#it's like crossword puzzles but you can make computers do things

[kartoshinki]

I got these apps to learn how to code and so far HTML is actually a lot of fun, am I missing something or do I have a big storm coming

[avis-writeshq]

omg omg please for track four of your event 🙈 we know that sparks fly!reader calls spencer ‘Walter’ but can we get the first time he calls her ‘angel’ please???? 💕💕

l.d.s.k – spencer reid [bonus 'sparks fly' chapter]

summary: in other words, the first time spencer calls you an angel pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff warnings: rated 15+ for general criminal minds violence, canon compliant with s1 e6 ‘L.D.S.K’, a hint of Derek slander oops, not beta read wc: 2.2k a/n: many many apologies for the delay anon! i hope this can live up to your expectations! sparks fly masterlist | event page

“Reid failed his qualification,” Elle tells you as she makes her way into the bullpen looking flawless as ever. 

Her words bring you out of your daily crossword puzzle, your brows furrowing. “He failed?”

“Well, he can re-test in two weeks,” Gideon says dismissively, making his way over to the water dispenser.

Elle shrugs, craning her head to look at him. “They took his gun this morning,” she replies. She looks back over. “Be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle,” you tell her, harshly erasing a wrong answer in your puzzle. “Was that not already obvious?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Elle responds swiftly, her gaze set on Derek’s forehead. 

Derek is quick to raise his hands in surrender, but the glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. You narrow your own just as Spencer comes walking through the glass doors with Gideon following behind him. The young doctor looks dejected as ever, the grip he has on the strap of his bag so tight that his knuckles blanche. 

He slumps down onto his desk beside you, turning the computer on with a scowl. You open your mouth to say something, an attempt of making him feel better, but Derek beats you to it.

“We’re all here for you,” Derek says, noticing the way Spencer avoids his gaze. “I’m serious.”

It starts off well. Spencer finally begrudgingly looks Derek in the eye, an unimpressed look on his face.

“If you ever need anything,” Derek continues, fishing something out of his pocket. You lean over the desk divider to get a better look, but apparently you don’t need to. A shrill whistle sound fills the air, and Morgan snickers in jest. “Just blow on that.”

Spencer’s face falls into a stern frown as he hurries to rip the whistle off his neck, throwing it onto his desk. 

You try once more to offer any form of condolences but your efforts are once again cut off by JJ carrying a stack of manila folders and passing them off to the team. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying (something about a shooting and three victims?), your gaze fixed on Spencer’s troubled face. The others rattle off about long distance serial killers and profiling, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for your lack of contribution, but your thoughts are filled with more pressing matters. 

After the briefing and Hotch saying a simple, “Wheels up in twenty”, you turn in Derek’s direction as you stuff your bag with files and random pieces of stationary. Elle sits within earshot, packing her own things. 

“Why are you so mean to him?” Your voice carries no malice and you don’t look in his direction at all, head down as you furrow through your go-bag.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“To Spencer,” you clarify, “like, just now. He was already in a bad mood. You didn’t really have to say much else.”

“I’m just… toughening him up,” Derek says with a shrug. 

“This job would do that by itself. Spencer doesn’t need to ‘toughen up’, and this job doesn’t need your help to do that, either.” You lift your shoulder noncommittally. “I think you’re just insecure.” 

Elle cackles at that, stifling her laughter behind her fist while Derek snaps his head in your direction. “Alright then, I’ll bite. How am I insecure?”

“You’re a classic alpha male, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you’re an alpha male who is in a work environment where almost every other man is also an alpha male. Spencer is the opposite; he’s more timid which, again, not a bad thing, and he’s also more intellectually gifted.” A wry smile spreads across your face as you hoist your bag off your desk and sling it over your shoulder. “You’re insecure that he’s smarter than you and because he’s the quote-un-quote ‘weakest’ of the pack, you just can’t help but pick on him.”

“Reid and I are friends,” Derek says defensively. “And come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t his ramblings a little bit annoying.”

You hum. “I don’t find them annoying. Even if I did, I wouldn’t cut my friends off when they’re talking about something they find interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He swears that it was never his intention– he just forgot his wallet on his desk after everything that happened that morning. Regardless, hearing you defend him in such a way is enough to make his stomach flip.

He’s barely known you for two years. He joined the team a little after you did, granted, he was a permanent addition to the team while you at the time was just interning as a part of the course you were taking. It was only after a very long discussion with Hotch that you became a solid member of the BAU (you told Spencer all of this while you shook out your hands and by extension the nerves you experienced when you were seated in front of your boss’s desk with your resume. It took everything in him to not grab onto your hands and hold them firmly in his). 

Even when you were an intern and only at work two out of the five workdays, Spencer was able to find solace in you. He didn’t really understand the logistics of it, much to his chagrin, but he has chalked it up to you being a little younger than him and feeling that slight twinge of ‘protectiveness’ over you. It doesn’t make sense, he gathers upon second thought, you don’t need protecting. Despite that, he finds himself gravitating to you as if you were the earth and he was the moon. You, full of life and all things wonderful, and him, a dim light that he hopes could brighten up your darkest nights. 

He doesn’t think that that comparison is accurate enough, is the conclusion he comes to when he hears you chastise Derek for his lack of compassion. It isn’t so much ‘chastising’ as it is stating a fact. Spencer thinks you’re an angel and that everyone should kiss the floor you walk on. His head spins with facts about angels and their origins. He mumbles the facts under his breath, considering all the different backgrounds of angels and the connotations of viewing you as such. Spencer scrunches his nose in annoyance. He’ll be thinking about this the entire flight. 

*** 

You sit next to him during the flight. Your hands are in your lap as you fiddle with your fingertips, almost as if you’re contemplating something. Spencer glances at you expectantly from the corner of his eye, ignoring the book he is supposed to be reading.

“I know I shouldn’t really have to say this, but don’t worry about Derek,” you tell him through a hushed whisper. “He’s just being an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, trying to not look fazed about the situation. “I know.”

You shift again in your seat before playfully flipping his collar upwards. “I like this shirt on you. Red is totally your colour.”

He thinks it’s pathetic, the way his eyes light up and the way he physically preens at your compliments. “There have been studies on the colour red and how it may impact one’s perceptions of others. Actually, it has been found that seeing the colour red can cause an elevation in blood pressure, enhanced metabolism, and a spike in heart rate which are all physiological changes associated in increased energy levels. Another study showed that those who wear red are perceived to be more sexually appealing than those who wear other colours.”

His cheeks flare in embarrassment upon realising the insinuation of his words and he hurriedly backtracks. “Not that I was expecting anything! It was just interesting and–”

“Walter, it’s fine.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay! You’re right, it is interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t think you’re an angel anymore. He knows it. He manages to crack a smile. “You think so?”

You nod enthusiastically, looking over at him. “Tell me more.”

He thinks that he might faint.

*** 

The hospital is under lockdown. Your head spins when you see SWAT making their way through the lobby, armed in heavy bulletproof uniform and guns that are at least half your height. You’ve never had to work a situation where they had to be called and the severity of the situation sinks in. 

“Hotch and Spencer will be okay, right?” You ask worriedly, glancing over to where Gideon is trying to negotiate with the captain.

“They’re good at what they do,” JJ reassures gently, squeezing your arm. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Gideon returns with a disgruntled frown, gesturing with annoyance towards the SWAT team. “They’re taking the ER in three minutes.”

“That’s it?” Your words are quiet as you try not to attract the attention of the people in said team. “So, what, Hotch and Spencer need to talk down a crazy armed sociopath in three minutes?”

“It’s like they don’t even want our help,” Elle says through a grumble. “What’s the point of asking us here if they’re not even going to listen to us?”

Somehow, those three minutes are both the longest and shortest three minutes of your life. There’s nothing you can do except wait and even then, the hospital is borderline silent. You’re not necessarily sure if that’s a good thing. You watch with the others as SWAT trek up the stairs in formation, and you wring your hands out nervously. Time continues to tick by and just when you’re sure that you’ll be stuck here for the next however many hours, a loud bang rings through the hospital. It’s so sudden that you jolt on the spot, your head snapping towards the door. 

A few civilians, all accompanied by SWAT agents, make their way through the doors and towards the ambulances stationed outside. You follow them out, taking in a breath of fresh night air while a shiver runs down your spine from the cool breeze. Everything seems to be in order and everyone seems to be calm and collected. That must be a good sign, right?

Spence grimaces from his spot on the back of an ambulance, rubbing at his lower torso. The pain isn’t that bad anymore, but it does feel a little raw from where Hotch repeatedly kicked him. His face is bruised from where Phillip Dowd hit him with the back of his rifle. The gun he used feels heavy in his pocket and he genuinely isn’t used to it being there. 

“You alright?” Hotch asks. He’s using a softer tone, one that Spencer isn’t particularly accustomed to.

Spencer nods, his arms crossed over his stomach. “Yeah.”

“Nice shot.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I was aiming for his leg.”

Hotch looks a little amused before he continues, “I wouldn’t have kept kicking but I was afraid you didn’t get my plan.”

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire,” Spencer says genuinely, nodding.

“Well, I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch says guiltily.

Spencer can’t help but laugh quietly. “Hotch, I was a twelve year old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl.” He pauses, offering the gun back to him.

“No, keep it,” Hotch says, patting Spencer squarely on the shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned you passed your qualification.”

Spencer offers a smile as his boss walks away, his gaze meeting yours as you hurry over to him. “Hey–”

“Walter, your face,” you lament with a frown, reaching a hand out to brush against the bruising.

Spencer flinches, hissing softly and you pull back. “It’s still a little sore.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, glancing again at his injuries, worry laced in your tone and etched upon your features. 

“You’re an angel,” Spencer says softly in a daze, watching the way the flashing lights from the ambulance.

Heat travels up towards your cheeks at his words and you press the backs of your hands against your face in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I’m not an angel.”

He’s in too deep to try and backtrack so he nods. “You are,” he says honestly, looking up at you from where he sits on the ambulance. “And if you can call me by my middle name, doesn’t that mean I can give you a nickname too?”

“Well, I guess,” you relent, your heart still aching at the sight of the bruise on the side of his face. 

He beams at you as he pockets the gun. “Alright, then, angel.”

Your cheeks grow hot again and this time you feel the blood rush to your ears. “It’ll take a while to get used to it.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“I heard what you did in there,” you say swiftly, effectively changing the subject. “You don’t need that whistle anymore.”

Spencer nods and smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, angel.”

