#Technically free to take if someone wants but I am keeping this on file for myself too

[kyliafanfiction]

There's at least one fic out there where Amy's biomom is Annette Hebert's sister (Nothing Succeeds like Success. Unfinished, and the author is passed, so it never will be). It's not explicitly stated, but it is very strongly implied and IIRC the author even says that's the case in a comment in the thread, though I could be remembering wrong.

Either way, I have now like five different fic ideas using that premise, but one that just came to mind is this one:

On the night the Brockton Bay Brigade attacks Marquis's home, little Amelia is spending the night at her Aunt Annette's house (also Uncle Danny's house, of course), having a sleepover with her younger cousin Taylor or something. So Marquis isn't left defending that closet, doesn't take a hit from Brandish, and manages to drive the Brigade into retreating, like he obviously had before.

But the Brigade knows his address, his face, his name - and from there, it wouldn't be too hard to connect that to the daughter he has, etc. They could give that info to the PRT and Protectorate (who don't hold to the so-called 'unwritten rules' anywhere near as much as other capes, and in 2000ish they might have been in a more infant form anyway) So Marquis has to leave. But instead of doing what a lot of fics do, where he leaves with Amelia and dons a new identity, etc (Not that this is unbelievable), Marquis instead leaves Amelia with the Heberts, because he can't take her with him while he goes on the run for... some reason (if I wrote this fic I'd have to come up with a reason, but a reason could easily exist).

He trusts Annette with Amelia, obviously, and he's not going to drop out of contact entirely. (Letters, phone calls, the occasional visit perhaps?) Probably gives Annette access to one of his accounts to cover the cost of raising Amelia or something? I feel like Danny might be too proud to accept the money without a fight, but Annette might not (what she's actually like is of course an open question because we really don't know much about her), and so they don't go crazy with the money or anything, but still.

But anyway, the Brigade at least can take credit for driving Marquis out of the city, but they didn't actually catch him, and they did attack him in his home. In canon they got away with that because it worked. In this fic... it didn't work. So maybe they don't become open capes (Maybe they get a nice big win later on and do it then, but let's assume the Brigade stays masked, for the sake of argument).

Amelia probably has to change her surname, if Lavere was Marquis's last name (I don't know if that's actually confirmed, but every fic I've read has it be his last name if it comes up) and not Amy's biomom's last name or something. (I can't imagine Marquis wouldn't give Amelia his last name once he found out about her, etc) so let's say she becomes Amelia Hebert, or something. Or goes back to using Annette's maiden name (that Annette's sister would have had). Either way, she's raised by her Aunt Annette and Uncle Danny primarily now, with contact with her dad, etc.

I don't know exactly where this story would go from here - having an older cousin/adoptive sister would change things for Taylor if the Trio still happens - and who knows if Annette even still dies or dies in the same way or at the same time in this AU. Annette might still have a car accident and Amelia triggers to save her, as happened in the snippet series Adoption where Amelia gets adopted by the Heberts from an orphanage. (Giving Amy some sort of Altpower would also be interesting - some kind of self-biokinetic changer power is something I've seen in a few fics that might be interesting to explore)

BUT, I do have this amusing mental image of a scene where Victoria Dallon - secretly the cape Glory Girl - brings her friend (or even girlfriend) Amelia Hebert to her house at some point, and Carol sees Amelia and she sees how similar to Marquis she looks or something to that effect.

[gender-trash]

how did you get into typesetting? are there particular resources/guides you'd recommend?

i am so incredibly sorry, because the answer to your first question is almost certainly useless to you: when i was 9-12 years old i took a bunch of online math classes from the Art of Problem Solving. AoPS classes (at the time; i haven’t followed what they’re doing in years) were formatted as a chat room where the entire lecture was given in text format (vv accessible to me for both adhd and auditory processing reasons), occasionally the teacher would ask questions for you to type in a response to, and a few of the fastest correct answers would be shown to the rest of the class. especially if you used latex math typesetting to make it Look Nice (the chatroom had limited latex support).

i, a small child extremely interested in math and in Proving my Skills to the other faceless usernames in the chatroom, was super into this. with practice i eventually got really good at speed-typesetting math in latex; i also habitually wrote up all my homework in latex because my handwriting was fucking unreadable (probably because of the dyspraxia) and it was honestly simpler *and* faster than writing it on paper and scanning it.

so at that point i was just kind of in the habit of using latex whenever i wanted to make a vaguely technical document Look Nice. math camp qualifying tests. final papers for technical classes in college. personal notes and reference sheets (i’m much more likely to study things if my study materials are visually appealing, i’ve found). i discovered that with practice it *is* possible to take class notes, live, in latex, and that if you send your ~fancy~ latex notes to your friends in the class they will love you forever. plus the extra Challenge made it easier for me to pay attention in class (fuck you, adhd).

thus, when i got into ficbinding my basic approach was “download a random latex book template -> modify to my own tastes -> consult stackoverflow if anything goes wrong” and it works pretty well for me, because i’m an extremely bullheaded programmer with a decade of latex experience. would i necessarily “recommend” it to a beginner? …not really.

anyway i hear you can use ms word or another word processor to typeset fic/danmei? lots of people in the ficbinding discord seem to be pretty successful with it, and @armoredsuperheavy’s introductory ficbinding tutorial goes into some detail (all of which i fully skipped) about typesetting in word. i can’t really provide any help here, though, sorry :(

otoh if you DO want to take the plunge and go latex or go home, i’ve found that overleaf provides some pretty good basic guides to latex syntax; if you want, i can also send you some of my latex source files and talk you through what’s going on with them. you’ll almost certainly want to use the “memoir” documentclass (not “book”), so hit up ctan and download the memoir documentation while you’re at it. personally i don’t use overleaf because i am physically incapable of using any text editor without vim keybindings; you might want to start there because the live preview is super helpful for a beginner, but i have NO idea what font support is like. if you’re not using overleaf, i recommend installing xelatex on your local machine, and if you don’t already have a text editor of choice, sublime text is free* and has some nice latex extensions.

*it will occasionally nag you to buy a license but you can keep clicking “maybe later” indefinitely

(someone recommended ConTeXt to me a while back, but i can’t remember who it was. that might be a friendlier option?)

actually, would anyone be interested in me writing up a more detailed Guide to Typesetting Books in LaTeX for complete beginners/cleaning up and posting my book template? (i am bad at modeling what “a complete beginner” to latex typesetting knows, but i will beta test it on a long-suffering @combat-epistemologist.)

[studiofluff]

To have and to hold, should we let them touch?

Continuing a thought from my last post regarding selling at conventions~

As a plush artist, I understand why other vendors with handmade plushies have signs up that say “do not touch”. People can be rough, hands can be sticky etc. As a business graduate though, I understand the importance of getting the product in a potential customers hands. Since my plushies are weighted and made with a 3mm pile minky, they feel really great to hold. Kind of like holding a small animal. If you have never held a hamster, or a bird, you should someday, they are so warm and soft! When a customer gets the plush in their hands, their brain makes a connection with the toy. The longer someone looks at a product, the more they will want it. Get that product in their hands, and you’re closer to a guaranteed sale.

Story time!

I am comfortable with people handling my plushies because they are very sturdy. A few years back at Colossalcon, I brought some Drifloon plushies with me (old photo included) These Drifloons were made with stretchy bungee cords for their arms. Late in the evening, a bit before closing time, a lone, young kid came over to check out my wares. This kid was probably about 12-13 years old. They proceeded to pick up one of my Drifloons, grab it by the tiny heart hands, and whip it around like a lasso at high speeds. We’re talking nasa launch training circles.

Most people would say “yell at them, report them, shoot them in the knee with an arrow” but for me, I honestly couldn't help but laugh with them. That was when I learned that I make some damn good, sturdy plush toys. Ever since then, I give my plushies occasional stress tests when I am finished making them. I like to throw them, yank on their legs, shake them like and angry dog with a rag doll, occasionally make them do little dances.

I know they can take a beating, because sometimes I mess up while making them. An recent happening of this was with my Absol. I had made a rookie mistake with how I attached the fur and head. After sewing them on for over an hour, I realized it was irredeemable and needed to be completely redone. I was pretty upset and having trouble finding the threads to snip the head free (I sew very tight). I ended up losing my cool and tried to just rip it’s head off. Not even psycho grade, angry head ripping could free it. After my failed attempt of the beheading, I was defeated and ended decided to stick a pin in it for the next day. This is not the first time I have tried to rip a poorly placed part off of one of my plushies like an ape, and it never works.

The only plushies I have had issues with are keychains that I have made with other artists files early on. I now understand the importance of a final tight zigzag stitch across the keychain strap. Certain plush makers do not include this stitch on their files and only use a straight stitch. This results in a weak hold on the keychain which will eventually (and quickly) tear out of the plush. This being said, if you intend to start making plushies just keep in mind, it is not talent, but technical skill and practice through repetition that make for a well made, sturdy toy.

“Okay, so these plushies are built F*** tough, but what if someone with icky hands gets their nasty mess on their plush butts?”

Honestly, I have not had this as an issue (so far). I also have yet to meet a stain that I could not kill or disguise. The only stains that I struggle with are misplaced fingerprints while dying minky with alcohol ink. I can always hide these with some well blended brush work. As long as there is not another boom in the use of grease paint (Homestuck cosplays) I will let con goers touch my plushies without issue.

[ninelivesart]

About Me (Kind of)

Doing this Drawing My Reads challenge this last year, made me realize there's a lot people don't know about me. You don't have to know anything about me, of course. But since I've had an uptick in followers, I thought I'd share a few things anyway. For context.

I'm a librarian! Technically a Library Clerk because I don't have my Master's. But this last year I got promoted to Programming Clerk. And I specifically run my library's Makerspace. Which means I get to play with cool, creative machines all day. This also means that I sometimes get to just vibe to audiobooks and draw stupid stuff (it's ideal). My primary focus at the moment is our laser printer. So I will 1000% be adding those creations into my rotation soon. Expect to see some SVG files and wooden bookmarks and things on my Etsy shop soon.

2. That being said, it's important to note that I hardly ever pay for books. I have access to a full library 40 hours a week. So please don't think I'm out here spending hundreds of dollars on these books. I very rarely pay for them.

3. My education is in books. I have a degree in English and Literature. I minored in Journalism. I didn't get to go to art school because there just weren't a lot of options for me back then. So I am a self-taught artist. And I'm lucky to have found a job that combines both of my passions.

4. I am a fully adult woman. I read a lot of very adult books. I'm closer to 40 than 20 and I have a teenage son. Please keep that in mind when interacting with me.

5. My reading tastes can sometimes seem contradictory. I love romances but I tend to stick to fantasy and scifi. I don't do contemporaries very often. And I don't read classics because chances are, I've already read it, analyzed it, wrote an essay on it, and read it again. I did my time and now I'm in debt for classic literature. I'm just trying to have fun. So sometimes I might diss a popular book and be very critical about it. And then turn around and wax poetic about alien smut. I don't expect much from the alien smut. I do expect more from serious books.

6. I pick my reads with a randomizer! This is why I sometimes take a long time getting to a sequel. I have made exceptions for a series I wanted to continue right away. And sometimes I roll again if I'm not in the mood for the book I got. I'm going to try to be a little stricter on this in 2024 though. With the exception of the audio books I listen to at work. I always search Libby for what's available now so I'm not wasting my work time, searching every book on my TBR to see if it's in.

7. You are more than welcome to send me suggestions! I'll probably just stick them on my TBR so I can't guarantee I'll read it quickly. But if you think I'll like it, feel free to recommend it. I'm also happy to talk books with you if you need someone to vent to about a book you know I've read.

8. You are also welcome to add me on Storygraph (beautawn) or TikTok (NineLivesArt). I'm stepping away from Goodreads, so you probably won't see a lot of updates on there. But I post drawing videos on TikTok and I update my Storygraph pretty regularly.

9. However, I don't do reviews! Why? They make me uncomfy! Sometimes I really need to marinate with a book before I decide if I like it or not. Rating systems make me anxious. And my mood alters my decisions. I also don't like being mean. I'm fine talking about my feelings with other readers, but I don't like leaving reviews. Especially if I plan to make art for it. Don't want to draw a lovely portrait and then bash the book.

10. I do plan to continue this project into the new year. But I am planning on doing it a little different. I have some other (non book related) projects I want to work on, and I want to push myself to focus more on the things I need to improve. I really want to focus on environments this year, so I'll be drawing scenes from the book instead. Which means I may not draw a book even if I loved it.

Thank you for following my reading/art journey! I didn't expect this silly little project to have such a positive response. I love when people talk books with me and I actually made friends with a few authors this year! So overall, it's been a very positive experience and I'm ready to jump into the New Year and see what it brings!

[nerdypatrollove]

The best translation service provider

What does translation mean? Translation is the process of converting speech or written words from one language into another without changing the main idea.

 The term translation service means someone who provides the service of changing the language of any speech or text without changing the meaning and with good quality. It helps business owners and influencers connect with audiences in other countries without knowing their language.

The best translation service provider

There are many translation service providers like CHL Localization, Lisan India, Anan Translations, etc. But I want to suggest to you the best translation service provider, Ennovatives. 

There are many reasons to try their services. They have 8k plus customers worldwide, 1200 language pairs, and 10k  plus professional translations. They delivered 25,00,000 plus page DTP. I am going to tell you the reasons for their services.

Why Ennovatives is the best translation service.

Yes, I have a valid answer to your valid question about why you chose Enovatives for translation services. And here are the reasons:

They provide the best and high-quality service to more than 8k customers.

