#brilliant use of morse code!

[reidmarieprentiss]

No More Misunderstandings

Summary: You have a big crush on Spencer, everyone can see it except for Spencer himself.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Tech Analyst fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: crushing, (un)requited feelings, bad communication, Spencer trying to flirt, gay Elle, Rossi not Gideon, happy ending, Elle is out but reader doesn't know

Word count: 9.4k

a/n: if this man ever asked me to hang out i would say yes in two seconds flat

main masterlist

Every day, you settled into the hum of computers and the soft glow of monitors that painted the walls of the BAU's technical analysis hub, affectionately dubbed the "bat cave" by those who knew it best. Your role as a tech analyst found you working side-by-side with the brilliant and bubbly Penelope Garcia, a woman whose personality was as colorful as her wardrobe. Despite the comfort of being shrouded in the semi-darkness of your tech-laden sanctuary, a certain type of light seemed to elude you—the spark of acknowledgment in Dr. Spencer Reid's deep, thoughtful eyes.

You harbored a crush so palpable that even the air in the room felt charged with your nervous energy whenever Spencer was near. However, your shy demeanor cloaked these feelings in a veil of secrecy that somehow, miraculously, Spencer himself never managed to pierce through. Everyone else on the team had noticed, from the knowing smiles of Derek Morgan to the gentle teasing of JJ, but Spencer remained blissfully unaware, his attention often drifting towards Elle Greenaway with an intensity that tugged painfully at your heart.

Penelope, ever the observant friend, never missed a beat. "Oh, honey," she would whisper, "it’s like you’re sending Morse code with those blushes and he’s living in a blackout."

Her words were gentle, tinged with humor and affection, yet each jest felt like a pinprick to your already tender sensibilities. Whenever Spencer visited the bat cave to discuss case details or gather information, your heart raced as you tried to provide him with everything he needed without tripping over your words or, heaven forbid, your own feet.

"Hey, Spencer," you would start, your voice a careful mixture of professionalism and the warmth you couldn’t keep at bay.

"Hello," he would respond, his eyes scanning the screens filled with data. His focus was razor-sharp, dissecting information with the same precision he used on everything but the emotional currents swirling around him.

Each interaction was a dance. You would inch towards openness, leaning in to catch a whiff of his cologne or to appreciate the subtle shift of his hair when he ran his fingers through it in concentration. But as soon as he glanced up, those hazel eyes like windows to an enigmatic soul, you would recoil slightly, cheeks aflame, words retreating as quickly as they had dared to emerge.

Later, as the screen showed live feeds of the team moving through their environments, Penelope would nudge you gently with her elbow, her voice low and teasing. "You know, if we had a dollar for every time you fumbled around that man, we could retire and buy an island in the Bahamas."

You’d offer a small, embarrassed laugh, grateful for the low lighting hiding the worst of your blush. "I just... I don’t know how to act around him, Penelope. What if he doesn’t..."

"Feel the same?" she'd finish for you, her tone softening. "Sweetie, the heart’s a funny creature. It doesn’t play by the rules of logic that Spencer loves so much. But who knows? Maybe one day, he’ll surprise you and actually look up from those case files and see what’s right in front of him."

The comfort in her voice was soothing, yet each day ended the same—with you watching Spencer, Spencer watching Elle, and Penelope watching over you, a guardian angel clad in technicolor, armed with an arsenal of jokes and just the right words to keep you smiling through the uncertainty.

—

The day had been rolling along as usual in the BAU's bat cave, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards providing a steady backdrop to the glow of computer screens. Penelope had excused herself for a quick bathroom break, leaving you alone amidst the towers of technology. Just as the door clicked shut behind her, the shrill ring of the phone sliced through the quiet, startling you slightly. Calls from the field were usually Penelope’s domain, her cheerful voice a soothing constant for the team. Today, it seemed, you would have to step into her shoes.

“Y/N speaking, what can I do for you?” Your voice wavered slightly, anxiety bubbling up as you prepared for your usual toggle through databases and security feeds.

When Spencer’s voice responded from the other end, a different kind of alertness prickled across your skin. “Hi, Y/N, we need to cross-reference known associates of the unsub with recent flight records. Can you pull up the lists and cross-check for any matches?”

Your heart thumped erratically, his voice weaving through the receiver like a familiar song that never failed to stir your soul. You tried to maintain a steady tone, hoping your voice didn’t betray the sudden nervousness that his presence, even just over the phone, incited. “Sure, Spencer, just a moment.”

As your fingers danced across the keyboard, the professional mask you wore each day slid comfortably into place. You were adept at your job, a fact that never faltered, even under the weight of your emotions. Quickly pulling up the necessary records, you began the process of cross-referencing, your mind briefly detached from the flutter in your stomach.

“Looks like there’s a match. Michael Davidson, on a flight from Atlanta to D.C. this morning,” you reported, a trace of pride threading through your words at the efficiency with which you’d located the information.

“Great, Y/N. Thanks,” Spencer’s voice came through, a hint of relief palpable even through the static of the connection. His appreciation, simple and straightforward, filled you with a warmth that went beyond professional satisfaction.

Hanging up, you let out a breath you’d been holding. Penelope chose that moment to breeze back into the room, her presence as effervescent as ever. Catching the tail end of your smile, she quirked an eyebrow playfully.

“Spill the beans, buttercup. You look like someone just handed you a golden ticket,” she teased, settling back into her chair.

“It was just Spencer needing some quick info,” you shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant as your heart continued to beat a staccato rhythm against your ribs.

Penelope’s smile widened, her eyes twinkling with unspoken understanding. “Oh, just Spencer, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, trying to brush it off casually. “Derek would never betray you by talking to me,” you teased, hoping to steer the conversation away from your flustered feelings.

Penelope’s eyes sparkled even more as she winked at you. “Oh, he’s allowed to have side pieces, my love. I’m a generous goddess.”

You burst out laughing, your nervousness momentarily forgotten as Penelope’s playful banter eased your tension. “I’ll let him know you said that,” you shot back, turning back to your screen, trying to focus on anything other than the residual warmth from talking to Spencer.

Penelope, never one to let you off the hook easily, leaned in closer. “Should I let Spencer know he isn’t allowed to have any side pieces then?” she asked, winking at you again, her tone as sweet as honey but with a hint of mischief.

“Penelope!” you gasped, feeling your face flush all over again. The blush you thought had faded returned with a vengeance as you turned away, hoping she wouldn’t see just how red you were.

She laughed, clearly pleased with herself. “I’m just saying, babe. The boy’s got options, but I think we both know his best one is sitting right here.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as you let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just doing my part to make sure he doesn’t miss any signals,” Penelope sang, tapping her keyboard lightly, her grin as wide as ever. You couldn't help but smile too, secretly grateful for her teasing. After all, it was these moments that made the crush a little more bearable.

—

During one of Rossi’s famed pasta-making sessions, a relaxed atmosphere filled his spacious kitchen, with the rich aroma of tomato sauce simmering on the stove and the sounds of laughter mingling with soft Italian music playing in the background. Rossi, the consummate host, guided everyone through the steps of making the perfect pasta dough, his hands moving with the ease of long practice.

You found yourself stationed next to Spencer, who was diligently kneading a mound of fresh pasta dough. His hands, beautiful and dexterous, worked the dough with a precision that was mesmerizing. The veins on his hands stood out, accentuating every deliberate movement, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by the fluidity of his motions. It wasn’t just his intellect that drew you in; even his seemingly mundane physical actions had a way of catching your undivided attention.

Derek and JJ, who were partnered up on the other side of the kitchen island, caught your fixed gaze and shared an amused look between them. Derek’s smirk grew as he nudged JJ, whispering loud enough for you to overhear, “Looks like someone’s more interested in the handwork than the handiwork.”

JJ chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she joined in the teasing. “Yeah, I think Y/N’s planning on writing a thesis on the manual dexterity of certain geniuses.”

Flustered, you tore your eyes away from Spencer’s hands, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You attempted to focus back on your own portion of dough, which had begun to stick to the counter more than it should. Spencer, oblivious to the exchange, looked up and noticed your struggle.

“Hey, you need to dust a bit more flour on the surface,” he said, his voice gentle, unaware of the reason behind your distraction. He reached over to sprinkle some flour on your dough and then on the countertop, his fingers briefly brushing against yours. The brief contact sent a pleasant jolt through you, further flustering you.

Rossi, ever the observant host, noticed the playful dynamic and decided to rescue you from your embarrassment. “Alright, everyone, let’s focus on the art of pasta! Y/N, why don’t you help me with the sauce?” he suggested, giving you a knowing smile as he handed you a wooden spoon.

As you helped Rossi stir the simmering sauce, carefully blending the herbs into the rich, aromatic mixture, you couldn’t help but cast furtive glances across the kitchen. There, Hotch had taken up the spot you vacated next to Spencer, now deeply engaged in the art of pasta making under Rossi’s enthusiastic instruction. While Hotch was methodically following Rossi’s guidance, Spencer’s attention occasionally drifted.

Across from them, Elle was rolling out her dough with a confident flourish, laughing at something Hotch had said. You caught Spencer's eyes as they met Elle's, a shared glance of amusement passing effortlessly between them. The ease of their silent communication was stark, their smiles syncing in a moment of private jest that seemed to exclude the world around them—including you.

That simple, silent exchange felt like a punch to the gut. The laughter and camaraderie around you suddenly seemed a bit dimmer, a bit more distant. It wasn’t just jealousy that twisted in your stomach—it was the aching realization of how much could be said in a single look when there was a real connection; a connection you feared might never form between Spencer and yourself.

You turned your attention back to the sauce, the spoon moving mechanically in your hand as Rossi continued to chat about the nuances of Italian cooking. He didn’t seem to notice your distraction, caught up in his culinary passion. But inside, your thoughts were swirling as tumultuously as the sauce you stirred.

Trying to shake off the sinking feeling, you focused on the positives—the laughter of your team, the comforting weight of the wooden spoon in your hand, the delicious smell that filled the kitchen. But despite the festive atmosphere, a part of you remained reserved, quietly nursing the tender hope that maybe, just maybe, one day Spencer would look at you with the same warmth and understanding he so effortlessly shared with Elle. Until then, you resolved to keep smiling, keep stirring, and keep hoping.

—

The BAU briefing room felt unusually empty without Penelope's vibrant presence, Elle's keen insights, and Derek's charismatic confidence filling the space. With them on vacation, the dynamic had shifted, and you found yourself stepping into roles that stretched beyond your usual behind-the-scenes expertise. The weight of Penelope's responsibilities now rested squarely on your shoulders, a challenge you accepted with both determination and a hint of trepidation.

As the team gathered for the briefing on the new case, Hotch turned to you. "Y/N, could you walk us through the case description and the current leads?" His voice was calm, authoritative, yet imbued with a supportive undertone that did little to ease the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Nodding, you stood, remote in hand, feeling every pair of eyes in the room settle on you. Public speaking was not your greatest fear, but it was hardly your favorite endeavor—especially not with Spencer's intense gaze locked on you. It was as if his eyes were a pair of spotlights, illuminating not just your words but every minute reaction and emotion that flickered across your face.

As you began to outline the case, detailing the patterns and possible psychological motivations of the unsub, Spencer's scrutiny never wavered. His stare was not judgmental nor dismissive; rather, it was analytical, perhaps even a bit curious, as if he were trying to read the nuances of your presentation, to understand not just the facts but the person delivering them.

"Based on the geographical profiling and the behavioral pattern, we believe the unsub may be operating within a ten-mile radius of downtown," you explained, pointing to the map projected behind you. Your voice steadied as you delved deeper into the analysis, the familiar terrain of data and evidence providing a solid foundation beneath your initially shaky confidence.

Spencer's focus, rather than rattling you further, began to foster a sense of resolve within you. You found yourself speaking more confidently, your nerves tempered by the realization that this was still your team—your family in all but blood. They weren't here to judge; they were here to listen and to learn from what you had to offer.

As the briefing wrapped up, Hotch nodded in approval. "Good work, Y/N. Keep us posted on any updates from Garcia's systems until she returns."

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Glad it was over, you were already preparing to scamper back to your office when you heard a voice that sent a familiar shiver down your spine.

“Y/N?” Spencer's voice, calm yet inquisitive, caught your attention.

You spun around to face him, trying not to let your fluster show. “What’s up?”

“Can you put the map back up on the screen, please?” he asked, already standing by the large projection screen.

“Ye–yeah, of course.” Your fingers fumbled with the remote as you quickly reactivated the display, bringing the map back onto the screen.

“Here,” Spencer said, still not looking back at you. “Come look at this.”

You walked over to stand beside him, your eyes inadvertently drawn to his long fingers as they traced paths along the map, pointing out specific areas. The same hands that had mesmerized you earlier were now gliding over the screen, drawing you into his thought process.

Spencer started talking about the geographical profile, rattling off information with his typical rapid-fire brilliance. But what took you by surprise was how he spoke to you—not as the team’s tech analyst, but as if you were another profiler, someone he wanted to consult. This was new, and it left you momentarily stunned. He’d never done this before.

“Spencer?” you asked quietly, your voice barely audible in the spacious room. He hummed in response, still focused on the map as he tugged thoughtfully at his bottom lip—a gesture you’d come to adore and envy.