“Anytime, Walter.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

sparks fly masterlist | event page

[1arkspur-aconitum]

THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND (s.r.)

IN WHICH: Spencer shows up late to work wearing glasses for the first time…

PAIRING: Season 3!Spencer Reid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: fluff

CONTENT: pining, oblivious idiots in love, swearing, Emily being a little meddler

WORD COUNT: 3.7 (this was meant to be only 1k…whoops…)

PUBLISHED: 03/10/24

‘OH MY GOD.’

It’s the best I can do. It is the only thing I can think as Spencer Reid steps through the glass doors into the bullpen.

It’s one of those rare days where Spencer arrives later than me—later than the rest of the team, in fact—and I’m already sitting at my desk when he walks in. A cup of coffee from the Paper Cup (arguably the best coffee in Virginia, bite me Derek Morgan) steams away beside a half-eaten blueberry muffin, the crumbs of which litter the crossword before me. It’s partially completed, but I have yet to finish this specific paper’s puzzle without the genius’ help—I swear it’s almost as if they designed it for him. I’ve even marked little stars next to the ones I’m intending to ask Spencer.

Or, at least, the questions I was intending to ask Spencer. I may not ever get the opportunity to because I think he has decided to kill me this morning.

Spencer Reid steps into the bullpen dressed in brown slacks (as usual) and a striped shirt tucked into said slacks (also normal), but that’s where the familiarity ends.

He’s not wearing a tie which is very bizarre. In fact, the top buttons of his shirt are undone as if he’s rushed out of the door. From this distance I can see the contours of his throat.

We once had a surprisingly in-depth conversation about why ties are more commonly associated with men (due to the inherent power and authority we attach to them) and Spencer said that he tried to always wear one because it made people take him more seriously. I distinctly remember it because it made me kind of sad. The idea that people didn’t take him seriously bothered me more than I’d care to admit.

It’s not the tardiness, nor the lack of a tie, that wipes every thought from my brain, though. It’s not even the way he has pushed his hair away from his face like he’s some kind of Disney prince—though that on any other day would have done something similar to hitting the delete key on a computer.

No, it’s the damn glasses.

Spencer Reid has the audacity to be wearing a pair of horn rimmed glasses.

They’re perched on his nose as if they belong there, which—judging by the way they make his face distort when he turns to greet Derek—they do. I don’t know what it is specifically, but seeing him in glasses makes my stomach drop out of my feet, through several floors of the Quantico building, and deep into the ground.

Obviously Spencer is smart. Anyone who has the luxury of meeting him can tell you as such. It’s not as if he hides it, mister three PhDs and counting. But…but the glasses just do something extra, highlight that aspect of him, and I’ve always been a sucker for intelligence.

I genuinely didn’t think he could get prettier.

‘Shut your mouth, you’ll start drooling.’ Emily sidles up to my desk, thankfully keeping her voice low. I jump embarrassingly and manage to drag my eyes away from where Spencer is deep in discussion with Derek about something Derek doesn’t appear to want to talk about. Astrophysics? The flight path of bumblebees? If I was in Derek’s place, I would be hanging off of Spencer’s every word. ‘Honestly, could you be any more transparent?’

‘I…I’m not transparent!’ I say, but it does take me a second to work out what she’s saying. I take a distracting sip of my coffee, trying to ignore how the light slicks off of the frames as Spencer nods vigorously. A small strand of hair falls into his face and he brushes it away carelessly. ‘Maybe—maybe I was just…admiring the make, or something.’

‘I’m not stupid.’ Emily scoffs, knocking me with the back of her hand. She seems as if she is enjoying this way too much. There’s a sardonic gleam in her eye as she raises an eyebrow. I glower up at her over the rim of my coffee, imagining how it would feel to toss it in her face—anything to get that smug look off of it. ‘You can barely form a sentence.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I turn my nose up at her haughtily. I feel very much the petulant child denying having broken into the biscuit jar even when their mouth is covered in crumbs. ‘See? A perfect sentence.’

‘You’re not fooling anyone.’ Emily feels the need to tell me, eyes flickering between me and Spencer. I make a conscious effort not to look at him. It’s harder than I thought it would be. I wedge my foot underneath one of the spokes of my chair, forcing it to stay directed towards Emily. She grins as if she can sense my inner discord. ‘Y’know, for a profiler, you’re not very good at being discreet.’

‘I’m always discreet.’ The lie tastes bitter in my mouth and I follow it up with a sip of coffee. I don’t know where to look, what to do with myself, so I decide to focus on Emily. She’s wearing a new pair of trousers that have an embellishment up the side, a few beads shining in the sunlight streaming into the office. I wonder if she’ll let me borrow them…

‘I beg to differ.’ Emily perches herself on Spencer’s desk, crossing her legs. The tiny beads glitter like a mirrorball. This is fun for her. She likes making me squirm, and my respect for Emily is declining with every moment she holds me under this particular microscope. Part of me wonders if Emily truly is a sadist. ‘Come on, just admit it.’

‘I refer you to my previous statement,’ I swing my chair around even more to face her, firmly putting my back to where I assume Spencer and Derek are still talking. God, please don’t overhear this. What would I even say if he did? ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Sure.’ She laughs brightly, not believing me for a second—to be fair to her, I don’t even believe myself. I really should get better at lying to my coworkers. It’s frustrating that, to be a profiler, you have to be inherently astute. I’ve always been a relatively open book, which makes this whole situation worse. I have no doubt that my every thought is plastered there for her to dissect. ‘I can’t blame you, you know. I mean, it is very…different. If you’re into that kinda thing, which I think you are—’

‘Please stop.’ I say. My fingers tangle into my hair as I lean forwards, the points of my elbows bruising the soft flesh above my knee.

I hate this feeling. Being so exposed, so vulnerable, being seen like this has never been something I’ve enjoyed. Maybe it is something to do with my childhood, but I never like to think about that too hard. What it comes down to is that I can tease people incessantly, but when the tables have flipped? I hate it. I wonder what that says about me..

‘Just ask him out.’ Emily’s voice is softer now, less ribbed with merciless humour. I look up at her with a disgusted expression–as if that would ever happen. Spencer is my colleague, my friend. There’s no way I’m putting myself out there like that, and she should know that already. She sighs. ‘Seriously. What’s the worst that could happen?’

Uh, everything? He could say no. I could seriously embarrass myself–a habit I have a tendency to do. I could vomit on his new shoes. In fact, Spencer probably doesn’t even like me in that way–thinking about it, I have no idea if Spencer’s even attracted to anyone. He’s never spoken about dates like Derek does, nor mentioned exes. When we talk about our first kisses, he stays silent. Whenever the topic deviates towards something unsuitable for work, Spencer noticeably stays out of it. Maybe he’s just not into anything like that.

That thought hollows out the pit of my stomach for a second.

‘If I answer that, then you’ll just think that I know what you’re talking about.’ I sense her words for the trap that they are. What a sneaky bitch. I narrow my eyes at her and Emily’s eyebrow twitches imperceptibly. A tell. Ever since we met, Emily has had a thing about trying to trick me into confessing my secrets at any opportunity she can get. I think she thinks it’s more fun if she doesn’t ask the question straight up. ‘So no. I’m not going to deign that with a response.’

‘You’re impossible.’ Emily groans. She tries to kick my chair with a free foot, but misses by a mile. Sucker. Like the child I am, I stick my tongue out at her. ‘Come on, you have no idea how painful it is to watch you pining–’

‘You think watching me pine is painful?’ I retort, propping my chin up on my elbow. It’s only when the words are out of my mouth that I realise I may have given a little bit too much away. Emily’s eyes light up with a familiar glee. My cheeks heat and I scowl. ‘Besides, I was merely observing.’

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.’ Emily practically purrs, a mischievous glint in her eye that I decidedly do not like. She pushes off of Spencer’s desk, her fingers trailing along the edge as she meanders to her own. As she does so, her lips curve into a knowing smirk. She mutters something under her breath that is just loud enough for me to catch the hint of amusement.

‘Care to share?’ The words are out of my mouth before I realise that I probably won’t want to hear what she has to say. Yet another one of Emily’s verbal pitfalls—I can’t be expected to spot all of them after-all. Sometimes I think talking to Emily is like navigating a field of bear traps.

‘Oh, nothing—just that you two are more similar than you realise.’ Her voice drips with feigned innocence. She chuckles as she sits herself down, opening a stack of files on her desk with a flourish, effectively ending the conversation and leaving me in a whirlwind of my own thoughts.

More similar than I realise? What on Earth does she mean by that? I know we’re both considered smart—we’re both doctors, we work in the same field, we’re around the same age. Admittedly, I’m not as smart as he is, but everyone can say that. There’s always been something different about Spencer.. He has always been a cut above the rest, a standard no one else can possibly hope to achieve. How could I ever compare myself to that?

I turn my seat around and allow myself a brief glance over to where Spencer and Derek are still standing. Spencer is still talking animatedly, hands gesturing in the space between them. Don’t even get me started on his hands because we could be here for literal hours. A doctoral thesis is 60,000–80,000 words. I reckon I could write that much purely on his hands.

Derek is currently looking at him with a fond, if slightly exasperated expression, having succumbed to his fate of listening to whatever it is Spencer is rambling about. They’re a strange pair but there’s no doubting the love they share between them. It’s honestly so endearing.

My gaze drifts from the pair of them to Spencer. With the glasses, it’s different somehow. The lenses magnify his eyes, making them larger, more expressive. I can see the rapid movement as he processes whatever Derek is saying in response to his rambling, I can watch the slight furrow of his brow as he formulates a response. The more I inspect him, the harder it is for me to work out why I like them so much. Perhaps it’s because he seems…softer, somehow. Less intimidating and more approachable.

More human.

Then it hits me.

The glasses are a vulnerability. They’re an admission that the perfect Spencer Reid is anything but, that, as much as his mind is as sharp as a blade, his eyesight is not. For some reason, that makes him even more attractive to me. Though, to be fair, there’s not much that would make him less attractive to me.

I tear my eyes away, a familiar heat rippling up the back of my neck. I can’t believe I’m having thoughts like this about my coworker. It’s unprofessional, impolite, and definitely dangerous. But I can’t seem to stop myself.

Every time I see him in those glasses, the more I think about what it would be like to kiss him with them on. Would he take them off, or would I? Or, maybe, he leaves them on as I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down towards me. They wouldn’t get in the way if we were careful…

For God’s sake.