Their system is automated to keep up with current trends and provide a quick and simple experience.

 They give you error-free translations of your content with an end-to-end translation service.

They can translate your content into more than 180 languages because of our native translators.

Ennovatives take on tasks and work in a variety of formats, including printed materials, websites, help files, multimedia presentations, software GUIs, and prepress files.

What service do they provide for translation?

Document Translation 

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They can also handle different types of translations, like 

Advertisements, Brochures, Business, Book Translations, Catalogues, Certificates, Communications, Education Materials, E-Learning Contents, Financial/Banking, Handbooks, Healthcare Documents, Law/Patents, Materials, Medical/Pharmaceutical, Mobile Applications, Research Documents, Scientific Technical Manuals, Website Contents

If want to know more about them, you can visit:-https://ennovatives.com/services/quality-translation-services/

[jmtorres]

*bangs on pots and pans* marry your friends

the united states (and i think many other countries) as well as lotsa companies incentivize marriage. we get significant tax breaks. we get added to a spouse's health insurance plan at low or no cost. I knew someone who got married to a flight attendant to be able to get free flights.

TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE SYSTEM.

if you have a friend you would live with and would trust to get legally entangled with, and neither of you have any plans to get married for romantic love, then make an appointment at the courthouse (iirc it was like $30?) and get married for assorted financial benefits.

signed, I was gonna marry my spouse eventually anyway but I did it on a week's notice so I could get on their health insurance and keep seeing the same therapist when we moved one county over.

(folks on disability, I see you and acknowledge the system does not benefit your marriages. I'm so sorry)

FAQ

What if we need to get divorced? Check that no-fault divorce is available in your area (it's currently standard in the US, but under attack from Republicans). You can also look into annulment if you never screwed (or are both willing to state you didn't). Fill out the paperwork properly and don't misspell anyone's name and it should be pretty easy in most jurisdictions. If you live somewhere without no-fault divorce, one of you commit adultery on camera and that'll usually do it.

Divorce continued: But what about alimony or community property? ok A) I said someone you trust to get legally entangled with B) idk, write a prenup. you technically don't even need a lawyer for this just a notary. C) community property is like. real estate. not furniture. unless and until you're buying property don't worry about that

Won't people question the validity of the marriage? In my experience, no. Insurance might want to see a copy of the marriage license but no one's going to investigate if you're married the "right way" unless this is like a green card situation which A) I'm not qualified to speak on but B) completely falls under the umbrella of my advice to marry your friends for the systemic benefits imo, it's just more complicated, do your own research

What will my parents think? Do you care? I mean. Look, if they're good parents they'll recognize you're doing what's best for you. And you might be surprised at the family stories that come out about who married who for what (I was certainly surprised about the flights one! That was a cousin). If they're shitty parents who weren't accepting your disinterest in romantic marriage in the first place, fuck 'em. Hey, one of the benefits of marriage is your spouse becomes your closest next of kin if you don't want your parents making decisions first you if say, you get in a car accident! This is one of the reasons we fought so hard for same-sex marriage.

I'm polyamorous I can't marry them all! Yeah nope sorry that's rough. Hopefully you're an even-numbered polycule so you can at least all pair off for the tax breaks.

I'm not gay what if people think I'm gay for marrying my same-sex best friend? Who cares? No homo in 2024 really my guy? But also you don't actually have to tell people if you don't want to, you can just say you're roommates. If someone finds out, you can literally just say "we got married for health insurance" you will be amazed how much people are like "oh. huh. that's really smart actually"

Marriage is a sacred rite! I am fully talking about filing government paperwork and if you are unable to separate that from the rituals of your religion, this advice may not be for you.

What if I actually wanted a fancy ceremony though? I mean, no one's stopping you. Send out invitations and a registry. Get those housewares.

Thanks, Anon!

-submit your poll!-

[shemarmooresfedora]

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

-

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

-

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

-

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

-

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

-

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

-

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

-

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

[dontcare77ghj]

Inked

Natasha x reader x Wanda

"You know those cause cancer, right?" Mal asked, entering your office. "And you're gonna stink out your office."

"The window's open." You shrugged, exhaling slowly and sending the smoke out the open window. "And you and I both know, cancer isn't something I'm scared of."

"Yeah, yeah, death licks your boots." Mal rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Anyway, I'm going on break, Blaine's with a customer, and we've got a walk-in."

"I'll handle it." You promised, putting out your cigarette. "You going to pick up Erin?" You asked the younger girl.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop her off with a neighbor. May offered and wouldn't let me refuse." She told you.

"Well, here. Get Erin something sweet for me." You said, shoving a twenty into her hands.

"Y/N, I can't." Mal started, trying to give you the money back.

"I insist." You cut her off. "I want to be her favorite aunt." You shrugged, forcing her to curl her fingers around the money. "Go, get your kid, and give her a hug for me."

"Will do, boss." She nodded before leaving.

"Hi, welcome to SkinPolish. How can I help you?" You asked, entering the main room to see the back of a man. He was looking over the walls of the store but turned at your entrance.

"Just so you know, I'm not here to get stabbed a thousand times," Clint told you with a grin.

"I think your day job provides you with enough of that." You joked, wrapping your arms around him. Clint chuckled as he returned your hug, pulling you close. "It's been too long, geezer."

"I know, you've got at least four more tattoos since the last time I saw you, you hoodlum." Clint teased you.

"It's been two years, Clint. Some of us had to change our identities." You reminded him, pulling back. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He told you.

"Blaine, watch the shop." You said without taking your eyes off the man before you.

"You got it, Y/N!"

"Follow me." You told Clint. You led Clint out of the front of the store and into your office. "Clint, I left when SHIELD fell. I handed in my clearance and took off." You said, lighting another cigarette. "I'm not doing any more work for them."

"Don't be like that." Clint groaned, sitting on your desk. 

"First off, get the fuck off my desk. Where are the manners Laura shoved down your throat? And secondly, I can't come back. Fucking HYDRA was running SHIELD for years, and none of us knew. All our information was in their hands. Who knows what they took? I have people I care about, Clint. I can't risk anyone's lives." You told him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for SHIELD. I'm asking you to help the Avengers." Clint explained.

"Even better, a more public job." You scoffed. "Clint, we're friends. We've been through a lot. I get why you're here, but why the fuck would I risk the people I care about for another mission?"

"Argentina." He said simply.

"That is a dick move, and you know it." You groaned, finishing your smoke.  

"I do know it, but I have to use it. We need your help." Clint said, rising from your desk to stand in front of you. "We need your help, kid. I wouldn't be asking if I had another choice." 

"Fine." You relented after a minute. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow," Clint told you. "I'll pick you up." He added before going to leave.

"You don't know where I live." You protested.

"Yeah, I do." Clint corrected you. "I'll see you at nine." He said, and with that, he was gone.

"Fuck me." You sighed, rubbing your hand across your face.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" You asked, watching as the Avengers Compound grew closer through the window.

"Because you love me," Clint responded cheekily.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." You rolled your eyes. "You never even told me what I'm needed for."

"Briefing's in half-hour," Clint told you. "Which gives you enough time to get acquainted with everyone." He added as the car slowed to a stop.

"You know how I feel about crowds of people." 

"It's not a crowd. It's the team and Maria. You're fine, kid, I promise." He said.

"Fine, let's get this over with." You sighed, unclicking your belt.

"Avengers!" Clint called as the two of you moved further into the maze of a building. "I have a surprise for you all!" 

"Is it a unicorn?" A male voice asked as you both entered what looked to be a meeting room.

"Even better. Gentlemen, and Wanda,"

"Smooth Barton." A redhead coughed.

"This is Y/N L/N." Clint continued his introduction. "A specialist in all fields, especially disguise, and the only reason we might do our job today."

"Oh, so I'm doing your work for you again, Barton? Nothing's changed, I see." You commented. 

"Hey! That's not true! Name one time that's ever been true!"

"I can list fifty off the top of my head." You said, raising a brow at him.

"I can add sixty-seven to your list." The redhead piped in. "Natasha Romanoff." She introduced herself.

"Pleasure Agent Romanoff." You smiled. "C'mon Barton, formal introductions, please."

"Yeah, Barton. Introduce us." 

"Y/N, this is Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Wanda." Clint gestured. "Are you all satisfied?"

"Not particularly, since you still haven't told me what you need my help for." You said, crossing your arms.

"You haven't even told her that. Jesus Barton." Wanda snorted.

"I was getting to that. I was waiting for you all to meet." Clint whined. 

"Well, we're met." You said, taking an empty seat beside Natasha. "C'mon, what am I doing here?"

"There's a gala tonight," Natasha said, handing you a file. "A man named Jayden Reeds is going to be in attendance. Reeds has stock in several large companies, but that's just a front. Reeds actually has ties to HYDRA and deals in human trafficking. From what we've gathered, Reeds kidnaps people who will seemingly not be missed. They're then delivered to HYDRA bases around the world and never heard from again."

"Am I here to kill him? Because I can get behind that." You said, shaking your head.

"Wait till you hear the rest," Clint told you.

"There is a possibility Reeds also has his own collection. He's been spotted with several women who have all disappeared shortly after."

"What's the connection between them?" You asked.

"They're all French brunettes."

"So let me guess, my job is to go undercover tonight and see if he takes the bait. And when he does, I bring him in."

"Bingo Boingo," Tony told you.

"Well, I guess I better find a long sleeve dress. Oh, and maybe a wig."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed your accent was real myself," Wanda commented later that night.

The mission had gone as smoothly as could be. Reeds had fallen for your act believing you to be a young French brunette on vacation in America's busiest city.

You hadn't even needed to corner him as he'd followed you into a woman's bathroom with two other men. 

You hadn't given any of them a chance to move or say anything before you had them unconscious on the ground.

Now you were heading home, still decked out in your gala gown, with Natasha, Wanda, Clint, and Tony.

"It's not that good. No matter how much I practice, even my Italian's better than my French." You shrugged.

"Not that good?" Tony snorted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, if I weren't engaged and I met you in Paris, I'd take you back to Hotel Plaza Athenee and show you a time."

"Cute, Starky boy, but you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type."

"Sorry, hon, but I like women." You told him. "This is my stop." You added as Tony pulled over.

"You live here?" Natasha asked, looking around the neighborhood in distaste. You could understand her aversion to the area. Any one of your neighbors would move in an instant if given the choice.

"Yep." You said, unclicking your belt. "Been here since SHIELD crashed."

"Did SHIELD pay this bad?" Tony questioned you.

"SHIELD pay wasn't great, but it was something. I saved most of it, but a lot of it went to making sure Y/N Smith, the tattoo artist from the wrong side, wasn't connected with Y/N L/N, SHIELD agent." You shrugged. "Didn't see a point in moving after." You added. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." You said, sliding out and holding the door open.

"We'll give you a call if we need someone to do all the work for us." Clint nodded.

"Great. Come by the shop if you ever want a free tattoo. Clint knows where it is." 

A part of you was sure you wouldn't see any of the team again. They led much more busy lives than you did, and their schedules were forever changing.

So imagine your surprise when Natasha and Wanda entered your shop the next day just to simply chat. And they continued to do so for a week. Sometimes Clint would come, Steve had popped in for a few minutes while on a run, but Natasha and Wanda visited every day. 

On the seventh day, the two came in at one in the afternoon with Tony.

"Hey, Tony. I didn't know you were coming to lunch with us." You said, continuing to lock up the shop. "I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Great, but there's been a slight change of plans," Natasha said, watching you closely.

"As long as foods still involved, I won't be too bothered." You shrugged.

"Food is involved. It's just going to take us a while to get to it." Tony cryptically informed you.

"Guys, I'm running on twenty minutes of sleep and caffeine. Please, no cryptics." You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the three.

"Relax, we're not trying to hurt your head." Tony chuckled. "We have something to tell you."

"But first, step this way, away from any possibly hidden weapons," Natasha said, gesturing you forward. "No-one should get a knife to the head because they shocked you."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes, walking forward. "For the record, I did that once. And Clint caught it." You added. "What did you three do?"

"Technically, Tony did it," Wanda said, pointing a thumb at the billionaire.

"Real smooth, Sabrina." Tony scoffed. "Alright, yes, I did this, but I did it out of pure kindness."

"Did what?" 

"I've had all your stuff moved out of your apartment. I've had it moved into a spare room in the Compound," Tony announced. 

"Put it back, Tony." You demanded, crossing your arms. "My things aren't yours to touch."

"You live in a shitty neighborhood." Tony defended himself. "You have eight security systems of your own just to keep yourself safe. You won't find a new place of your own volition, so I found one for you."

"Tony, you moved my things into the Avengers Compound." You sighed. "I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet." Tony cut you off. "You are more than qualified to join the team. The way you helped us the other night, the way you took those men out and got the information quicker than we would have done. You can be an Avenger."

"I'm not risking those closest to me." You shook your head. "I gave up Y/N L/N when I left SHIELD. I have people in my life now, civilian people, who could get hurt because of me."

"Than don't let them," Natasha said. "I've been through your records, know how many people you helped and protected. Protect those you love just as you did all the strangers. You can still lead this life as well as one where you can protect people again."

"At least try temporarily," Wanda suggested. "Give it a month trial period and see if you can remember what it feels like. If it doesn't work out, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And if it does work, you can join our team. Please." She added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. A trial period." You sighed, pushing your hair back. "But no more using those eyes. It's evil, and you know it." You said, pointing at the witch.

"Yes, she does." Natasha smiled, putting her arm around her girlfriend's waist. "C'mon, there's a car waiting to take us back to the Compound."