“Why are you asking me about this?” you continued, your curiosity growing along with your nerves. “Why not Rossi? Or Hotch?”

Spencer paused, finally turning to face you, his eyes filled with the same focused intensity he usually reserved for solving cases. “Because you see things differently,” he said softly. “You have a different perspective, and that’s valuable. Sometimes it’s not just about profiling. It’s about how we approach the data, and you… you understand patterns in a way that’s unique.”

His words caught you off guard, but they filled you with an unexpected warmth. You weren’t just the tech analyst who plugged in the data—they saw you, Spencer saw you, as part of the team, as someone with valuable insights.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you held his gaze for a moment longer than you intended. “Thanks, Spencer,” you whispered, trying to suppress the blush creeping up your neck.

He smiled, a small but genuine curve of his lips, before turning back to the map. “Now, what do you think about this area here?” he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for you two to be collaborating like this.

For once, you weren’t just lost in thoughts of him—you were part of the conversation, and it felt good.

After you felt you'd helped all you could, you excused yourself back to your office, ready to sink back into the more solitary part of your work. However, Spencer seemed to have other plans, as he walked alongside you, his footsteps synchronized with yours, indicating he wasn't quite done talking. His expression was one of mild concern, a usual precursor to his deep dives into various subjects.

As you walked, he continued to unravel his thoughts about the case, tying loose ends and circling back to previous points with a precision that was nothing short of impressive. It was typical of Spencer to thoroughly dissect each aspect of a case, often taking tangential routes in the conversation that surprisingly led right back to the main topic, a testament to his prodigious mind.

However, as engrossed as he was in discussing the case, his next words veered sharply from the professional to the personal, catching you completely off guard and momentarily stalling your mental gears. The shift was so sudden that it took a moment for you to register what he was actually asking, pulling you out of your case-focused mindset and into a more introspective space. This unexpected question not only showed his human side but also reminded you of the depth of his observational skills, not just in work but in personal matters as well.

"How is Felix, by the way?" Spencer asked, an innocently curious tilt to his head as he regarded you, his pace slowing slightly.

"What?" The name jolted you, an echo from a past chapter of your life you hadn’t opened in ages, and certainly not one you had expected Spencer to know anything about. You blinked, momentarily confused, trying to piece together the leap in conversation.

"Felix? How are they?" Spencer repeated, his interest seemingly piqued by your reaction—or perhaps just his natural inclination toward thorough understanding.

You paused, standing now in the doorway of your office, the background hum of computer servers providing a soft soundtrack to this unexpected moment. "Um, I don't know," you admitted, still trying to navigate the strange turn the conversation had taken.

"Oh, I’m so sorry, did you two separate?" Spencer’s tone was filled with genuine apology, his face reflecting concern.

You managed a small, somewhat awkward laugh, finding both the absurdity and the sudden intimacy of the conversation slightly overwhelming. "Well, yes. A long while ago." Your response came out lighter than you felt, the surprise of the question making your heart race for reasons other than your usual nervousness around Spencer.

As Spencer absorbed your response, his expression remained unreadable, a common trait when he was deep in thought or processing information. He nodded, perhaps filing away the conversation for later reflection, before excusing himself with a polite but somewhat distant farewell. His departure was quick, efficient, the way he typically transitioned back to work, yet it left a trail of questions in its wake.

You watched him go, a blend of relief and curiosity mingling in your thoughts. The inquiry into your personal life was uncharacteristic of Spencer, who usually maintained a strict boundary between professional and personal discussions, at least when it came to initiating such topics himself. The interaction lingered in your mind, an outlier in the usual pattern of your interactions.

"Maybe it's because Elle isn't here," you thought silently, turning back to your computer.

After leaving your office, Spencer quickly texted Elle to update her that you were no longer seeing Felix, contrary to their assumption. Elle replied enthusiastically with two thumbs up, urging him to ask you out soon or she would take the opportunity herself. 

—

Throughout the week, with Penelope, Elle, and Derek away, the dynamic at the BAU shifted noticeably. Spencer seemed to step out of his usual reserved demeanor, engaging more frequently, particularly with you. His attempts at conversation often appeared to teeter on the edge of something beyond mere professional interest, though it was so subtle that it often flew under your radar.

Tuesday morning, Spencer leaned against the counter, watching you struggle with the temperamental coffee machine that had decided today was the day to revolt. "You know, statistically, manual coffee presses have a lower failure rate compared to electric ones," he commented, a slight quirk to his lips.

You glanced at him, chuckling lightly, "Is that so? Maybe I should switch, then."

"Yeah, and they make better coffee. Maybe I could show you how to use one sometime?" His tone was casual, but there was a tentative note to it, almost hopeful.

As the coffee machine finally sputtered to life, producing a somewhat decent cup of coffee, Spencer’s offer lingered in the air, subtly altering the atmosphere between you. His suggestion about the manual coffee press had been light, almost playful, but it carried an undercurrent of personal interest that left you unexpectedly flustered. Despite this, you masked your reaction with a casual nod, trying to maintain an even keel.

"Sure, I could always use better coffee," you responded, your voice steady despite the slight quickening of your heartbeat. You focused on fixing your coffee, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar, using the mundane task as a moment to collect your thoughts.

Spencer watched you for a moment, perhaps sensing the shift in your demeanor but respecting the boundary you subtly enforced with your nonchalant reply. His smile was gentle, not pushing further, as he too turned his attention back to preparing his own drink.

Wednesday at lunch you sat in the break room flipping through case files, Spencer slid into the seat across from you with his own lunch—a homemade sandwich seemingly crafted with meticulous care. "I read somewhere that sharing meals can enhance group bonding and individual rapport," he began, looking directly at you with an earnest expression.

You looked up, smiling at the factoid, you loved hearing Spencer talk. He was always so endearing. "That sounds about right. Food does bring people together."

"Maybe we could test that theory. There's a new Thai place nearby that’s supposed to be great," he suggested, his voice smooth but slightly hurried.

"That would be an interesting experiment," you agreed, your thoughts inadvertently glossing over Spencer's subtle personal invitation. Instead, your mind wandered to the social dynamics of the team, or perhaps more pointedly, the possibility of Spencer going out with Elle without having to extend a direct invitation—an idea that stoked a twinge of jealousy, burning in your stomach like an ugly green monster. 

Spencer nodded, his expression shifting subtly as he detected the undercurrent of your thoughts, interpreting them as disinterest in a personal outing. He tried to mask any hint of disappointment, maintaining his typical composed demeanor. Internally, however, he wrestled with the sting of what felt like another missed connection, another attempt at reaching out quietly rebuffed.

"It would be a great way to explore some new flavors... maybe just the two of us first, to see if it’s worth recommending to the team?" His tone was measured, carefully modulating between casual and sincere, revealing his hope that this might pave the way to a more personal connection between the two of you.

Despite his clear wording, your mind twisted his intentions, clouded by the assumption that his ultimate aim was to impress Elle upon her return. This idea gnawed at you, the thought of being potentially used as a stepping stone in Spencer’s strategy to engage Elle more personally. It tainted the sincerity you might have otherwise perceived in his proposal.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan," you responded, trying to mask your feelings with a nod and a polite smile. "Testing it out sounds sensible... then we can tell Elle and the rest if it's good." Your voice carried a hint of forced cheerfulness as you inadvertently redirected the focus back to Elle, reinforcing your misinterpretation of Spencer's motives.

Spencer noticed the subtle shift in your tone, the slight stiffness in your smile. He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his features as he tried to gauge whether his message had been misunderstood. "Yes, of course," he agreed, his voice faltering slightly as he picked up on your emphasis on Elle. Disappointment edged into his heart, sensing a barrier he hadn't anticipated—one that perhaps wasn't his to cross just yet.

He nodded slowly, offering a gentle smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll send you the details later then," Spencer added, stepping back to give you space, his mind busy piecing together where the conversation had veered off track.

Thursday while you were digging through old case files in the archives, Spencer wandered in, ostensibly looking for a book. He lingered by your side, helping to shift the heavy tomes. "You know, there's this book on cognitive science I think you'd really like. It talks about pattern recognition and emotional intelligence in ways I think you'd find fascinating," he offered, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you a different file.

"Sounds intriguing," you responded, your attention still partially on the file in your hands. The hint of a smile played at the corners of your mouth, touched by the realization that Spencer was not only paying attention to your interests but was actively thinking about ways to engage with you on a more personal level.

"I could lend it to you. We could discuss it over coffee?" Spencer's suggestion came with a hopeful undertone, as gentle and tentative as the expression in his eyes.

Your reaction, however, was immediate and unexpected—a sudden choke on your spit as his words caught you off guard. A brief fit of coughing ensued, and Spencer's concern was quick to surface. He reached out instinctively, placing a comforting hand on your back with a gentle touch. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

The unexpected contact made you jolt, a reflexive response to the sudden intimacy of his touch. Realizing your reaction, Spencer quickly withdrew his hand, a flash of disappointment crossing his features as he stepped back, giving you space.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," you managed to laugh it off, though your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You tried to smooth over the moment, still recovering from the unexpected cough and the even more unexpected contact.

Spencer's response was gentle, a soft nod accompanying his words. "It's okay, I'll, uh, see you upstairs," he said, stepping back with a hesitant smile. His decision to not press the coffee invitation further reflected his respect for your comfort, but inwardly, he felt he might have missed his opportunity for the day.

As he turned to leave, the brief contact and your embarrassed reaction replayed in his mind, leaving him wondering about the right approach to take next time. His intentions had been straightforward, but the execution hadn't gone as smoothly as he hoped. The way your eyes had widened, the laughter that followed the cough—it all suggested a mix of emotions that he couldn't quite decipher.

Watching him walk away, you felt a pang of regret. His retreat made you realize that your reaction might have been misinterpreted as discomfort, rather than the surprise and nervous excitement you actually felt. The idea of discussing a book over coffee with Spencer genuinely appealed to you, and you wished you could convey that without the awkwardness of the moment overshadowing it.

Gathering your thoughts, you considered reaching out to him later to clarify your interest, maybe even suggest a specific day for that coffee. The day hadn't gone as either of you planned, but it wasn't over yet, and perhaps there was still a chance to turn it around.

Friday afternoon as you both waited for the elevator, Spencer tried again, this time a bit more directly. "Did you know that the probability of meeting someone compatible is surprisingly high within work environments?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to steady the rapid thumping of your heart. "Really now? I guess we’re in the right place, then."

"Yes, exactly," Spencer agreed, a bit more eagerly than you expected. "It’s like... finding the right piece in a puzzle."

"Like solving a case?" you asked, your voice shrinking with uncertainty, afraid that, once again, he had someone else in mind—someone who fit into his world effortlessly, maybe a profiler like Elle.

"Yeah," he smiled warmly, his eyes soft as they focused on you. "Just like solving a case."

Your heart cracked a little at his words. You interpreted the metaphor differently, convinced he was searching for someone like the other brilliant profilers on the team—someone you believed you could never be. With a forced smile, you said quietly, "Well, looks like you need a profiler-shaped puzzle piece then."

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as you stepped into the elevator. He stood there, frozen, not understanding the weight behind your words or why you seemed so distant.

As the elevator doors slid shut, he replayed the conversation in his mind, his heart sinking as he realized something wasn’t connecting. He had been trying to tell you, in his own way, that he was interested in you, that you were the piece he was talking about. But somehow, despite his best efforts, the message kept slipping through your fingers. Why weren’t you getting it? Why did every attempt seem to fall short?

Spencer watched the elevator descend, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He had been so certain of his feelings for you, and yet, with every attempt, it felt like they drifted further away, lost in the unspoken misunderstandings between you.

—

When the freshly bronzed trio returned from their vacation, Spencer, seemingly on edge, wasted no time in seeking out Elle, his face etched with a mix of hope and frustration.

“So? Did you do it?” Elle asked eagerly as soon as they were within speaking distance, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Did she say yes?”

Spencer’s response was laden with disappointment. “Every time I try to ask her out, she thinks it’s a friendly suggestion, or—or she even mentioned you one time like I was thinking about you!” He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, clearly puzzled by the recurring miscommunication.

Elle couldn’t help but laugh slightly, though her lips were closed, trying to mask her amusement at the situation. Spencer, on the other hand, whined in annoyance, “What?” He genuinely didn’t understand what he was missing.

With a fond smile, Elle prodded further, “Reid, how did you ask? And what did she say?” Her voice was gentle, coaxing him to unpack the details.

Spencer recapped all the moments from the past week—the coffee machine incident, the lunch invitation, the casual chat in the archives, and the awkward elevator conversation. Each retelling showcased his subtle, cerebral approach to what he thought were clear invitations.

“Oh, boy genius,” Elle said teasingly once he finished, her tone light but her words cutting to the heart of the issue. “I think I see the problem here.”

“What? What is it?” Spencer asked, desperation and confusion in his voice.

Elle placed her hand on his arm, a gesture meant to be comforting but one that did not escape your notice, intensifying the ache in your heart. “She thinks you’re interested in me!” Elle revealed, her insight sharp.

“Why would she think that?” Spencer asked, his bewilderment evident. The connection between his actions and your perception seemed utterly foreign to him.

Elle’s explanation was straightforward, “Because, Spencer, every time you make an attempt, it’s so subtle and wrapped in layers of intellect that it’s easy for her to miss the romantic intent.”

