#did i proof read or edit this?

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

[ltlemon]

thinking about how if tsubomi accepted mob’s confession for whatever reason, how utterly Shit it would go. the world’s most autistic aroace boy and the school popular girl are like so doomed to crash and burn and it would be Incredibly fun to watch.

first off, mob really doesn’t have a crush on her.

he knows her from kindergarten and they’ve rarely spoken since-they might’ve counted as friends before, but now they’re much closer to just acquaintances. fact is, he doesn’t know her. he’s interpreting these feelings of adoration, nostalgia, and a desire to reconnect, as what’s entailed for a romantic crush. he likes a girl, she’s pretty and popular, so this must mean he likes her.

tsubomi is the shape of a person. she’s an ideal to adore, a fantasy to think towards, but she’s not a part of a real grounded relationship, nor is he ever setting her up to be.

don’t get me wrong here! he definitely likes her well enough, and maybe thinks she’s beautiful, in an aesthetic sense, but he doesn’t really ever involve himself in those feelings. they’re very analytical, they’re treated not as reasons he loves her, but just as…things. when mezato asked him “what exactly do you like about her”, he seemed genuinely shocked, like he’d never really thought about it. he stood there and tried to think about something that he loved about specifically her, some reason or some sign that he was in love, and there was nothing. all he could say was that she respected him.

so anyways. what i’m getting to with this, is that i honestly don’t think mob planned any further ahead than just…”confess”.

she’s the ideal crush, this far away idea of the girl he should like, and she doesn’t exist outside of that. since there isn’t anything deeper, if she accepted him…??? GOD.

i actually don’t think he’d know where to go from there. he didn’t plan that far ahead, even though she was the goal, this carrot on a stick the whole time.

there’d be so many weird attempts at dates and outings, they’d do “couple things” but neither really knows the other enough to know what they like, or how to talk to each other, especially with the sudden change in relationship.

mob never thought to bring her flowers or a gift until teru told him that was a thing couples usually do. so following that, he’d probably mainly instigate things in that same sort of “well, this is what couples do” sort of way. adhering to the societal expectations of how you should act when you get the girl. their relationship would be empty and forced, dragging each other along… and i just think it’s interesting because. that would be the standard ending right? boy gets a crush, works really hard on himself, musters up the courage to confess, then they get together and it’s great and everyone’s happy forever!!!

but one of the main messages of the whole show is literally “we’re all living our own lives, and we have to be ourselves despite it all.”, and having the classic guy meets girl ending specifically and loudly not click with who mob is as a person is a Very Interesting Choice. dating tsubomi, while also obviously not what she would ever choose, would also crash and burn for mob. him ending up with her would mean not being himself, and that’s basically textual. mob’s happy ending is literally accepting his emotions and walking away smiling at rejection. if that’s not so incredibly aroace of him i don’t know what is. 🎉

[obstinatecondolement]

I was already very happy with the little pocket sized Filofax I bought on eBay to hopefully save me money in the long term on expensive dated planners, since the refills are cheap as chips once the upfront cost of the binder itself is taken care of, and it'll last me for potentially decades since I got a genuine leather one, but I have recently realised I don't even need to buy the official inserts because there are any amount of free printable ones online AND ALSO I can just make my own on Affinity Publisher to look however I want and then print them out for the price of printer paper and toner.

[martyr-eater]

I was going through an old grave disorder era interview and found this charming bit about dave's garden 🌿

[theflyingfeeling]

hiiiiiiii I just wrote this little Olli/Allu thingie for fun, I hope you'll have fun reading it 💖 it's soft with a pinch of pining (please act surprised), and somewhat based on a couple of conversations that have been had here in the Olli/Allu Delulu Land, some of which in my/other people's asks, others in DMs 💕

~

Olli and Aleksi had touched each other in many ways before they first kissed each other. Perhaps that was exactly what messed with Olli's head the most.

They had hugged and wrapped their arms around the other's shoulder, like any good friends did. They had exchanged a massage or two in the tour bus or backstage, and each time had left Olli a little dry-mouthed somehow, to hear Aleksi's satisfied moans or to have Aleksi's fingers graze over his shoulder blades all too gently for it to be called a massage. It's nothing, Olli would say to himself in those moments. I've got this under control.

(Already then he had known it wasn't quite how things were.)