I try to focus on my crossword but the words swim before my eyes. All I can see is Spencer’s face with those damn glasses, and the annoyingly infuriating way that they make his eyes sparkle. Perhaps Emily is right–perhaps I am as transparent as a window. This whole thing is stupid. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but it’s not like I can defenestrate them very easily.

Just as I am contemplating burying myself under several feet of damp earth, effectively giving up on the day entirely, Spencer and Derek seem as if they finish their conversation. Derek claps Spencer on the shoulder as the pair of them start to make their way towards us. I do my best to look busy, scribbling down a word on my puzzle that I am 99% sure isn’t correct. My heart hammers in my chest.

Jesus Christ, get your shit together, girl. It’s just an awkward, tall, lanky man. He’s not Hugh Grant. Or James Marsters. He’s just Spencer.

I don’t know if that sentiment makes it better or worse.

‘Morning, June.’ Spencer’s gentle, warm voice drags me out of my shame spiral. When I look up, he’s standing next to his desk, hands clasped in front of him as he peers down at me through those fucking glasses.

I plaster as much of a genuine smile on my face as possible. ‘Morning, Spencer. You’re looking very dashing today.’

Dashing? What the hell was that? Who says that? If I could make a time machine and return back to a few seconds earlier, I would. But, alas, I simply have to wait and see how Spencer responds.

His lips quirk upwards in a shy smile. ‘Really? Thank you. You, uh, you look rather…rather lovely yourself.’

‘Oh, uh, thanks, Spence.’ I mentally kick myself for sounding so flustered, looking anywhere but directly at him. I don’t think I look ‘rather lovely’ today–I’m wearing brown denim flares and a shirt, nothing too fancy. I try to regain some composure. This is so unlike me that it scares me. ‘So, new glasses?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he says, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. My eyes trace a vein that vanishes under the cuff. ‘I ran out of contacts and didn’t have time to go to the opticians. I don’t really like them, though, they kind of get in the way.’

‘Really?’ I try not to sound too surprised and/or offended, but I don’t think it worked very well. The next words I say are pumped with honesty. ‘I think they look good on you. Actually, they really suit you.’

‘Do you genuinely think so?’ He sounds as if he doesn’t believe me, but the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. I nod, mouth suddenly very dry. Spencer sits on the edge of his desk where Emily had been moments before, crossing his long legs at the ankle. The odd socks (pink on the left, neon green on the right) make me smile. ‘I always think they make me look…well, nerdy. Derek agrees.’

I can’t not laugh a little at that, taking a sip of my coffee as I work out how to say what I want to without seriously offending him.

‘Spencer, sweetheart, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are the epitome of nerdy without the glasses. And–and that’s not a bad thing in the slightest. It’s part of what I like about you.’

‘Oh.’ Spencer turns a furious shade of red, eyes dropping like a stone to stare intently at the floor. I immediately regret the words, but have to play it off as if I don’t. Sweetheart is a new term of endearment and one I didn’t intend to use, but it slipped out. I lean back in my seat, angle my head…do I backtrack? Do I apologise? I’m about to do as such when I see it. A tiny smile. Spencer’s next words are just loud enough for me to hear. ‘Well, thank you.’

‘That’s okay.’ I grin, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to put on a picture of nonchalance. If Emily is to be believed, he can see right through it, but it makes me feel better. I need to say something–anything–else before the silence gets too loud. ‘I actually didn’t know you wore contacts, let alone glasses.’

‘Yeah, I just find contacts easier–did you know that Leonardo da Vinci was the one who was first credited with coming up with the idea of contact lenses in 1508? It wasn’t created in his time, of course, but he was the one who first posited the idea of altering corneal power.’ Spencer’s hands gesture in the space between us as he endearingly rambles on about the creation of contact lenses. It’s sweet, and I let him talk for a while, using this opportunity to watch him. He’s just so pretty that it’s hard to focus. ‘And modern day lenses, the silicone ones, weren’t made until 1998.’

‘Wow, that’s kinda cool.’ I hum, taking a sip of my now almost-cold coffee. ‘I don’t know, I had you pegged as the kind of guy who doesn’t like putting his finger in his eye.’

‘What?’ Spencer chuckles, raising an eyebrow. He pushes his glasses up again and my heart stammers. ‘How could you possibly know that about someone?’

‘Spencer, you’re a known germaphobe. You don’t even shake hands.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t want someone else to put my lenses in,’ Spencer physically shudders at this idea. ‘But if I do it, it’s just my germs.’

‘I suppose that makes sense. If you had a twin, though, would you let them do it? Or someone with super clean hands? What about if you broke your hands and your glasses, and needed someone else to put them in for you?’ I rattle off question after question, knowing I really should stop talking, but it’s as if there’s a torrent of words I cannot control. ‘I mean, there are plenty of, of situations where you may need someone to…to put your contacts in…’

What the fuck am I on about? Oh God, this isn’t happening to me…I never thought I would be so swayed by a pretty face.

‘You’re a strange one.’ Spencer says, after a beat, and his voice is playful. He leans backwards and braces himself on the desk. ‘I don’t know, it depends. I mean, I wouldn’t let Derek do it, but…’

‘I wouldn’t let Derek do it for me, and I don’t even wear contacts.’ I laugh, tilting my head to the side and giving him a cheeky grin. He returns it, and for a moment, we just look at each other. The world narrows, as it always does, to just me and him. There’s a familiar warmth in my stomach that has always been intoxicating.

‘I’d let you put my contacts in.’ Spencer says the words as if they had been building up behind his lips. Pink stains the tops of his cheekbones. It might be a trick of the light, but I’m pretty sure that his gaze flickers down to my mouth for a fraction of a second before returning back to my eyes. My breath hitches and I have to look away.

‘Really? I don’t know if I should be flattered or kind of grossed out.’ Another sentence I regret saying, but what does one say to something like that?

Spencer laughs, but it sounds kind of forced. ‘Well, let us hope that it will never come to that. But, if it does, don’t let any of the others do it. Lord knows where their hands have been.’

I laugh too, but before I can say anything more, Hotch’s voice booms across the bullpen. He’s calling Spencer to his office, and the tranquil spell between us is shattered.

Spencer jumps, startled, and clears his throat. He pushes his glasses further up his nose and stands up. He offers me a muttered ‘sorry’ as he walks away, speeding out of the bullpen of desks and heading towards Hotch. I watch him go reluctantly, only looking away when he vanishes inside and the door closes behind him.

The groan I let out is loud enough to make Derek look up, but I bury my head in my hands before any of them can jump on me whilst I’m vulnerable. What the fuck was that? I’m not usually one to get flustered when faced with a pretty man, and usually I’m pretty confident around Spencer. Evidently there’s something about the glasses that turns me into a blathering school girl. It’s so stupid that I have no choice but to get a grip.

When I look up from my hands, determined to not let Spencer’s new eyewear affect me, Emily is watching me with a bemused expression. She must have heard the entire interaction.

‘Smooth, June. Real smooth.’ She says from over her coffee mug, the steam coiling around her like she’s some demon. The devious grin on her face doesn’t help that mental image.

I simply flip her off and return to my crossword.

Nosy bitch.

THANK YOU FOR READING! I CAN’T DECIDE IF I LIKE THIS OR NOT BUT FIGURED WHY NOT? MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY!

[scarfacemarston]

Could you maybe probably sort of kind of pretty please with a cherry on top write a Natasha x reader? Wlw preferred but nbreader is cool too. Maybe like a prank fic? I love pranks so much they bring so much serotonin into my veins 💋💋💋

Natasha x F! Reader prank people

Warnings: LOTS of cussing from Rumlow because that's just the type of guy he is. Takes place before the Hydra reveal. You loved a lot of things about Natasha. Who wouldn’t love the woman? You were the luckiest gal in the world to call her your partner. You loved how many layers she had to her and felt honored to see the softer, more playful side of her. Not many people knew that she had a penchant for pranks. It was quite simple for her to play pranks on people and let chaos reign because no one ever suspected it was the severe and stoic Black Widow.

Sometimes, she would prank people and give the most mischievous and playful smile -reserved only for you.

Well, there came a time when you wanted to join in. After all, it was a fun new way for you two to bond as a couple. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at your request but accepted it anyway.

Some of her favorite targets included Isaac Murphy, Brock Rumlow, and the IT guy from the 7th floor of the Shield Headquarters.

“You remember that I like to play the long game here, right? No salt in the sugar container or pie in the face antics. That’s child’s play. No, I want them to be either very confused, suffering or both. You can handle that, can’t you?” Natasha said with a quick of her lips. You scoffed.

“Of course I can! I have some ideas of my own, you know.” You defended yourself. Natasha crossed her arms. “Well this I have to hear.” “Well, I hate Brock Rumlow, too. I have a simple, but obnoxious prank on him, but he might tear up the room.” You warned.

“Hm, if it’s too awful, I’ll have to hear his loud mouth whining about it. Save your best idea for him to make it worth it.” Natasha thought aloud.

“Okay, will do. This Murphy guy, you have his email and number, right? Why not sign him up for the most famous mega church we can find? Joel Olsteen or Kenneth Copland, like that!.”

“He’s suspicious. I’m not sure what is off about him, but I will find out. But, not a bad idea, but I think we can do worse.”

“I’m getting there! What about various political campaigners? We could do Obama, Romney, Kennedy and even more local politicians. I receive those emails and texts daily despite donating to a Green Party campaign six years ago. That’s just one! Imagine how horrible three or more would be!” You enthused.

Natasha grinned. “Not bad, but I really want him to suffer.” “I was thinking we could give his name to various military recruiters? ” You suggested. “I’ll suggest his name to a multi-level marketing group so they can try to recruit him, too. Not bad for your first prank.” Nat said, hugging you from behind. “I think we can do even better.” Nat muttered in your ear.

“Okay, for Rumlow - I was thinking we trick him into thinking there’s somebody who takes his desk during the night shift. Uses his chair, desk, everything.” You said, a grin curling on your features. “Hm, sounds promising. Go on” She murmured. “Well, I was thinking we move his stuff around every day before he comes in. Maybe lay a crossword puzzle or newspapers scattered in the morning that look read? Move his pens, and everything else!” You laughed. Natasha nodded in approval. I think we should leave half-eaten bags of chips, half-drunk water bottles, and candy wrappers so he thinks someone has been eating there. That will get him. He’s quite possessive with his stuff.” Nat suggested. You gasped. “Oh, he’s going to hate that.” “Yep. And to end it up, we can have multiple files on his computer that look like they’re from Murphy, Jack Rollins and Sitwell. All of them sometimes work the night shifts.” Nat laughed as she turned to face you. ‘Imagine the fights!”