"Where Tony ordered lunch," Wanda added, putting her hand out to you to take.

"At least he did one thing right." You joked, taking her petite hand.

"Hey!"

You had been staying at the Compound for almost a month. There were four days before the end of your trial period, but you hadn't made your decision yet. 

There was still a part of you that thought it would no longer be safe for the civilians in your life if you joined the team. If you entered the Avengers, you might have to give up this identity and everything and everyone that came with it.

But there was something about being around the team that ignited a spark within you. A spark you long thought had burned out. You longed for adventure, for that adrenaline rush that came with being undercover and the pride you felt at helping someone. 

You were torn between two worlds. Torn between two personalities.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like an ashtray," Natasha complained as she suddenly appeared by your side. You snapped out of your daze just in time to see Natasha take the smoke out of your hand and take a drag for herself.

"Didn't know you smoked." You commented, watching her exhale the smoke slowly.

"I don't. Not anymore." Natasha shook her head. "Just couldn't resist."

"Don't expect me to kiss you until you brush your teeth," Wanda said, skipping into the room and crossing her arms as she stared at the two of you. "I want a tattoo." She announced, staring you dead in the eye.

"Okay. Do you want me to find a parlor for you in the morning? I have a couple friends who owe me a favor or two." You suggested.

"No, I want you to do it," Wanda told you firmly. "As soon as possible if you would." 

"And you're sure about this?" You asked, raising a brow. "You're sure you want a tattoo and that you want me to do it?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me." You said, leading the two back into the Compound and into your room.

"You have a gun and inks in your room?" Natasha asked, looking your makeshift parlor over.

"Yep. Set it up the night I arrived, gave myself this the next." You said, lifting your shirt to reveal the healing tattoo on your hip.

"Geez, you know most people drink a bottle of scotch to welcome themselves to a new place? Not give themselves a tattoo." Natasha informed you.

"Probably." You nodded, beginning to set up your station. "Okay, Wanda, what did you have in mind?"

"I want the words, 'Ty namnogo bol'she' to wrap around my wrist," Wanda said, tracing around her thin wrist with her finger.

"Alright, I can definitely do that. But you might have to write it down for me. My Russian's not that great." You informed her.

"We'll have to work on that," Natasha said as Wanda began to write it down.

"Alright." You began after Wanda handed you the spelling. "Let's get started."

"I love it." Wanda smiled, watching as you gently wrapped her wrist. "It's perfect." 

"I like to do my best." You grinned, putting the last of the tape down. "Make sure that stays moist. And do not scratch it under any circumstances." You instructed her as you began to shove your equipment away in plastic tubs.

"You need a better system," Natasha commented. "Yours is kind of a mess."

"I'll update my system when I change this room around." You said, looking around the nearly bare room. Everything you owned was in plastic tubs or bags. You hadn't been bothered to unpack yet.

"Does that mean you're planning on staying?" Natasha asked. "Have you made your decision yet? To join the team or not?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to decide." You sighed, leaning against the wall. "I like not giving a shit. I like waking up in the morning and paying too much for a shitty cup of coffee. I like going to work and being around people who've never had to see the shit we have. I like not having to feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I miss it. 

I miss being a part of a team. I liked saving people. I enjoyed going on missions, creating new personas to get what I needed done. I miss being around people who've seen the shit I have. Who know what the weight of the world feels like. 

Now I don't where to go. What I need more in my life." You told them.

"We told you, you don't need to pick one world," Wanda said, standing from her stool. "You can still save people and drink over-priced coffee. You can still be with people who share your trauma and be with those who don't. You don't have to pick one world."

"Can we help your decision along by us asking you out to dinner?" Natasha asked, breaking your pensive silence.

"Excuse me?" You asked, for once being taken aback by another person. "I think I went temporarily deaf there. Can you repeat yourself?"

"Let us take you on a date," Natasha repeated slowly. "We were thinking about dinner and wine and then a night at the opera." She said, causing your nose to scrunch up without thought.

"She's kidding." Wanda giggled. "Actually, we were thinking we get a couple beers, order a pizza, and watch a movie in our room."

"Can I pick the movie?" You asked her.

"With your crappy taste, no." Wanda shook her head.

"Okay, now she's kidding," Natasha said, taking three steps forward to stand beside her girlfriend. "Of course, you can pick the movie."

"And this wouldn't hurt your relationship?" You asked tentatively. "I wouldn't ruin what you already have?"

"You could only add." Wanda smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna go on a date with us?" Natasha questioned you.

"I'd love to."

"Go away.” You groaned, rolling away and under the covers into Natasha’s body.

“Wakey, wakey. Up and at ‘em you two.” Wanda ordered, pulling the blankets off the pair of you. 

“Wanda!” 

“Both of you will forgive me when I tell you I have coffee.” Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside you.

“The overpriced kind?”

“What other kind is there?” Wanda asked. “C’mon sit up or no coffee for either of you.”

“Alright, alright, we’re up.” Natasha said, sitting up with you on her chest. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.” You groaned after taking the first sip of your steaming beverage.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?” 

“Can’t it be both?” You shrugged before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm softly.

“As long as there’s love for me too, it can.” Natasha told you.

“I love you too, Nat.” You promised, kissing her collarbone.

“After today’s meeting, I want you to give me a tattoo.” Natasha announced. “I don’t care where is is, but I want ‘YA zasluzhivayu lyubvi’.” She told you. 

“Alright then. I like this plan.” You smiled, looking up at your girlfriend. “You know I think I’m due for some new ink myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can choose for me.” You shrugged. “I trust you both, always.”

Once, you left SHIELD and it’s lifestyle behind. And then one day Clint Barton walked into your shop and brought you back into it. 

He brought you back to the life you missed and brought you to Natasha and Wanda.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests. 

Taglist

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Natasha Romanoff Taglist

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@imnotasuperhero

[nygmobblepot-trash]

I think it's so funny that Mobius is just some dude. No powers. No fighting skills. Not a super genius. Just a seemingly nice guy who likes jet skis and refuses to stop researching Loki.

My headcannon is if you get high enough you can get assigned to high level variants (people who are highly volatile so they have a lot of variants) to focus on. Low level agents just get assigned to random rare variants who won't really be much of a challenge.

So Mobius is taught by Ravonna. She quickly realizes he can't fight... like at all. Not only that he is too nice and she is afraid he won't be able to prune variants. Mobius tells her he can do it and she reluctantly takes him on a case. She picks one that she believes will be too much for Mobius but easy for her. She thinks he would be a better analyst and wants him to see that as soon as possible.

Unfortunately things get out of hand almost immediately. The two get separated and when Rovonna finds Mobius he is badly hurt and about to be killed. For some reason he has gotten rid of the pruning stick and is casually confronting the variant. He says a few words and the variant crumbles to the ground in tears. She is too far to hear what he said when she demands to know later on he shrugs and says he read the variant's files. Then he does something that further worries her. He argues for the variant's life. She explains that this is the only way to maintain the time-line and prunes the variant without any more arguments. She notices he looks upset by this but figures he will get over it. They all had to, it is apart of the job.

Years go by and Mobius still tries to do things his way. He only prunes if it is absolutely necessary. He also annoyingly goes to every trial and tries to repurpose the variants. Even though the Judge rarely allows it.

She questions his loyalty to the TVA often. She assures herself that he is just too nice and hates violence. This is why she makes sure he stays under her. She also takes credit for his work (technically it is her work as well since she has to prune the variant or bring them in when Mobius refuses). It's for his own good of course. Who knows what the time keepers would do if they found out one of their own agents didn't want to do things the way they wanted. By becoming Judge herself she would be able to protect himself from himself. Or maybe she fears what will happen to her since she is his superior.

Mobius quickly realizes he enjoys reading about people and figuring out what makes them tick. Not only that, but what tiny change could change a person's whole trajectory for life. A simple sentence could break or build a person. Sure not everyone is that simple, but there are times when they are. Everyone has at least one point in their life when multiple different outcomes could be possible. Thus nexus events are born. They are supposed to prune the area and move on, but Mobius hated that. Just because you took one wrong turn doesn't mean you couldn't get back on the same path again. He had proven that when he had the chance. When he was alone and not with someone focused on the mission. The variants are people who deserve to live. They aren't trying to destroy the time line. So he did his best to save every last one of them. To find the one thing to say to get them back on the right path before it is too late.

He wanted things to change so he kept solving cases to climb the ladder to get a voice. If the time keepers knew there was another way maybe they could order the agents to keep pruning as when all else fails. So he researched and researched. One day he found a file that was impossiblely long.

Apparently this person had more variants than anyone. He was intrigued. So he spent any free time he had reading about the person and their many, many, many variants. The more he read the angrier he got. Yes this person was extremely troubled, but they were always so close to being something more. If everything went how it should go they are killed after they decide to go to the good side. Otherwise the TVA prunes them before they can even find who they are. Mobius believes they want to do good, be good, but they just need someone to believe in them, to support them. If he could be in charge of finding this variant he could save them. It would be different this time though, instead of putting them back on the correct path to die, he will give them a new purpose. A glorious purpose the variant would describe it as. What that purpose is will take time to figure out. He prepares anyways, by looking for key moments where a nexus event may happen. One of these plans involved making a 'greatest' hits playlist of the person.

Years pass and a variant of the interesting person has killed the agent assigned to them. Mobius knowing he is about to be assigned goes to Ravonna. She explains it is up to the time keepers and tells him there is no way it will happen. She tells him he would be killed almost immediately. A week later she is at a lost for words when she receives Mobius's assignment. All it says is, Loki. When she shows Mobius he hides a smile. She pretends to be happy for him, but can't help not to see the writing on the wall. This is where he will learn what his kindness will get him.

More time passes and hunters are killed, but Mobius still lives and he is struggling to bring in the variant. As time goes on and more and more die she watches him get more and more desperate. He explains if he could just talk to variant things would change. The only thing saving his life is that he hasn't gotten his wish.

Then the hunters catch one of Loki's variants. She quickly moves to trial before Mobius can hear of it. Unfortunately he arrives as she tries to get the variant to plead. She is surprised when Mobius stays quiet even when she decided to reset the variant.

That is until the variant shouts, "You have no idea what I am capable of!"

Mobius arises nonchalantly and explains he might know what the variant is capable of.

Rovanna decides to let Mobius approach. As he does she quickly realizes what he is doing. The variant wanted a task force to go after the Avengers. Surely Mobius wouldn't be crazy enough to use this variant. He explains he is due to a hunch. She knows she should say no, but she is willing to do anything that may help Mobius bring in the variant currently killing too many TVA personnel. So she agree with a warning.

Now she isn't sure she made the right choice... or ever made the right choice. That tends to happen when what you fought so hard for turns out to possibly be a lie.

Mobius on the other hand is ecstatic. This Loki variant is perfect. He had prepared for this day for years. If his hunch was correct (and of course it would be) then he could stop the cycle. Prove that even a Loki can be saved. Variants could be allies. What better way to do that then to send a variant after a variant (he realizes the irony of this later)?

If you could ask Mobius if he feels the same way now, he would tell you yes. He would tell you he would do it all again in a heart beat. But currently he is burning down the TVA so you'll have to ask later.

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter twelve

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2588

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Normally I am the type of person to be date accurate when writing things and if you are too, I'm sorry. I messed up on the dates, so the battle of New York happens like a month after it should. This is also a short chapter because it's a filler and I'm trying to just get to the Winter Soldier but have everything make sense.

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Masterlist

A few days later I had received a small archivist job in the WWII department of the Smithsonian. Thankfully the made-up resume and a few fake SHIELD recommendations came in handy. I would officially start the following week after a few background checks were cleared. In my free time until then, I unpacked all the boxes in my apartment. It started to feel more homely and warm when all of my things filled up the space. When I didn’t feel like unpacking anything, I started taking long walks to the VFW building. I hadn’t joined in on any of the meetings yet, I just stood by the doorway and watched, listening to the stories people told.

One day that week as I stood back in the hallway after the meeting had ended, a man came up to me. He was a little taller than I was and had the brightest smile I had ever seen. I had watched him in the meetings before, he was usually the one hosting them, giving advice to all who needed it.

“I’ve seen you standing out here for the past three days, why don’t you come have a seat next time? It would be more comfortable than standing out here for an hour.” He said as he leaned his back against the wall right next to me.

“I have thought about it, but I tend to get here after you have started. I don’t want to interrupt anything by just barging in.” I said over my shoulder at him.

“You won't interrupt anything, just come on in next time, we’d be happy to have a new face around,” He pushed himself off the wall and walked down the hall.

After that, I ended up joining the meetings and even spoke a few times. I learned that the man who came up to me that day was Sam Wilson, pararescue, who had served two tours in Afghanistan. From the first day he came up and talked to me to now, we quickly became friends.

The days had turned into weeks and I was finally able to live relatively by my own means. The Smithsonian was great, in the archives, no one was really around and I could spend a whole day without any interruptions, which allowed me to just concentrate on what I was doing. After closing, I normally walked to meet Sam, who was usually way too excited to see me, even though we saw each other almost every day without fail.

“You’re late today.” I jumped, startled out of my thoughts at the sound of someone talking to me. I looked up, spying Sam standing next to one of the small trees outside the VFW building.

“What do you mean late?”

“I mean you usually get here at three-thirty. It's four right now.” He said looking down at his watch.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize. I've just been lost in my thoughts lately.” I sighed.

“I know we’ve only been friends for what? A month? But I already know when something is bothering you, What is it?”