There had been the subtle touches of hands during signing sessions and the light nudges of feet under the table at band dinners that had lived inside Olli's head for days after. When either of them was tired enough, they'd lie their head on the other's shoulder or lap and have their hair played with, absentmindedly, at least in Olli's case, until he'd notice Aleksi was staring up at him with what Olli identified as curiosity or questioning, as if Olli would somehow be able to explain how or why his fingers found it so easy to twirl Aleksi's locks around them. It just happened, every heart-shattering time, and Olli had no means to do anything about it.

Amazingly, some of the touches they had shared had been far too intimate for just two guys who enjoyed each other's company but had never even kissed each other before, like that time a hotel room play-wrestle had turned into grinding against each other until they had messed their pants, or when they had been bored out of their minds on a day off and helped each other release some built-up steam under their duvet (they hadn't been bothered to notify the hotel reception for having given them only one). Yet another time they had schemed against Niko in a game of hotel room roulette and celebrated their victory by sucking each other's brains off the following night, just for the heck of it, because it was fun and they both felt like it (And Other Lies Olli Told Himself at Night When He Couldn't Sleep).

They hadn't talked about it afterwards, because why would they have? Hey mate, 'twas fun having you in my mouth last night, I hope that didn't awaken anything in you, haha, anyway, whatcha wanna have for lunch today? In Olli's defence, it hadn't awaken anything in him, per se; that had happened a long time ago already, by touches that had been far more innocent and far more devastating.

Still, ever since that night, Olli had been wondering what it might feel like to have Aleksi's tongue elsewhere on him. The thought alone sent shivers through his entire body.

"You're not getting sick again, are you?" Niko asked him, and it was then Olli realised he had got too lost in his thoughts once again. "Better not make a habit out of it, catching something whenever we're touring the States."

"Nah, it's just..." Olli lost his line of thought when his eyes met Aleksi's across the lounge. The flash of his sympathetic smile before he turned back to his phone was enough to empty Olli's mind again. "I'm not getting sick. No need to worry. It's just... chilly here."

Also, I was imagining our DJ's tongue on my shoulder bone, on my navel, on my own tongue, but let's not get into too much detail about that.

"It's 27 fucking degrees outside..." Niko mumbled, but left it at that. Olli almost felt like kissing the man on the mouth for deciding not to bother him about it further; Niko, if anyone, would've fished the truth out of him eventually.

Olli resumed his useless daydreams about Aleksi's tongue, his eyes locked on Aleksi's brown flannel jacket thrown on the lounge sofa instead of the man himself, in fear of being too obvious, or maybe in fear of Aleksi looking back at him, whichever would be the worst option. At the same time, he craved for Aleksi's attention and for his gaze on him as much as he ached for Aleksi's touch, even though the last one had taken place just moments ago when Aleksi had lightly braced his hand on Olli's knee when he had passed him on his way to the back of the bus, where Olli had been losing himself in a variety of imaginary scenarios involving himself, Aleksi, and their hands all over each other's bodies. Yes, just a small touch from him, and Olli had been going dizzy with the need for more.

Maybe he was getting sick after all.

Olli closed his eyes and tried to think of something else for change, but Aleksi's mere presence was like a siren's song that kept calling him, and helplessly he dived into another reverie that would take him back to the night they had tested out a bath bomb a fan had given to Aleksi and ended up exchanging footjobs in the hotel room bath, or that morning after they had all spent the night in some Central European train station because their flight had been cancelled, and Olli had been so tired he hadn't noticed a pickpocket taking his phone out of his hand, but he had sensed Aleksi's calm breathing against his neck as they had leaned against each other on the dirty station floor. The combination of his favourite Aleksi memories and the gentle sway of the moving tour bus was like a rocking cradle lulling Olli until his muscles relaxed and his head felt heavy.

He felt a sudden warmth next to him, but by then he was too far gone to see what it was, and instead laid his head on something soft and familiar. If falling asleep came easy to him, so did clearing his mind off anything except for Aleksi and his soft fingers caressing his cheek, which was the last thought he had before he fell asleep.

~

When he next opened his eyes, he realised why Aleksi's touches had felt so real in his dream.

"Hey," Aleksi whispered at him, his face hovering above Olli's. "Slept well?"

Olli had, though his eyelids still weighed a ton each. He wondered how long he had been sleeping; the dim-lit lounge offered no clues of the passage of time.

"The others went to bed already."

"Ah."

"How's your neck? I... tried to make you more comfortable."

"Oh."

Olli hated how his sleepy brain only provided him with single-syllable answers.

"Yeah. 'Cause... that one time you got a killer headache from sleeping on the sofa without a pillow, remember?"

