used to sneak away from the nannies at daycare." You rebuttal. You can see Stolas fighting with himself over what to do.

The look on Stolas' face is priceless. There's nothing quite like a royal trying to decide if it's worth doing something considered "non-royal".

"I suppose it's okay to leave unannounced... I read something about the human country of Ireland and how its people say goodbye without saying anything and-" Stolas realizes he's rambling. "Ah well... yes. I guess I'd like to leave."

You shake your head in mock surprise at his overly introspective response. "Follow me."

You two walk in silence for a moment. You're spending the quiet time considering your current circumstances. You and the prince of the Ars Goatia are playing hooky from a meeting neither of you were really invited to. Huh. Interesting spot you've found yourself in.

Conversely, Stolas is trying his best to keep his cool. He's not so used to just leaving these types of things. You two have also not spoken much since you were young. There was never any bad blood or anything, being a royal is just time-consuming.

Stolas follows closely behind you as you walk out of the castle. "So... if you don't mind me asking..." Stolas begins, waiting for your confirmation to continue. After a quick nod from you, Stolas furrows his brow, contemplating his words before speaking, "Your..." He pauses, searching for a diplomatic way to phrase it. "casual demeanor seems almost at odds with your status as a royal. It's always been quite intriguing, I must say. Most other royals tend to carry themselves with a certain..." He gestures with a hand. "formality, shall we say. Your informal manner is indeed a rare sight." Stolas asks you.

The owl's attempts at not offending you are admirable. "Well. My family is much younger than yours, as you know. While your family and all the others gained power at the very start of hell my family rose to power a short three hundred years ago. To put it bluntly, we don't really do all the royal stuff." You respond, trying to explain your family's situation.

"I see... fascinating." Stolas offers. The two of you make it out of the castle without another word.

You two find yourselves behind the castle. You hop up on a small ledge to see over the hedges. Stolas, being tall, can see over just fine.

"Well. The world's our oyster." You say. The night is fresh upon you and the city shines spectacularly below you. You look up at Stolas with a mischievous grin. "How quickly would your dad notice if his fancy schmancy car went missing?"

Stolas snickers at your question. "We'll just have to find out I suppose."

-----

I don't really like how this turned out but I also feel like I say that after everything I write. I'm also pretty rusty (and slightly intoxicated). Life has been up my ass for like two years so that's where I've been. Once again, massive props to freakyfrye for a lot of inspiration behind this. I had no clue where to take it but I read their story and it was great! Worth checking out. Anyways I hope you enjoyed.

[ceruleanwhore]

I know it's been a minute since Hazbin dropped and I'm late to the hate train but I have things I want to say, so I shall.

First off, the whole thing makes absolutely no fucking sense, conceptually. There is really no good way to execute this batshit idea of Lucifer having a daughter and that daughter deciding to start a fucking hotel in Hell to redeem sinners so they can go to Heaven. Also, the culling shit with the angels showing up to just kill already dead souls for no reason also makes no sense and there really isn't any way to make it make sense.

Secondly, when making yet another piece of media inspired by Christian canon, even if it is Christianity and you hate the religion, you absolutely have to know the source material before you go fucking with it. That's why, for example, Dogma is such a good movie but this series falls flat even though both are comedic critiques of Christianity - Dogma understands the subject well enough to criticize it intelligently whereas Hazbin feels like it was conceptualized and made by someone who only watched like two episodes of Veggie Tales and otherwise knows jack shit about the religion. Throwing Lilith in there is worse because she isn't even in Christianity and it has the same vibes as when CCD classes host a Passover Seder by and for a bunch of gentiles to 'teach' about what Jesus was up to when he was around. It's just so disrespectful. Actually, that's what it is - the creators learned everything they know about Christianity, Heaven, and Hell from Tumblr posts which is definitely why she's in there.

If they knew more about the thing they're trying to make a whole ass show about, Adam and Eve wouldn't have been angels, there would be no hotel because you could just have the creation of Purgatory instead or, at the very least, some take on the harrowing of Hell and salvation of the virtuous pagans in Limbo. Also, even if you don't want to touch the Bible because it's icky (and I mean yeah), all you had to do was read like Dante's Inferno and peep the Ars Goetia and then actually make a structured Hell with a hierarchy and everything. I think kinda like what Rachel Smythe did with the worldbuilding in Lore Olympus, they wanted to modernize Hell for some reason, so the turf war/mafia type shit was supposed to replace a stronger hierarchy of Hell with princes and dukes and presidents and such, but I fucking hate it and there's no goddamn structure.