“I’ll be sure to tape them, don’t you worry, love,” Natasha said, tapping your nose.

It wasn’t long until Natasha invited you to have lunch with her at a SHIELD gathering. It was a relaxed affair where nothing intelligence-related was discussed. A few other SHIELD members invited their partners or children as well.

Natasha smirked as she took her seat next to you and placed a plate of sandwiches and milkshakes on the table for you to share.

“Might as well have something to eat while we enjoy the show. Murphy looks like he’s going to have a mental breakdown. His phone has been going off all day to the point that Rumlow threatened to break it, and Maria Hill threatened to take disciplinary action."

At that moment, you heard the buzz of a cellphone receiving a notification…and another…and another.

“They won’t leave me alone!” Murphy whined.

“Shut that damn phone up, or I’m smashing it. I don’t give a fuck about any “disciplinary action.”

“It’s the number, you idiot. Not the phone!” Murphy said, raising his voice.

“Then change the fucking number!” Rumlow raised his voice.

“I can’t! I have too many accounts associated with it! I’d have to start all over!” Murphy whined.

Rollins tromped over, glaring at Murphy. “

All of us are plotting your death, Murphy.” Rollins snapped as he pulled Rumlow by the shoulder away.

“Come on, let’s get you a beer.” Rollins muttered.

“I need more than a damn beer,” Rumlow muttered, stomping off. Soon, the noise was annoying, even the two of you.

Finally, Maria Hill herself made her way over, snatching the phone from Murphy’s hand. “You’re on thin ice, kid,” Hill said, pointing at his face.

Murphy sat, slumping into his chair. “It’s not my fault!” he whined.

You and Natasha exchanged looks as you slipped on your milkshake, stealing one of Natasha’s fries.

“I have to admit, I was close to breaking his phone myself.” Nat admitted.

“Yeah, this might have backfired on us.”

“But it is great to see them at each other’s throats. It distracts them from bothering Steve and I,” Natasha said, stopping your hand from stealing another fry.

“I could have bought you fries, you know.” Nat laughed.