"Mmmh." Olli did, but he had not expected Aleksi to keep books about his physical troubles. "I mean. Thanks."

He sat up, his neck feeling no more stiff than it already had been from hours of sitting in a moving vehicle.

"Feeling alright?"

Physically, Olli may have been, but Aleksi's shoulder was pressed against his and his nose inches away from Olli's face and his poor heart skipping beats left and right at the sight of Aleksi's eyes up so close all of a sudden, so his honest answer to the question would be a matter of perspective entirely.

"Yeah, I'm good."

As good as I possibly could, after having dreamt about the warmth of your skin under my fingertips and lips, only to wake up to find your fingertips on me instead and your mouth but a spur of the moment away from mine.

"Wanna keep me company a little while? I'm not tired at all yet."

There's no force in the world that could rip me from next to you right now.

"I know I should try at least, so I'd maybe be a little less jetlagged tomorrow, but..."

And deprive me of the chance to see you adorably sleepy again, resting your chin on my shoulder and pulling me to your bunk for an early afternoon nap? No chance in hell.

"Sure," he heard himself say anyway, because of course he would.

"It's good to be back in the States again, isn't it?"

"It is," Olli just nodded, letting Aleksi do most of the speaking.

"Lots of great memories, eh?"

Tons, actually, most of them somehow related to you.

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, sometimes it's rough, of course, but it's all worth it, in the end?"

"Wouldn't change a day," Olli said, although it was only half the truth; he'd never give up the thrill of playing at new locations to rooms full of people who were about to have experience the best show of their lives, but he could've lived without the sleepless nights he had spent thinking back to Aleksi's smile over his Mountain Dew or how he could swear Aleksi had stopped to stare at Olli's mouth a little too many times to not make Olli think.

(Thinking was the worst.)

"Yeah, me neither," Aleksi agreed. His eyes did it again: glancing at Olli's lips once, twice, perhaps a third time if Olli hadn't averted his own gaze.

The silence that then followed had Olli both hoping and fearing Aleksi would mercilessly cut their late-night talk short and suggest they go to bed after all, but he was soon to find out it was in vain.

"Except for maybe that day Porko pissed himself. The bus reeked for days afterwards, eugh."

It was a small miracle no one in the bunk section began to grunt in displeasure when Olli snorted loudly at Aleksi's anecdote that hit Olli like a lightning out of the blue West Coast sky and bended him over in giggles, bonking his head on Aleksi's shoulder where it rested as his shoulders shook and his chest vibrated with laughter. He felt Aleksi's hand on his back, just staying there for some unknown purpose, but Olli was too tired and too giggly to preoccupy himself with it.

Perhaps he should have, because when he lifted his head, there was no escape: Aleksi's hand was now in the back of his neck, and Olli's nose touching the side of Aleksi's. His lungs forgot how to breathe, because his brain was no longer giving orders to the rest of his body, except for his eyes that kept travelling between Aleksi's eyes and his red, parted lips.

Their lips touched, but it wasn't quite a kiss yet; however, it was enough for Olli to understand having Aleksi's lips wrapped around his erection once upon a wild night was merely a foretaste, an omen of something that would turn his entire world upside down, or at least that's what happened to all his internal organs when their mouths finally melted against each other and Olli melted in Aleksi's gentle embrace. Their first kiss was a tender one, shy even, so light that it was barely even there, and Olli kept holding his breath in fear of scaring it away if he did something has reckless as using the bodily functions that kept him alive. The next one was a little more experimental, a shade more daring, with Aleksi's bottom lip captured by Olli. That was when Olli noticed Aleksi was probably as frightened as he was, sucking in a trembling breath when Olli let go of him.

Olli brought his hand to the side of Aleksi's neck. He felt the man's pulse under his palm, pounding as vigorously as Olli's own.

"Aleksi..." he begun, without the faintest idea of what he even wanted to say. That seemed to be just enough, however, to make Aleksi sigh before pulling Olli back in, bringing their mouth against one another, tasting him, taking him.

Olli had had Aleksi touching him in almost every way he could imagine, but he had a feeling this one might just become his favourite.

[knickknacksandallthat]

Chapter 12

“Hello, hon,” Abby smiles at him in the hallway when they arrive.  She tips her head toward the room and tells him, “He’s been waiting for you.” Kevin swallows.  “Go on,” Jeremy gently encourages him.  “We’ll join you in a few minutes.” Kevin nods.  Then he slowly walks down the hall and through the open doorway.  The moment he steps into the room, Wymack’s head turns toward him on the pillow.  “There he is.” The gruff sound of his voice instantly makes Kevin’s throat swell.  “Hey, Dad,” he chokes out, voice wobbling. 