“Nothing really, just my brother. Since moving here he's called at least twice a week to check up but it’s been radio silence for the past two weeks, he doesn't even answer when I try calling him. I'm just a little worried that something bad is going on, considering his job.”

“Well, maybe he’s just really busy at the moment, or he's somewhere he can't call you. You know how it is being out on those military missions.”

“I know, it’s just the last time we were apart on a mission,” I trailed off and looked up at Sam, he raised his eyebrows, quietly waiting for the end of the sentence. “Someone close to us passed. It’s still fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. I was there that day and I was too far away to even know what had happened, now my brother and I aren’t even in the same vicinity as each other, there is no telling what could happen and it makes me nervous.”

He gave me a small apologetic smile and patted my shoulder before leading me from the tree where we stood to where his car was parked. “What do you say we hang out at mine and just watch some tv? Get your mind off things? Or we can talk about it, either way, it’s better than dealing with it alone.” I nodded my head and grabbed onto the car door handle as he unlocked it.

Walking through the front door after him I took a quick look around. It was cozy, way more decorated than I thought it would be for a man in his early thirties living alone.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?” He asked neck-deep in the fridge.

“Okay, I’ll just have some water,” I called out as I made my way further into the living room. The couch was backed up to the wall a few feet away from the dining room table. I sat down on it and scooted as close as I could to its right arm. A few moments later Sam came over with two glasses of water and a bag of chips. He handed me my drink before crashing down into his own seat. “Thank you,” I said before taking a long sip.

He nodded as he said “No problem.” Before he got himself really comfortable he searched around for the TV remote. As he pressed the ‘on’ button the TV came to life. “What in the world is that?” He sounded concerned so I quickly looked at the screen.

“Breaking: Attack on New York City. This afternoon at 2:15 several unidentified aircraft descended onto Earth's surface. Strange beings, some are calling aliens, Accompanied these ships and are causing havoc in Manhattan. Eyewitnesses have stated that they have seen Iron Man, and what seemed to be Captain America, leading a team of three others fighting back against the invaders. The battle seems to be over but updates are still coming in, let's take a look at some footage of the downtown destruction.” My eyes went wide and my heart stopped as I listened to what the reporter was saying. I kept my eyes glued to the screen as it changed to show a destroyed street. As the camera panned around I spotted Steve fighting against two of the creatures, before the clip quickly changed to show one of the large ships crashing into the New York skyline.

“Oh God Steve, what did you get into?” I murmured to myself.

“You say that like you know him personally.”

“Uhh.” I just gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I do, he’s my brother.”

“Now really isn’t the time to be joking about things,” He gave me a pointed look.

“I swear I’m not joking, he really is my brother. I can explain later, I need to try and get a hold of him.” I pulled out the small flip phone from my pocket and dialed the number for Steve's cell phone, it rang and rang but no answer. I hung up quickly and dialed the number Fury gave me at the beginning of the month. After two rings he answered.

“I assume you are looking for Captain Rogers.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?” I tried to keep the worried tone from coming through in my voice.

“He’s fine. He is in the middle of a debriefing. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Okay, thank you.” As soon as the words left my mouth he gave a quick hum and then hung up. I looked over at Sam whose eyes hadn't left me at all. “Everything is fine, he's in a debrief so that means that whatever happened in New York is definitely over.”

“That’s good to hear, hopefully, those things don’t try to come back again.” He shook like a shiver ran down his spine. “Now please explain how Captain America, a man from the 1940s, is your brother.”

“I can hear the skepticism in your voice.”

He held his hands up in defense, “Hey, I'm not the one saying I'm the sister to a 90 something-year-old man.”

“Look, it’s a long story that I would rather not get into now but the short version is that I was born in 1921, Steve is my older brother, we both ended up taking the super-soldier serum and fought against HYDRA in the second world war. We ended up crashing a plane into some Ice in the Atlantic ocean and were found and unfrozen last October.” “If you are really Captain America’s sister, then why are you never mentioned in anything?” I looked at him and shook my head.

“Well for starters it was the forties and I was a woman fighting on the front lines. Credit is never given where it is due. But there is also the fact that I was a part of the SSR, which was very secretive, after I died.” I put my fingers up in air quotes, “They should have erased most, if not all the files on me, per protocol. The only reason Steve is well known is because of his time going cross country selling war bonds.” I paused for a second before quickly adding, “I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find me in the history books somewhere.”

Sam just sat there not really saying anything. This was the first time I think he had ever been quiet for more than five seconds. I let out a deep sigh and stood, grabbing my bag from the floor. “Thanks for having me over, but I think I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood and walked me to the door.

“Don’t be late. I’ll see you.” Sam waved me off and I headed down the street.

About half a year later while sorting through some archive files, I came across Peggy Carter. I felt a pang in my heart as I stared at the photo of her standing next to Howard Stark. Other than Steve and Bucky, those two were my closest friends. I fell down a rabbit hole after that, finding any information on the two that I could find. They had both helped found SHIELD in 1965, they had both gotten married and had children of their own. Peggy's children had stayed out of the public eye, but in true Stark fashion, Howard’s son evidently took over the family business and was living the high life. I pulled out a newspaper from the stack I had on the table in front of me and was shocked at what I saw. The title read ‘Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident’, I knew Howard most likely wasn’t alive anymore but seeing the photographs of the wrecked car in the newspaper cast a somber mood through the room.

I laid the paper down on the table and ruffled through more of the papers before determining that we had no information on if Peggy was alive or not. That sent me into a frenzy of looking through phone books to try and find her and calling every retirement home in DC that I could. The only lead I had to go off of was a small interview from a newspaper, talking to Peggy about the seventieth anniversary of V-E Day, stated that she was living in Washington, DC.

After eight failed calls, finally, on the ninth, I had finally found a home which had a Peggy Carter as a residence in room 204. I rushed to pack up my things and left my office early. I ran down the back hallways as fast as I could without drawing too much attention. When I made it out of the building I ran full speed to the road to hail a cab.

Amazingly the traffic was almost nonexistent and I made it to the retirement home in only ten minutes. I fumbled out of the cab and I raced through the front doors of the building. I must have startled the women at the front desk because as soon as I rounded the corner to the staircase, they were yelling after me. I took the steps three at a time in my haste to get to the second floor. I stopped running when I was outside of room 204. I couldn’t see anything clearly through the frosted window so I knocked hesitantly and slowly opened the door and stepped in.

There in the middle of the room, against the wall was a single bed. A woman laid there quietly with her eyes closed. The closer I came to her the more familiar she looked. I let out a relieved gush of breath. There she was, older now, but still the Peggy I once knew. I nervously grabbed one of the chairs in the corner of the room and brought it over to her bedside so I could sit. Gently I gave her a small tap on the hand before just holding it in mine. She stirred but her eyes never opened.

All of a sudden one of the nurses from downstairs came into the room, with an angry and shocked expression.

“Ma’am, You can't be in here. If you want to see a patient, you have to sign in.” I ignored her, my eyes trained on Peggy's face. The commotion of the woman barging into the room had made her open her eyes and look around. I just watched as she scanned the room, first to the door on the left, to the wall in front of her, past me sitting on her right, then to the window behind me.” Her brows raised and she lifted her hands to her eyes to rub. The shock on her face was evident as she turned her head to stare directly at me.

“Hey Carter, long time no see huh?” I gave her the biggest smile that I could.

“Is it really you?” She reached her hand out to mine and grabbed hold.

“It is, it’s really me.”

“Ma’am, I mean it, you can't be here.” The nurse tried again, this time Peggy shot her a glare.

“Ms. I’ll have you know this is one of my best friends and she can be in here if she wants to. Now leave us alone.” The young nurse nodded her head and rushed out, even in old age she could still put on that commanding tone that struck fear in every man. She slowly turned back to me, almost like if she looked back for me, I would be gone. “How? How are you here?”

“It’s a long story Peg, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Look where I am, I have nothing but time.” She laughed out and I let out my own small laugh as I shook my head.

In addition to what I had been doing, like hanging out with Sam, after that first visit, I made it a priority to see Peggy once or twice every two weeks, depending on how she was doing. Dementia had put a lot of stress on her, and seeing me after almost seventy-five years and looking relatively the same as I had when frozen took out a giant toll on her.

And that's how the next 10 months went until Steve eventually moved into an apartment directly under me.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

[scripts4dreamers]

I literally JUST sat down, pt.3

Part One, Part Two, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: The case stalls, but no one’s willing to give up on you just yet. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

(Longer one this time! As always, let me know if you want to get tagged in the next part.)

—————————-

“I hate this,” you whined, as Garcia pulled you through the crowded streets, “why didn’t we drive straight to the office, again?”

“Because, my little Grumpy Gus, you look like you barely slept, and this place has the best coffee in the city.” She promised, giving your arm a squeeze.

You grumbled under your breath, but didn’t complain, letting Garcia ply you with endless cups of coffee.

“Are we getting for the whole team?” You asked, your mind drifting to your late night message to Spencer.

Garcia paused, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, “Yeeeeees, why?”

You shrugged, “I was just asking. No need to read into anything.”

“This is about Spencer, I can tell. Spill it.”

You groaned, letting your head thump down onto the table, “How do you do that?”

“I’m a veritable fountain of knowledge, Y/N, you know this,” she teased, “plus I speak fluent Y/N, especially the little known Spencer Reid dialect.”

“Witch!” You said accusingly, “You’re a witch!”

“You flatter me,” she winked, tapping your forearm, “now spill it.”

You sighed, taking another sip of your coffee, “It’s nothing, I just-I messaged him, alright?”

“You did what?”

“I messaged him! And it was stupid and he didn’t even respond, so it’s not important.” You explained, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Penelope gasped, “He didn’t respond?”

You shook your head, “Nope. Nothing, look-“

You took out your phone and glanced briefly at the screen, frowning when you spotted the notification from the night before. You swiped up, your eyes tracing his response. Something in your stomach pinched.

“Huh.”

“What?” Penelope asked, “What is it? You’re legally obligated to tell me, it’s in the rules.”

“He-uh-“ you stared at the screen, still frowning, “he responded. I must’ve fallen asleep…”

“Ooohhh my gosh, what does it say? What did you say? Is it romantic?”

You pressed your lips together, your mind whirling at a thousand miles an hour as you try to figure exactly what Spencer meant by “I did.”.

“It’s-“ you shook your head, “I don’t know really.”

Something in your tone must’ve let on how conflicted you were feeling because Penelope let the matter slide, just giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

“Let’s get to work, Sugar,” she said, standing and extending her hand for you to hold, “we’ve got crimes to solve.”

You gave her a weak smile but let her pull you to your feet, trying to force your mind away from Spencer and back onto your case.

“That we do, Garcia, that we do.”

——————————-

“We come bearing gifts,” Garcia announced as she pushed open the door to the BAU, “sustenance in the form of sweet, sweet caffeine.”

Your eyes instantly flew to Spencer, giving him a weak smile which, to your intense relief, he returned. You also noticed, with a rush of fondness, that he’d kept your side of the desk clear.

“Garcia you’re an angel,” Emily smiled, pushing away from her desk to accept a cup.

“Speaking of angels,” you sighed, carrying a cup of coffee flavored sugar over to Spencer and taking your seat next to him, “have we got an ID on our victim yet?”

“Marcus Wilcox,” Spencer said, flipping open the file closest to you, “25 year old drug addict and male prostitute. He went missing two weeks ago and was reported missing by his best friend.”

You glanced over at the picture of the man whose body had been left in your bookstore and felt the familiar pang of sorrow in your chest. There was always going to be another one, another life cut short, another dead son or daughter who’s family would grieve their loss for years. It was enough to put a damper on anyone’s morning.

You could feel eyes on you, heavy and questioning and you found you couldn’t look up to meet their gaze.

“Anything unusual in the M.E.’s report?” You asked, still avoiding the eyes.

“All the mutilation was done postmortem, so that rules out sadism as a motive,” JJ suggested, accepting a cup of coffee gratefully.

“High levels of caffeine in the blood too,” Emily pointed out, “and…” she pressed her lips together.

“What, Em?” You asked.

She looked up at you nervously, something like sympathy in her eyes as she said, “Biscuits, in his stomach. They found brown butter biscuits and coffee in his stomach.”

Your blood froze and you felt a rush of nausea. You put your cup down, suddenly not thirsty anymore.

“Is...that significant, somehow?” Hotch asked, his perpetual frown firmly in place.

“They’re the best sellers at Y/N’s coffee shop,” Spencer said, something off in his voice, “she sells them fresh every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.”

You looked over, shocked, and noticed that Spencer was working his jaw, like he was angry, his one hand curled into a fist under his chin. You itched to reach out and touch his forearm, like you once would have, but you restrained yourself.

“What the hell is this guy doing?” Emily asked, “Why go through all this trouble to personalize the crime? What’s driving him?”

“It’s gotta be erotomania, right?” Morgan asked, “Someone’s trying to get Y/N’s attention.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you insisted, frustrated with having the same conversation again and again, “stalkers don’t start off with an elaborate and expertly executed murder. If it was erotomania, why not call first, or email or leave notes at my apartment? There’s been no build up to this sort of violence.”

“Plus, the victim has no connection to Y/N,” Spencer pointed out, “erotomaniacs want to reinforce their supposed devotion to the object of their affection, if he wanted to do that he would’ve picked someone Y/N knew, like an ex-boyfriend or an enemy of some kind.”

“Some who he thinks Y/N would actually want dead,” Emily agreed.