“But I so enjoy stealing yours!” You smiled.

~~~~~ A week later, you received a text from Natasha. “Calling you in a second. Need you to hear this. Need to be silent, though.” “Ok” And with that, your phone began to ring. You picked up immediately only to hear shouting and cursing in the background…from a very familiar voice. It was most certainly Rumlow who had become fed up with the idea of someone “stealing his shit in his space.”

“If I find out which piece of shit is using my desk, I’m going to dismember them! Slowly!” Rumlow bellowed.

You heard a second voice. “No one sits there! Calm down there, alpha male. It’s your space.” Rollins snarked.

“Then where the fuck is this shit coming from? You work the night shift! Why are there files from you, Murphy and Sitwell? “ he shouted.

“Yeah, Over there. That’s how I know no one sits there. I don't know how they got that, Rumlow. I didn't do it." Rollins defended.

“Where did this come from? Or this?” - the sound of objects being thrown came through the phone.”

“Fine, ask Murphy!”

You hear another voice in the background.

“That asshole is on thin ice. If it’s him, good luck finding the body.” Rumlow growled.

“It wasn’t me! I quit working nights last month!” Murphy squeaked.

“That leaves Sitwell, then.” You heard Rollins speak up.

You heard Rumlow growl. “Damn it. That nerd is higher on the ladder than we are…but how about we pay the dweeb a visit anyway?” You heard Rumlow’s voice fade in the background.

You heard Natasha’s voice. “I hope you’re proud of yourself and the chaos you caused,” Nat said, snickering.

“Oh, so proud! I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this, though.” You apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I can handle a few mens’ fragile egos and I can drown them out pretty well. I have to say, you impressed me with your pranks. I might need to watch out…but just know that any pranks you play on me, I’ll get you back with a vengence.” Nat warned.

“….. okay, then it will only be fun ones then! A surprise room of puppies, or baklava randomly appearing in places.” You appeased. Nat gave one of her rare laughs.

“I can live with that. Let’s give the boys a break for now, but we are definitely going to prank them again. Maybe we’ll go after new targets. I have to go. Dinner at Demo’s tonight, same time as usual?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Love you, Tasha.”

“Love you, Y/N”.

[zer0brainc3lls]

Newtmas being peraltiago for so so many quotes (accept it’s just me dumping my fav headcanons):

Thomas: *GASP* “there’s a typo in this crossword puzzle!”

Newt: *staring at Thomas with the biggest heart eyes realising he wants to marry him*

(Newt loving Thomas being nerdy is my fav thing ever shut up)

-

Thomas: *walking away*

Newt: *does the double tuck* (ifykyk) (I love long hair Newt guys)

-

*Thomas (Amy) going around on a school computer for reasons I forget shush*

Newt: “that’s not Gally’s profile that’s mine!”

Thomas: “I just want a quick peak at your attendance record.. *voice drops* zero absences.. *gasp* ohhh mama… I’m printing this for later!”

Newt: “keep it in your pants Edison! 😒”

Thomas: “oh that’s exactly where it’s going. 🤭 ”

(Thomas LOVES when Newt does anything academic ever. Like he cannot get enough it’s a problem) (once again my Nerd!Thomas headcanon is shining through)

-

*Thomas going to open a letter Newt refuses to open*

Newt: “NO.” *grabs Thomas by the wrist and pulls his arm in a weird position*

Thomas: *face scrunched in pain* “do it harder.”

-

Thomas: “im not just some faucet you can turn on and off! You gotta romance me-“

Newt: *takes his hair out and unbuttons his top button*

Thomas: “faucets on.”

(Thomas loving Longhair!Newt with his hair out is canon in my heart.)

-

*after Newt proposes to Thomas, Chuck walks in*

Chuck: “hey jerkos! This little tramp escaped and..” *sees ring* “did you just…” *points to Newt*

Newt: “mhm!”

Chuck: *points to Thomas* and did you say..

Thomas: “mhm!” *shows ring*

Chuck: *worlds biggest smile on his face and attempts to speak before passing out*

(CHUCK ROUTING FOR NEWTMAS IF HE LIVED IS REAL TO ME OK.) (I had no clue who to make Boyle and I almost did Frypan but then it hit me. Jake and Boyle are literally Thomas and Chuck I cannot be convinced otherwise)

[napakmahal]

“ Did all this happen because I left?”

Pause girlies because this is actually kinda serious. I just got out of a depressive episode and just really wanted to give the depression girlies a lil treat. Remember: you need other people in your life when you have depression. Make friends not resources. I love y’all (angst)

How can something be so painful yet so numb at the same time? The human brain is one of the most complex systems in the universe, aside from the universe itself. How it can feel so many polar opposite things simoultaniouly, and in that creating an entire civil war within itself. How could the brain, the thing meant to be in charge with your care and wellbeing one day just decide to decrease its own activity and make you miserable? It was the worlds greatest betrayal.

You’d been lying in your bed for the past week, and you might have gotten up twice a day. Once to use the bathroom and the other to get some food and bring it right back to your bed. Everyone said it wasn’t a big deal because you were young and you were probably just in a bad mood because of your hormones. Hormones were evil enough to suction blood from your reproductive organs (usually) once a month, they couldn’t possibly be cruel enough for this.

On your overheated and whirling computer was an endless loop of lousy reality T.V shows you’d watched over and over. There’s been therapists that have said that in these times of depressive episodes, you should revert back to adding some life and movement back into your brain. Which meant doing things like crossword puzzles, working out, math games, and reading 200+ page books. All things that you could totally do and things you liked to do. But not right now. Now all you wanted was junk food and shitty TLC shows. Not some slow burn, or some huge mystery TV show that required you to remember tiny details from the beginning of the season. Reality TV was entertaining, effortless, and on loop but you’d be lying if you said everytime you heard the freaky eaters intro a little more of your brain died.

That’s the funny thing about depression. Because even though you can feel yourself slipping and drowning in total misery, there’s nothing anyone can do to save you. So you get stuck in this endless loop of self detructive behavior hoping that the pain you experience on the outside is enough to kill the thing on the inside.

You were clinically depressed, and nothing nobody did was ever going to change that. But these episodes weren’t always like this. For a while, episodes were bearable. Your ‘friend’ made them better.

You’d known Hiro for a while, meeting him on the downtown bus during sunset on a spring saturday. You thought he was cool, he thought you were pretty. But the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing seemed uncomfortable and the labels meade things weird.

Granted you were each others first kiss. The two of you had tried to convince each other it was just because you got asked out to your eighth grade formal and you wanted to be prepared. It also didn’t help much that the more you described the dude that asked you out, the more Hiro wished he hadn’t skipped all those grades.

You never told anyone about that. Sure you could say it was a one time thing but it was hard to use that as a defense when you’d made out with him because you were bored under the dock near the beach during the summer carnival, and when you were just playing video games in his room, and when you were sitting on the steps of the museum of Japanese artifacts while sharing a soda, and the time you two were at the skatepark after it closed and you two were making out- only except that time he’d taken off his jacket.

Sure you were both fifteen but you watched people make out in the hallways at school everyday. Kissing didn’t seem like this massive thing. Hiro grew up isolated from the true highschool experience, he didn’t know. All he knew was that making out with you was cool and pretending he only did it because he was bored (and not because he would swear on his teen hormones that he loved you) was even cooler.

His aunt and brother had liked to tease you for it, but that’s all it was: teasing. The two of you would never live down the torment you’d likey face if they found out about your “I’m bored, let’s make out” sessions.

Speaking of, your mom didn’t really know you and Hiro were like that. She was only partly sure you liked him and you only thought that because one day after she caught you being particularly smiley that night after having him over to stream a new song she came into your room, played with your hair and said: “So you and Hiro are friends? That’s nice, he’s seems nice. Just, make sure he doesn’t make it worse.”

That was also kind of a silly depression thing: People and their influence could make it worse for you, others, and even themselves. Bad influence already makes bad people, but bad influence on people with depression tends to make them miserable, desperate, and self loathing.

But contrary to what your mom had said, Hiro didn’t make it worse. He made it better and she would soon figure that out after you’d tried texting him multiple times despite knowing he was at an expo outside the city. And he’d respond as fast as he could with the best messages, but when he’d go dead silent for almost ten hours each day it just dampened your mood. You’d kept reminding yourself not to be selfish, that your lack of ability to be happy shouldn’t stop people from living their lives. But from the hours of 7 a.m. - 5 p.m. you were left with no friend and a fat headache.

——————————————————————————

The intro to a show you couldn’t remember the name of played for the tenth time that day, drying out your eyes and causing an endless headache. You were surprised you hadn’t at least gotten a stomach ache from all the Tylenol you’d been taking. Someone knocked at your closed bedroom door before gently opening it.

“Y/n,” Your mom squinted through the darkness of your closed blinds and at the glowing computer screen. “There’s someone here to see you.”

With your back faced to her you couldn’t say anything other than a low, “Oh.”

She left for a bit as you continued to lay there, helpless almost dead. Thinking about death is something everyone does up to a certain extent. Questions like: How will I die? What comes next? Are ghosts real? All normal.

But when you and people like you thought about death it wasn’t like when other people thought about death.

Suddenly, your door creaked open and you didn’t even have the energy to look back but you just knew. Hiro had looked around at your depression room and sighed. He hadn’t even been around you for more than thirty seconds and he already wanted to cry. This was bad- so bad. The boy gently crept up to your bed and sat down. You felt the dent of his body in your mattress and still didn’t move.

“How are you?” His voice was quiet.

You responded barely above a whisper, “Fine.”

“When’s the last time you left this room?”

You didn’t even reply. At that moment, breathing was too much work. Having to think about the air going through your lungs and exhaling it out was a chore.

Hiro leaned over your body and shut the laptop closed before moving it off your head and placing his body in it’s spot. You two were now face to face, laying on your bed like the lovers of valdaro. It was bad this time and everyone knew it. Guilt had been eating him alive since he read the shift in your texts. How could he enjoy himself at this expo while you were there suffering?

“Did all of this happen because I wasn’t here?” He whispered.

You grabbed onto his hand. “No. I’ve always been like this.”

“Do you promise?”

“I swear it.”

“But it’s never been this bad before. If I was here then-”

“You couldn’t have done anything.” You cut him off. “Hiro I’ve been like this all my life. And you shouldn’t feel obligated to hold yourself back because I’m not normal.”

Once while playing around at the park at midnight you told Hiro that a therapist you had said these episodes will wax and wane. In the good there will be bad and in the bad there will be good. But there would never be moment where it would just be good. You’d be this way for the rest of your life, sad, in pain, and left with a feeling of mania and worthlessness. And there was nothing he could do about it.

“Do-” Hiro’s voice started to shake and a tear from my eye scurred across his face. “Do I at least make it any better?’

The thought of making it better by being there would in turn make him feel a little less guilty about not being able to be with you all the time.

For the first time in a week, you gave him a weak smile. No teeth, just lips. Before you leaned forward and gave him a prolonged kiss. In return, he brushed your hair from your face and started petting your head.

“Yes,” You whispered. “You do.”

[writingquestionsanswered]

Any advice for writing with brain fog? I get it from some of the meds I take and when I try to write there's just... nothing there.

Writing Through Meds-Related Brain Fog

A few ideas you can try...

1 - Find Your Clearest Time and Write Then - With a little time and tracking, you may be able to figure out the time/s of day when your head is the clearest and make that your typical writing time. For example, if you typically have a few hours in the afternoon available for writing, try writing at different points during that span on different days and see if you can determine whether you're clearer-headed at the beginning, middle, or end of that span. Or, if your schedule varies, try writing at a different available time each day and see what time/s work best. That way, when you have that span of time available on a given day, you know that's when you should be writing.

2 - Try a Little Exercise Before Writing - Physical activity can help to clear brain fog, so try taking a walk or doing a workout before you sit down to write.

3 - Step Away from the Screen for a While Before Writing - Some people find that screen time (looking at your phone, watching TV or movies, doing things on your computer, playing video games, etc.) exacerbates their brain fog, so try stepping away from your screens for an hour or so before writing. Find other activities--preferably ones that are low-key for the brain--you can do instead, like a puzzle, an easy craft or art project, sitting outside, yoga, taking a laid back walk, etc.