...and that's a wrap.

[skelkankaos]

whether you wanna play myhouse.wad or just watch a video of it I do recommend going in as blindly as possible but that being said HUGE content warning for unreality. and if there's anything else that you're concerned might be in the mod that makes you uncomfortable you're welcome to ask me because I'm kind of obsessed with it right now and just want as many people as possible to enjoy it

[idontwantrobyntodie]

i will be running away to the woods now

[peaceliliesandtea]

24.02.23 // stopped by a nice coffee shop that a friend recommended. the carrot cake was divine! one of the things i enjoy the most about reading the neapolitan novels is the intertextuality. lenù's knowledge of theoretical texts at seventeen is so far above what my knowledge and understanding used to be. in the past, that might have made me feel inadequate. i find it comforting knowing that whilst i didn't study rousseau until i was 23, the attention i paid to his work then was far more than anything seventeen-year-old me would have given it. what i'm saying here is that whilst, on the one hand, you could let yourself feel incompetent for not knowing about things —whether it be novels, terms, individuals (i could go on and on)— sooner, on the other, instead you could focus on how that doesn't matter because you're learning it now.

[adel-memes]

Can I request number 6, ‘you’re making that face again…’ with Blue and/or Vio? I absolutely adore that duo, and feel they could use more bonding. I mean, if that’s alright with you, first and foremost!

The blorbos >:) ofc it's gonna be Blue AND Vio >:) though I forgot the prompt list so idk if line continued or it's hurt comfort or not but here's fluff and crack

If it is one thing to note about them is that Blue has a very specific relationship with each hero and friend.

Red and Blue are known to be glued together, wherever one goes the other is right behind him. Green and Blue are known to complete each other in a way that they are each other's strength. Even Blue and Shadow are known for something and it's their constant nagging and roughhousing.

Though Vio and Blue?

They're known for being odd. Their opinions and personalities clash in a way where neither was wrong for it. Which.. makes their agreements a horrifying experience. Blue is known to go and be around crowds, something about hating being alone despite how he barely ever talks in these gatherings. Vio could notice his awkwardness from a mile away and he scoffs every time.

If Blue was right beside the captain in a gathering with well-known nobles, Vio would be outside away from the noise. If Blue was up early in the morning doing the dishes for some damn reason, Vio would be just heading to bed after setting a mug in the sink. He enjoys cleaning, and Vio enjoys not taking responsibility- jokes. That was a joke. He is the most accountable person ever and owns up to it-

Anyway.

Point is.. they clash and balance depending on the time of day. It's either their greatest strength or worst weakness. That was their reputation and Blue liked it! He takes joy in knowing they oppose one another! It makes things interesting!

Which is why they must never ever EVER find out about this little hangout of theirs. They won't ever hear the end of it!

The hangout? Their little bookclub that consists of two individuals and an occasional cat?

Now look.. for Blue's sake, he does not want anyone outside these walls of the study room to hear about his ramblings about why these books about science and history are the best ever (except for Vio) because apparently he doesn't want to acknowledge he did a complete 180 as soon as he found a good book.

For Vio though? He doesn't really care, he would invite them but he knows Blue would die and never show up again and since he enjoys his reactions and debates, he just.. teases that he would invite someone. Just to scare him and watch him throw the book and try to scramble away. It's funny to him.

Which is what makes these hangout way way funnier to him.

"Ah.. Blue?" he starts, almost innocently except for the smug smile on his face.

Blue, who has a scowl on his face so stretched that it was almost uncanny, snaps a glare at him. Eyes blazing with fury along with his red face as he holds the book Vio chosen for him, one that is very on the nose on its genre based on the cover.

"What." he manages to get out through his clenched jaw that Vio just grins at.

Now look.. here is the issue.

Vio takes Blue to the library to return and buy books with, and on the way they agreed on the types. Blue will get one of those 'horrible annoying excuse of a romance story' that Vio recommends and Vio will pick up one of his 'oh so great scientific ground breaking discovery-' and long rambles of why his genre is better (it is not but whatever)

Except here is the thing. Vio didn't mention to him that he wants to read the book at the library until they found both books and he knows Blue won't back out at all due to his prideful front and refusal to get 'scared' of a 'stupid book with stupid people who don't even have good chemistry!' His excuse for their change of plans was that he missed the library and wanted to later wander but knew Blue was busy so it's best to have their mini meet up there.