Her words seemed to pierce through the fog of confusion surrounding Spencer. The realization that his attempts at expressing romantic interest were getting lost in translation—or rather, lost in his own intellectual approach—was a revelation. He nodded slowly, the gears turning as he processed this new insight.

“Plus, if she’s mentioning me and no one else, she must think you’re looking for ways to take me out!” Elle added, emphasizing her point with a light chuckle, though her eyes remained sympathetic to Spencer’s plight.

The weight of Elle’s explanation settled heavily on Spencer. It dawned on him how his interactions, though well-intentioned, might appear to others, especially to you. His style, inherently analytical and often indirect, had inadvertently sent the wrong signals, steering your thoughts towards a narrative where he was interested in Elle rather than clarifying his feelings for you.

This misunderstanding struck a chord within him. Spencer had always prided himself on his communication skills when it came to the nuances of unsubs and case theories. Yet, here he was, stumped by personal emotions and interpersonal communications that veered off course.

“Okay, so... I’ve been too subtle,” Spencer acknowledged, almost to himself as much as to Elle. “And she’s misreading the subtlety as disinterest—or worse, interest directed at someone else.”

Elle nodded, squeezing his arm gently. “Exactly, Spencer. You’re thinking like a profiler trying to decipher hidden meanings, but sometimes, directness is key. Maybe it’s time to just tell her how you feel, plainly and clearly. No puzzles, no hints.”

“But—but what if she’s not interested?” Spencer stammered, the creeping sense of insecurity wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. His confidence from earlier was starting to erode. “I mean, she did turn me down on multiple occasions,” he added, his voice softening with self-doubt.

Elle sent him a playful glare, her expression one of disbelief. “Be serious, Reid,” she said, her tone firm but affectionate. “Everyone here can see that she’s into you. Ask anyone.”

Without giving Spencer a chance to stop her, Elle raised her voice, calling across the room, “Hey, JJ!”

Spencer's eyes widened in panic, his face flushing. “Elle! No!” His voice cracked as he tried to stop her, but it was too late.

JJ approached the two of them, a curious smile on her face as she looked between Spencer and Elle. “What’s up, you guys?” she asked, her easy going demeanor not yet aware of the situation she was about to walk into.

“Do you think Y/N is into anyone? Should we set her up?” Elle asked with a mischievous smirk, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

JJ’s reaction was immediate—she burst into laughter, glancing between Elle and the now-mortified Spencer. “Are you kidding?!” she laughed, unable to believe the question was even being asked.

“No! Do you have anyone in mind?” Elle pushed, her smirk widening as she kept the act going.

Spencer looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, his mortification plain as he stood there frozen. His mind raced, desperate to find a way to steer the conversation away from himself. But JJ, still chuckling, fixed her gaze directly on Spencer, her expression turning to amused confusion.

“Spencer? Duh! She’s basically in love with you!” JJ declared, her blunt response leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Spencer blinked in disbelief, his mind stumbling over the directness of JJ's words. "W-What?" he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.

JJ just shook her head, laughing softly. “Reid, it's so obvious. Trust me, you should ask her out.”

"Right," Spencer exhaled heavily, the weight of his nerves tangible in that single word. His eyes followed JJ as she walked away, her knowing smile and shake of her head a clear sign that she was rooting for him.

Elle, observing the entire interaction, turned back to Spencer with a look of determination. “Do you believe me now? You just need to be blunt,” she said firmly, reinforcing the advice with her unwavering gaze. Her stance was one of staunch support, wanting to push Spencer past his habitual overthinking.

Spencer nodded, feeling a bit more fortified by the support of his colleagues. Elle’s insistence on being blunt was exactly the nudge he needed. It was clear that subtlety had not served him well in this arena, and it was time for a change in strategy.

—

Throughout the week, Spencer made several more attempts to ask you out, each time with a bit more directness than the last, but somehow the message never quite landed. Each time deepening his frustration and your oblivious disappointment.

Spencer joined you at the coffee machine again, a site of many a casual encounter but today, he was armed with determination. "I was thinking," he began, carefully measuring his words, "that maybe you and I could try that new café downtown this Saturday."

You smiled, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, your mind on a deadline you were close to missing. "That sounds like a great break from work. It’ll be good to get the team out and about. Should I send an email to everyone?"

Spencer’s heart sank a little. "Uh, well, I meant more like a... never mind. Yes, let’s get everyone involved," he conceded, hiding his disappointment.

In the midst of discussing a particularly complex case, Spencer tried to weave in a personal invitation as naturally as he could. "And after we wrap this up, maybe you’d like to join me for dinner? I know a place that’s quiet, great for discussing... cases."

You nodded, focused intensely on the case details. "Oh yeah! I already told Pen I’d grab dinner with her after the case, do you want to join us?"

Spencer’s heart sank just a bit as he adjusted his glasses, a gesture that had become a telltale sign of his internal resignation. His intention of a quiet dinner, meant to create a private space for you and him, vanished with your invitation to Penelope. Still, he managed a smile, not wanting his disappointment to show.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his tone light and cheerful. Inside, however, he was strategizing his next move, wondering how he could ever convey his feelings without the constant backdrop of the team.

As the day progressed, his mind kept circling back to the conversation. He appreciated your inclusiveness—always making sure no one felt left out, a trait he admired deeply. Yet, he couldn’t help but wish for a moment where it could just be the two of you, away from the dynamics and distractions of the team.

As you both walked to the parking lot after a long day, Spencer decided to be as clear as he could. "I enjoy spending time with you," he said earnestly. "I was hoping we could maybe go out this weekend, just you and me. What do you think?"

You paused, turning to face him with a puzzled smile, unaware of the mounting frustration behind his calm demeanor. "Sure. What do you want to do? I heard of a nightclub that's supposed to have a disco on Saturdays, we could see if everyone is interested?”

Spencer’s patience, worn thin from repeated attempts, finally faltered. “That doesn’t really sound like my scene,” he replied, a note of desperation creeping into his voice as he motioned between the two of you. “Could we go somewhere more subdued? Just us?”

The simplicity of his request, paired with the intensity of his gesture, made you pause. "You want to hang out? With just me?" you asked, a hint of confusion lacing your words.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice echoing a bit louder than he intended in the quiet space between conversations around you. His hands were in the air, a gesture of his exasperation and earnestness. Realizing how his reaction might have seemed, he quickly lowered his hands and softened his tone. “I mean, yes, I would like to spend time with you. Just us. Maybe somewhere quiet where we can talk. Just... talk.”

Your heart was beating so fast you could barely contain it, “Just the two of us?” 

The realization struck you fully now, the words "just the two of us" hanging in the air, tinged with possibility. Spencer nodded, his eyes earnest and hopeful, watching for your reaction.

"Yes, just the two of us," he confirmed, his voice steadier now, filled with a quiet intensity. His gaze never wavered from yours, as if trying to convey all the sincerity he felt directly into your heart.

Your heart raced with the understanding of what he was asking, the implications of this simple request suddenly reshaping the narrative you had constructed in your mind about his feelings. The thought that Spencer, with his brilliant mind and shy demeanor, wanted to spend time alone with you, not for a case discussion or team outing but for something personal, sent a thrill of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation through you.

"Yeah, Spencer," you grinned, your heart still racing but excitement slowly overtaking your nerves. "That sounds nice. Um, I'm free Saturday."

"Saturday works for me," Spencer nodded, his own smile broadening with quiet confidence. "I'll call you?"

You nodded quickly, almost too eagerly, but you didn’t care. "Yeah, mhm, that sounds perfect."

For a moment, you both stood there, a shared anticipation buzzing in the air between you, neither wanting to break the connection just yet. When Spencer finally turned to leave, you found yourself smiling uncontrollably, the prospect of Saturday lingering in your mind, a warmth spreading through you that hadn't been there before.

—

Your excitement about the upcoming date with Spencer bubbled within you, yet you chose to keep it close to your chest. The thrill of it all felt so fragile, like a dream you didn’t want to jinx by sharing too soon with the rest of the team. This cautious optimism marked your days, turning ordinary moments into a series of hopeful glances at the calendar as Saturday approached.

Meanwhile, Spencer found himself seeking counsel from Elle, who was all too eager to lend her expertise, not just on potential date activities but on the more intimate aspects of dating as well, particularly women. Knowing Spencer’s limited experience—his only kiss having been with Lila Archer during a particularly intense case—Elle took it upon herself to offer some advice.

“Okay, Spencer, listen,” Elle began, her tone both serious and sisterly. “If the moment feels right and you think you want to kiss her, make sure you read her signals. It’s all about mutual understanding and respect, right?”

Spencer nodded, absorbing every word. Elle continued, “Make eye contact, see how she responds. If she seems receptive, maybe lean in halfway and let her meet you the rest of the way. It’s a two-way street.”

“Halfway,” Spencer repeated, mentally noting the advice. Elle’s directness and her willingness to discuss these details without any embarrassment provided him with a strange comfort.

“And, Reid, just be yourself. You’re a great guy. Let that show,” Elle added, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Spencer felt nerves and gratitude at Elle’s advice, it was straightforward and practical, and helped ground him. He trusted her judgment, appreciating her sharing of her personal experience, especially when it came to navigating relationships—something he found infinitely more complex than the most puzzling cases.

—

The phone call on Saturday morning added to the bubbling excitement of the upcoming date. Spencer’s voice was clear and a tad nervous, which you found endearing. He promised a unique experience and asked you not to wear black, a request that piqued your curiosity and set your mind racing with possibilities. What kind of place would require such a specific dress code? The mystery only heightened your anticipation.

You quickly texted him your address, along with a playful note about your curiosity regarding the attire guidelines. Spencer replied with a simple smiley face, keeping the details of the date under wraps, which intrigued you even more.

As you prepared for the evening, you chose an outfit that was comfortable yet charming, avoiding black as instructed. The time leading up to Spencer’s arrival seemed to crawl by, each minute stretching longer than the last. You found yourself glancing at your reflection, adjusting your hair, and double-checking everything, ensuring you were ready when he arrived.

Finally, the sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Glancing out the window, you saw Spencer stepping out of his car, looking around with a nervous excitement that matched your own. 

As you stepped outside, your nerves fluttered slightly, but your smile was genuine when you saw Spencer waiting by his car. Waving shyly, you greeted him, "Hi, Spencer."

Spencer looked up, his eyes lighting up as he took in your appearance. "Y/N, you look great," he breathed out, his compliment wrapped in a warm smile that seemed to ease some of the tension between you.

"Thanks, I like your cardigan," you replied, noting the soft, well-worn cardigan he wore that somehow made him look even more approachable and endearing.

His smile widened at the compliment, and he seemed to relax a bit more. "Thanks! It's an old favorite," he admitted, holding the car door open for you. 

As you both stepped into the cozy, softly-lit space filled with the gentle sounds of purring and the occasional meow, Spencer immediately began sharing interesting facts about cats. “Did you know that ancient Egyptians considered cats sacred and even had a goddess named Bastet who was depicted as a lioness?” he said, looking into your eyes as you walked past a playful tabby.

Your response was a mix of admiration and amusement. “I didn’t know you were an expert on ancient cultures too,” you teased, feeling comfort and excitement as Spencer chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the opportunity to share his knowledge.

While playing with a particularly friendly cat, Spencer used the opportunity to flirt in his unique way. He gently lifted the cat, holding it out towards you. “It’s interesting how animals can facilitate social interactions, isn’t it? For instance, it's been found that people are more likely to engage in conversations in the presence of animals. They act as social lubricants.”

You laughed, reaching out to pet the cat and feeling a bit flustered by his proximity and the way he looked at you when talking about social dynamics. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you needed a furry wingman for our date?”

Spencer grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe, but it seems to be working, doesn’t it?”

“I don't know, say lubricant again,” you teased. Spencer's grin widened at your playful challenge, and the atmosphere between you sparked with a shared humor that made the moment light and enjoyable. 

He leaned in slightly, adopting a mock-serious tone, "Lubricant," he repeated, emphasizing the word, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed even harder, your eyes bright with amusement. "Hearing you say 'lubricant' is so funny!"

Spencer, caught up in your joy, couldn’t help but laugh along. “Why?” he asked, his own grin wide as your laughter proved infectious.

"It’s just... it can be a dirtier word," you giggled, trying to explain through your laughter. "And I can’t imagine our resident genius using the word lubricant!"

Spencer's laughter joined yours, ringing out genuinely as he caught the playful jab. The lightness of the moment brought a relaxed glow to his features. "I assure you, the application of the word was purely scientific," he teased back, still chuckling. 

The café around you seemed to buzz with the warmth of your shared amusement, creating an intimate bubble amidst the quiet hum of other patrons and the soft padding of cat paws. "I suppose," Spencer continued, his smile lingering, "I should be more careful with my vocabulary around you. You're giving me a whole new perspective on language."

Your laughter gradually subsided into a series of light chuckles, but your eyes were bright with delight. "I think I like this side of you, Spencer," you said, a playful sincerity in your voice. "It’s nice to see you in a different light, not just as the genius profiler but also someone who can joke around about...lubricants."

Spencer's eyes softened, clearly touched by your words. "I'm glad," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of appreciation. "It’s not often I get to show this side, and I’m happy to share it with you." 