“Reid and Y/L/N are right, there’s something more to this, something we’ve missed,” Hotch said, “Garcia, I want you to go through everything you can find about Marcus Wilcox and see if he came into Y/N’s store at all. Maybe he’s a customer who was rude and offended the UnSub. After that, comb through Y/L/N’s life again; old friends, high school classmates, college professors, agents she worked with on cases, anyone who could have formed an attachment and been stalking her without us knowing.”

Garcia paled under her Barbie pink lipstick, “Sir, I-“

“It’s fine, Garcia,” you assured, giving her a soft smile, “I’ve got nothing to hide. You’ll have to get permission from the CIA to access some of my case files though, there’s some sensitive data in those.”

“I’ll call the director myself,” Hotch said, “that’ll expedite the process.”

“But, sir, sorting through all that data could take weeks,” you pointed out, “what do we do in the meantime?”

Hotch pressed his lips together, and you sighed, sensing his next words before they even came out of his mouth.

“We work cases, as usual,” he said, “Y/N, yours will still be our priority but, until we get a new lead…”

“We’re stuck.” You finished. You breathed in, trying to calm your restless nerves, and pushed yourself up, “Well, it was lovely seeing you guys again, but I guess that’s my cue.”

“What?” Spencer said, sitting up suddenly, “No, Y/N you can’t just leave, if there’s someone out there delusional enough to do this to get your attention then it’s not safe.”

“I’m with Boy Wonder,” Garcia agreed, shooting you an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Sugar Plum but this whole thing is just icky and gross and I’d feel much better knowing you were here.”

You looked around, but we’re met with a wall of concerned faces. You wanted to scream. Nothing about this situation was fair. You hated feeling helpless, it was why you’d joined the FBI in the first place and, ultimately, why you’d left.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do while we wait for a lead?” You asked, “I can’t go home, I can’t go back to work, I can’t just sit here all day until my assigned babysitter for the night is free.”

“You could join us on cases,” Hotch said simply, “if I’m not mistaken, you’re still officially an agent so you’re cleared to be in the field.”

Spencer and Emily sucked in a breath in unison, and you shut your eyes. Shit.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Emily asked, “You never actually resigned?”

You shot her a sheepish look, “I meant to! I did! It was just,” you shrugged, “at first I wanted the safety blanket in case normal life didn’t work out and, once it did, I just-“ you trailed off.

Truth be told, you didn’t know why you’d never left. It was really only one document that you needed to sign, it would take less than three minutes to complete, there was nothing stopping you. You’d even filled it out once or twice but, for some reason, you always stopped before actually submitting it.

You shot a nervous look at Spencer, who was determinedly avoiding looking at anything except a particular patch of empty air, and sighed.

“So...what does that mean?” Morgan asked, “You’re back on the team?”

“Agent Y/L/N has technically been on an extended sabbatical for the past year,” Hotch explained, “ideally we would be able to keep her on in an advisory capacity while we work her case but, with her safety being such an issue, for the time being, yes, she’s back on the team.”

——————————-

You collapsed into your old seat on the jet, exhaustion weighing you down like a ton of bricks. It had taken almost no time for Hotch and Garcia to brief you on the team’s newest case and, before you could even pack a proper Go-Bag, you were wheels up and on your way to Tampa Bay. It was a fairly standard case, or as standard as it got for the BAU at least, and it had only taken three days to catch the guy, but it had still taken the life right out of you. Hotch had noticed your distress and sent you ahead to the jet with Rossi while the rest of the team finished packing up. On the one hand you resented being treated like a child, on the other….well, you were exhausted.

Rossi sat down across the aisle from you, handing you a mug of warm hot chocolate, which you accepted gratefully. He raised his eyebrows in that grandfatherly way, like he was asking you a question, and you smiled.

“What?” You asked, “I can tell you’re thinking something.”

“You love this” he said simply.

“Love it?” You laughed incredulously, “Rossi I haven’t been this tired since I spent three full days setting up my shop. I’m exhausted.”

“And you love it,” he insisted, “I can see that Evil Genius sparkle in those pretty eyes of yours.” He gestured at your face and you smiled, “Not that I blame you. Catching killers tends to be more exciting than baking cookies.”

“Hey, I thought you loved it when I made cookies!” You complained, whacking his hand away in mock outrage, “You said they were your favorite!”

“They are, I’m just making a simple observation, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” you said suspiciously.

“Here’s another one; there’s tension between you and the Good Doctor,” he continued.

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t disagree, letting your mind wander back to the last three days. After Hotch’s little announcement to the team, things had been...odd with Spencer. Actually, you couldn’t be sure that was the catalyst, for all you knew things could’ve been weird before that but, now it was just impossible to miss. He would bounce between avoiding you like the plague and actively seeking out your company; sitting next to you at dinner one minute and then purposely standing as far away as possible the next minute. It sucked. It sucked and it hurt your feelings and it was confusing, so there was no point in denying it to Rossi.

“I just wish he’d talk to me, you know?” You said, “Or yell, or shout or something. Like, if you’re angry then be angry. At least then we could talk it out, but this-“ you shook your head, “I hate it.”

“Ah, kid,” Rossi commiserated, patting your knee comfortingly, “I don’t think he’s angry, and that’s probably part of the problem.” You looked up, confused, and Rossi continued, “If he was angry, things would be a lot simpler. Like you said, you could just yell for a bit, and then it’d be over. No, I think Spencer’s just hurt and confused. He blames himself for you leaving and, now that you’re back, he’s happy, but he feels guilty about being happy because you’re in danger.” He explained, “It’s a confusing time for him, for you both.”

You sat up, “Wait why would he blame himself for me leaving?”

Rossi looked down, like he was thinking hard but, before he could say anything, you heard footsteps and the rest of your team boarded the jet. You shot Rossi a look that said “we’ll finish this later”, and then turned away, smiling at your friends.

“Hey,” you greeted, letting Morgan ruffle your hair.

JJ gave you a small smile, but your eyes went straight to Spencer, Rossi’s words bouncing around inside your head. To your surprise, he collapsed into the seat beside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I-uh-I was hoping we could talk.”

Your heart leapt, but you tried to keep your face neutral as you answered, “Sure thing, Reid. What about? The case?”

“Actually,” he said, his voice still low, “I wanted to talk about you.”

You pressed your lips together, but nodded, following Spencer’s lead and leaning in to avoid being overheard as your team settled in for the flight home.

Spencer was silent for a moment, like he was thinking, and then, “Why didn’t you resign? I thought you wanted out.”

“I did, or I thought I did. Reid, when I first left I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I guess I wanted to be able to come back if things went wrong.” You explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You paused for a moment, “Spence-“

His breath hitched in his throat, “The first time, when you were thinking about leaving. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-“ you sighed, the exhaustion rolling over you like a river, “I didn’t want to worry you until I was sure and then, after that….” you shrugged, “it all happened so fast. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, like he understood, and you watched some of the tension leech out of his body. For the first time he met your eye, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“I’m sorry too.” He said.

“Spence you’ve got nothing to-“

“I do,” he interrupted, “I promised you that we’d always be best friends and then, after you left, I just stopped trying.”

You were conflicted. Some part of you had been longing to hear this for months, ever since the texts, visits and calls had stopped out of the blue but, now that you were actually hearing it, it just made you sad.

“You did try,” you reminded him, “you came to the store a few times, helped me organize my books.”

He shook his head, “Not often enough. It just-it just got so hard, you know? Seeing you every weekend and knowing you weren’t going to be there when I got to work the next day,” he explained, his voice cracking, “watching you have this whole life outside of us, it just started to feel like maybe I didn’t fit-maybe we didn’t fit.” He gestured to the team, “And I thought maybe you were better off-“ he trailed off.

“Hey,” you cut in, reaching out and covering his hand with yours, “hey, listen to me. You guys are my family. You’ll always be my family, no matter what happens. I’m sorry you ever felt like anything else was even possible. I could never be better off without you guys.”

The hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth, and he squeezed your hand gently.

“If it’s okay,” he said, still smiling hopefully, “I’d really like for us to be friends again. I know I broke a solemn oath but, if you’ll trust me, I’ll never let it happen again, I promise.”

Your smile felt so wide that it hurt your cheeks as you pulled him into a hug, savoring the way he chuckled as he hugged you back.

“Of course, Spence,” you smiled, still holding him close, “of course.”

“God, I missed you,” he admitted into your neck, “no one else pretends to care about Star Trek as well as you do.”

You laughed and let him go, feeling the distance that had formed over the last year vanishing bit by bit.

“I’ve missed you too, Doctor Reid.” You said, “But, I’ll admit, I haven’t missed the Star Trek talk as much.”

“None of us miss the Star Trek talk,” Derek said, making you both jump, “honestly, I miss not knowing about Star Trek.”

“Preach,” JJ agreed, “Y/N/N, I know you’re in charge of what we watch tonight but I’m begging you, please pick something made for adults? I’ve been watching nothing but Marvel and Disney for months.”

“But I love Disney,” Emily complained.

“Rest assured,” Rossi interrupted, “it’s my entertainment system and I don’t even have any Disney.”

“You have Lord of The Rings though, right?” Spencer asked.

You watched your team bicker amongst themselves, laughing like you hadn’t laughed in months. Being together like this was like a healing balm for your frayed nerves, bringing you back to a place of calm, like you’d just come home from a long trip. In the back of your mind, you knew there was still work to be done, old wounds you needed to address and mysteries you needed to solve but, for now, you were just happy to be with your family. For now, this was enough.

—————————

Spencer felt like he was living in some sort of strange fever dream, like all his months of sulking had finally driven him mad and now he was physically imagining things as he helped you out of his car. Touching you always made him a little dizzy but, over the years that you’d worked together every day, he’d managed to build up a tolerance, a tolerance that was now almost completely gone. It had been months since everyone had agreed to have family dinner at Rossi’s, but now that you were back, he’d insisted. Spencer was on cloud nine. He had his best friend back and, for the first time since you’d left, things felt good again, like he was exactly where he should be.

As you sat around Rossi’s table, swapping stories and reminiscing over the past, Spencer had to fight to stop from staring at you. You were really there. He could reach out and touch you. If he called your name you would respond and your eyes would light up the way they always had, like he was the only person in the world you wanted to see. It was surreal. In the back of his mind, Spencer knew he was being selfish, that he shouldn’t want you to stay this time and he should be itching to find out who was stalking you so that you could go back to the life you’d built. But he wasn’t.

When JJ had gotten the call that you needed them, Spencer had thought his heart was going to implode from all the pent up longing he’d kept stored away. Seeing you hadn’t exactly improved things. He’d spent the entire day trying to hold himself together, unsure of how to act around you, playing through every single memory he’d been keeping repressed for all this time like it would somehow give him the answer. God, half the time he’d wanted to scream, the other half he’d wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go ever again. As his eyes traced the plains of your face, plains he’d memorized a million different times, he felt a flicker of that old flame burn in his chest, like the embers of a fire that had never really been put out, and he sighed.

“Hey, kid, where’s your head?” Morgan asked, his voice soft enough to avoid being overheard.

“Hmm? What?” Spencer replied, tearing his eyes away from you as you laughed at something Garcia said.

“Your head,” he repeated, where’s it at?”

Spencer thought for a minute, and then smiled, “I’m good. Really good, actually.”

Morgan nodded, a little too knowingly for Spencer’s liking, but let the matter drop. Just then, the unmistakable ping of Hotch’s cell cut through the late night air and, as if on cue, every eye in the house turned to face the sound. Hotch examined his phone, his frown deepening and sending shivers of worry up Spencer’s neck. He wanted to say something, to stop Hotch from giving them whatever horrible piece of news was on that phone, but he couldn’t. He just sat and waited, like everybody else.

“Hotch?” JJ eventually asked, her hand gripping yours, hard.

“They-uh-” Hotch started, showing a rare moment of nerves, “they found another note at Y/N’s apartment.”

Several people swore, Garcia whimpered, Derek slammed his fist against the table, but you just stared straight ahead, your face stony and unmoving. Spencer wanted to reach out, but he was frozen in place.

“What did it say?” You asked, “Is it another love poem?”

“No,” Hotch answered, “it’s a string of numbers; 29.07.15/18.01.14/38.8765.77.0006.”

“Reid, you got that?” Morgan asked, shooting him a look.

Spencer felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but he nodded, “I’ve got it.”

“But, that’s not all, is it?” Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head, “They found another body. This time in an empty storefront a few blocks away from Y/N’s apartment.”

“Probably the site I’d picked out for the second branch,” you supplied, “I just signed the deal three weeks ago.”

You buried your face in your hands, sighing as the atmosphere around the dinner table took a turn for the worst.

“Well,” Emily said, “Looks like we’ve got our lead.”

Hotch nodded, “Let’s get to work.”

-----------------------------

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​, @confused-and-really-hungry, @word-scribbless​, @reidloversisforever​, @ashookykooky​, @l0ve-0f-my-life​, @shilohpug​, @tangerinenotions95​, @petitchatonbleu, @pirateismywayofspeaking​, @must-be-a-weasley-92​, @whovianayesha, @holding-on-to-my-youth​

[captain-tch]

Technical Difficulties

You work in the IT department and help the Finance manager with his faulty laptop. After that, he keeps finding reasons to talk to you.

"Good morning you're through to the IT department, my name is Y/N. How can I help?" You recited your script, unaware of the life changing effect this was going to have on your life.

"Hi, Y/N. My computer keeps glitching - can you help?"

You nearly dropped the phone. Erwin Smith. The Finance manager. Asking for your help. Anxiety started building in your throat. Why did the most attractive man in the company have to ask for your help?