His actual reason is because he got bored and wanted to mess with Blue's fear of being perceived but that's besides the case-

"You did not read a single page." he points out bluntly. To which Blue scoffs as he reveals the book and shows him the back cover that he was staring at. "There! That's one! I did!" he hisses in a hushed voice.

For his sake, Vio did take them to a corner spot that had few seats at. Away from the entry and people just so Blue doesn't actually run off.

Vio flips through his book, something he would be seen with and not questioned for. He had a reputation apparently that since he was 'quieter' he was one of the 'smarter' ones and while yes he won't deny it. People are mistaking his ability to adapt as being smart. The truth is that he is absolutely horrible at these things, it's his quick thinking that saves him.

But he won't let them know that. He won't mind fueling that deception and pretend. It's not really his fault if people assume things about him! He just.. doesn't confirm it! That's all!

Anyway, this makes his situation easier. Boring? Yes. But much easier since it fuels the lie that he is smart because who else would bother read about science and all?

But back to the main point! These books are boring! There's no drama! No horrible one-liners! Nothing entertaining!

Which was why he decided for a change and got Blue to stay at the library with him. If he's gonna die from boredom, might as well create some entertainment!

That's why he sits criss-crossed on the floor just in front of Blue, leaning against a shelf. Blue did almost go for the seat before seeing Vio choose the floor and joined, his excuse was that so Vio didn't feel alone though Vio noted the subtle ear twitch. Telltale signs of his attempts at lying.

Though when Blue shifted and sat with his knees to his chest and his body hunched in an uncomfortable reading position. Vio knew then that it is an attempt to hide as if he wasn't already off.

"Come on. It isn't that bad." he snickers and Blue rolls his eyes and read the synopsis in a horrified voice. His voice shaking as he gripped the book that he is almost worried he would rip it apart.

The story isn't horrible! It's a tale of a florist and a baker who had a meet-cute and filled to the brim cheesy flirts and many many puns that Vio rolled his eyes at.

He chose it for two reasons. He knows every cheesy scene will kill Blue and make him shrivel up and die right in front of him.

And the second reason is that he likes puns. His obnoxiously loud laugh at Green's puns had to be real. No one would fake laugh like that. Especially Blue.

"Vio I hate them."

"Come on it isn't that bad."

It was.

"Her name is Rosie. She's a florist. Are you kidding me."

"... Your point?" Vio asks innocently and Blue groans and tries to kick him. Vio snickers at the reaction.

Eventually, he does hear a page flip. He glances up from his book to see Blue's face, an expression so forced so strained it had to be painful as he read the chapter title.

His gaze narrows as he glances up with an unamused look.

"What?" he asks, trying to bite back his laugh.

"... the chapter title is a flower pun."

All of them were.

"I know. Funny right?" he asks on purpose, observing him.

"... No it isn't."

His ear twitchs, Vio noticed it twitch. He got what he wanted. Blue continued to read and every now and then, he would glance up to see an exaggerated look on the other. A reaction that had to be purposefully exaggerated.

Though he notices two things. One is where he does look in pain as if it pains him to read the fake dating trope with the baker and florist.

Though the other reaction.. he couldn't place his finger on it. There was a twitch on his lips, a scowl that was forced but not in a dramatic way. He pairs it with the skimming eyes and flipping of pages.

Then it slows and he would stare at it dumbfounded and reread it (he assumes?)

"Ah.. Blue?"

Blue, who seemed too focused, snaps back to reality with eyes wide like a deer in surprise. "Uh yeah? You found it interesting?" he asks instantly, referring to the science book. Ah. He forgot he had to read too... oops?

"Yes. I wanted to ask if you're alright?" he asks, this time genuinely curious over Blue's thoughts than to tease him.

"Yes I'm okay. I'm annoyed though."

His ear doesn't twitch. Hm.

"Why?"

".. I'll tell you about it later." Blue mutters before going back to reading. Vio assumes it was just to get it done.

A couple of glances again and the expression was back. This time Vio didn't wait as he points it out. "You're making that face again." he says, bluntly.

Blue jumped, closing the book though his finger was still in it as he snaps to look at him. "What face?!" he hisses.

Vio stares for a minute before spelling it out. "You're clearly having strong opinions. It isn't like you to stay quiet and not give me your thoughts on it." he says.

"Maybe cause I don't want to be heard?!"