4 - Exercise Your Brain - In much the same way as physical activity can reduce brain fog, sometimes mental activity can as well. Doing things that get your brain going like reading, crossword puzzles, playing a trivia game, and doing brain puzzles are some good options.

5 - Talk to Your Doctor - If nothing else seems to work, try talking to your doctor about other things you can try. Dietary changes, medication changes, and other things the doctor can help you with might be the best solution.

I hope something here works for you!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[omegasmileyface]

The Foleys' Incredible Crisis

Chapter 1: Call It Stormy Monday

Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad) was written and performed in 1947 by T-Bone Walker. It is one of the most popular Blues songs ever, and has been performed and reiterated by countless other musicians. It has been credited with inspiring B.B. King to take up electric guitar, and it is included in the Library of Congress.

Happy Invisobang!!! This should have been posted earlier in the week but I couldn't make myself get to the computer to finalize/format it. Hehe. This year I had the INCREDIBLE experience of working with Shadow and Sharks, who were such wonderful artists— they have a whole smörgåsbord of art to please your eyes in this story! They have kept me on my toes— as I write this, the final, collaborated illustration is still a secret to me 👀 Lola is an OC I named once I realized Tucker absolutely feels like he has a little sister. Since then she's been in my heart and I can't let her go. My wonderful girl Lola. It's a treat whenever I get to see her in the wild— I almost had a heart attack when she appeared in Lex Luthor's Ascent from Supervillainy to Fatherhood by halfagone!

For a directory of all currently posted chapters and related content, check out the Table of Contents!

fic summary: After a whole week of vacation stuck together, the Foleys were more than happy to have some time apart. So when they each found themselves caught up in ghost business, that meant handling it alone. Angela wasn't planning on improvising a ghost conspiracy, Maurice was hoping to avoid working IT, Lola didn't think playing a hero would take her out of school, and Tucker would really have liked to focus on his own problems. But, really, what else did they expect from Amity Park? Home, sweet home.

words: 2269

AO3 link

next chapter [pending]

Tucker dropped his bag with a thunk. He was far beyond caring to be delicate, despite the electronics inside— he just wanted to shed his shoes and jacket and maybe the memories of the trip along with them.

"Ohhhh-kay," said his mom, grimacing at the trash can. Nobody had thought to empty it before they left. "What a vacation!" She laughed emptily. "I'm going to bed. You can fend for yourselves for dinner."

Tucker's dad popped back out from behind the bathroom door. "Before you go," he called over the rush of the faucet, "can we all just agree? Real quick, get in the den and then we can all ignore each other."

Lola sighed loudly and gave up untying her shoe, just kicking it off. Tucker agreed. He couldn't wait to wash his hands after the long trip.

His dad dried off his hands and joined them in the den, looking each of his family members in the eyes one by one. "I propose we never talk about this trip unless we have to."

Everyone agreed with as much fervor as they could muster after the fraught day.

"Also," said Lola, "I think we should try not to talk to each other for a whole day."

"Works for me," said Tucker.

His mom yawned. "Much as I love you all, I'm good with a day pretending you don't exist. Tucker, can you walk with Lola to and from school tomorrow?"

He looked at his little sister. She shrugged.

"As long as she plays nice, yeah."

His dad clapped. "Cool. Alright. So, unless one of us needs something, we all mind our own business tomorrow? Okay. I'm gonna order a pizza, and... I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. Pleasure doin' business with you all."

Tucker closed his eyes and sighed, pleased at imagining taking a shower and sleeping in his own bed in a few hours.

They had just wanted to see family in Chicago. What a disaster.

The library was quiet when Angela Foley came in. That made sense, she worked weekday mornings, so they usually only saw adults and the rare preschooler. As much as she liked helping the spread of knowledge, it was nice not to have too much to do at the front desk. Maybe she could get a crossword puzzle or two done.

She had made it about halfway through the puzzle (Angela knew a lot of things, but wordplay was never her specialty. What on Earth was she supposed to get from "gift for a blue lady"?) before someone walked in, paused, and went straight for the front desk.

She put on her smile. "Hi! Can I help ya with anything?"

The man was tall, wearing a clean white button-up shirt and jeans. His brassy skin and black hair caught strangely in the fluorescent lights, turning almost orange at their edges. She was pretty sure he was a ghost in disguise, but she had helped ghosts before. Usually, if one was asking for help using a library, they weren't intent on doing anything violent.

Usually. She still reserved a little caution.

"Yes, I'm looking for information on a very distant place. Where might I find something like that?"

"Well, what place is it?"

"It's called An Aghaidh Mhòr."

Angela blinked at the unfamiliar sounds. "I'm not familiar. Is that... Gaelic?"

The man fiddled with his sleeves. "Scottish, I believe, yes."

"Alright." Angela stood up and moved toward the computer monitor at the desk by the door. "I'm going to check in our catalog for books on Scotland."

The man watched silently as she searched. Angela hummed. "It looks like, in house, the only books we have on Scotland are travel guides covering the whole of the UK or Europe. I don't expect they'd have many details on smaller places— well, I'm assuming An Aghaidh Mhòr is small, since I haven't heard of it. If you'd like, you can check anyway, or I can contact another library in the system, and they can send over some more specialized books, but that might take a few days."

The man said nothing, but his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Angela recognized the face of a person with a wide, potent array of bad options.

"Or, if you're more pressed for time, we do have a few computers and Internet access here. I can help you find some web sites that might have what you're looking for."

"And this wouldn't take any longer than looking through a book?"

Angela smiled and headed toward the public computers. "Faster, even, if you know what you're doing. I can help you if you've never done it before."

They began their search, and the man caught on quickly to what Angela was doing and how. She helped him for a while, long enough to find out that An Aghaidh Mhòr was a place in the woody North of Scotland, usually called Aviemore, and was something of a tourist destination. Beyond that, she left him to do his own research and went back to her crossword.

She just had a pesky few clues left when the man started muttering curses in another language and walked back over to her desk.

With panicked eyes, he said "I have to be honest. What I'm looking for is, ah… evidence that An Aghaidh Mhòr has an open community of ghosts alongside its humans. I'm certain that it once did, and I know that it still must. But I have chased every tail of information I could find that led to pages on the computer, and none of them, regardless of detail or experience with the town, has mentioned it."

He looked down and seemed to weigh something in his head. "It must be some sort of secret. Whether to protect the ghosts or to protect themselves from ridicule, the living people of An Aghaidh Mhòr have hidden their ghost society. You have to help me find it."

The little hairs on Angela's body all stood up. Warning bells were going off in her head. There was nothing to do but remain calm. "If that's the case, I don't know about anything like that. I can send out a question to my colleagues to see if they know anything, but I'm afraid I can't–"

"No!" The man swung out a hand, and the inner doors swung shut, silvery light weaving across them like fishing nets to keep them in place. The lights dimmed and his skin faded to a deep, fiery orange, layered and complex like agate. His eyes glowed like the moon. The few library guests gasped and looked at him in shock.

"You are a keeper of information, from a city with a striking connection to ghosts. I need to know the truth about ghostly An Aghaidh Mhòr, and you must help me find it." His silver eyes were full of fear, but Angela couldn't bring herself to care how the ghost who just trapped and threatened her was feeling.

She had to think fast to get out of this safely. Something to keep his hopes up…

"Fine. Fine." Angela held up her hands. "I'm not confident in my own grasp of the situation, but I do know of some secrets like the one you're talking about. It'll take some time– say, a couple hours– to put together anything meaningful, and I'll need to call in an expert, but I can do it. I will do it."

She could only hope her friends were any good at improv.

Maurice was never one for early mornings, but he always made the best of his hour alone after the kids went off to school and Angela's shift started. That was his time to make coffee and goof around. He could prance around the kitchen in ways that would make Tucker gag if he were there, and as long as he couldn't see his neighbors, he could put them out of mind enough to sing as loud as he wanted.

Before work was the blues hour. Today he put on Lucille. Whole album, on tape, from the top.

If anybody asked why he started his days with the blues, he'd probably say something about the sad lyrics reminding him how lucky he was. How no matter how embarrassing the family vacations or boring the work or sleazy the boss, he still had a clean house around him and a faithful wife beside him.

In reality, though, he mostly just liked the beat.

Once he got into work, it was just the same as ever. Double-entries and journalizing. He didn't even get to mix up which accounts he dealt with. VLADCO was too big for that. It was Accounts Receivable, 140-180, day after day.

But at least it wasn't IT.

Then, after almost an hour of swimming through "Axiom Labs, Ltd. $1,300 Debit" and "Hey, Maurice, how was the weekend?" and "Nugreen Ectosuppliers, LLC $400 Credit" and "You get that last letter? Crazy what Masters is trying these days, yeah?", everything went dark.

(Or, at least darker than usual. The grainy white of every surface in the office never lent itself to anything deeper than a cloudy grey.)

After a few seconds of quiet shock, the lights came back. Now, however, there was a ghost floating in front of the door connecting the Finances and Supplies department to the rest of the facility.

He seemed to be well-muscled and of average height, though it was hard to tell exactly what a ghost looked like when they were putting off that much of an aura. His skin was dark green and rough-looking, like bark, and there was a reddish halo around his head like some sort of spectral hair. His blood-moon eyes looked over everyone in the room individually before anyone dared speak. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"This is the center of a company that arms humans againsts ghosts and similar threats. Yes?"

Shocked, a few people nodded.

"And you are all from the department keeping stock of supplies. I do not know where your weapons are kept, but I know that you do. Someone in here will retrieve them for me. I need them, if I am to bring my people, ghosts and humans, together again."

The tension finally broke the membrane freezing time, and several office workers started to move for phones.

"Don't bother trying to get help. I have severed all the lines of communication between you and the world outside this office. I will leave you alone, as soon as someone leads me to the armory."

Maurice glanced at the little LCD display on the phone on his desk. No signal. His computer, too, had nothing when he clicked over to the Internet settings.

No one said anything. Some kept trying with their phones, but not a single person offered to explain how scant and useless the actual in-house ecto-equipment supply was or show the path to it. Maurice imagined they were all thinking the same thing he was; yes, complying was generally the way to stay safe in a hostage situation, and panic was strong, but a ghost coming into town and getting their hands on even just half-assembled ecto-equipment never went well. And, maybe even more importantly, VLADCO had terrifyingly strict regulations on safe ecto-tech policy. Unless the immediate threat of being personally hurt for information increased, the consequences in the long run were the biggest monster here.

The ghost crossed his arms. "Fine. You have one hour to bring me to the weapons. I can wait. I have waited this long. If you take any longer, or if you attempt any trickery, then I will start going through with threats. Until then, you may have your time to panic and fantasize about ways out that don't involve giving up company supply. I will be standing here."

He leaned against the door, and his gaze stayed rock-hard on the workers and their cubicles.

Maurice caught the eye of his most tolerable coworker Jacob. Jacob widened his eyes in some silent look of panicked questioning. Maurice shrugged. He was scared out of his mind, but what was there to do? Freaking out wouldn't do anybody any good. He could wait here and see if any ghost hunter showed up, and once they got closer to the end of the hour, everybody could meet up and decide if it was worth giving up the ecto-tech.

For now... well, he certainly wasn't going to do more accounting. This was as good an excuse for a break as any.

He toyed around on his computer for a bit, fidgeting with whatever programs he had. Maybe if the ghost noticed him, he could say he was looking for office schematics explaining where the ecto-tech was held. Really, he couldn't think to do anything but let off stress.

He played around in the rudimentary E-mail client for a bit. Mimed sending goofy messages to his coworkers while he knew he couldn't accidentally send them. But there, at the top of his inbox, was the automated morning office update. It had just come in four minutes ago... after the communications were shut off.