Your thoughts drifted to his tall, muscular stature, and his piercing blue eyes. He was the posterboy for attractiveness. From the small interactions you'd had with him (if you class him opening a door for you as an interaction), his disarming smile rendered you speechless. It wasn't his beauty that made you freeze the moment he flashed his teeth; it was the sincerity, and the kindness behind it.

"Hello?" Erwin's silky voice echoed through the phone. You swore you could have died of embarassment.

"Hi Erwin, apologies for that." You cleared your throat, hoping you didn't sound as nervous as you felt. Your dry throat was not helping at all. "How long have you been experiencing these issues?"

He paused. You could imagine his blonde eyebrows pulling together in thought. "For the past 20 minutes."

Relying on your internal script, you whittled off a few questions to him. You asked him if he had tried restarting it, tried running updates and if he had noticed any other issues with the machine. From what he said, it sounded like it wasn't a problem you could fix over the phone.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry Erwin, but I'm going to need to have the laptop to fully understand whats going on. Have you got another way of working in the mean time?"

Thankfully he did, so you didn't need to set up a loan laptop. You breathed a sigh of relief. At least you had less chances of making a fool of yourself in front of him.

"Great, do you want me to come pick it up or are you free to drop it off?" You crossed your fingers, praying he wouldn't ask to drop it off.

"I can drop it off. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Double fuck.

Just like that the call ended. Panic overwhelmed you. Glancing at the chaos otherwise known as your desk, you started sweeping god knows what into your drawers, paying no mind to the loud bangs as some screwdrivers fell.

"What in the ever loving hell are you doing?" Levi asked, his eyes narrowing on you. Being the only other person in the IT department you two had grown close, but even you struggled to read him sometimes.

You brushed his question off, laughing lightly at the engineer as he shrugged, turning back to the task at hand. He wasn't the type of pester you for the answer. You looked at his desk in envy - spotless. Jealously ripped through you. How can you be an engineer and have a clean desk? The very thought baffled you.

Jumping to your feet, you quickly checked the clock, noting how you had a minute to run to the bathroom to check you had nothing in your teeth.

Shit.

Not enough time.

Desperate, you spun around, grabbing Levi by the shoulders and fixing his attention on you. A scowl instantly etched itself onto his face. "What are you doing?"

"Do I have anything on my face?"

"Yes."

Wide eyed, you stared at him. "Is it noticeable?"

"Very."

"Where is it Levi! I don't have time for this, he'll be here any minute."

Realisation dawned on his face. "Dreamboat is coming here?"

"Levi!" You snapped, gripping his shoulders tighter. "Please tell me what is on my face."

"A lot actually. Your eyes, your mouth, your nose. All very noticeable."

You could have slapped the man. If it didn't cause a HR fiasco you would've. Clenching your teeth together, you stared at him straight in the eyes, your gaze burning. He slightly flinched under the intensity.

"Do I have anything in my teeth?"

Levi opened his mouth to answer, a knock ringing out at the door. You squealed, begging for Levi to answer so you could at the last minute make yourself presentable.

With a shit eating grin on his face, Levi shouted, "Come in!"

You were going to murder him.

Jumping as far away from Levi as humanly possible, you tried to make yourself look busy. Your panicked hands grabbed a pencil, and in a manic thought you pushed it behind your ear.

Nothing says busy more than a pencil tucked around your ear.

Erwin opened the door, entering the room. You felt sweat instantly break on your forehead. This was going to be the longest period of time you had been with him and holy hell you were nervous. Not only that, but speaking to him? Your palms grew damp at the prospect.

Glancing between you and Levi, Erwin raised a brow. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

You laughed really loud, at such a high pitch you're shocked you didn't deafen everyone in the radius. "Don't be silly. You got your laptop with you?"

"Right here." He lifted his arms, showing the machine in his hands. Grateful that he didn't notice the awkwardness, you gestured for him to put it on the side, quickly slipping away from the role of love sick girl to engineer. You wheeled your chair over from your desk, apologising as it spun slightly out of control and a wheel hit his foot. He smiled, waving it off.

You powered the laptop on, sliding the machine in front Erwin so he could type in his password. Your breath caught in your throat momentarily as he reached around you, fingers moving over the keys with ease. You could smell his earthy cologne from here.

He was so close that if you moved your head to the right slightly, your face would be in close proximity to his. A tickle of his breath warmed your cheek.

He froze, about to enter the password as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. You darted your eyes downward, fingers playing with the power cord.

Taking back the laptop, you instantly noticed the issue. The display was bouncing up and down, all of the words and images blurring. You blinked rapidly for a moment. "Bloody hell I think I'm having a seizure."

Erwin's throaty laugh sounded from behind you. You nearly jumped. "That's what I thought too."

"You say its only been happening for about twenty minutes?" You tried to ignore the jolting of the screen, typing and trying to diagnose the issue. He nodded. "Was that when you turned it on or had you been using it for a while beforehand?"

"Just turned it on."

"Hm." You pondered, your mind instantly jumping to a conclusion. Hands flying over the keyboard, you started an update of the drivers.

"What are you doing?"

"Updating the drivers on your laptop, if that fails, try updating the BIOS. If something isn't updated, machines can do loads of weird shit."

You waited a few minutes, the update finally complete. Quickly restarting the machine, you cheered as the machine turned on with no video display issues whatsoever.

"Wow, it was that simple?"

"Sometimes, not always."

Erwin rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Don't be daft." You resisted the urge to clamp your hand over your mouth, praying what you said didn't come across as rude. "You weren't to know. It was a pleausre to help."

Smiling, Erwin thanked you once again, eyes darting to you occassionally before leaving the room with a resounding click of the door. A sigh of relief coursed it's way through your body.

Thankfully, you hadn't made too much of an embarassment of yourself.

In the back of the room, a poor imitation of your voice left Levi's lips. "It was a pleasure to help."

You snatched the pencil from behind your ear, tossing it in Levi's direction. He rapidly ducked under the desk, the pencil never even reaching near it's mark. Despite the cold words leaving your mouth, a laugh was slipping past your lips. "Fuck off Levi."

*

Over the next few weeks, you had an influx of technical support calls. All of them from Erwin Smith.

Sometimes you'd go down to his desk because he was having "power issues" - the power cord wasn't connected. He once came to your office claiming the files from his laptop had disappeared - he was looking in the wrong place.

After a while you started to get the sense that he wasn't experiencing technical difficulties - you were struggling to believe that someone could be that technically inept - and believed that maybe he was looking for an excuse to talk to you. It made sense. Every time you helped him he made an effort to speak to you. And not in the make small talk way, but in a meaningful way. He knew a lot more about you than you realised you'd let slip. He knew your birthday, had a glimpse of what your childhood was like, and even knew about your family. Soon, your hands didn't clam up when speaking to him. If anything, your heart raced in excitement at the thought you could speak with him.

"Are you two going to date already or what?" You laughed at Levi's remark, shaking your head. You were glad you had a PC in front of you, focusing on taking it apart to hopefully salvage some parts for your home project. The dust had accumulated inside from many years of being unopened, but the parts were mostly salvageable.

A knock at the door interrupted your conversation. "Can you grab that Levi?"

Your eyes caught sight of a hard drive, its blocky shape captured inside a caddy. With a victorious smile on your lips, you started unscrewing the screws, loosening the caddy to pry the hard drive free.

He huffed, standing up from his desk and opening the door. "Oh Erwin. What a surprise."

Your body jolted before you could process your reaction. Your hands gripped the hard drive and pulled jerkily, a cry escaping your lips as you fell back a few steps, the hard drive gripped in your hands. Levi snorted, disappearing behind his desk. It was the closest to privacy he could give you two.

"You okay Y/N?" Erwin asked, a concerned look worrying his features.

"Yeah I am." Tossing the hard drive to the desk, you wiped a hand across your forehead, unknowingly swiping grease over your face. "How can I help?"

"I was wondering if I could help you actually."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Okay? Help with what?"

"I'd like to buy you lunch one time."

"That's so nice of you, thank you!"

"I don't..." Erwin sighed, a light red spreading across his cheeks. "I mean I want to take you to lunch. For a date."

"Oh." From the corner of your eye you could see Levi smirking. Knowing little shit. "My lunch is in thirty minutes. I'll meet you out front."

Erwin left, a huge smile plastered on your face. The door hadn't fully shut when you heard a huge cheer roaring from Erwin's mouth, seeing him raise his fists in victory.

[blueprint-han]

hi so i saw you comment on someone's post a way to get photoshop for free and i installed it and everything so i have now managed to download it for free! but whenever i try to make gifs it just doesn't really work? like after saving the gif, when i try to open them they're stuck on one frame and aren't moving. so idk maybe you'd know why or if i did something wrong?

Hello! There could be many different reasons as to why this is happening to you, so I'll just give you a brief run down of my gifmaking process, and show you where you could've made a mistake. It helps to show me your layer settings and export settings when you're asking me these questions, since it would be easier to detect where you went wrong. If you want a good giffing tutorial (the one I learned from), check this out!

under the cut!

disclaimer: i am in no way any sort of experienced gifmaker, and many of the methods i use might have an easier way to go through it, so if anyone wants to correct me on these methods, feel free to add the post!

so here's basically how i make my gifs:

↠ Okay, so first of, make sure that the clip you're using to make a gif in in .mov format. I use vaporsynth to sharpen and denoise my video clip and export it into .mov format, the process of how to do so you can see in that tutorial i've linked above.

↠ I’m unsure of what method you used to import your frames, so i’ll just tell you how I do mine:

1) go to file > import > video frames to layers 2) select the file you want to import (in .mov format ! .mp4 does not work for this.) 3) so basically use the sliding bars things to select the part of the clip you wanna gif (if there’s any extra bit that came by, if not just import from beginning to end.) check image:

↠ now that your frames are imported, it’s time for the actual coloring and exporting part, in which you might’ve made a mistake. So basically go to window > timeline, and make sure the timeline is visible. On the right side, you’ll see a layers panel, having each frame as a layer. make sure that the “make frame animation” is checked! Next, select all the frames from the timeline and all the layers from the layers panel:

↠ right click on that timecode > other... > and then set your delay to whatever you prefer. I usually set the delay to 0.05 since i prefer slow gifs, but if you prefer faster ones, you can use 0.03. check image (this is called a frame animation):

↠ now select that little symbol in the bottom that i’ve circled, and then right click on your layers (make sure that they are all selected !) and select “convert to smart object). This is a common area on mistake! People tend to convert into smart object first and then click the small button thingy (which is called changing to video timeline from frame animation), which could be one of the reasons for why your gif appeared as a still image. 

You may ask me, dawn why do we need to do this? Isn’t it easier to simply color using the frame animation timeline. Well, yes. Technically you don’t have to do this step, but i’ve found that i tend to make a lot of mistakes in frame animation, and it’s harder to overlap layers on each other in the frame animation, especially if you’re coloring and use multiple adjustment layers.

↠ So now your timeline will look like this. Now that the base gif has been adjusted. it’s time to add our other adjustments, aka coloring.

↠ Another mistake: check the layers panel and make SURE that your layer is a smart object and NOT a rasterized layer. A smart object looks like the above image, while a rasterized layer looks like this:

Rasterizing will change the gif into a still image, which might lead to your mentioned “gif appearing as a still image”.

↠ Now that that’s done, simply add all your adjustment layers (aka coloring). It should look like this.

↠ It’s time to save the gif. so now go to file > export > save for web (legacy).  so now you’ll find a popup window like this:

take a good look at the settings i’ve used. Another reason your gif may not be playing is because you didn’t switch the mode to gif or you used a different export method. You can choose between selective and adaptive diffusion, both of them have different looks to it, but personally, i prefer adaptive diffusion. Then what else, click save, and select a folder to save it to.

but wait! The gif looks like this:

see that white delay at the end? (I’m only explaining this since i told you to convert your frames into a video timeline, so this part is an important one.) I don’t want that. The reason why it’s going white at the end is because of:

this. see how the gif layer only occupies a small area between those two placeholders and the adjustment layers occupy a bigger area? That’s the reason of the delay, which is why i will adjust it to:

this, in simple words, make sure that the two placeholders are perfectly touching the ends of the base gif, so that it doesn’t show that white bit at the end. So now our gif looks like this:

see? Now there’s no white bit in the end, since our gif duration is exactly same as our base gif duration. You can also see how much of a different coloring makes! 

There you go! I’ve basically run you down on how to use photoshop, since you said you just installed it and are probably a beginner. Photoshop does take some time to master, but keep trying ! Next time if you do wanna ask anything though, please do attach a screenshot of how your canvas looks, since that way it’s easier for me to understand what kind of problem you’re facing. 

There’s a lot of complicated wording in this, so if you don’t understand it, feel free to a) ask me or b) check that tutorial i linked in the introductory paragraph! It goes into a lot more detail and explains very well along with use of vaporsynth if you’re interested in that, so give it a go and tell me how it goes !

[extasiswings]

"sigurista" for Eddie

Edit: On ao3 here.

sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained. [Okay, this is probably cheating because it only very technically fits if you squint, but this is all the result of your enabling so.  If anyone wanted more White House AU Buddie, this is a follow up to this prompt fill.]  

It’s a quiet day.

Now, Buck’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he can count on one hand the number of times his schedule has been so light throughout the first year of his presidency, so he can’t help checking it again and then a third time just to make sure. But it doesn’t change the longer he looks at it.

Okay. So, it’s a quiet, light day. That’s a good thing—it’s not like he can’t use the rest.