"Unlikely. It never stopped your complaining." he retorts.

Then for a long staring match, Blue sighs in defeat as he shuffled to sit right next to him and whispers. "It's stupid. It's cute. I hate them. They're funny. Why are they taking so long to be together. Their pining is painful and I'm eating it up. Can you shut up and let me finish and pretend this never happened?!" he hisses into his ear before going back to reading.

Vio, smug as ever, grins and goes back to reading his book. "Glad you agree." he whispers back, "... But I won't let you pretend it never happened." he jokes, just to watch Blue react violently with the book getting thrown and him getting up with a 'IM LEAVING' followed by Vio running after him with a laugh, leaving the two books aside just to chase his friend.

Of course he would let him pretend this never happened.

Mostly.

Not really.

[autistic-autumn]

I began my tenure of Overseer of Gerbilgod in the year 155.

1st Granite, Early Spring, 155

I was immediately struck with the horrors! A vicious weretortoise bolting directly for the fortress entrance. My first order of business would be to take down this beast.

Just kidding! I have no clue what to do, nor do I care. Plenty of tasty dogs out there and a useless angry fisherdwarf.

As it turns out the weretortoise was almost completely useless in battle and was able to be taken out by a bunch of useless civilians with only one casualty. However it seems a bunch of dwarves were in combat and now may be infect with the curse.

Now of course I could simply expel these dwarves, but I have a more interesting idea in mind.

There was a few poets and others who I have no control over who seem to have got infected so just kind of hoping they leave.

While I prepare that there was a number of general fortress administrative businesses to attend to.

There was an unfortunate number of petitions to get through. All rejected because they sucked, except of the petition for a temple by the Order of Embracing.

With that all sorted I decided to unpause again (still 1st granite) and long behold!

Wonderful! the perfect time for a siege.

2nd Granite, Early Spring, 155

I don't know how burrows work in the new version. Those idiots better know how to move.

The goblins all seem well armored and skilled, although only totaling about 12 goblins.

3rd Granite, Early Spring, 155

Idiot fishdwarves server as good cannon fodder. We are creatures of earth and stone! Those who dare defile the good dwarven name with fishing get what they deserve.

Decided to just set the military out against them because it's a smaller siege than I anticipated and they probably will be fine.

the trap hall does seem to be doing a good job at trapping everyone but the goblins (heard rumors from a previous overseer that the hall is hostile to local dwarves).

I think it's caught a few dogs in the system.

4th Granite, Early Spring, 155

Siege seems to have been broken with only a few causalities. I think that's a success at least.

Back to the fortress business and there is a temple to build. This of course is The Order of Embracing who worship Ano, the god of fertility and love.

There is of course the rather aptly shape 'Giant Cock room', although that is currently filled with animals.

In the end I decided to go for a simply heart design on the floor below the star temple. While I'm sure there are many hilarious phallic objects I could have made for the temple of fertility and love I thought this was a better option.

There seem to be a few injured dwarves, worryingly some of the sacrifices dwarves who fought the weretortoise. Hopefully they recover before the next full moon.

26th Granite, Early Spring, 255

So it turns out there were two travellers that was infected with the weretortoise curse. Nothing I can really do at the point.

Also one of the dwarves from the hospital who was yet to leave to the sacrifice room ended up turning as well.

I'm going to remove all visitors from the fort in an attempt to remove anyone who may be infected.

Results: All the were-tortoises were quickly killed, although I am yet to check if there were any infections. I have carefully sifted through the combat logs to either expel any children bitten and get the remaining bitten dwarves into the sacrifice squad.

There is also now a tavern brawl occurring.

23rd Slate, Mid Spring, 155

Turns out there are 11 weretortoises in the fort. My best efforts to contain them all seem to have failed. The sacrafice chamber has four of them contained but preparations for the ritual are not going well.

A collection of the weretortoises. A lot seem to be in places that can be locked down and contained.

most seem to have been killed successfully however I am also too lazy to attempt to look through all the combat logs to find all instances of citizens being bitten, particularly given it proved to be unsuccessful with both one and four weretortoises.

I have simply decided to expel anyone in the vicinity of a weretortoise corpse that is also injured. I was hoping to do more interesting stuff involving sacraficing the were tortoises to forgotten beast although it seems futile. I would rather keep the fortress intact for now.

With everyone injured out of the fortress the current population is 107. Any visitors who were injured I was unable to do anything for. I was also unable to evict one of the monster hunters and the mayor. They shall be added to the sacrifice collection.

