#or from the ink on your ball point pen when you wrote down a quote from a book

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[ahiddenpath]

My Favorite Writing Stuff

One of the best things about writing is that all you need is a pen and paper!  But we all have our favorite tools and luxuries, and I thought it might be fun to talk about mine below the cut.  Lotsa pics, long post.

Word Processors

Scrivener

The single writing item I use most is my word processor, Scrivener, by Literature and Latte.  At some point waaaaaay back in 2012, I found myself writing Growing Up with You in Microsoft Word...  And having to wait ten seconds for the screen to adjust and load new text as I scrolled.  It was just too danged long for the program to handle.  Just reading my manuscript was a nightmare, let alone copying and pasting to move text, shuffle paragraphs, etc.  Making a new doc for each chapter quickly became a clunky chore.

THEN I FOUND SCRIVENER, AND IT’S THE BEST.

Scrivener is... not very user friendly; there’s definitely a learning curve.  But it was immediately so much better for writing long fiction than Word that I bought a book on the program and read it from cover to cover, which...  I don’t think I’ve ever done before.  That’s how much of a game changer this was.

The feature I rely on most is the binder.

This is the binder for Four Years, which currently has...  Forty-eight chapters.  I corralled the chapters into two folders, one for the first year of college (1), and one for the second (2).  

If I click folder 1, all of the chapters appear, each snug in their own folder.  Once the Scrivener file loads, there is no further loading time.  Each folder can be moved by clicking and dragging, as can each text file inside each folder.  FREEDOM!

This feature alone was worth the price of the program.  They offer a free trial, so please check it out if you’re interested!

Portable Word Processors

I’ve mentioned these before, but I have two portable gadgets that allow me to write on the go, distraction free.

Alpha Smart Neo 2

This might look like the baby of a toddler’s toy computer and a keyboard, but it’s actually my baby.

Just kidding!  Sort of!  The Alpha Smart Neo 2 is a portable word processor that boots up in a second, is powered by three AA batteries for eons, and weighs about 2 pounds.  They are no longer in production (which is a crime), but there are oodles available on Ebay for about $20-30.  

(I used to own and talk about my Alpha Smart 3000.  The Alpha Smart Neo 2 is the latest model before the company shut down, and the keyboard is nicer; it’s quieter and easier on the fingers).

I honestly can’t say enough about this device.  I rarely draft on a computer anymore; it’s just too easy to find yourself surfing the web, falling down a research vortex, or even reading your manuscript instead of writing.  Alpha Smarts can remember what you wrote until you delete it.  That’s it.  That’s all they do.  It’s beautiful.

I write about 800 words/hr on a computer.  I write about 1,500 words/hr on an Alpha Smart.  Distractions are so, so real.

When you’re ready to port your writing from your Alpha Smart to your word processor, all you have to do is connect a printer cable to your Alpha Smart, then plug the usb end into your computer.  Open your word processor, turn on your Alpha Smart, select the file you want to transfer, and hit send.  If you forget any of this, it’s written on the back of the Alpha Smart.

I know that no one should blame their success or failure on their tools, but...  I wouldn’t be able to write nearly as much without my Alpha Smart.  And if you ever do writing meet ups, you’ll be the only person who isn’t fighting for a power outlet!  It also fits easily into a tote bag or backpack.

Oh, Alpha Smart Neo 2.  My partner and friend!

Freewrite

The Freewrite by Astrohaus is... um.  Well, it’s a lot like the Alpha Smart Neo 2, except that it’s waaaay more expensive, much harder to use, and has terrible firmware.

There are cool things about it, for sure!  For one, it has this weird...  Pseudo typewriter feel.  It’s much larger and heavier than an Alpha Smart, and I’m not sure that I actually consider it portable...  But the thick, angled base practically functions as a lap desk.  It’s comfortable to use and has a nice mechanical keyboard.

It has wifi capability, so you can send drafts directly to your dropbox/cloud/email, no cords or transfers needed.  The screen is an e-ink scree, like a Kindle Paperwhite, easy on the eyes and readable in the sun.  It’s also backlit, which is the one major win over the Alpha Smart.

I bought mine used off ebay for a fraction of the list price (this thing is NOT worth $600 on any planet, goodness gracious mercy dang!  I paid about $180), and, um...  I still don’t know if it was worth it, not when I can buy an Alpha Smart Neo 2 for $30 tops.  I mean, I like the e-ink and the backlit screen, but...  There’s a lag between typing and the words populating on the screen.  There are no arrows to fix a typo.  I had to send 10 emails back and forth to tech support to get it updated and working.  It was not broken, and I understood all the directions...  It’s just god awful firmware.  I also lost a draft because it wipes your device if you open their Sprinter program while using your Freewrite.  