As you observed the cats seemingly gravitate towards Spencer, who seemed both amused and delighted by their attention, an idea sparked in your mind. It was the perfect segue into a lighthearted flirtation, mixing your shared love for animals with a touch of mystical charm.

"You know, it’s said that animals, especially cats, have a keen sense of good and bad," you started, watching Spencer's reaction as a particularly fluffy cat chose his lap as its new throne. "They're often drawn to people with good auras. I guess they must sense something pretty great about you."

Spencer looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and pleasure at your comment. He laughed softly, a sound that warmed you to the core. "Is that so? Well, I must be on the right track then. Maybe they sense my excellent choice in company for this evening," he replied smoothly, his gaze locking with yours in a moment charged with a gentle intensity as a cat nuzzled its way into your lap as well.

Your heart fluttered slightly at his words, and you smiled, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Oh, so we’re using cat behavior to gauge our decisions now?" you teased back, leaning in a little closer. "In that case, I think they’re on to something because I’m feeling pretty good about my choice too."

Spencer’s smile widened, and he reached over to gently nudge a playful kitten back onto the table, his actions thoughtful and tender. "I'll take that as a high compliment, coming from someone who clearly knows her way around cats and their mysterious ways," he said, his voice soft but filled with an underlying warmth that suggested he was as affected by the exchange as you were.

As the evening wound down, and the café began to prepare for closing, Spencer drove you home. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself sharing little anecdotes from your childhood, while Spencer listened intently, always eager to learn more about you.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of your home. The end of the evening had come too quickly, a sentiment you both silently acknowledged as you lingered at the doorstep, not quite ready to say goodbye.

"Y/N...I had a really nice time today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to wrap the evening in a perfect close.

"Me too, Spencer, thank you for asking me. I was kind of shocked," you admitted, your words sincere and open. The evening had unfolded beautifully, but part of you had still been wrestling with the disbelief that it was all really happening.

"Really? Why?" Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his gaze intent on you, wanting to understand more.

You smiled shyly, a nervous habit kicking in as you rubbed behind your ear. "I just... liked you for so long, I never thought you were interested in me too," you confessed, the words tumbling out more easily than you'd expected. The truth had been a quiet companion for so long, and saying it aloud to Spencer felt both freeing and terrifying.

Spencer's expression softened even further, a gentle understanding coloring his features. "Y/N, I’ve been trying to ask you out for two weeks," he confessed. His chuckle was light, trying to ease the tension.

Spencer's revelation brought a mix of relief and amusement. "Really? I had no idea you were trying," you replied, a smile breaking across your face, reflecting both the surprise and joy of the moment.

He nodded, a bit of sheepishness showing through his usual composed demeanor. "Yes, it turns out I'm not as skilled in expressing personal interest as I am with criminal profiles," he admitted, his light laughter mingling with yours.

The air between you felt lighter, a shared understanding dawning that, despite the initial miscommunications, there was a genuine and mutual interest. "Well, I'm glad you kept trying," you said, your tone sincere. "And I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it sooner. I guess I was just scared to get my hopes up."

Spencer reached across the small space between you, his hand hesitating just a moment before gently taking yours. "No more missed signals, okay? Let's promise to be more straightforward with each other," he suggested, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in agreement, feeling a warmth spread through you at the contact. "It's a deal," you responded, your heart feeling both settled and exhilarated by the new promise laid between you.

“So... in honor of being straightforward…” Spencer began, his voice soft but steady, a shy smile playing on his lips. He stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours, a quiet vulnerability in his gaze. Gently, he took both of your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart raced, the moment feeling both tender and surreal. The way he held your hands, the genuine care in his voice—it was everything you'd hoped for, wrapped in Spencer’s uniquely thoughtful way. You felt yourself nod before you even spoke, your breath catching slightly. “Yes,” you whispered, smiling softly, your eyes never leaving his.

Spencer’s smile deepened with relief and excitement. Slowly, he leaned in, his movements deliberate and gentle, giving you every moment to close the gap as well. When your lips finally met, it was soft, sweet, and full of the promise that had been building between you for so long. The world seemed to pause, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, intimate moment, finally aligned in your shared feelings.

When you pulled back, there was a brief silence before you both laughed lightly, the tension melting away completely. "That was… nice," Spencer said, his voice low, his smile radiating warmth. 

"Yeah, it really was," you agreed, still feeling the butterflies in your chest as you held onto his hands just a little tighter. 

“Oh, and for the record,” Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your reaction, “I don’t like Elle—romantically, of course. She’s my best friend.”

Your face flushed with sudden embarrassment, realizing he'd caught on to your earlier assumptions. “Oh, I—well, uh...” you stammered, struggling to find the right words.

Spencer's smile remained soft and reassuring. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he said warmly, squeezing your hands gently. “Elle is super gay, not sure how you missed that, and... I really like you.”

His words, so genuine and direct, melted away the last bit of tension you’d been holding onto. You laughed lightly, the awkwardness dissolving into relief. “Well, that’s good to know,” you said with a grin, finally allowing yourself to fully relax into the moment.

Spencer's grin mirrored yours as he added, “I just wanted to clear that up. No more misunderstandings.” His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of unspoken feelings now out in the open. 

“No more misunderstandings,” you agreed, feeling the warmth of his words and the certainty that everything between you was finally where it should be.

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

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[fbfh]

we all know leo is probs a switch. but how do u think he would he do with sub reader??

YO. rip all of us because SHAKING SQUAKING WRITHING MOANING.

Leo with a subby s/o is like an unexpected paradise for him. he literally is such a simp. he's such a munch that his brain short circuits around you. he would let you toss him around like a rag doll. but when he finally shoots his shot and makes a move on you, the moment he sees your eyes go all fuzzy and your brain melt when he touches your face with his big warm hands that smell like metal and firewood??? when he watches your eyes flutter shut and you let out this soft little sigh???? Leo goes fucking ballistic. he can't believe it. he cannot believe that the gorgeous breathtaking angel on earth he's been heartsick over is sighing because he touched your face. he needs a minute to recover from that. then he gets curious. he starts teasing you a little, he starts making eyes at you and watching you flush and get all nervous. he starts touching you casually, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your waist or your thigh, he starts playing with the waistband of your shorts to see how you react. and every single time it's better than anything he could have possibly concocted in his brilliant little mind. when he kisses you he has to hold you so you don't fall over. tbh it just makes him want to kiss you more. anytime he tries to ask you why you get all dizzy and fuzzy when he kisses you or touches you, tries to work out why your brain melts for him the same way he tries to work out problems in his engineering designs. he tries to figure out the way your pretty mind works, what makes you tick, what it is that makes your cheeks flush and gets you flustered like you do. but every time he does, he's already been kissing you and touching you and paying so much rapt attention to you that you can't form a coherent thought, much less express one. that's when it clicks. that's when he realizes that he's the thing that makes you like this. when I tell you this realization makes him burst into flames it's not an exaggeration. he did not think he could get anymore into you, but here Leo finds himself, pinning you against walls and touching and kissing you all slow, teasing you with his hands and his quippy little comments muttered into your ear more into you than he's ever been. he can't keep his hands off you after that and you don't want him to. by now you know that he knows the power he has over you. and he's still so tender and emotionally intimate and soft and playful with you. and GOD does it drive you wild. he fucks you slow and soft, drawing out orgasm after orgasm from you, knowing just what to do, and he kisses you all over until you feel like you can't breathe. he's so warm, so attentive, and he cannot shut up. he talks you through every single one. every. single. one. he teases you and praises you and gets you so wound up for him, he bites your ear and sucks hickeys into your neck and encourages you to make those pretty noises for him, to drag your nails down his back and pull his hair. and it's bliss. there are no words. and yet, just like it always does with Leo, somehow things get better. after you're both so fucked out that he's been shooting blanks, when you finally collapse into each others arms, you cling to him so tight. you bury your face in his neck and wrap your arms around him. you wish you could crawl into his skin. you breathe in his scent, listen to his blood thrumming through his body and Leo realizes that no matter what you are not going to get tired of him. you actually just like him so much that it's never going to be enough to satisfy you. and he pulls you close in his buff arms and rubs your back and kisses your head. he plays with your hair or taps little morse code messages into your skin, he talks to you, he hums songs, singing pretty spanish lyrics under his breath. and he can tell just by looking at you that you've never felt more at peace. you feel safe with him. you want him. and he is never ever going to disappoint.

[forthegoob]

The background we have on Luke so far : (Based on my - not so good - memory, wiki and the board in s17x09)

Raised in Bronx.

Twelve years in catholic school.

He served in the 75th Ranger Regiment in Iraq. (Emily seems concerned when he said it to her. There was a scandal, but I didn't dig. And they didn't neither.). Discharge.

Father served in US army (that why he joined US army himself). Grandmother and mother have strong personality (according to him. So, he is used to strong female representation. We're talking to you Penelope.)

worked in the fugitive task force before he joined the BAU.

The first one who need to have a training to fully join the BAU (Special Agent to SSA, I guess ?). And the first one temporary demoted.

He knows English, Spanish, ASL, Latin and Morse code.

Brilliant at geo-profiling. (The wiki notice : skills in animal training ? French wiki says he trains dogs for combat ?).

He is a terrible cook. (from his friend Phil. Friend he lost in a terrible way.)

He adopt Roxy, a Belgian shepherd, to helps him returning in civilian life. (He feeds her better than he feeds himself btw)

Walks Roxy before sunrise.

He is allergic to cats.

One relationship known with Lisa Douglas. (But he was clearly already into Penelope at the time.). They break up (and the reason is not so clear.)

Have a house with garden and a second floor. (Poorly decorated before Lisa moves in. Does he still have Penelope's masterpiece ?)

Had a terrible date with Penelope.

But loves Penelope.

He plays video games and flight simulator.

Into action and war movies (I bet he can quote them by heart, nerd.)

Parades around in towel after shower (if they can prove that to us, to be sure about that piece of info... It's really important to us).

SIX SEASONS. SIX. AND THAT ALL WE HAVE.

Oh sorry, I forget : he made lasagna once.

[skelnexswriting]

No Words Needed

➪ | Pairing: | Konig x reader

➪ | Warnings: | Mostly fluff, Gn! reader, Y/n used, code name mute, blood/violence mentioned.

➪ | Summary: | Konig constantly worried for his mute loved one. He always worried they'd be in trouble and not be able to call for help. Well his brilliant thinking was able to come up with a solution and boy was he glad he did.

➪ | A/n: | This was requested anonymously. I hope they and everyone enjoys this story! (feel free to send any request you may have!!)

—

Communication during missions could be difficult. Anything could go wrong that made communication between the team impossible. However, it was even harder when one team member couldn't communicate.

That one team member was Mute..

There has been times that Mute has wanted to say something, but just couldn't bring themself to say it. The constant insecurities lingered in the back of their head..so they decided to stay quiet.

Konig didn't like the idea of this though. He had always tried talking to Mute about this and listed all the things that could go wrong one day. What if one day they were in trouble and couldn't say anything. How would he know? How could he keep them safe?

He had tried coming up with different ideas that could signal to him or the team whether they were safe or not. It took a while before he finally came up with an efficient solution.

Konig had found his solution when watching a movie. He wasn't trying at that moment but was thankful when the idea came to mind. In the film, he noticed when they were using morse code the machine made a beeping sound and that got Konig thinking.

A beeping sound..that was it! What if Y/n could use beeps to communicate with their team?! Of course they wouldn't be doing full on morse code but they could set a certain amount of beeps to let the team know of Mute's staus.

Konig decided to discuss his discovery with both price and Y/n as Price was their team's captain and Y/n was.. well the person who'd be using the system. He pulled them both into a debriefing room and went on a rant about his discovery. If Price hadn't told him to slow down, no one would have understood what the poor boy was trying to sa.

"What if Mute used beeps as a way of communicating?! One beep for safe, two for safe but hostiles are near, and three beeps for In danger."

Mute agreed to the idea, liking that they could communicate with their team without having to actually say anything. Price decided that they could give the system a try.

The team got Mute a radio that had a custom button in order for them to do the beeps. Making sure they tested it out before going on missions, double checking that the button actually works and that the team can hear it.

And well the radio worked! Mute's teams could hear the beeps meaning that Mute could communicate with them. Konig was more than happy that his idea worked. Now he would be sure that Y/n was safer and had the ability to reach out for help if they needed it.

But he could only hope that the three beeps wouldn't be used often..

...

Konig was informed that his team, Kortac, would be joining Mute's team, task force 141. He was happy to hear that he would be working with his partner, although he knows to not let it distract him. They would be dealing with a hostage bomb situation.

Konig could tell from the debriefing that it wasn't going to be an easy mission. This hostile group was big and had lots of resources. They'd be going to a facility with lots of buildings. It was going to be hard to tell which building the hostage was in.

Once they headed out on the helicopter he couldn't help the bad feeling that was lingering around him. Y/n reassured him that the teams would be fine and that they'd get through this mission. But he didn't like that y/n was going to be far from both teams, with nothing but them and their sniper.

…

Something didn’t sit right with Konig from the start. Everything about this mission just seemed off. When they first arrived it seemed like the place was abandoned..but now. It was swarming with enemies.

Bullets flying in all directions, accompanied with flashes anf grenades. It was pure chaos. They were definitely out numbered. The longer they were there the more konig grew worried.