He’s just not sure why he can’t quite work the tension out of his shoulders, why he feels poised on the edge of a tightrope made of razor wire about to either fall or get sliced.

By noon, all of his scheduled meetings are finished and he’s even managed to catch up on some of the reports he’d been meaning to dig deeper into. He’s antsy and full of untethered energy and, finally, he closes the file he’s looking through and crosses the room to knock on the door connecting the Oval with the Chief of Staff’s office.

(After the last time he walked in without thinking and got an eyeful of his sister and Chim that made him want to bleach his brain, he always knocks.)

“Hey, Chim—I’m going to head back to the residence for the rest of the day—”

The main office door opens.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. President,” Athena says, and it’s been enough time that Buck knows when the head of the secret service shows up personally and without warning it means nothing good. Right behind her, the aide to his National Security Advisor comes skidding to a halt, out of breath.

“You’re needed in the situation room, sir.”

Buck looks back at Athena.

“Michael—?”

(It may well be a conflict of interest that the Vice President’s ex-wife is responsible for making sure Buck stays alive, but then, Buck’s pretty sure there’s no less of one than the fact that his sister is dating his Chief of Staff so...)

“He’s being moved to a secure location,” she replies. “But yes, Bobby’s waiting in the sit room. I can fill you in on the way.”

Buck swears internally and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay. What do we have?”

“Bomb threat and possible shooter at the Pentagon,” Athena says, and Buck’s heart stops, ice freezing his insides. Because that’s—

“You know, some of us have actual work to do,” Eddie said the night before, the look in his eyes exasperated but fond in the dim light from the lamp on his desk.

“You mean entertaining the leader of the free world isn’t in your job description, Lieutenant Diaz?” Buck had teased right back, reveling in the quirk of Eddie’s lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to find someone else to entertain you tomorrow—I’ll be in meetings with the joint chiefs at the Pentagon all day. Should be thrilling stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll invent a national security emergency—get you out of it.”

Eddie laughed. “Please don’t, they’ll just reschedule. And then there will be paperwork.”

—that’s where Eddie is.

“How the fuck does that happen?” Buck croaks out, feeling like he’s swallowed glass.

“We’re working out the exact details,” Athena replies. “But it’s fairly clear it was an inside job. Whoever it is killed one of the marines on duty and called in the bomb himself, we’re looking at the security feeds and card access records to narrow down a name.”

She finishes just as they step through the door of the situation room and Bobby looks up.

“Dennis Pierce,” he fills in. “He’s been there eight years, looks like he was identified as part of the investigation to see which employees might have ties to white supremacist groups. He hasn’t been fired yet because the investigation isn’t  finished, but I guess he saw the writing on the wall.”

“And thought he would tender his resignation by, what? Blowing up the joint chiefs?” Buck can hear the edge in his voice, which means Bobby definitely can as well.

(They met on the campaign trail, when Buck started getting intelligence briefings that made him feel like he was drowning, in over his head. But Bobby never treated him like an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about national security, was always patient, willing to sit with him and explain. And by now, Buck’s pretty sure he would be lost without him. Without him and—)

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Bobby replies, his own voice carefully even. Steady. “We have a bomb squad on site and every armed guard in the building looking for this guy, not to mention that most of the people he’s likely to run into are combat-trained military.”

The phone on the desk rings and Bobby picks it up as the door opens and the heads of the FBI and CIA file in.

“Copy that,” Bobby says and hangs up, tapping a few keys on his keyboard to bring up blueprints on the main screen and highlighting a room on the fifth floor.

“Someone pressed one of the hidden panic buttons in conference room J,” he explains. “Bomb squad is on its way and we should be getting camera feeds—now.”

The feed flickers into the screen and steals Buck’s breath all over again, because there, on the screen, with his hands raised and facing down an older, grizzled white man with a gun in one hand and a trigger to the bomb vest strapped to his chest in the other—is Eddie.

“There’s no audio,” Buck points out as Eddie’s lips move too quickly for him to read anything clearly.

“There aren’t any speakers or mics in the room.”

Maybe not, but—over Pierce’s shoulder, Buck notices a phone on the wall.

“I want to talk to him,” he says. “Call the room.”

Bobby’s look is sharp when he turns to look at him.

“Sir, I really wouldn’t advise—”

“Call,” Buck repeats, his tone booking no argument.

Bobby’s lips press thin, but he picks up the phone, speaking quietly into the receiver while Buck doesn’t look away from the camera feed, his stomach twisting itself into knots as Pierce shakes his head violently in response to whatever Eddie is saying. Time seems to slow the longer he watches, even as Bobby passes him the phone.

“Extension 3596,” Bobby says quietly. And Buck dials.

He can’t see the phone ring on the feed, but he sees the effect—Pierce twitches, his head whipping around in surprise, and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to move—

The feed cuts out.

The phone keeps ringing.

“What happened?” Buck demands. “What—we have to get it back, we have to—”

The line picks up.

“This is General O’Halloran, who am I speaking with?”

Buck swallows hard.

“General, this is the President. What’s your status?”

“Lieutenant Diaz neutralized the threat, sir. Passed him off to the bomb squad waiting outside. We’re all safe and sound.”

There’s something rising up in his throat, and Buck isn’t sure if it’s just a wave of overwhelming emotion or if it’s actually bile.

“Glad to hear it, General,” he chokes out.

He passes the phone back to Bobby and shoves back his chair then, not caring whether they need him for anything, just needing—needing—

Buck rips at the knot of his tie as he steps into the hallway, and only barely makes it through the door of the bathroom at the end of it before he throws up in the sink.

The door opens again a moment later, as he’s gripping the edge of the sink trying to get his adrenaline under control.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Athena says quietly. “Everyone’s fine. Especially him.”

Buck could almost laugh at that if he was in any sort of mood. Because he hasn’t even told Eddie—not technically—hasn’t ever done anything to truly cross a line, but apparently everyone knows anyway.

“I could have lost him...and I would have had to watch,” he says.

“But you didn’t.”

Buck rinses his mouth out and spits.

“Is Bobby pissed at me for walking out?”

Athena shrugs. “I doubt it. I can take you back to the residence now if you want—tell Bobby to finish up and debrief you later.”

Buck swallows again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He pauses as half an idea comes into his head, then adds—

“Hey, Athena?  Do you think—”

Which is how he finds himself waiting in a car outside a condo in Virginia with an extra protective detail at nine that night as his regular agents knock on the door. A woman with dark hair opens the door, and Buck can see the way her eyebrows shoot up as she exchanges quick words with the agents before they step inside to conduct their sweep. A minute passes, then the agent at his side taps her earpiece.

“Clear. Got it,” she says, and that’s all Buck needs to get out of the car.

The same dark-haired woman is standing in the entryway, arms crossed, when he walks through the door. He stops in his tracks, suddenly nervous as her calculating gaze trails over him.

“Adriana?” He guesses, and she hums.

“A little warning would have been nice,” she says, but Buck thinks he catches a hint of a smile as she turns on her heel to go down the hallway off the kitchen to what he assumes is a bedroom. “Good night, Mr. President.”

Buck opens his mouth to say something, when Eddie himself appears at the top of the stairs, hair wet and clothes sticking to his skin like he’s just jumped out of the shower.

“Adriana, what the hell—” Eddie cuts off the moment his eyes land on Buck and she just laughs before she disappears down the hall.

“Hi,” Buck says quietly.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. There’s a bruise blossoming over his cheek and Buck’s fingers itch to touch it, or really, to touch Eddie everywhere he can to remind him that he’s here, he’s alive, Buck didn’t lose—

Eddie clears his throat and makes his way the rest of the way down the stairs.

“You’re...in my house.”

Buck shifts his weight. “You almost died today.”

Eddie blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his wet hair.

“Guess you didn’t have to fake that national security emergency after all.”

“Guess not.”

Eddie’s gaze turns considering, his brow furrowing as an odd look crosses his face.

“So...I almost die...and that warrants you showing up in the middle of the night?  Why?”

Buck wets his lips, feeling like he can barely hold Eddie’s eyes. His pulse is racing, blood rushing in his ears, and his voice is a mere rasp when he says—

“You know why.”

You have to know.

Eddie glances down at the floor, then over to the windows where the curtains are closed. Then he nods once.

“Maybe. But...I think I need you to say it.”

Buck nearly throws his hands up. “Fuck, Eddie, because I love—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because Eddie closes the distance and kisses the rest away, backing Buck against the closed front door. Buck nearly chokes on relief as his hand scramble to twist into Eddie’s damp t-shirt and pull him even closer.

“I thought—” he gasps out when Eddie breaks the kiss in favor of pressing a trail of them down his neck— “I thought you were going to die and I wasn’t going to get to tell you.”

Eddie pauses his exploration, hands spasming on Buck’s hips.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes against his skin. “Yeah, me too.”  

Buck threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair and tugs him back up to kiss him again.

“Athena says she’ll kill me if I’m not back by midnight,” he admits.

Eddie’s lips quirk as he curls a finger through one of Buck’s belt loops and tugs him towards the stairs.

“Then we’re swimming in time.”

[hoseas-angry-ghost]

YES YES YES I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR UR THEORIES

Hello anon! I am very surprised anyone wants to hear my chutney but here's my Strange Man Hot Take with some hopefully interesting info for curious parties:

To be honest, R* included so much misdirection around the Strange Man's identity (especially in RDR1) that I'm not *totally* convinced they're married to any one idea. RDR2 also complicated things by introducing new religions into Red Dead's world (Voodoo, Old Norse, etc.): he's no longer limited to just Christian / Western interpretations, as in RDR1, and it's possible R* might try to syncretise him with figures from other faiths (they did place Bayall Edge in Bayou Nwa, where most of the Voodoo stuff is).

At the same time, though, I think RDR2 actually narrowed things down somewhat in terms of the direction R* chose to take his character, and what we were shown of that. There's still a level of misdirection in RDR2, but IMO, it almost comes off as half-hearted in comparison to what was basically trolling in RDR1 -- it seems like they were a lot more focused on playing the "bad news" angle the second time round.

Based on what we know, and on the balance of things, I'm not convinced that the Strange Man is necessarily meant to be any one thing or figure, but I do think he's meant to fulfil some type of Satanic role within Red Dead's world, either in main or in part.

I won't compare and dissect other theories or anything, I just thought I'd list off some things that people might find interesting:

Armadillo. The deal between the Strange Man and Herbert Moon seems to be a pretty textbook Faustian bargain: Moon is offered earthly rewards ("happiness or two generations"), and although the price was (tellingly?) never specified, it seems like the recent Blood Money update for RDO all but confirmed that the cost was probably his soul. Although it's left ambiguous what Moon actually chose, the Armadillo curse was possibly an unforeseen (for Moon) consequence of the deal's terms, which would fit with similar tales of the devil or demon in question taking liberties with their end of the bargain.

In the files, there's some great audio of Moon off the shits and straight-up saying "I've made a deal with the devil, and I will never truly die!" It's possible this was cut for its own reasons (too overt?), but as a lot of stuff was apparently cut from Armadillo, I'm guessing it was either cut when Arthur in New Austin got cut, or it was part of something that R* didn't have time to implement in the epilogue. Either way, if it's not actually in the game then it's not technically canon, but it is an indication of what R* was thinking during development.

There's a lot of audio from the Armadillo townsfolk in general about devils and "devil curses," but the only thing I know of that definitely made it into the game is a line from the town crier ("Devil has the town in his hand").

There's audio of the Armadillo bartender saying "I heard the Tillworths made a deal with the devil to keep from gettin' sick! I don't wanna die any more than the next man, but ain't no safety worth a man's soul." Possibly idle gossip, but given Moon, possibly not.

RDO seemed to flirt with the idea of soul-selling a little bit with Old Man Jones' line "Well, this is America, so anything can be bought -- even souls," but then RDO pretty much just came right out and said it with Bluewater John in the Blood Money update. Bluewater John also apparently made a deal, almost definitely with the Strange Man (given the Moon deal and how close Bayall Edge is to all the drama); he was based on blues musician Robert Johnson and the myth that he sold his soul to the devil for mastery of the guitar. It's basically a rehash of the Moon deal, except it's... not subtle in its dialogue about deals, devils and souls.

"I GAVE EVERYTHING FOR ART, AND I LEARNED TOO MUCH AND NOTHING AT ALL" written on the wall at Bayall Edge also sounds like a reference to another one of these deals to me ("everything" being their soul, and "I learned too much and nothing at all" the foolishness of accepting eternal damnation for temporary knowledge). I think Bayall Edge might have originally belonged to a painter who struck a deal with the Strange Man for artistic skill, but then the Strange Man slowly possessed him or something -- which could be why some of the landscapes depict RDR1's I Know You locations, and why the writings on the wall kind of look like they deteriorate in quality. The puddle of blood at the foot of the portrait might also be linked to this somehow (whose is it?).

It's the deal-making for souls that really pushed the "devil" theory over the edge for me, because I can't think of whose wheelhouse that would be in except a devil's, or someone similarly malevolent.

Alternative name. The Strange Man's character model is called cs_mysteriousstranger in RDR2, and he's referred to as "the mysterious stranger" at least once in RDR1's in-game text. This could be a reference to The Mysterious Stranger, written by Mark Twain between 1897-1908, in which the stranger is a supernatural being called Satan. (At the end of the last version written, he tells the protagonist that nothing really exists and their lives are just a dream.)