I still use it, though!  The tactile sensation is really nice, the keys make a satisfying clickety clackety, the E-ink screen is lovely, I adore the option to write in a not-that-well-lit room, and the wifi transfer is faster than my Alpha Smart’s wired method.  But I still can’t recommend it as long as Alpha Smart Neo 2s are available, not unless you’re some combination of the following: a writing nut who writes so gosh dang much that these toys are worth it, someone who is big on tactile sensation, someone who likes hipster stuff, or someone who would love an Alpha Smart but can’t read the electronic screen well.  If this is you, make sure you also have a strong grasp on how to talk to and understand tech support, because you will need them.

Just never ever EVER open Sprinter...

Notebooks

Leuchtturm1917, hard cover, A5, dotted

MAY I INTRODUCE YOU TO MY LOVE, THE LEUCHTTURM NOTEBOOK.

WHERE DO I EVEN START.

The Leuchtturm is...  Just the best.  The hard cover takes abuse well, stickers hold onto it nicely, it has two ribbon bookmarks and an elastic closure, there’s a folder attached to the back inside cover...  The dot version is unobtrusive and encourages smaller writing, which helps the notebook last.  And it is available in a rainbow of colors!

The paper is lovely, the pages are numbered, and IT HAS AN INDEX.

I’m a scientist, and working in a Leuchtturm is just like working in a fancy, expensive lab notebook.  The set up is done already, man.  You just gotta jot down what pages contain what.  IT’S SO ORGANIZED, with almost zero effort!  Mi amor.

Sure, I could make an index page and number all of my pages manually...  But I’ve met myself.  I won’t do it.  When you combine all of these lovely features, you have one unbeatable notebook.

Plus, they’re easy to obtain in the states!  I order them off Amazon or buy them at my local Barnes & Nobles.

Midori MD Notebook, A5, grid

The Midori has even nicer quality paper than the Leuchtturm, but the cover can’t take abuse, and it lacks the nice features.  I truly appreciate the paper quality, but the other features bring me back to my Leuchtturms every time.

It’s a Japanese item and is more difficult to import to the states.  You can get them off Amazon, though!

Pens

I use Uni-ball Signo 207 gel pens.  They write comfortably, and using them feels satisfying.  They should be available in most Walmart/Target type stores, at least in the states!  

It should be noted that I’m just not a pen buff.  I tried fountain pens, and it was more trouble than it was worth for me.

Folios/Traveler’s Notebooks

Okay, so you found the perfect notebook!  Wanna make it SUPER DUPER FANCY PANTS?!  Well, you could try a traveler’s notebook.  

I only learned what a traveler’s notebook is about a year ago, so if you’re also in the dark...  It’s a leather cover that holds notebooks inside with elastic.  I own these chic sparrows, one for my Midori notebook (or whatever notebook I’m using at the time), and one for my journal.

My full name is etched into them, so please pardon my censorship XD

The chic sparrow traveler’s notebooks are so elegant and decadent and...  I won’t lie, I literally move one or both around the house with me, just so I can look at them.  

The one on the left is a Mr. Darcy deluxe, size A5, in the Wickham color.  The one on the right is an Enchanted Woods deluxe, size A5, in the Elderwood color.

They have lots of pockets on the inside, a pen loop, and elastics to hold multiple notebooks.  This one is strung with a Midori notebook.  I also have a smaller B6 one that I use as a wallet!  It holds a small notebook, so I can write down those ideas that always happen when I’m out and don’t have paper.  The pockets hold IDs, credit cards, and cash.

It’s just this... magical, opulent item.  While it’s likely the least practical thing on this list, it’s very special to me.

Lap Desks

I HAVE A HARRY POTTER RAVENCLAW STORAGE DESK FROM POTTERY BARN AND I FEEL LIKE A WITCH WHEN I USE IT.

Oh dear, I took a terrible picture, it looks so lovely in person.  

The top can slide in both directions, revealing enough storage for several A5 notebooks, pens, and more.  It’s a great way to cart your stuff into your favorite cozy nook for a writing session.  Plus, you’ll feel like a Hogwarts student!  It’s available in all four house designs, plus a Hogwarts crest version.

Pottery Barn puts these on sale occasionally.  I’d aim for 25% off before buying.

My Writing Bag

I decked out a tote bag in writing pins to carry my Alpha Smart, thesaurus, a notebook, and pens.  You can use any bag, as long as it accommodates what you need!  Here are my fave sources for writing-related pins:

Literary Emporium, who makes my favorite pin, “Still I Rise,” a Maya Angelou quote.  They have the most gorgeous pins.

When life gives you lemons, read them, advice for the ages

And fandom:

Digivice pin

My beloved Sailor Moon pin, the loveliest pin I’ve ever seen (not shown because it lives on my Sailor Moon jacket!).  All of the inner senshi are available!

THAT’S ALL, THAT WAS SO MUCH.  Please let me know if you try any of these out!