He didn’t know how many more people he could take out before more came. Everyone was yelling callouts through the comms but there was one person he hadn’t heard from..Y/n. “Mute whats your status?!”

Only silence responded back. Konig waited to hear any beeps but none came. Too many scenarios were going through his head. Had they been captured or injured.. Konig decided to ask the others. “Had anyone heard from Mute?”

And much to Konig’s dislike he only received no as an answer. Konig couldn’t leave his spot, he was surrounded. How could he check up on them.. Konig frantically looked around for any sign of the silent sniper. But that’s when he heard it..

Three beeps.

As if those three beeps flipped a switch in Konig’s brain, his body went on autopilot. Konig ran to Y/n without another thought.

He didn’t care that he was leaving his position. He didn’t know what was happening but all he knew was that he was going to get to Mute.

The closer he got the more he could hear. Two people were struggling, Fighting. He already knew it was going to Mute and a hostile, but he could only hope that mute was the one winning.

Konig picked up his pace again, trying his hardest to reach Mute as fast as he could. But then he heard a gut wrenching scream. This was a scream that made one's blood run cold while their heart stopped beating. Konig started running, he needed to get to y/n.

Once he finally reached them, there Mute was pressing down a wound on their stomach while the enemy laid motionless at their side.

"I got them Konig.." Mutes voice was low, he'd only barely heard what they said. But the only thing he could focus on was the fact they were losing a lot of blood.

He rushed to their side, applying more pressure to the wound, making Y/n wince. Konig comforted mute, "I know Liebling you're so good. We're gonna get you some help, ok? Just keep those pretty eyes open for me yeah?"

Konig already called for the medics, now all he had to do was keep his beloved awake to ensure their chances of living were much higher. Whenever he'd notice their eyes starting to shut, he'd make them tell him something. But that only worked for a little while, slowly Mute grew more and more tired. The idea of sleep sounded like heaven to the soldier.

Mute didn't even realized they'd shut their eyes, their eyelids were just top heavy to keep fighting for them to stay open. The world around them was slowly going dark.

"Y/n!"

...

When Mute was out, Konig couldn't help but freak out. He had tried everything to keep them awake. To keep them safe but he failed. He was grateful for the medics to get there so quickly. He couldn't do anything but watch as they took Y/n farther away from him.

He only felt like he could relax again once he got the news that Y/n was alive and stable. They were safe and that was the only thing that mattered to him. No words were needed. He'd always come to save the one he loved.

His mute.

[singledarkshade]

Missing People

Part Four

(Part One, Part Two and Part Three)

Author’s Note – This the final chapter, hope you enjoy.

Daniel stood, looking into the glass coffin that held his wife’s body. Staring at her and trying to remain focussed. It had been such a long time, including death and ascension since he’d seen her in more than just the one photograph he had or his rapidly fading dreams.

He felt a twinge in his shoulder, followed by another and another making him frown in thought.

“You know,” Ilana said softly in his ear, appearing at his side, “There is a way for you to survive. Worship her, lead her followers, and she shall have a place for you at her side.”

Daniel turned to her, “You think I will help the thing that took my wife from me? You really don’t know me at all.”

“You would rather throw away your life?” Ilana laughed in disbelief, “Instead of being the consort of a Goddess.”

Daniel shook his head, “I would be capitulating to the thing that stole my wife’s life, that stole our lives together.” He looked at her, his eyes darkening as he stated icily, “If Ammonet wakes up, I will kill her.”

“You think that you will have a chance to do anything?” Ilana asked amused, “If you do not join of your own free will, then you shall become one of the slaves.”

“If you’re thinking that you or she can use any of the hypno-dust stuff on me,” Daniel noted, “Don’t bother, I’ve been dosed with every kind there is. It doesn’t work on me anymore.”

Ilana frowned slightly letting Daniel know she hadn’t expected his answer.

“So,” Daniel said, knowing he needed to buy some time, “How did you end up on Earth? Because you didn’t come through the Stargate.”

“I did,” she smirked at him, “But not the one you use.”

“I’m guessing through the second gate when Russia had it,” Daniel grimaced.

Ilana smirked, “They were not as diligent with their security as they thought they were. I was able to come through, move body and bring my Goddess here. I then moved to one of the delegates during the negotiations and returned here with them.”

“That’s how you knew I died,” Daniel stated, “You were part of what became the IOA.”

“I knew I could build the worshippers for my queen until the time came for her to return if you were no longer there, as others were not as likely to put together the pieces,” Ilana stated.

Daniel folded his arms, “And when you realised, I was at the lecture, that I was still alive you were sure I would be able to get you access to a sarcophagus. Right?”

“You know that I don’t need you,” Ilana said, “I can take you over and get access to all you know.”

“Except the Asgard gave us the ability to ensure no Goa’uld can take any member of the SGC over,” Daniel lied.

Ilana laughed, “You are a fool.”

Daniel licked his lips, “Actually, that would be you.” He pressed his hand on the glass between him and his wife before turning and walking to the other side of the room, “Did you know that every member of the SGC who goes offworld or works on a ship has a tracker implanted so that they can be located no matter where they are?”

Ilana frowned.

“From your look, I’m guessing no,” Daniel said, “And the brilliant people I work with, not only found me, but let me know they’re on their way.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Ilana snapped, “Because I crushed your earpiece and even if you had a second one this place is protected from signals.”

“True,” Daniel replied, “But presumably only from signals that can be detected by Earth technology, maybe Gould. Not Asgard or Ancient.”

Ilana frowned uncertainly.

“Someone has sent a morse code signal through my tracker and luckily,” Daniel grinned, “It’s one of the languages I know.”

He ducked as the door exploded off its hinges and an SG team ran in, their weapons aimed at Ilana. Behind them Sam and Pete entered, both with weapons ready. Daniel nodded to them before he moved quickly to stop any of the soldiers disturbing the coffin.

“Be careful,” he said, “Sam, you need to see this.”

Confused Sam, with Pete, walked over to the glass box and looked inside.

“Holy Hannah,” Sam cried, “Sha’re.”

Pete stared at the woman in the box for a moment before stating, “Should I ask or pretend I saw absolutely nothing.”

“I’d appreciate the second,” Daniel stated softly.

Pete let out a sigh and offered his hand to Daniel, who shook it quickly before he turned to Sam, “Thanks for your help in locating our missing person, and several others. We may need to contact the SGC for help deprogramming them, and I think you guys should get any classified material out of here while I deal with the less classified stuff.”

Sam smiled at him, “Let us know if you need anything else for this. It was good to see you.”

He smiled as she gave him a quick hug, “You too.”

~

Sam could see Daniel was holding on by a thread at the moment when they beamed up to the Daedalus, but she knew until he was alone, he wouldn’t break.

“Did it work?” Rodney’s voice made them turn to see him walking towards him, “I wasn’t sure if the signal would be detectable through the tracker.”

“It worked, though took me a second to get it was a message,” Daniel replied softly.

“Why are you still here?” Sam demanded, “Aren’t you meant to be visiting your sister?”

Rodney shrugged, “Wanted to check we got him back before I left. It would annoy me otherwise.”

Sam chuckled, “I believe that and will tell Sheppard when he asks that was the reason.”

Rolling his eyes, Rodney glanced at the glass coffin Daniel was standing beside, “Is that…”

Sam gave a soft shake of her head, cutting him off before she turned to her friend, “Daniel, you need to get the infirmary.”

He grimaced before nodding, “Don’t remove her from this until I’m there. If she is going to die again, I need to be with her.”

“I promise,” Sam whispered, she was about to hug him, but his slight shift backwards stopped her, “Rodney, can you send him to the SGC?”

Silently Rodney activated the transport leaving them alone with the clear box that held Daniel’s wife.

“I hate he has to go through this again,” Sam sighed.

Rodney cleared his throat to get her attention and noted, “We know the Goa’uld steal their tech, and this looks a bit like the ancient stasis pods. After we found the older version of Elizabeth, Radek and I did some research on them. Before we just take her out, can I have a look to see what it’s doing to her?”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, “Just don’t disconnect her until Daniel is here.”

“I won’t.”

                             *********************************************

Jack could hear voices getting more excited as he walked towards the lab in the SGC where Carter and McKay had summoned him to. He found the two of them discussing something passing a tablet between them.

Jack coughed letting them know he was there.

“Sir,” Carter said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

He nodded softly before moving to the long glass coffin that was sitting in the centre of the room. Looking down he saw the beautiful young woman who had started a rebellion against the god her people had worshipped for thousands of years and saved his life. Who had loved and been loved by his best friend. Who’d been dead for several years and yet looked as though she was only sleeping.

“We think we can wake her up,” McKay broke through his thoughts.

Jack stared at him, “What?”

“Rodney studied the stasis chambers in Atlantis,” Carter explained, “This appears to be similar to that as well as the sarcophagus. From what we can tell, without opening it, is since she’s been inside her wounds have been healed. If we’re right and they have, then it’s possible that her brain functions were reactivated as well just as the sarcophagus would do. It’s different technology, we think an earlier model which is why it’s both clear and didn’t just heal her completely.”

Jack opened his mouth for a moment before closing it. Part of him knew he shouldn’t agree without Daniel’s say so. Technically Daniel was her next of kin and should be the one making these decisions, but Jack couldn’t give his friend false hope.

Finally, he nodded, “Okay, open it and see if you can revive her. But if it doesn’t work, we make no mention of what we attempted to Daniel. Ever. Got it?”

They both nodded, “Got it.”

~

After calling the infirmary for an update on Daniel, Jack returned to the lab where McKay and Carter were working, both looking intent on whatever they were doing on opposite sides of the room.

“Well?” Jack asked, making them turn to him.

“We’re about to open it,” Sam said, “Once we do, it will let Dr Taggart assess if we’re right about her injuries. If we are then we’ll transfer her into the Asgard pod we brought down, then we’ll activate the Asgard regeneration systems and hopefully…”

Jack nodded when she trailed off, “Okay, let’s see what happens.”

Rodney moved to the controls at the side of the coffin, tablet in one hand as he checked the readings. He glanced up at Sam, and asked, “Are you ready?”

“Do it,” she told him.

Taking a breath, Rodney deactivated the stasis field and allowed the lid to open. He stepped back allowing Dr Taggart to come in and review the status of her patient.

Jack watched, holding his breath praying for a good outcome.

“Well,” Rodney asked.

Taggart nodded, “All her injuries have been healed.”

“I’m detecting brainwaves,” Rodney called.

“Whose is it though?” Sam noted, “Because when she died there would have been two.”

“Are you sensing any Goa’uld?” Jack asked,

Sam shook her head, “No, but the chamber could be masking it.”

“Only one way to know,” Rodney stated, “We wake her up.”

Jack grimaced, “Is there no other way to find out?”

Sam shook her head, “Afraid not.”

With a grimace, Jack moved to the locker on the wall and pulled out an intar, “Just in case.”

“Okay,” Rodney took a deep breath, “Let’s do this. Activating the regeneration sequence.”

Silence filled the room, the only sound the slight hum from the regenerator and Jack focussed on the face of the woman they were hoping would waken. He watched seeing her suddenly take in a deep breath, and her face scrunch as she was pulled back to consciousness.

“It worked,” Sam said softly amazement filling her voice.

“But who’s waking up?” Rodney asked

Jack moved to Sha’re’s side, his right hand holding the gun at his side, ready to fire if he had to.

The young woman opened her eyes, darting around, her breaths coming in short gasps. Jack moved into her view, seeing confusion but slight relief in her eyes,

“O…O…O’Neill,” she croaked.

Smiling that it was definitely his friend’s wife, Jack passed the weapon to Sam and caught Sha’re’s hand.

“You’re okay,” he soothed, taking the cup Taggart handed him, “Here, drink this.”

She allowed him to place the straw in her mouth and drank the water.

“Thank you,” she whispered, when she finished.

Jack grinned, “It’s so good to see you. I want you to relax, okay. I know you’re confused and probably a little scared but you’re safe here. I promise.”

“Dan’iel?” she whispered.

“He’s fine,” Jack told her, seeing her relax at those words, “He’s just being checked out by the doctor after getting himself in some trouble.”

“What?” Sha’re gasped slightly.

“Nothing bad,” Jack assured, “Just Daniel being Daniel. You know what he’s like, but I promise he’s fine.”

Sha’re relaxed, smiling slightly at Jack’s grin before saying, “I am free from my demon.”

Jack stroked her hair comfortingly, “You are.”

She closed her eyes for a moment before looking up at him once more with a smile, “I never dreamed this would be possible.”

“Neither did I.” he told her. He glanced over and saw Dr Taggart coming over with a gurney, “So, this is Dr Taggart. She’s going to take you to our infirmary,” he paused for a moment before explaining, “It’s where our healers look after people who are sick and injured. Or have just come back.”

Sha’re glanced over to where the doctor waited.

“They’ll take care of you,” Jack told her, “And I’ll go round up your wayward husband. Okay?”

Sha’re nodded. Squeezing her hand, Jack stepped back allowing the doctor to move her onto the gurney. Once she was on her way to the infirmary, Jack nodded at Carter and McKay before he left the room, he couldn’t wait to tell his best friend the good news.

                             *********************************************

Daniel stood gripping the edge of his desk, trying to get himself focussed before he returned to the Daedalus. Where he would sit by Sha’re’s side, hold his wife’s hand and watch her die.