Currently anyone else injured has been locked in the hospital with the assumption that they are a weretortoise.

14th Felsite, Late Spring, 155

A new forgotten beast has appeared in the third cavern layer. I believe it is stuck in the caverns for now so hopefully it'll be fine to ignore.

There also seems to be a bit of a rotting corpse problem right now.

21st Felsite, Late Spring, 155

The weretortoise problem seems to be resolving itself, only two wild weretortoises and I have continues to expel all those that are injured. I shall continue to keep the hospital as a quarantine zone for the time being.

One of the sacrafices also went up against the burninator, although seems to have been quickly killed off.

One of the exiles seems to have returned as well. They were killed by a bunch of war dogs and attack no citizens.

Current population: 96

9th Hematite, Early Summer, 155

you know what I thought would be a great and awesome idea. Capturing the Burninator. Unfortunately all the dwarves are completely useless and didn't bother flicking the lever (probably all too busy being "upset") when needed. Anyways, this should all go well.

11th Hematite, Early Summer 155

Good news everybody!!

flying web beast!

It was even kind enough to let itself in on the first cavern layer (Right where it has access to the surface). However, if the dwarves can figure out how levers work we should be fine.

12th Hematite, Early Summer, 155

Praise be! A caravan of human traders have arrived!

also the minotaur was in a wooden cage and is running towards the tavern.

15th Hematite, Early Summer, 155

The beast has been successfully trapped, albeit in completely the wrong location. Don't know what happened to the minotaur but probably dead because people aren't complaining about it.

Unfortunately the caverns are now blocked off with an even more dangerous beast so can't even reclaim those. (There of course is a fun solution to his problem)

Current population: 51

16th Malachite, Mid Summer, 155

Metal deadly dust forgotten beast! This is the third forgotten beast this year, it seems perhaps the world doesn't want us in the caverns.

19th Malachite, Mid Summer, 155

It is too my horror to discover the third caverns were in fact, not sealed.

1st Galena, Late Summer, 155

I believe I have captured the beast in the room opposite the other beast. I have simply locked the doors, likely ineffective solution but no dwarves are available to place walls in.

Currently there are 11 dwarves remaining: 1 Weretortoise mayor, 9 badly wounded, unconscious, rotting dwarfs and a monster hunter who is convinced he is socializing in the oily chestnuts.

6th Galena, Late Summer, 155

I have moved all the dwarves to the old hospital, where the weretortoise mayor was residing. I have him recovering the patients and attempting to treat them. However with the curse I am going to have to prepare carefully and isolate him away during the full moon.

15th Limestone, Early Autumn, 155

The Dwarven merchants have arrived, although I have no plans to trade. The populations is down to seven citizens now, three of whom can't do labour as they aren't full citizens. The weretortoise mayor and another dwarf are currently attempting to keep the remaining hospitalized dwarves alive. Unfortunately a few have died of starvation or dehydration as there is enough dwarves to tend to everyones wounds.

20th Limestone, Early Autumn, 155

None of the remain dwarves in the hospital survived. The fortress currently contains two functional dwarves and three monster hunters.

21st Sandstone, Mid Autumn, 155

A new hope appears on the horizon. With that the population is up to 13. Hopefully the fort can begin to be tidied up.

28th Sandstone, Mid Autumn, 155

Fourth Forgotten Beast for the year. This one has direct access to the fortress through the third cavern layer, although there appears to be a door I might be able to seal to keep it out.

23rd Opal, Mid Winter, 155

Progress in the fortress has been much slower. The population is at 20, however many of these are poets, musicians and monster hunters who have requested residency. As such there is only a small number of dwarves able to do labour.

Saying that the temple from earlier in the year has been finished, and while anyone part of the Order of Embracing has since left the fortress, it still stands as a grand temple for all those that wish to worship Amo.

1st Obsidian, Late Winter, 155

Concerning news. One of the new migrants must have been a vampire and has killed the manager, one of the only two surviving dwarfs from from the earlier attacks. I has a strong suspicion on a dwarf named Domas given they have a vast amount of skills, including one or two legendary skills. They also happen to be almost 160 years old. Given there are many possible suspects I had decided to just simply evict this guy rather than try conduct and investigation.

11th Obsidian, Late Winter, 155

A final Forgotten Beast appears before the end of the year. Makes a total of five in one year. This one is stuck in the third cavern layer where it can fight it out with the eight-legged Dimetrodon.