More importantly, the worldbuilding of Hell itself completely misses the fucking point of Hell as a thing. Hell is there both to contain Satan and the fallen angels who joined him in that uprising thing that one time and also to serve as a place where sinners go when they die and are punished for their sins. We never see even once any sort of actual system for sorting all these souls and punishing them for their sins. On the contrary, characters like Angel Dust appear to get to do drugs for the rest of their immortal lives and, since they're dead, it's not like those are going to kill them so it really doesn't read like a punishment. The closest we get to actual punishments are when the sinners/demons have gone and made deals that give other residents of Hell control over them, like how Husk is under Alastor's control and then Alastor apparently also has some kind of deal screwing him over, and Angel's situation with shitty boa dude is pretty similar too. It feels like they did the extermination shit to replace punishment in Hell along with these deals we see here and there, which is utterly fucking ridiculous and makes absolutely no sense.

The other thing I'd add kind of going off that is that Heaven in this series also makes literally no fucking sense. It's actually also the biggest issue I have with Good Omens that it makes NO SENSE for the angels to have no clue what God's plan is or, in this case, how souls even get into Heaven. The whole fucking point is that there's an entire, nicely structured hierarchy for exactly this. Seraphim, cherubim, and thrones are all closest to God, so they can get the info from Them and pass it to the lower ranks. Hell, this could even be how you get problems, like you make it a bit of a gimmick that Heaven runs on a massive game of telephone. It also could've been a way to have some really cool variety in character design, so maybe some of the higher ranking angels look like the weird biblical shit with all the eyes and fire and they get progressively more normal as you go down the hierarchy. Instead, they picked like three recognizable names, made them into pretty people with wings and potentially also stupid Homestuck looking masks, and threw them in our face while just refusing to actually bother with worldbuilding or character design.

That brings me to the third thing which is that, when doing a series like this based on something like Christianity, you really have to sit down and figure out what kind of God your Christian God in your series is going to be, even if They never show up on screen. Is this God distant and neglectful and that's how all this shit is happening? Or do we have the wrathful God of the Israelites who regularly exterminates Hell out of pure sadistic rage? Or do we have a weak God on the verge of death who is barely present out of necessity while the angels take advantage of that absence and run amok? And it's not even just that determining what kind of God is supposed to be the God of this series would inform why stuff happens like it does, it would also help the writers to have a sense of direction and motive for what happens.

The writing in the show is all over the fucking place and figuring out what kind of God this God is meant to be is the very first question they should've asked themselves and it would've prevented most of the problems that currently exist in the show. If we had that, then maybe we wouldn't have weird shit with Lucifer where he very much does not feel like he's the devil at all and also Charlie is supposed to have daddy issues but then he shows up and is just a really adoring and supportive dad so that doesn't make sense. If we had that, then maybe Hell would have a fucking structure because we would actually have the motive behind Hell itself and why it exists. If we had that, then maybe we could get into the nitty gritty of the ethical/theological complexities of Hell and how, no matter how you slice it, it's really God's will at the end of the day so we could get a whole debate over if Lucifer is even evil or if God is just controlling and sadistic and all that. If we had that then maybe we could even have some reveal about how sin isn't even a concrete thing and the true nature of Hell is that it's a place people choose to go when they die because they don't feel worthy of salvation and they feel in their soul that they need to be punished. Anything, really.

Fourth is that it really, really shouldn't be a musical series. The pacing fucking sucks and they overexplain everything and I just feel like if you took all the time spent on shitty musical numbers and instead put it into showing, not telling, and also developing characters and relationships, it could be a lot better. If there was more time for shit, then maybe Charlie could not be a Mary Sue and Vaggie could have a personality and Angel could be an actual fucking character that isn't just an animated twink with trauma who gets off on violating people's boundaries. Also, I just really didn't like most of the songs in the series (outside the series they're fine) and I skipped a lot of those scenes.

Fifth and final is that it really just wasn't funny. A lot of the stuff that was supposed to be funny was just excessive swearing that felt completely unnatural, like that tiktok going around of that girl saying the n word. If you're bothering to do a whole series set in Hell that's ostensibly about Christianity, then why tf aren't you leaning more into biting criticism of Christianity for your humor? If they'd just gone full Dogma with this, it would've been so much better but no.

So yeah, it fucking sucked and so did the character design.