For the third time.

He wouldn’t leave her alone at that moment, he would be with her, because it was all he could do now.

He just needed a couple of minutes to get in the right headspace, to be able to focus on being with her as a comforting presence and not screaming at the world how unfair this all was.

“Daniel,” Jack’s voice made him glance back to find his friend standing there.

“I didn’t know if you would be able to come,” Daniel said softly, not moving from his spot knowing Jack would understand why he wasn’t looking at him.

He couldn’t break until after. Jack wouldn’t mind a houseguest for a few days while he got through this. But until it was over, he had to stay focussed.

“I just talked to Carter,” Jack told him.

Daniel nodded, “I just need a few minutes before I let her go again. And I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?”

“That maybe this is a good thing for me,” Daniel continued, “That I’ll be able to move on now, that I’ll have proper closure and be able to find someone new.” He shook his head, “But why do I have to? I’m content with my life and after all this time, I don’t think I could share a home with anyone again.”

“I…”

“You remarried your ex-wife,” Daniel rolled his eyes cutting Jack off, “That doesn’t count.”

“Daniel…”

Shaking his head, Daniel cut his friend off again, “I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me ensure she’s buried with my parents. I can’t take her home this time, so I want her to be with them. Where they can look after one another.”

“Jackson,” Jack snapped, making Daniel turn to him confused, softening his voice Jack stated, “Sha’re’s awake and asking for you.”

Confused, Daniel asked, “What?”

“Carter, McKay and Taggart did a few tests on the coffin thing, it’s a bit like the Ancient stasis pods and has some similar components to the sarcophagus, basically it healed her injuries and she’s been in stasis,” Jack explained, “They used the Asgard regeneration pod to bring her out of stasis.”

Daniel stared at him, trying to find the words but they wouldn’t come.

“I was with her when she woke up,” Jack assured, “She’s a little confused, but she’s fine. I told her I’d come get you while Taggart took her to the infirmary.”

Daniel continued to stare at his friend, absorbing the news. Finally, he ran out the room and down to the infirmary. He skidded to a stop just outside, where he could see inside but he couldn’t be seen and there she was.

Sha’re was sitting listening to the nurse who was taking Sha’re’s blood pressure explain what she was doing. Sha’re looked nervous at the strange place she was in, but she was alive, and Daniel felt tears slip along his cheeks as he stared at her. It had been so long since they’d been together, so long that he’d had a hole in his heart where she should have been.

“She’s real,” Jack said softly from his side, “And needs you as much as you need her.”

He turned to his best friend, “She’s really here?”

Jack nodded.

Wiping his eyes and taking a deep shaking breath, Daniel stepped into the room.

“Dan’iel,” relief filled Sha’re’s voice the moment she saw him.

When he reached the bed, Daniel rested his hand on her cheek and smiled, “I have missed you.”

A brilliant smile touched her lips and Sha’re slid her arms around his neck pulling him to her. Daniel kissed her softly before hugging her, burying his face in her hair and feeling her fingers gently slide through his.

“I miss your long hair,” she whispered.

Daniel chuckled, “I’ll grow it again.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes, “I’ll do anything you want.”

Sighing Sha’re pulled him close once more, “Just don’t let me go.”

“Never again,” he promised.

~

Daniel sat with his arm wrapped around Sha’re who was cuddled against him on the bed of the VIP room he used whenever he stayed on the base. She had been released from the infirmary with orders to see the doctor if she felt even slightly unwell then she was to come back to the infirmary.

Jack, Sam and Teal’c were sitting around the bed, finishing off their drinks from lunch.

“What happened with Ilana and the missing people?” Daniel asked.

“The Tok’ra came and degoulded Ilana,” Jack told him.

“Good,” Sha’re said softly, “How is the host?”

Jack shrugged, “Being looked after. She was infected here on Earth, so had no frame of reference for what happened to her.”

“If possible,” Sha’re said, “I would like to speak with her. I may be able to help.”

Daniel frowned worriedly, “Are you sure?”

“I have been through the same thing,” Sha’re reminded him, “But I have you, she will have no one.”

Pride shone in Daniel’s eyes as he hugged her close before kissing her.

“As for the rest of the missing people,” Sam took over, “They were dosed with Nishta, so we used an electric shock to free them. Pete has managed to get his superiors to agree that they speak to our people about what happened to them. It means we can ensure no information gets out we don’t want people to know. He’s also got a commendation for closing so many cases in one go.”

Jack chuckled, “Nice to know we helped him in his career.”

“Well thanks to him Sha’re’s home,” Daniel noted, smiling as his wife hugged him “So I’m fine with him getting the credit.”

Sam’s phone rang, she frowned confused looking at who was calling, “It’s Rodney.” She moved away slightly before answering it.

Jack turned to the couple sitting on the bed, “I hear you’ve taken a few weeks off.”

“For now,” Daniel said, “But when Sha’re is allowed out from the doctors’ supervision we’re going to travel a little.”

“Travel?” Teal’c asked.

Sha’re smiled, “To see some of the places that Dan’iel told me about.”

“Once we get back,” Daniel said, “I’m stepping down from SG1.”

“You are?” Teal’c and Jack demanded in unison.

Daniel glanced at his wife who smiled at him before he replied, “I’ve so much more to keep me on Earth these days and a life I finally get to have.”

“Do the final two members of SG1 know this yet?” Jack asked amused.

“Rodney,” Sam stated sharply, “Hold on, just let me put you on speaker.”

“Problems, McKay?” Jack demanded.

Irritation filled Rodney’s voice as he asked, “Can you please tell my sister, the reason I was late getting to her house was because I was helping you with a project? And I wasn’t doing anything dangerous or life threatening.”

Jack chuckled, “Mrs Miller?”

“Listening in,” Rodney’s sister Jeannie replied.

“Rodney stuck around to help us,” Jack assured her, “And was not in any situation life threatening. I assure you.”

“See,” the annoyed brother demanded.

They all chuckled and Sam put the phone off speaker to finish the conversation with the other scientist.

“You didn’t answer O’Neill’s question,” Teal’c noted to Daniel.

Daniel shrugged, “I’ll tell them after we get back.”

Sha’re held her husband’s hand and stated, “Right now we wish to be together without any drama or arguing. I know how hard this is for Dan’iel and those he now travels with may take the news badly. We agreed only those who understand without needing a long explanation why he has made this choice will know for now.”

Jack watched the couple before looking at Sam and Teal’c, smiling at how far they’d come since the first day he’d stepped through the Stargate.

“That makes perfect sense,” Jack stated, he raised his mug to her, “Welcome home, Sha’re.”

The others raised their drinks to her and repeated his sentiment.

Daniel smiled at his wife, who smiled back happy to be together and looking forward to their life together.

[regexkind]

You're supposed to whisper the name of The Almighty into the ear of any children you help bring into the world. But plants don't have ears, so when I opened my amaryllis bulb for the first time it was in a darkened room with a brilliant screened lantern. I then used it to transmit the divine name in Morse code

[birgittesilverbae]

mary x shannon + sunbeam

The sun is settled low on the horizon, sunbeams aborted by looming buildings, illuminating the street in slices of colour.

In one of the pockets of light, Shannon bleeds.

Mary props herself against the wall next to Shannon, knees pulled up to her chest and boots flat on the flagstones as Shannon's hand tightens around her calf. Her blood pools around them, the sickly sweet iron tang of it pervasive in the still air. It's brilliant red in the sun where arterial blood had gushed forth and almost black where it spreads into the shade. An earplug shines lurid green in the seepage near Mary's boot.

The steady quiet plink of shrapnel working itself free of Shannon's flesh provides a soundtrack to the eerie quiet. Mary gathers the metal in her hands, tries not to think about the heat of Shannon's blood on her hands. She's going to need to dig the backpack fire pump out of the van when Shannon's ready to move, to spray down the area well enough that it's not quite so readily apparent someone tried their best to die here.

The soft shower of metal slows, stops. Mary lays a hand over Shannon's on her calf and gets a series of squeezes in response. The rapidfire group of three, that shorthand for "I love you," and then a second burst, Morse code now, has Mary turning to look at Shannon directly for the first time since Shannon had thrown herself in front of her. She traces her thumb around the shell of Shannon's ear, squeezes back blood.

"Fuck," Shannon slurs, her face crinkling. Repeats it louder, more emphatically. "Fuck." She releases Mary's calf, raises her hand towards Mary's face. "You good?"

Mary bats her hand away, gives her a thumbs up. She shifts easily into sign, now that Shannon's eyes are open again. Stay.

"Not going anywhere," she replies, then winces, rolls something around in her mouth, spits it out. "Buckshot," she groans, and then "got something to tell me?" Her grin is full of blood-streaked teeth.

"Fuck you," Mary chokes out aloud before her hands can form the words. Fuck you. Not funny.

"Beg to differ."

"Maybe I will shoot you," she mutters under her breath. "Serve you fucking right." But she skates the backs of her knuckles across the swoop of Shannon's cheekbone instead. Up?

Shannon nods stiffly and rolls towards Mary, catches a hand on her upraised knee to use as leverage to pull herself to her knees. She sways there for a moment, hand cradling Mary's kneecap, then darts forward to kiss her.

It's chaste, fleeting, and Mary sighs as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She rises, sliding her back up the wall until she's standing, staring down at Shannon where she kneels in a halo of her own blood.

She holds a hand out to her and Shannon takes it, allows herself to be guided to her feet. Mary pulls her into a tight hug, hands cradling her head, her neck, sticky with half-dried blood.

"I need you to stop," she mumbles into Shannon's hair. "I need you to stop. If you die, I think the whole of me will die with you. I need you to stop." But when she pulls back, all she can do is gesture towards the alley the van is tucked in. Time to go home.

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 2) Chapter Ten

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Ten: Forested Sightings

Summary: Sherlock, John, and (Y/N) follow Henry into the woods where he saw the dreadful hound, and Sherlock has a strange experience.

            “Hi,” said Henry, greeting the detectives at the door of his house.

            “Hi,” said John. Sherlock didn’t greet him, but (Y/N) raised a hand. Finally back in their usual sweater, they felt more comfortable.

            “Come in, come in,” said Henry, gesturing to his home.

            (Y/N) and Sherlock walked in, instantly casing the joint while John chatted. Once they were down, they sat down across from Henry with cups of tea. He had contacted them, saying he had more information, so even though it was dark out, they had come.

            “In my dreams, I keep seeing something. It’s-it’s a couple of words. It’s what I keep seeing. ‘Liberty’ and ‘in,’ ” said Henry, and John copied it down onto a notepad.

            “Mean anything to you?” asked John, looking to (Y/N) and Sherlock.

            “ ‘Liberty in death. The only true freedom,’ ” murmured (Y/N). “Isn’t that the expression?” Not really sure if that has anything to do with this, but that’s the first thing I think of.

            “What now, then?” asked Henry.

            “Sherlock’s got a plan,” said John, sounding more confident than he felt.

            “Yes,” assured (Y/N). Pretty sure we’re winging this.

            “Right,” said Henry.

            “We take you back out onto the moor and see if anything attacks you,” said Sherlock matter-of-factly.

            So we’re definitely winging this, thought (Y/N).

            “What?!” cried John.

            “That should bring things to a head,” said Sherlock.

            “At night?! You want me to go out there at night?!” squeaked Henry nervously.

            “That’s your plan?” questioned John. “Brilliant.”

            “Do you have another plan?” asked (Y/N).

            “That’s not a plan,” said John.

            “Listen, if there is a monster out there, John, there’s only one thing to do—find out where it lives,” said Sherlock, smiling with false-confidence at Henry.

l

            In the dead of night, Sherlock, (Y/N), John, and Henry headed out to Dewer’s Hollow. They used flashlights to guide their way along the uneven ground. The darkness of the woods crowded around them. John paused for a moment before turning away from the path.

            “John?” whispered (Y/N).

            “I heard something,” said John.

            (Y/N) turned to follow, but Sherlock reached out for them. “It’s dangerous off the path,” he whispered.

            “I’ll be with John. He has a gun,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            Sherlock didn’t like it, but their logic was sound. “John, watch them.”

            “’Course,” said John, nodding. He’d protect them.

            (Y/N) followed John after the sound he heard. They shone their flashlights around for signs of people, but the only thing that emerged from the bushes was a hooting owl. Likely the source of the sound, John and (Y/N) sighed. It seemed to be a bust until something flashed in (Y/N)’s peripheral vision.

            They turned and saw a light flashing up on the hillside. “John,” they murmured. “Morse code.”

            John followed their gaze and grabbed for his notebook. (Y/N) illuminated the page so he could write.

            “U…M…Q…R…A,” said John as he translated the message. He looked up for more, but that was it. “Umqra. Mean anything to you?”

            “No, doesn’t sound familiar. Might be a code on top of a code, but it could be something else too,” said (Y/N). “We should head back to Sherlock and Henry.”

            John and (Y/N) backtracked to the path they’d been on and continued after Sherlock and Henry. An eerie thrumming sound echoed through the forest.

            “Is that what you heard earlier?” asked (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said John.

            They shone their flashlights in the direction of the sound, and this time they found an abandoned metal contained resting on the ground. Water droplets collecting on the leaves above from the mist were dripping onto it. That was the sound echoing around.

            Weird place to dispose of a container, thought (Y/N). They moved to get a closer look when something dark and large flashed past them and John in a flurry of movement.