Was there some kind of hole in the ghost's anti-communication measure? The intercoms weren't working, and normal E-mails weren't going through, even within just Finances & Supplies. But the daily updates worked on a different system than the normal E-mails, so nobody had to send them at a consistent time each day, just queue them up.

...Was there something about the different setup that made it immune to the ghost's blackout?

Maurice got to investigating.

[mytardisisparked]

A Rather Handsome Fellow

While on vacation, Scully notices something interesting about her daughter.

Set in an AU where Scully and Mulder adopt Gibson Praise and Emily Sim, which is an idea that @singeart and I have been developing.

Read on AO3

---

“Behold!” Scully looked up from her computer, balanced on her legs as she rested on the couch, to find Emily standing in front of her, holding a small toad in her hands. The small girl was grinning from ear-to-ear, looking rather pleased with herself.

Scully smiled at her. “That’s a big toad.”

“It is! Mulder said if I kiss it I will either get a prince or I will get warts, so I’m not gonna do that, but he’s still a rather handsome fellow, huh?”

Scully tilted her head, studying her daughter. “Yes, he is…” she trailed off before raising her eyes to the door. “Where’s Mulder?”

“He’s attempting to catch some minute insects for the toad to dine upon.”

“Is he?” Scully stood, moving to the screen to look out at her partner, who was moving around the yard with a butterfly net, looking more than a little absurd.

“Hm.” Scully smiled at Emily again. “You can take the toad to the front porch and I’ll bring Mulder around to bring you some bugs, okay?”

“Okay!” Emily bounded off, toad tucked safely between her hands.

Hands on hips, Scully headed out into the yard. As she approached, Mulder turned and smiled at her. “Did Emily show you her little prince?”

“She did.” Scully wet her lips. “She also showed off her new vocabulary. Why is my daughter talking like a liege lord?”

Mulder’s face broke into an even wider grin. “We were playing knights. She must have picked up a few things.”

“I see.” Scully smiled just a bit. “Just… make sure one-hundred-dollar words are all she picks up from your vocabulary, okay?”

Mulder saluted her with a fisted hand across his chest and a slight bow. “Of course, My Lady.”

Scully finally broke into a full smile and a small laugh as Mulder gallantly offered her his arm. “Where is Emily? I have a few flies for her, I think.” He lifted the butterfly net, which he had twisted at the top to trap in a few mosquitos and a small fly or two.

“The front porch.”

They headed around the house and found Emily building a castle for her toad out of rocks from their rental cabin’s driveway. She was talking enthusiastically to the toad about the monsters that lived in the woods behind their cabin and how she would protect him from said monsters. Her unending monologue was sprinkled with more long, New-York-Times-crossword-puzzle words.

Scully leaned into Mulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist and they listened to the chatter. After a few moments, she looked up at him.

“She takes after her father.”

Against her back, she felt Mulder’s breathing hitch as he looked down at her in awe. After a moment, he smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Good thing she looks like her mother, then.”

Scully smiled. “Come on, let's get some flies for our knight and her tiny charge.”

[howlingday]

Do you think Salem has hobbies if she does what kind of hobbies would she have? What would her inner circles hobbies be?

Let's see... Going for jokes and whatnot, let's see what kind of hobbies Salem and her inner circle probably has.

Salem is literally making Grimm all the time in her black pool. That said, I could see her also being really into cooking and might even watch cooking shows and cooking along with them. She then has her Grimm dispose of what's left of the meals when the inner circle is done eating.

Up next, we have Cinder, who is constantly plotting and scheming of way to become more powerful. It's kinda hard for me to say what she likes to do since most of what she does is all in the interest of serving the purpose of a later goal. That said, I'm having trouble thinking of anything since most of it would be more what she considers a waste of time... except gardening. She has her own personal garden that she plants seeds for and waters until they grow into beautiful flowers or food-stuffs for Salem to cook with. It may also better solidify her ties with Salem.

Tyrian is Salem's oldest and most faithful servant, serving as her tracker and hunter for the Maidens and the relics. Since murder isn't considering a viable hobby, part of me wants to say hunting, though I can't really see Tyrian as a hunting guy. Not with long range methods, anyways. Now fishing is a different story. I could see him dipping his tail into the water, using it was a hook until he yanks up the hapless fish. He also provides Salem with her cooking supplies. Am I just making up a Salem cooking AU? Who know.

Watts is Salem's tech guy, and he is very good at hacking and other computer-based things. Aside from that, I could also see him into other intellectually-driven pursuits. Not chess because chess is too important to the story of RWBY. No, I'm thinking more like crossword puzzles and sudokus. His morning paper is all he needs to have a good time. And if he screws up, he can just erase it because he's not an idiot who fills out the crossword in pen! YOU HAVE PENCILS! USE THEM! ...Wait, what were we talking about?

Hazel. Oh, Hazel, how sad it was to see you go after coming so far. Judging by his size, you'd think he'd be big into weight-lifting and some kind of martial-arts routine, but I think he instead picks up where his sister probably left off with her hobby. I'm thinking things like books or movies or maybe even like tiny horse figurines. Stuff you wouldn't normally associate with an eight-foot-tall brickhouse with an immunity to pain and an unquenchable desire for hate.

Let's see, who else is in Salem's Inner Circle? Looking at the Wiki, it's... Oh no. Ohoho my god... Evernight Castle? No, that's not what it's called, is it? Oh, it is! Oh my god, and it's located in "The Land of Darkness". Yeah, no, Hazel is definitely an MLP fan and he joined the villains to avenge his dead sister. Just... Oh my god... This cannot be real! Ugh... Anyway, who else is there?

Wait, who the hell is Vermillion Raddock? Oh, RWBY: Grimm Campaign. Yeah, one of these days I'll actually see it or hopefully play it, but good golly, will it be a while. Did they ever sell Grimm Campaign merchandise, or was it just a podcast that we had to be members of RT to watch? Oh well, questions for later.

Let's see... Tock... Unnamed female warrior... Oh, Mercury! I guess Emerald isn't a member, either, huh? Or even a member at all? Anyway...

Mercury is probably the easiest to figure out for me. Judging by how he's into sniffing boots and recording genocide, I'm gonna guess he's a blogger of some kind as a hobby. He's not in it for the money, just for the reactions he can get out of people. But then again, I may have a bias against the guy who recorded people being murdered with a smile on his face. Seriously, fuck this guy!

But I could be wrong on all accounts for these characters. What do you guys think?

[catchyhuh]

What sort of hobbies or interests do you imagine the Gang having (outside thievery or arresting said thieves)? And do they influence the way they go about their usual antics, or are they mostly Unrelated to everything else in their lives? :0c

oohhooohoho this is a good one because i have a small handful of actual canonical hobbies/interests that come up occasionally and then i have the ones that solely exist in my mind palace. at least until tms decides to let a random little shrimp from america take the reins on their most longrunning successful franchise anyway,

lupin:

i can’t remember if i mentioned lupin loves puzzles. wait yes i did in the video game list SORRY I’M ALREADY HAVING TROUBLE REMEMBERING WHAT I HAVE AND HAVEN’T GONE OFF ABOUT but yes in canon lupin LOVES puzzles. less like, jigsaw puzzles, more like shapey puzzles. but hell man if you can get him to sit still long enough he might like a jigsaw one just to pass the time

i think he likes cooking. him, jigen and goemon all seem to really Get it. so count this under all of them, they just love yummy food and occasionally the process of making it too

he likes to draw :) somebody has to be behind all the slightly different variants of his little mascot guy. SOMEBODY has to redraw bank floor plans so they can plan out each tiny step of the heist. somebody has to scribble over his own wanted posters to put funny little devil horns on the image CMON now!!

jigen:

only jigen could be in a fucking arcade theater complex and pull out a fucking crossword puzzle. why is this dude honestly trying to speedrun being a grouchy old man before he even turns 40. i mean no hate, no hate to crossword puzzles, they are cool but i’m more of a wordsearch guy. BUT THERE’S OTHER STUFF TO DO JIGEN!! at least he’s not going for sudoku though

very random but i think he might like sewing in a passive sense. with how particular he is about his hat and really ANY clothes on his person, he probably just picked up a needle one day to fix a tear and then was like Huh. this isn't too bad actually. kinda repetitive and calming. and then the others found out and tried to get him to fix all their stuff too SO HALF PLEASANT AND HALF NOT SO PLEASANT

fujiko:

you may think i’m insane but fujiko must genuinely have some sort of fondness for computers and technology. more than she lets on at least, because. how DO you know how to fly every type of aircraft. how DO you know how to crack into almost any computer firewall? how do you know how to isolate a computer virus as it’s ALREADY corrupted HALF OF THE SYSTEM?? this goes beyond job necessity to me she must really have some hidden underlying passion for this stuff

i think it’d be cute if she took up some kinda journaling. i mean god knows she’s not writing about her FEELINGS in that little leather notebook, and she doesn’t really have the time to commit to like, scrapbook shit (even if she had the time, she’s not sentimental like that) but something simple like “this is a list of m&m variants in order of how disgusting to not disgusting they taste to me <3” with little candy stickers and gel pen hearts drawn in. the next page has a bloodstain on it and the only thing written is “dw about that lol”

goemon:

okay i KNOW i’ve pushed the Arts Enjoyer goe agenda before but i recently saw that part 3 production art again of him chilling with the pottery wheel so i must state, once again, goemon LOVES sculpting shit in all forms. chip away at some rock, throw zantetsuken at a block of wood, actually invest in some clay for fucking once, whatever he uses, he’ll make something pretty good. and even if it wasn’t good it’s still a fun hobby for him. keeps his hands loose but precise

oh my god you know what he would love. dominoes. you know when people make those like crazy long domino strings that form a pattern when they’ve all fallen. if anybody here could have the precision and strangely placed patience to do shit like that it’s definitely this guy

zenigata:

going through this list easily and eagerly typing up little funfacts about things i do know they like outside of their. “jobs” and then slowly realizing as i get to zenigata that i... cannot think of anything he. uh. does for fun. damn. he DOES talk about movies a lil bit from time to time, and knowing his mixture of a freakish eye for detail and also missing the most obvious things ever i bet hearing him talk about a movie is twice as fun as actually watching it. i would pay HUNDREDS to hear him try to explain what he thinks of space odyssey to me

it would be-- i have no reasoning for this but it would be so cute and hilarious if he did like. tiny magic tricks. you know? like card appearing out of thin air, coin behind your ear type shit. tiny stuff he figured out on his brief off time. we know lupin can do little stuff like that too but it'd just be hilarious if zenigata, completely unawarely and unintentionally for once, ended up being better than him at some inconsequential shit like making a pair of keys disappear

and i guess in light of recent discoveries they all like golf. apparently. well. no one is perfect

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

The Fall of the House of Usher : Quotes

"- And if anyone, anyone comes after us, we will exhaust our arsenal until the threat's neutralized. - By neutralized, do you mean sued into oblivion, taken out of the Board, out of the will, on the streets... - Neutralized. Like dead. (Episode 1)

"- Algorithms aren't high tech. They've been around since antiquity. An algorithm is just a finite sequence of all defined instructions to solve a problem, or perform a computation." (Episode 2)

"- Nothing worth having is ever easy." (Episode 2)

"- It's better, I promise, in the moment just before than in the moment after." (Episode 2)

"- We need to talk because when people ask, there are some things you absolutely cannot say." (Episode 3)

"- That's why we've a charity wing, so you paste someone's face on it." (Camille - Episode 3)

"- We remember that he did it, so he did it." (Episode 3)

"- Because opportunity doesn't give a fuck what you're going through." (Episode 3)

"- That's why they hate us. Not because we grabbed the opportunity, but because they didn't." (Episode 3)

"- Like, I make video games, you know? (Leo) - You don't make video games. You give money to people who make video games. No, no. An idea is nothing. An idea is fart that your brain makes. But if you patent an idea, well, then it's an asset. (Camille - Episode 3)

"- You're gonna do the smart thing and go back to your crossword puzzle or else I'll have you fired and sued." (Episode 3)

"- What's a six-letter word for "fucked"?" (Episode 3)

"- I'm gonna need you to tell me who the fuck you think you are." (Episode 3)

"- I can hear Camille's voice in my head right now. "Satin is silk for poor people, no one should wear it to a funeral, unless they died in it." Fuck's sake." (Leo - Episode 4)

"- The other go-to coping mechanism in my family. It's when you direct your more intense reactions towards something or someone that doesn't feel threatening. So you get to react and be angry, be abusive, be violent, even, but you don't risk significant consequences." (Episode 4)

"- Denial, displacement, projection." (Episode 4)

" - But see, I wanted something better. Something better for him. For all of them." (Episode 4)