Bayall Edge. Bayall Edge was possibly based on a Louisiana urban myth called the Devil's Toy Box, which is "described as a shack. From the outside, it is unappealing and average. ...The inside of the shack consists of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, including the walls. No one can last more than five minutes in this room. ...According to the legend, if you stood inside this mirror-room alone for too long, supposedly the devil would show up and steal your soul." The Strange Man does show up in the mirror eventually, and it's kind of curious that the paintings that change depending on your Honour act as metaphorical mirrors. This was also cut, but in the files, Arthur's drawing of the interior of Bayall Edge is unusually sloppy, like his faculties were impaired or something.

"Awful, fascinating and seductive". John writes this about Bayall Edge after the portrait is finished, and I think that's as good a description of something like the / a devil as any, but "seductive" is a big red flag for me, because it's such an odd choice of word and, from a Christian perspective, it's so loaded with connotations of evil and sin and temptation.

I Know You. Some have pointed out that I Know You in RDR1 resembles the Temptation of Christ, as it also takes place in three separate locations in the desert, and John is given moral tests in which he must choose between higher virtue or worldly vice. John is also, in a weird way, a kind of Christ-like figure in that he ultimately sacrifices his life for others. I do think the "temptation" in these encounters is very surreptitious but very much there ("Or rob her yourself" -- excuse me??), but they may also be operating on a Biblical definition of the word, i.e. a test or trial with the free choice of committing sin.

RDR1 dialogue. I don't want to get *too* much into this because I feel like we're all just getting punked in RDR1, but I think the Strange Man's dialogue broadly fits with something like a "devil" interpretation, or at least doesn't contradict it.

I'm thinking particularly of lines like "Damn you!" / "Yes, many have" (which would work metaphorically but also literally, given that the devil was thrown from heaven by God and his angels), and "I hope my boy turns out just like you" (of all the leading theories, I think Satan is the only figure who's popularly conceptualised as having a son, or prophesied to have a son -- God obviously had a son, but that ship kinda sailed).

I think the "accountant" line refers to Honour (which even uses an invisible numerical system), and how John's fate depends on the number of both good and bad acts he's committed throughout his life, and how these weigh against each other. If the Strange Man likes to collect souls, then he would have a vested interest in auditing you and seeing if your accounts are in the black or the red, as it were (and providing you with opportunities to push yourself further into the latter...), because if you're bankrupt, you're his.

Blind Man Cassidy. Interestingly, Cassidy seems to distinguish between "Death" and the Strange Man, implying that he's something else beyond his understanding: in one of Arthur's fortunes, after his TB diagnosis, he says "the man with no nose [Death] is coming for you," but in one of John's fortunes, he says "Two strangers seek thee: one from this world, perhaps one from another. One brings hatred; I'm not so sure what the other brings."

Arthur's cut dialogue. In the files, there's audio of Arthur having the exact same conversation with Herbert Moon as John in the epilogue, asking about the Strange Man picture because he "just seemed familiar". I think it's interesting that, like John, Arthur also would have apparently recognised the Strange Man despite (presumably) never seeing him before. Given how strong a theme morality is in Red Dead -- and how much both John and Arthur struggle with it -- my theory is that they find the Strange Man vaguely familiar because they're both familiar with the evil within themselves, or the potential for evil; and likewise, the Strange Man "knows" John because he embodies evil in some sense, so is aware of John's worst sins (like his involvement at Blackwater), or possibly even all of his sins (which would be, like, a lot).

Honourable mention: There's such a greater emphasis on conspiracies, myths, etc. in RDR2 that I half-wonder if the Strange Man's RDR2 incarnation was partly inspired by Hat Man (~excuse the link~ but often it's hard to find good sources for the kind of weird shit R* includes in their games).

ANYWAY, this got a little long but I hope someone found all this at least passably interesting. Thanks again for letting me ramble about the video game man, anon!

[lnterjection]

Sleepy Bois Inc and DSMP Fanfic Recs

Uhhh I realized I have a ton of stuff in my bookmarks list and might as well compile a list of favorites because I’m always looking for good fanfics, and this might help some people. Most of these are SBI, though a few focus on things other than their dynamic with each other. Nothing explicit here. Feel free to suggest more recs. 

Fics set in DSMP universe/about DSMP (One-shots first, then longer fics):

One-shots and series of one-shots-

therein lies the madness by sapphicist - 2095 words. Currently says it’s one chapter out of three complete, but can be read as a standalone one-shot. Nice introspective fic on Tommy’s exile and his parallels with Theseus. In 2nd person, but it’s actually done nicely. Mostly angsty, can have hopeful interpretation depending on how you look at it. 

crazy how life goes on without me (2090 words, one-shot) by itisjosh - What if Ghostbur did remember everything, and just pretended to be clueless and vapid? Made me cry. It’s so good. Tortured my heart. 

the inner mechanism of a black box (13521 words, one-shot) by Bee_4 - only work of a series called “system theory”. “Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault. There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.” Yeah so Techno’s mental health goes out the window in this one and its written brilliantly. There’s comfort at the end, if it helps? 

A State For One Man Is No State At All (5247 words, two-shot) by angstfortheangstgod - “A different version of the festival, in which Dream shows up unarmed, the Community House is left intact, a traitor is executed, and Tommy doesn't betray Technoblade.” Ranboo centric. Angst and comfort. 

All the Kings Men series by MollyPollyKinz - “After Ghostbur's suggestion to do Lads on Tour, Tommy finds himself reunited with his family. However, escaping from Dream is going to be harder than anyone previously thought.” A connected series of one-shots and short fics about Tommy, his exile, his family, and escaping Dream. Well written, good characterization, great studies into the characters themselves.

ad astra per aspera series by cacowhistle - Collection of one-shots that start with Tommy’s exile and expand to be about SBI and their dynamic with each other, including a resurrected Wilbur. Really, really well written and probably my favorite of the “Tommy exile fic groups”. 

the fall of a hero series by cracklesnaple - “After being threatened with being exiled yet again, Tommy takes the decision into his own hands. If those around him can't see that he's given up everything to make this nation what it is, then he's not sure he can stay in L'Manburg any longer.” Series about SBI and mainly Tommy, eventually crossing over into Mianite territory in a way some might enjoy and some might now. Writing’s good, though, which is what I care about.

Longer fics-

Rewind (101002 words, 25 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by Anonymous - Best time travel fix-it fic I’ve ever read period. Tubbo and Tommy travel 10 years back from a very messed up future to the first L’Manberg election. Concept may seen a bit weird at first but trust me, holy fuck this is amazing. 

second chances (hurt the most) (8841 words, 4 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by Anonymous - “Wilbur wakes up alone in a bloody room, and has to come to terms with living again. (How can he go on, knowing who's blood is on his hands?)”. Amazing fic where resurrection requires someone else’s life as sacrifice. Phil is dead. Wilbur struggles to come to terms with his father’s decision, and his second chance. 

all scotch, no soda (47466 words, 43 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 14 2021) by fishstixx - “Vulnerability meant trust, though, and trust was a thing not so easily given. Post-exile and canon divergent, follows the consequences of Tommy’s isolation. Expect chases, heists, bloodshed, and the mending of a family.” Features raccon hybrid Tommy being badass, and I live for it. I really, really love this one. 

DON’T FORGET THAT ICARUS FLEW. (16426 words, 6/10 chapters, last updated Jan 1. 2021) by orpheusaki - “The day before and the days that follow Tommy's exile; told through the eyes of The Blood God.” Techno (and Dream) is a god, and gods often forget how the intricacies of the minds of mortals. He’s trying to get better, however. 

what do you fall for? (16374 words, complete) by tablrcloth - Ranboo centric fic with Techno, Phil and Tommy. Ranboo realizes that playing L’Manberg’s politics is less than ideal for him. What can I say, it’s just really good. 

Breathing’s Just a Rhythm (12631 words, 6 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by MollyPollyKinz - “Tommy, Tubbo, Jschlatt, and Dream all end up in the past. (Oh, and the Chat comes too).” Great time travel fic. 

What World Have We Inherited? (73635 words, 12 chapters, unfinished and last updated on Dec 22 2020) by Anonymous (this one has a series with all their works, and they’re all AMAZING). Holy fuck this one is probably one of my favorite fics in the fandom so far. “Wilbur blows everything to hell on the day of the Manburg festival, just like he wanted. When the ashes settle, it's just Tommy and Technoblade. It's not good, but it's better than nothing. It's just them, healing up in a world that never wanted them.” Amazing characterization, worldbuilding, everyone’s internal thoughts are portrayed and written so well. Even if it never updates again I would keep coming back to it. I rec this Anon’s works so much. 

In June, I Changed My Tune (29489 words, 6 chapters, unfinished and last updated on Jan 6 2021) by KryOnBlock - Eret runs away and eventually becomes friends with Techno. Nice cottagecore aesthetic. I have mixed feelings about this one - the writing’s good, descriptions and characterizations are really good. Just that there’s consistent punctuation mistakes and it takes me out of the world a bit. Everything else is good enough for me to continue reading, however. 

stay with him (24353 words, 12 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 9 2021) by junipersand - I especially rec the first chapter, which can be read (and originally was) a standalone fic with the summary “Every ghost had a purpose to fulfill. So what was Tommy’s?” Utterly heartwrenching, probably the most emotionally gut-punching bit of writing I’ve ever read in this fandom. It continues with other lore stuff afterwards that eventually branch off from just SBI and Tommy, but man. I don’t think I can ever forget that first chapter. 

I’m not angry at you, well, sometimes I am (52801 words, 16 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 14 2021) by sircantus - After Tommy is exiled, he runs away to Techno’s house instead of going off with Dream. SBI decide some revenge and “world domination” is in order. 

Fics set in AUs outside DSMP happenings:

One-shots and series of one-shots-

Empty Crowns AU by UnderUrsa - the SBI + Tubbo are gods, and a family. Series of one-shots. Nicely written, what can I say? Some angst, some fluff.

Secure, Contain, Protect AU by blue000jay - Amazingly written SCP AU. Knowledge of the SCP universe would help with understanding some more meta things, but is not needed to understand most of it. Some angst, disturbing themes around memories but nothing terribly gory.

CLASSIFIEDS. (13804 words, finished). SCP pages on SBI, short stories and audio transcriptions as well as files, lots of good lorebuilding here. Features an escape, + Tubbo!

CONFIDENTIALS. (13232 words, finished). Centers on Dream Team.

ARCHIVES. (1270 words, one-shot). What happened after SBI and Tubbo’s escape from the SCP foundation.

old gods (new gods) AU by WriterWinged - the relatively well known SBI gods AU. Amazingly written, great character interpretations. 

the gods are cruel (none crueler then you) (1394 words, one-shot) - As much the grammatical mistake in the title hurts me it’s no doubt one of the best pieces of work in the fandom. 

and yet they find kindness (and so do you) (2/4 chapters posted) - continuation of “the gods are cruel”. 

there’s a risk to the world (but the kindest are strongest) (2/3 chapters posted) - continuation of “the gods are cruel”. 

SBI Antarctic Princes AU by ScripWriter -  One of several Antarctic Empire AUs, this one just has these two preliminary one-shots but they’re nice bits of fun and neatly written. All fluff and mild hurt with lots of comfort so far. 

Younger Holding On Another (1781 words, one-shot). Techno is a good brother and reassures and newly adopted Tommy. 

But Oh, Don’t You Know How It Goes (2511 words. one-shot). Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur have some “fun” at a boring gala. Phil is very exasperated. 

Antarctic Princes ‘verse AU by BirchWrites - AU where Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur are princes of the Antarctic Empire (well, Techno’s technically the emperor now), but this time the events of DSMP still happen (at least up to the 1st season).

Homeward bound for the arctic ground (10562 words, one-shot). Wilbur and Tommy travel to the Antarctic Empire in person to ask Techno for help in fighting Schlatt. Good worldbuilding and acknowledges Wilbur’s beginnings of insanity while still being rather light.

Surprise Hugs (2542 words, one-shot). Dream doesn’t realize Tommy is Techno’s brother and thinks he’s going to get killed for tackling the infamous Blood God.

Family Reunions (1396 words, one-shot). Fundy never realized he’s loyalty and Techno informs him unexpectedly.

Longer fics-

leave me your starlight (14620 words, 4 chapters, unfinished and last updated Jan 11 2021) by findingkairos - “Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war. This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.“ Amazing backstory fic on Phil and Techno’s relationships, one of my absolute personal favorites. Very well written and really digs into the intricacies of Techno’s character (or an interpretation of it, but hey, that’s what all fanfiction is).

I was a kid in a village, doing alright, then I became a prince overnight (21736 words, 5 chapters, last updated Jan 13 2021) by sircantus - another Antarctic princes AU, this time centering on 16 year old Tommy catching the attention of Phil, Techno, and Wilbur after thwarting an assassination attempt. Really well written. Actually, I rec all of sircantus’ SBI stuff because they do amazing work.

antarctic adage (26591 words, 4/7 chapters posted, last updated Jan 13 2021) by blue000jay - Another very well written Antarctic princes AU with Emperor/ruler Phil. Are we seeing a pattern yet? blue000jay is another writer I’d rec, with really great SBI stuff.

a renewal of faith, and of family (56684 words, 31 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 13 2021) by SolivangantStories - One of the only fics here that doesn’t feature SBI, this one is Tubbo and Dream centered. Basically, the DSMP!Tubbo is executed by Schlatt and wakes up in a world where Manhunt!Dream is trying not to die and is also actually a nice person, to Tubbo’s surprise and confusion. Not SBI and technically not even DSMP, but it’s really good so I’ve decided to rec it anyway.