            John turned to follow, but an anguished howl pierced the air. (Y/N) and John didn’t have to speak; they instantly ran in the direction of the cry. Another scream pierced the air as they arrived at where Henry and Sherlock were standing by Dewer’s Hollow.

            “Sherlock!” cried (Y/N). “Are you alright?” No response, but he did not sharply.

            “We saw it. We saw it,” mumbled Henry, panicked.

            “What?” asked John.

            Sherlock turned and walked back towards the village. “No. I didn’t see anything.”

            “What? What are you talking about?!” cried Henry.

            “I didn’t. See. Anything,” repeated Sherlock shortly, almost angrily. He sped up, and (Y/N) and John were left to glance at each other questioningly.

            What happened? thought (Y/N).

l

            (Y/N) and John opened the door to Henry’s home and guided him to his bedroom. Well, John did, (Y/N) hung back. There was something so off about his behavior that a primal fear in them was forcing them to stay put and just watch. They had yet to identify precisely what it was this situation reminded them of, but (Y/N) would figure it out. It was important; they knew it.

            “Look, he must have seen it. I saw it—he must have. He must have. I can’t…Why? Why?” rambled Henry nonsensically. “Why would he say that? It-it-it was there. It was.” He was close to tears, and his breath came in short bursts.

            “Sit down, Henry,” said John firmly. “I’m gonna give you something to help you sleep, alright?” He held out a bottle of water.

            Henry smiled. “This is good news, you know. It’s-it’s good. I’m not crazy. There is a hound. There…there is. And Sherlock—he saw it, too. No matter what he said, he saw it.”

l

            At the inn, Sherlock sat in an armchair, staring intently into the fire warming the room. (Y/N) and John sat down across from him as they entered. (Y/N) looked him up and down. There was an agitation to his movements that he usually lacked. Something was off, just like with Henry. (Y/N) didn’t think fear of a hound could do this to Sherlock, but they were have trouble figuring out what it was that was setting their anxiety off at the same time it did so to Sherlock and Henry. There had to be an answer

            “Well, he’s in a pretty bad way. He’s manic, totally convinced there’s some mutant super dog roaming the moors,” said John with a sigh. Sherlock didn’t respond, instead lacing his fingers and staring contemplatively at the fire.

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow. “But there can’t be, can there? Genetic manipulation isn’t at that point, and even if it was, the government wouldn’t let such an experiment just run around like that.” Sherlock still didn’t move.

            “Er, listen,” said John, trying another tactic. “On the moor, (Y/N) and I saw someone signaling with a flashlight. Probably morse, but the letters didn’t make any sense. ‘U, M, Q, R, A.’ Does that mean anything?”

            (Y/N) frowned as Sherlock blinked rapidly and pulled in a sharp breath. Did he figure something out? “Sherlock?”

            “Henry’s right,” said Sherlock shakily.

            “What?” asked John.

            “I saw it too,” he said in a shaky voice.

            Something is really wrong with Sherlock, thought (Y/N).

            “Just…wait a minute. You saw what?” asked John.

            Sherlock’s face was twisted as he looked up at John and (Y/N). “A hound, out there in the Hollow. A gigantic hound,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw tensed. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep tears from his eyes.

            (Y/N) shivered, severely offput by how shaken Sherlock was. “But…that doesn’t make sense. There has to be an explanation.”

            Sherlock shook his head. “Once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains—no matter how improbable—must be true.”

            “What does that mean?” asked John, eyes widening.

            Sherlock picked up his drink, hand shaking. “Look at me. I’m afraid. Always been able to keep myself distant…divorced myself from feelings. But look, you see…body’s betraying me.” He slammed his glass down, and (Y/N) jumped, tensing.

            “Yeah, alright, Sherlock, just…take it easy,” said John, trying to calm him down. “You’ve been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think you’ve gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up.”

            “Worked…up?” Sherlock switched quickly from self-pitying to angry at John.

            (Y/N) glanced warningly at John, but he continued. “It was dark and scary—”

            “Me? There’s nothing wrong with me!” said Sherlock, laughing sarcastically. He began to hyperventilate before groaning and holding his head in his hands.

            “Sherlock…?” asked John hesitantly.

            “There is nothing wrong with me! Do you understand?!” cried Sherlock angrily.

            (Y/N) felt their chest constrict as panic overtook him. “Sherlock…”

            “You want me to prove it, yes?” Sherlock stared savagely at John. “We’re looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that’s your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?” He pointed to a man and woman sitting in the corner of the bar. “How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer’s ‘yes.’ ”

            “Yes?” asked John in confusion.

            “She’s got a West Highland terrier called Whiskey. Not exactly what we’re looking for. Look at the jumper he’s wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he’s uncomfortable in it. Maybe it’s because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it’s a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother’s good books. ‘Why?’ Almost certainly money. He’s treating her to a meal, but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he’s trying to economize on his own food,” said Sherlock, rapidly in a single breath.

            He's right, of course, and I see what he did, but his actions are weird. (Y/N) shivered. I don’t like it…He feels so off…and with how erratic he’s being…he reminds me of Moriarty.

            “Well, maybe he’s just not hungry,” said John.

            Sherlock scoffed. “No, small plate, starter, practically licked clean. She’s nearly finished her pavlova. If she’d treated him, he’d have had as much as he wanted. He’s hungry all night, and not well off, you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes.

            “‘How’d you know she’s his mother?’ Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or elder sister, but mother’s more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive, fish hooks. They’re quite old now, which suggest he’s been unemployed for sometime. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he’s turned to his widowed mother for help.

            “ ‘Widowed?’ Yes, obviously. She’s got a man’s wedding ring on a chain round her neck, clearly her late husband’s and too big for her finger. She’s well dressed, but her jewelry’s cheap. She could afford better, but she’s kept it, it’s sentimental. Now, the tiny little dog hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little too friendly, but no hairs above the knee, suggesting it’s a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is, a West Highland terrier named Whiskey.

            “ ‘How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?’ ‘Cause she was on the same train as us, and I heard her calling it’s name, and that’s not cheating, that’s listening. I use my senses, John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact I’ve never been better, so just leave. Me. Alone.’ ” Sherlock was breathing heavily as he finished, glaring at John.

            “Sherlock…What’s wrong with you?” whispered (Y/N), staring at him.

            “Nothing’s wrong with me!” shouted Sherlock, turning to (Y/N). As soon as they flinched and tensed, Sherlock froze. He took a step back, realizing finally something was wrong. “I…I have to go.”

            John and (Y/N) didn’t move to stop him.

l

            Sherlock ran his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth. Seeing (Y/N) anxious around him had snapped him back. He knew something was wrong with him, then. But he hadn’t necessarily done anything violent or threateningly, but something in his behavior had freaked out (Y/N).

            Oh.

            Sherlock stopped. Erratic behavior, frantic emotions, the agitation, seeing the hound—it all made sense. He was high. Sherlock had been drugged. It explained everything. It even explained (Y/N)’s reaction. They disliked drugs and drug use because of their mother’s death, and even though they’d been young when she died, there was a subconscious awareness and fear surrounding people on drugs. That’s why they’d become anxious around Sherlock.

            His phone buzzed, and he instantly picked it up. He relaxed when he saw it was (Y/N). Clearly, he hadn’t ruined anything between them.

Henry’s therapist is here. Should I interview her? -(Y/N)

Let John. -SH

            Sherlock wanted to text them that he was calming down, that they could come up to the room, but he refrained. He’d let them relax first. (Y/N) would decide when to come up.

           Now what was left was to figure out how he had been drugged. He’d need to investigate further. Sherlock couldn’t tell John or (Y/N) yet, though—John because Sherlock could use him, lightly, as a test subject, and (Y/N) because he couldn’t afford their mind to be blinded by the anxiety surrounding drugs. They hadn’t been affected like him, so they still had a clear mind. Not to mention, he really didn’t want them to be worried about the drugs. Sherlock didn’t want them to be hurt.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

[filmnoirfoundation]

FNF prez Eddie Muller responds to film noir fan questions fielded by the Foundation's Director of Communications Anne Hockens. In this episode, we discuss Lightning Strikes Twice, Woman on the Run, Darwyn Cooke’s comic book adaptations of Richard Stark’s Parker novels, which classic film noirs should be remade, Eddie’s novel The Distance and more. We wind up the show with a discussion of the notorious psychological thriller Who Killed Teddy Bear. On the cat front, we get a rare visit from Tizzy the traveling cat.

Want your question answered in a future episode? We solicit questions from our email subscribers in our monthly newsletters. Sign up for free at filmnoirfoundation.org

Everyone who signs up on our email list and contributes $20 or more to the Film Noir Foundation receives the digital version of NOIR CITY Magazine for a year.

Can’t join us on Thursday? No problem! A recording will be up on our YouTube channel, @NoirCity, on Friday, October 6.

Note: Eddie will not be able to answer questions posted during the livestream nor ones left on our social media accounts

The dialogue of LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE was nuanced, subtle, wicked, I wonder what male author has also sustained that continuous level of repartee? At the amusement park towards the finale of WOMAN ON THE RUN, the life-size Laughing Sally made me think it was San Francisco - am I mistaken?

Sara

Any news of a restoration/screening/Noir Alley showing/home release for CANON CITY (1948)? Morse

Eddie has expressed his affinity for comic books in the past, have either of you read the Darwyn Cooke adaptations of Richard Stark’s Parker books?

Nathanael from New Braunfels, Texas

Would Film Noir have existed if World War II had not?

John

Are there any classical Film Noir movies that might be worth a redo along the lines of NIGHTMARE ALLEY, with the chance of going back to original source material without the production code limitations?

Carlton, Atlanta, Georgia

In WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS Scalise keeps administrating what appears to be a nasal spray, but from my memory of Le Chiffre in James Bond isn’t it likelier that it is Benzedrine he’s inhaling?

Eric

One of my more favorite movies of recent vintage is EMILY THE CRIMINAL.  What do both of you think about the film?  

John - Brooklyn, N.Y.

I recently watched David Lynch's brilliant LOST HIGHWAY for the first time in several years and for the first time the very noir elements really stuck out for me. Is there another neo-noir with such strong sci-fi elements?

Joe on Long Island

My first question is for Eddie.  Do you consider Alfred Hitchcock’s SPELLBOUND and THE PARADINE CASE – both starring your favorite actor, Gregory Peck – to be good representatives of noir films?  

Anne, since you are a big fan of the Golden Era of Radio, were you a fan of the Alan Ladd radio series, BOX 13, and do you think it qualifies as a noir?  

Loren, Chicago

Re THE DISTANCE. Couldn't find any definition for "Swansy hollow punch". Could you elaborate? Did you make up the fighters' names or are they real names pulled from the past Was this your first book-length effort? If not, what was?

Jay and Connie, Ann Arbor, MI

[rainhearted-ramblings]

Stars with Wings

Do you think stars have wings? Because I'm under a sky with only two stars and I could've sworn they moved Like brilliant fireflies fluttering, each twinkle light like the wingbeat of a hummingbird looking for nectar I wonder if stars have flowers They'd be a sight to see Petals of fire and stems of starlight, perhaps? The stars moved again, closer together, or perhaps further away from me? They look so dim, yet they're the brightest things in the sky Stars beat their wings and fly further away into space I wonder what they see I wonder where they'll be Maybe they'll find their way to another sky with lots of flowers And brighten the day of someone so far away Someone just like me Looking at the sky and wondering if the stars have wings Maybe they're looking at the sun as we speak And seeing it fly across the great blue Clouds cover the second star and the lone Star I first saw remains Dim yet bright, day on night It's flashing in a strange pattern Maybe it's trying to say hi Or maybe it's about to say bye as the clouds gather If only I knew Morse code But I don't so I simply see the star flap its wings Clouds blanket the sky as starlight rains down onto the Earth A billion rivers, a million flowers I wonder if more stars will fly here when that happens

But until then I stare at the lone Star in the cloudy sky Flapping its wings and moving further away Leaving us to watch the world go by Waiting for another star to fly back home

[andrewlovely]

The Twelve Are

Simon the Zealot and Drew the First Called squared off in the western sun Simon glared his eyes and spat aside at Madame Sheriff's snotnose son He couldn't recall his dear old friend, but Andrew did suspect, and tilted his head in squinting wolf-grin golden hour "Is that you, you little rascal?" He knew he'd seen him before In some distant future Over two thousand years ago

Dust winds blew their tumbleweeds all the way back to Rome And kicked up that blood-red authority, a billowing legionnaire's cape Brutal and ruthless with no hesitation Exacting, precise, and unforgiving Devoid of sentiment and equanimous in its duty

The perfect image of sanity Clean, calm, and composed As voices cried out from the wilderness Dirty, rank, and starved in tattered rags The aircraft carriers are pristine grey As Man hangs in the balance

James brought candles for all the children While Peter skulked in angry, smoldering with fury James brought laughter to the mourning three As Peter stalked outside, wanting for sword to avenge his sinking guilt Denied three times, but now he would set things right Took a smoke break with Michael, who warned him against the folly of retribution "I see you're one of us…" he smirked to the Archangel And puffed his camels at the tourist out of touch A stranger and a foreigner to this land As Man hung in the balance

Man says, "I'll see you soon" on his way out And no one knows who he's talking to "A prison becomes a home if you have the key," said Michael to the Last Man But he was too busy worshipping icons and scouring for snake oils to notice, or ponder the mystery John asked Michael where the Last Man was going Michael replied, "It is not of the present."