"- A trait of mine that seemed to skip them somehow... sublimation. That is something that is one of the few coping mechanisms that's considered positive. Sublimation is when a person chooses to redirect strong emotions into an object or an activity that's appropriate and safe. So, instead of lashing out at your employees, you pour your energy into kickbox..." (Episode 4)

"- You drive a car like that, you make a statement. About who you are, where you're going, and how you get there." (Episode 4)

"- Now, let's get a drink, huh? It's gotta be noon somewhere." (Roderick - Episode 4)

"- Something in coke for you? You don't want the designer stuff. It's too dangerous." (Leo - Episode 4)

"- Are you mistaking me for a civilian? I'm not a fucking civilian." (Frederik - Episode 4)

"- You're not who I thought you were. Smart girls are only sex until they don't wanna fuck you, and then they're competition, and then what do you do? You take them down a peg." (Episode 5)

"- It's an opportunity. He's underestimated you. That's a gift. A failure of imagination. He sees you as formidable, he locks down, closes ranks, shuts the doors, battens the hatches. You are a face, you're not a mouthpiece, so just smile and shut the fuck up." (Episode 5)

"- Look, I'm shit at preambles. I made a life by getting to the point, so..." (Episode 5)

"- Why is this happening? - Life is insane. It is madness. The sooner you understand that, the better off you'll be." (Episode 6)

"- Reality's not what it used to be. All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. For example.... As those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. (Roderick) - Grandpa, are you okay? (Lenore) - I am. I'm fine. I'm just... It's been quite a week." (Roderick - Episode 6)

"- Men have called me mad But the question is not yet settled. As to whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence." (Episode 6)

"- Shut your mouth, get your shit together. The fuck is wrong with you?" (Episode 6)

"- I don't know anything about anything." (Episode 6)

"- Men are as stupid as they are simple. You're better off. Oh, my God, my first husband. I thought I missed him, but that was just this temporary insanity. This burp your heart goes through. He was fun to ride. Boy. Men, when they think they're immortal, all they want to do is fuck. When they figure out they're going to die, all they want to do is fuck. (Madeline - Episode 6)

"- You don't have to be a tyrant, but if you don't want to be consistently cruel, then you have to be sufficiently brutal at least once to establish authority." (Episode 7)

"- Everything has a price. Every negotiation's a point of entry. Every deal is simply an expression of will. Mutual will." (Episode 7)

"- You're a collection of impeccable, elaborate masks in orbit of a stunted heart. And I understand. You find an adversary, you kill them. You find a hurdle, you jump it or dismantle it. You find a locked door, you pry it open." (Episode 7)

"- Don't be stupid. Can you imagine what that would look like? My own wife trying to get off my own drug. It's a PR nightmare." (Roderick - Episode 7)

"- All soaked with feelings of absolute desperation and dread." (Episode 7)

"- Basically, the closest analogy I can think of is a fish being pulled out of water, only at least the fish gets to die." (Roderick - Episode 7)

"- So, I will take there years of hell over a lifetime with you." (Juno - Episode 7)

"- He and I share that as well. We both understand that... language in its highest expression is musical. What's a poem, after all, if not a safe space for a difficult truth. So there is a limit. (Verna) - No, it's not a limit, it's a standard." (Episode 8)

"- I don't want it, any of it, if it involves serving at some man's pleasure." (Madeline - Episode 8)

"- One of my favorite things about human beings. Starvation, poverty, disease, you could fix all that, just with money. But everyone loves something. And that love there's collateral. (Verna) - No. I have no collateral. Collateral is leverage. And I won't be leveraged. No man or woman has leveraged me in 70 years of life. And I'm not going to cede that ground, not this close to the end." (Arthur Pym - Episode 8)

[androcola2]

I really like hearing about old man Mike and I dunno how much inspiration you take from real life Nesmith, but I was wondering how tech-savvy he is in your headcanon? I imagine since he spends a lot of his time at home it makes sense he’d be an avid user of the interwebs, and in some 2018/2019 interviews I’ve read he said he played a lot of World of Warcraft and tells everyone he meets about how much he loves Vaporwave which is just a very funny concept to me :) https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/monkees-michael-nesmith-vaporwave-714253/ | http://www.rebeatmag.com/michael-nesmith-interview/ Here’s the said interviews since I think they’re cute reads, I especially like the quote, “This is on the channel called Shitpost Wizard.”

(If I already sent this ignore this one my computer froze or whatever so I'm not sure if the original went through or not)

honestly in my canon mike is Not tech savvy whatsoever. he does learn to use a computer in the late 90s, but only enough to know how to email and play the little solitaire game :) later, by the time he's much older and there's phones and everything, he just has no clue. also, he has a horrible habit of breaking every phone he gets his hands on. he can just barely text, and he fat fingers his texts all the time and autocorrect makes anything he types barely understandable. he probably has a facebook that only has one post.

micky on the other hand is very tech savvy. he's constantly keeping up with all the newest things and is just very into tech and new things and all that stuff, he has a few social medias, facebook, twitter, stuff like that. he's always sending texts to mike , and mike will just be like "👍" and then immediately drop his phone and shatter it on the ground

he'd hand his phone to micky and it would have the fuckin linux error on it and micky would be like "what on earth did you do!!??" and he's just like "I just don't know what went wrong 😦" he's always giving micky his phone after breaking or bricking it. he'd have like every single app running and the phone would be hot to the touch😭

TL;DR mike is terrible at tech, doesn't understand the Internet and is very indifferent to it all. he likes puzzles and crosswords

[clairelsonao3]

15 Questions Tag Game

If I do one tag game a day, maybe I can get caught up by the end of the summer! 😅

Thanks to @enne-uni whose post is here and @tabswrites whose post is here!

Rules: answer the questions below as yourself and/or your OC.

I've already answered for myself in an earlier post, so I'm going to quiz my two MCs from Good Slaves Never Break the Rules together.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Him: Um, I'll have to get back to you on that.

Her: My paternal grandfather was named Louis and my maternal grandfather was named Daniel, so I'm Louisa Danielle.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Him: I pretty much stopped crying around four or five. As a slave, you learn early on that crying won't help and usually only makes things worse.

Her: Five minutes ago when I dropped my phone.

3. Do you have kids?

Her. No.

Him: Oh, hell, no.

Her: But you're open to it someday, right?

Him: Uh, let's talk about this later.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

They both look at each other and laugh.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Him: Whether they're a slave or not — that's kind of important. After that, I pay attention to the way they speak and carry themselves, and whether I think they can be trusted — or manipulated. If it comes to that!

Her: Their eyes. And whether they seem kind.

6. What's your eye color?

Him: I believe it was once described as "somewhere between amber and gold."

Her: Gray.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Him: Scary movies.

Her: Happy endings.

8. Any special talents?

Him: Where do I start? Science of course, but also languages, music, mechanics, computer coding, acting, rhetorical persuasion ...

Her: Oh come on, you're making me feel bad.

Him: Now I'll do yours. Compassion, courage, problem-solving, standing up for what's right ...

Her: I feel better now.

9. Where were you born?

Him: Luxembourg City.

Her: Phoenix, Arizona.

10. What are your hobbies?

Him: Piano, chess, reading — mostly about science, but I'm discovering literature isn't as pointless as I thought it was. Not like I ever have time for proper hobbies, anyway.

Her: Reading, crossword puzzles, traveling. and back when I could afford it, fashion and shopping.

11. Do you have any pets?

Him: Never, but I've always secretly wanted a dog.

Her: We used to have an English setter named Artemis. She was actually my brother's, but I loved her.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Him: Growing up, I played football with some of the local kids. Real football, not that weird American football.

Her: Tennis, and I have a sailing certification, though I don't really have the head for knots and rigging. Daddy's been trying to drag me out onto the golf course since I could walk, but I told him I can hold out longer than he can.

13. How tall are you?

Him: 188 centimeters. That's 6'2" for you Americans.

Her: 5'6".

Him: That's 167 centimeters.

Her: Thanks for that.

Him: No problem.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Him: For the sake of this question, let's pretend I went to school. Chemistry, physics, and maths.

Her: English, biology, and French.

15. Dream job?

Him: Rocket scientist.

Her: Brain surgeon.

Both: We're not kidding!

Gently tagging:

@coffeexafterxmidnight @silverslipstream @rubywrite

@romanceandshenanigans Not sure you do tag games, but I'd love to get to know your MCs better if so!

Also OPEN TAG because I don't know who has and hasn't done this yet, or maybe they want to do it for a character they haven't done it for yet!

[liminalmemories21]

(Not) Seven Sentence Sunday

Okay, so firstly, thanks to everyone who tagged me today.

Secondly, I have had a day that started with my computer blue screening, attempting to resurrect my old computer long enough to live with it until I can get the current computer fixed, and also so that I could peace out and do the crossword puzzle. Which, I did! Yay. But then I got a paper cut opening box using scissors that were oddly actually sharp? Which felt like adding insult to injury.

Thirdly, all y'all who woke up this morning and chose violence with some of the most beautifully depressing fics to land in my inbox this morning, I love you and I'm grateful, but also yeesh.

Fourthly, all I've done this weekend is edit, so I don't actually have any thing to share. But I have loved every single snippet I have read today - 100% made my day better. Thank you!

And now I'm going to find something alcoholic and go make popovers for dinner (which autocorrect would apparently like to change to poppers . . . which is, a choice).

[onceuponmmy]

Mother Day Ideas

Whether your mother is someone who likes the outdoors, or someone that enjoys doing things inside. You can't go wrong with anything bought or homemade...

Bookish

(reader/writer/linguist)

<Homemade>

Write her a Story

Homemade Bookmarks

Homemade Puzzles/Crosswords

Write a Poem/Haiku/Family Quote

<Bought>

Her Fave Books (Date with a Book) with Bookmarks

Personalised or Cute Stationery (Pens)

A new Journal/Scrapbook (With Stickers)

Book of Puzzles/Crosswords/Pattern Colouring

Foodie

(cook/baker/foodie)

<Homemade>

Make her Breakfast in Bed

Bake her something

Cook her something

Make or Personalise Apron or Utensils

<Bought>

Cooking Utensils/Equipment or Apron

Get her Fave Treats/Snacks

A selection of her Beverages (Hot or Cold)

Make up a Foodie Kit (Ice Cream Kit, Movie Munchies Kit, etc)

Outdoors

(gardener/active/animals)

<Homemade>

Plan a Day Out (Park, Beach, Gardens, Museum/Gallery, etc)

Grow A Plant/Tree

Make something from wood/glass (Jewellery/Trinket box, etc)

Take care of the Animals for the Day.

<Bought>

Choose a Cap/Hat/Sweatbands/an article of Active Wear

New or Personalised Water bottle/Exercise Equipment

Plant/Flowers/Gardening Tools

Handy Tools (Hammer, tool bag, etc)

Pet Accessories or Mementos (Mugs/Shirts/etc)

Creative

(artist/crafter/memento)

<Homemade>

Photography Projects (Digital Slideshow) Scrapbook

Make Cards/Paintings

Make Candles/Soaps/Bath Salts/Sugar Scrubs

Sewing/Knitting/Crochet (Scarf, Beanie, Slippers, Blanket)

<Bought>

Art Mediums (Paints & Brushes, Pencils, Clay, etc...)

Print Photography Portraits

Scrap-booking Supplies and Book

Sewing/Knitting/Crochet Equipment

Glamour

(fashionista/beauty/shopping)

<Homemade>

Give her a Home Spa Day (Massage, Facial, Pedi-Mani)

Homemade Jewellery (Necklaces, Bracelets, Earrings)

Paint her nail, Create Hairstyles

Have a Fashion Show Runway

Design a Fashion Line with things at Home

<Bought>

Self-Care/Skin Care Kits

Gift Cards/Vouchers

Fashion Accessories (Wallets, Purses, keychains, etc)

Shopping Trip; Choose a new Outfit

Beauty Supplies (Lip balm, Perfume, Make Up, etc)

Entertainment

(singer/dancer/play)

<Homemade>

Compose a Song

Perform a Play

Create Dance Routine

Make a Playlist/Mixed Tape or CD

Homemade Music Memorabilia Crafts

<Bought>

Music Memorabilia

Go to a Show/Orchestra/Play

Attend a Concert of Music Festival

Find Personalised Packaging

Technology

(gamer/computers/devices)

<Homemade>

Play a Game with Her

Design a Game Together

Create something from old Tech Equipment

Laptop Decals/Stickers to Decorate

Sewn Laptop Case

<Bought>

Choose Accessories (Earphones, Speakers, Charger, Bags, Chargers, etc)

Personalised items (Mouse pads, Pictures, etc)

Desk Decorations (LED Lights, etc)

Portable Chargers & Desk Lamps

Smart Devices (Watches, Lights, Alexa)

Chill

(cozy/relaxed/homely)

<Homemade>

Do her Jobs for the Day

Give her a shoulder robe

Movie/TV Series Day in

Junk Food Day

<Bought>

Slippers/Ugh-boots

Fluffy or Soft Blanket/Robe

Sleeping Mask

Massage Tools

Any Mother

(What to get if you're unsure) :

PLAN FOR THE DAY (Doesn't have to be everything, choose what you feel she would love to do)

BOUGHT (Can never go wrong with a custom gift basket)

Build a Gift Basket -

Basket/Gift Box

Treat/Snack/Drink

Self Care/Relaxation

Scented Goodie

"Mom" Goodie (Jewellery, Mug, Cozy things, Bookish...)

Fresh Flowers (Preferably Her Favourite)

Card/Poem/Haiku/Quote

MOTHERS DAY COUPONS (Just some options, or you can make them yourself in to a small booklet)