28th Obsidian, Later Winter, 155

That concludes my time as overseer of Gerbilgod. Overall probably a general success with only minor grievances throughout. I am somewhat confused as to how powerful doors appear to be in the steam release. I recall a locked not being enough to stop a werecreature or forgotten beast but they seem to be enough in this version.

The fortress still needs tidying and the catacombs need to be expanded. The mayor is still the Werebeast and remains his office during the full moons to avoid him attacking anyone. There is still the webbed beast in the cavern layer that could theocratically be captured but I didn't dare attempt. The lever and bridge system is place from the attempts to capture the Burninator.

As for naming my dwarf I chose the new fortress manager. She also happens to be the bookkeeper, broker and chief medical dwarf as there weren't many with any skills in the fortress.

[sualne]

been looking for jobs for three years and in the past two months ish I’ve gotten for the first time my first job interview and for a different job my first job essay.

(I did have an actual job as a comic colorist for like six months but nobody around me considered it a Real Job so I feel like I just never have a job even though I very much did.)

and each time, during the interview where I know realise I was kind of being explained the whole time why I wouldn’t get the job and at the end of the essay(which might not be the right word, like a day we’re your try out the job to see if you can do it) one of the reasons given why I wouldn’t be taken it was ‘we need people who can smile’.

(there were actual argument like being ‘too introverted’ and ‘not dynamic enough’. That last one is funny because i had another ‘almost pass out for no reasons’ moment right for break time (genuinely perfect timing) during the essay and while I was cold sweating and going blind on the bathroom floor I realised, if anyone ever know I have health issues I will never get a job. So being told I wasn’t dynamic enough a fourty something minutes later was straight up comedic).

Back to the smiling, my entire life since I was a literal baby I’ve been told I wasn’t expressing the Right Way. ‘If you feel a specific way you Have to emote this specific way, act this specific way and not do anything else otherwise you’re not actually feeling what you say you’re feeling, it means you’re actually lying, faking it or don’t know what you’re actually feeling because your not showing it the Right Way’ and obviously I’ve dismissed this my entire life because I was sure it was obvious and everyone knew that everyone exist differently and people don’t act the same. I kind of assume everyone that ever bothered me about it was some flavor of 1 having a day and decided to being weird about it to me or anyone else that was also not existing the correct way. 2 just kind of an asshole and therefor they’re opinion didn’t matter. 3 just kind of strange about thing and so be it, ´not my problem tho’ I thought.

But seeing how it’s an actual argument people have use twice now to refuse me a job I’m kind of being thinking, it might actually, for real, be a thing people actually are worried about, actually. Which is wild, but also make sense because people have very much for my whole life, to me and to a ton of strangers, made comments on folks not existing the proper way. Like how in horror someone being slightly off, slightly wrong, a little bit not how it usual should be is the trope of all time. And I love this trope, someone who’s voice is in differed from how they mouth work, someone who seems to not walk directly on the floor but just slightly above it. It’s fun and interesting.

Anyway, real life stuff, being told I’m not smiling enough is wild, like yeah I don’t smile much at all that’s a fact, and both job were about interacting with people and every time you go to a restaurant you’ll ear someone saying out of nowhere mean thing about people who work there. Insane things like ‘I don’t like the way they’re standing’ and over analysing someone expression and body languages when they’re literally just doing their job.

This post is kind of a mess but I had a point which was, I don’t understand people and why are so many mean for no reasons but I wanted it to sound less like a kid complaining and be more verbose about it.

And (this isn’t over yet) I did force myself to smile, like I very much did, I tried my best to be as pleasant and polite as possible. And being told again, this isn’t enough, just suck. Like I have to mask and hide and deal with so much I kind of expected that of all thing I was allowed to keep my face. Like people have bothered me about it my entire life and I’ve dismissed it my entire life because it just did not make sense and I couldn’t make it make sense(still can’t). But I’m genuinely at lost at what to do about it, if apparently I also have to change my face to get a job, that I need to exist the correct way in order to have the damn job in order to exist at all is all so, Not Good.

[harperaccount]

Headcanons people!

[mangoisms]

ok i did it 👍 proofed and ready for posting. now perhaps i can work on rof…

[drowsystarlight]

Greetings! i made something. Spoilers for ZR Season 2, mission 31: Hello. I felt a lot of things and decided to weaponize it for my own catharsis. Okay bye now

[everymlmhybrid]

a wittle scared. gonna pour a glass of wine and take one more Before Pic and then i'm cutting off one giant chunk just so i'm forced to commit instantly