The old team is getting back together And old friends walk timorously into a new yesterday (except for James, who saunters in) Unsure of themselves, and skeptical of their every step, hesitant and meandering, They tiptoe to the meeting, and they tread lightly, as would a fox or a lynx, scanning for enemies on all sides They have forgotten the ghost trails they left behind in tomorrow But one by one they find them, On the steps of the church or near the cool-sea waters Where a table was prepared before them in the presence of their enemies, and the future repeated itself into the distant past still being dreamed, By some young poet thirteen years ago, And echoed into the divine providence of a trap sprung lightly and deftly avoided, a wellspring present ever overflowing and running over, creating new realities this ever-instant, branching lateral timelines and foiling the perfect plans of the enemy.

In recurring deja vu, arrested and broken, Like intermittent Morse code pulses, Pinging dotted lines and scattered dashes Then oscillating, at first slowly, so very gently, and so very slowly, so that no perceptible rhythm can be deduced, whooshing, like high speed rail cars passing in the night, or traffic on the crosswalk, then increasing rapidly in frequency, whooshing whooshing whooshing, the pauses blurring into one long steady tone, one constant stream of light, one strong and unbroken signal, radiating warm orange glow and purple and dark night, then black-blue void, and shimmering pink nebulas, and brilliant white light,

The prophecies will coalesce

Tomorrow's past and yesterday's future, One uninterrupted line of Kings and Queens Who have no kingdom but themselves No wealth but wisdom Their treasures unmanifest

Like shards of King Arthur restored And rung like a bell to a singing sword The prophets shall return in all generations Eternity brought back to her rightful Home On this dear, sweet, and holy Earth At the end of time Her Majesty returned

The Twelve approach each other cautiously They don't recognize the sound of their own names, or recall the visage of their own faces Yet they stumble onto each other, timidly and awkwardly, from all the four corners of the Earth, and from every flashing aspect of refracted time They can scarcely make out their features in the darkness In this shadowy realm of Gethsemane Where Man hangs in the balance - Morpheus

[castlebyersafterdark]

please elaborate on your fav episodes and be as specific as you enjoy to be! its nice to chat about the show in depth haha.

i dont rank episodes but certain moments stick out for sure. the finale of holly jolly will always be one of my favourite moments not just in ST but in film and television full stop. when they pulled will from the water with that music and the way it all plays out, it was the moment i realised this show was something special not just to me but as a piece of art. that sequence is miles above the show somehow, it's desperately emotional. ofc the fruition of byler would elevate it even further, but even before i knew of byler, the specific line 'and we kissed - - like nothing could fall' always did something to me. its the melody and cadence of the song, combined with the way mike hugs his mom - to me it's a perfect moment of storytelling. even before i knew of romantic undertones, this was the scene that showed us how mike was not a normal boy in how he reacted, and that his and will's friendship was no ordinary one.

i'd like to hear your specific moments you love.

The Disappearance of Will Byers

The way it introduces the Party playing around the table is perfect. That hooked me, it was brilliant. The atmosphere of Mike's basement felt so lived and familiar, these boys were so charming. I was hooked by the nostalgia! Every little way it introduces characters and pulls us into the mystery was top tier the whole episode. Felt like a lived in town. Genuinely a perfect first episode of a series. My most rewatched episode.

Holly Jolly

Joyce's downward spiral (even though she's correct) is heartbreaking and fascinating. And the first time we see the colorful Christmas lights haphazardly strung all over the Byers old run down house and that gentle, tinkling music plays as Joyce walks around in wonder and hope? I think this is my favorite moment of the entire series. Iconic. Gives me chills. And then? The discovery of the body at the quarry and the Party's reaction, Mike's reaction - it's something else entirely. That sequence is on such an elevated emotional level. The song use. When it cuts from Mike hugging Karen to Joyce having thrown herself into Jonathan's arms, silhouetted by car headlights and just barely you can glimpse and hear the cop cars? Gosh, I can't breathe.

Trick or Treat Freak

The Ghostbusters costumes segments with the Party are just so good!! My favorite parts of the show are the 4 boys together and we don't actually get that as often as I wish. So these parts are special. The moms taking the photos, showing up to school, going trick or treating. I also love the party the older teens go to - soooo classic 80s movie vibes! And of course... the Will in the UD scene, Mike pulling him out, and CRAZY TOGETHER. So much in this episode. So important.

The Mindflayer

I find this to be a pretty solid episode. The escape from the lab is the right amount of tension. Will succumbed to possession and the scene where he's tied up and they're recounting memories, "best thing I've ever done" - the way Will looks here still gets me, because we can see that he's trapped in there, he's in there and is straining to react but gosh you're pained because that boy can't do anything but keep trying to fight it. THE MORSE CODE. Will Byers you are insane.

The Bite

This one is very special to me because of Robin's coming out scene. I remember watching it for the first time and feeling this icy sensation, because it's quite similar to my own first time coming out to a friend. It was both tough to watch and emotionally cathartic. When she whispers Steve's name hoping he gets it and won't hate her... my heart rips in two, but then when they start singing the song in the dumb voices together it knits back so fast I get lightheaded. It was perfect. That's why she's my girl. I rarely talk about Robin but I relate to Robin so so so much.

Also, this episode gave us Lucas and Will in the funniest moment in the show - the cereal aisle. You know what part. They're so stupid and I love them for it.

Dear Billy

Solid, solid episode. The Max storyline, of course!! But very underrated is ROBIN and Nancy at the hospital which I love, especially when Robin dramatically bullshits her way into the Victor Creel meeting, I love her so much. I cite this when people say they "dumbed" Robin down or changed her - no, she's brilliant. But also a mess. That's her charm!!

But also - remembering how you felt the first time you watched Max running through the mindscape to that version of Running Up That Hill and then the scene softens and pans out after the fall???? Holy shit. There's always something so powerful about a character who decides to fight and chooses to save themself. "I'm still here." Ahhh.

There's a lot of little moments I could list and I think I probably will in the near future - I just skimmed the episodes I listed from the other ask. What are yall's favorite episodes and why, or just moments that really hit? 😁

[lepidopterasinhatchetfield]

Queen and her subjects arrive back in the garden with news.

"We've found more humans who understand us. Today we were trapped inside of a building and a human opened it for us."

Queen refused to learn morse code, and because of that subject a and subject b never learned either. The two subjects were practically as mute as the dumb bugs, but they had a thread of understanding that kept them here. "I was brilliant and we used the letters from their paperwork to communicate."

Pollen welcomed them back, Queen's mate and one of the few monarchs that stayed here during the migration. "You are brilliant, and we'll mark that human as a possible connection."

Queen knew she was amazing, but she did try, try to be humble around her fellow butterflies and moths. "Thank you Pollen, we are very tired." If she said the subjects were tired, they were tired.

The subjects settled down to eat and talked among themselves. No one else could understand them, but Queen seemed to well enough.

[alfieshaw]

Barcodes

Barcodes are a systematic arrangement of lines, typically in the form of parallel lines of varying widths and spacings, used to represent data in a machine-readable format. They encode information through a combination of bars and spaces, which can be read by a barcode scanner or reader.

The idea of encoding information into a pattern of lines can be traced back to some of the earliest forms of writing and communication. Hieroglyphics in ancient Egypt and Morse code in the 19th century are examples of encoding information through lines and dots.

They exemplify the power of encoding information into lines, making them readily accessible to machines and devices for data retrieval and management.

LTD, B.T. (n.d.). The Barcode turns 70 year old ! What an amazing and brilliant invention, an invention since 7th October 1952, has completely revolutionised our lifes in every aspect. [online] Barcode Technologies LTD. Available at: https://www.barcode-uk.com/insight/the-barcode-turns-70-year-old-what-an-amazing-and-brilliant-invention-an-invention-since-7th-october-1952-has-completely-revolutionised-our-lifes-in-every-aspect-/news%2Ctechnology [Accessed 22 Oct. 2023].

Quarantine Barcodes

by Retoka

'During these quarantine days, caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, we took a breath and decided to make a series of posters inspired by the most common words and hashtags related to this problem.'

We have drawn the lines with barcodes of the words themselves.

These codes have been generated following the standard Code-39 ASCII.

www.behance.net. (n.d.). Behance. [online] Available at: https://www.behance.net/gallery/94208091/QUARANTINE-BARCODES [Accessed 22 Oct. 2023].

[kirkoid-music]

Small Stuff (Morse Mix) - August 2013

I was messing around on the internet one evening, and I found a text-to-morse code generator. You could vary the pitch and speed of the generated output, so I wondered if I could use it in music. Then the idea blossomed. What if I used morse code instead of a human voice to 'sing' the lyrics of a track? I got to work.

Morse code is quite lengthy for even a small piece of text, so I found a short poem by a poet called Rob Walker and typed it into the morse code generator. Sounded great.

I then gathered some samples into a basic backing track and set the morse code generator to match the speed and tone. I added the outputted morse code sound file to the mix and the track was complete.

After I finished, I immediately planned a follow-up. What is there was more than one line of morse code? What if I made 'backing vocals' that harmonised with the main 'vocals'? I would definitely have to revisit this idea, little did I know just how long that would take!

When I posted my track on ccMixter, Rob was initially mystified as to where his lyrics were, he couldn't hear them hiding in plain hearing.

Hi Kirk. I can’t actually hear any evidence of my small stuff on here. Am I missing something? Cheers, Rob.

Hi Rob, I translated your words into morse code, a little experiment that may lead on to other things.

Brilliant! Now I understand… It ties in with the whole theme of minimalism and the one syllable words. Thanks.

The Poem:

u don’t need them long words. u can say all you need.

shun big books. keep it all not hard.

the real stuff is all small

eat drink sleep fuck crap piss.

run from brain guys. don't read street signs.

take the bus. watch the box.

there’s zip you can’t say small.

mum dad

born

eat

shit

die.

[adracat]

G-Witch episode 12 thoughts

Well, that was a wild ride. I think we all know the big moment that everyone is talking about but before we sprint to the finish in angst-ville, let's enjoy the relatively lighter bits-- just joking there aren't any.

Seeing the witches go all out with their permit scoring really highlights how unique Aerial and Suletta are. Still, Sophie is able to beat the GUND-format antidote by sheer force of will. And unlike Suletta it takes a huge toll. This fight was incredibly one-sided on behalf of DoF which I think we all suspected. Witches aren't feared for nothing.

In the middle of all this chaos, Miorine is shielded from debris by Delling. His talk to her and mention of Mio's mother was enlightening. They way he speaks of her makes me wonder if she was a soldier too, possibly killed by a Gundam? Whatever the truth, it's unmistakable how much he cares for Mio's well-being. He might have a shit way of showing it in a non-deadly situation, but it's better than Fail Mother of the year, Prospera.

Before we open that masked can of worms, here's a brief mention to Nika. We see her save herself and the rest of Earth House by signaling to Norea's gundam. Lucky for her, she was recognized as an ally of the 'Prince'. Not so luckily, her little morse code session was seen. Oops.

I'd like to see her collusion and secrets come to light early in the next cour. She's a good egg, just trapped between her past ties on earth and the friends she made at military school. Will it end terribly? I'm anxious to find out.

Pour one out for Bob by the way. I won't mourn Jeturk, but it's scarred his son for life. Imagine changing to become a better man all because someone was nice to you, but whoops. Patricide. That's a twist I didn't forsee but it piques my intrigue. Will Bob return to Guel with a massive revenge scheme as CEO of Jeturk industries?

But speaking of parents and children...

Posting this entire scene because I wanted to showcase, beginning to end, how informative this is for what follows next. We have Suletta fearful for her life, shocked by seeing her mother kill. She's completely shaken, yet calms once Prospera repeats the philosophy we've been hearing the whole show. The light shines upon Prospera as she offers her hand, appearing angelic in spite of the killing. You can see the moment Suletta internalizes this. Killing for those you love is just; fighting gains you two, running would mean losing someone. She moves forward and pilots Aerial as Prospera demands. It's a subtle manipulation, and from Suletta's wide-eyed stare (similar to another episode where she's desperate to believe her mother) she accepts this new reality.

Small aside, I like this brief confirmation Aerial can communicate detailed things to Suletta despite only appearing as lights and a whale-like sound to us. Very interesting.

Now onto the penultimate scene.

Messed up and shocking as this is, I found it completely in character. I don't think she's snapped or anything like that, merely accepted her mother is right and killing for another person to survive is an acceptable trade. Her unnatural cheer in this scene is unnerving, but I read this as her desperately trying to keep herself and Miorine calm; she's acting the same as always to downplay the gruesome reality.

So she does what she has always done and mimics Prospera, positioning herself in the same way. All the while she's oblivious to how horrifying her behavior comes across. Yet it doesn't escape us, nor poor Mio. I would not be surprised if Prospera used that phrase as a means of conditioning Suletta to do what she asks.

From groom to murderer in the span of one episode and cour 😔 Suletta now persona non grata. It's cruel to leave us here until April but also brilliant ngl. I can't wait to see how our fav couple navigates this conflict. All is fair in love and war.

I do love this shot though, bookends are my weakness.