#s3 e16

[lightthewaybackhome]

I enjoyed watching the Game and the Ark together because they stand in contrast to each other as the best and worst of Sheppard and McKay.

In the Game we see McKay's arrogance and Sheppard's aggression unmitigated by any of their other virtues spread through a whole culture. Both of them are plagued with stubbornness and unwillingness to see the other side of the picture. Sheppard and McKay have to work overtime to try and keep their worst sides from hurting each other. I think this is a major part of their friendship.

McKay has almost no friends because he's so hard to work with. It's shown in such a hysterical way when Nola refuses to believe that Baden's citrus fruit is anything but an insult.

Sheppard too struggles in the friend department because he's aggressive and doesn't follow the rules. Baden actually cheats at the game and orders the attack on Nola and her people. This shows Sheppard as a man who, mostly before the responsibilities of Atlantis settle on his shoulders, might have just been a bit too quick to pick a fight.

Oddly, McKay finds a friend in Sheppard, and Sheppard a friend in McKay. They are proof that Nola and Baden aren't one dimensional, and can not only get along but thrive together.

(Also, I will always love Sheppard beating McKay at chess at the end and I will always love LORNE! and Radak playing the game.)

The Ark stands in total contrast to the Game. It is Sheppard and McKay's qualities dialed up. It is Sheppard talking McKay down from panic, calming Ronon with a promised fight to the death, knowing Atlantis (LORNE!) will come for them, fighting to save his team, and then willingly sacrificing himself for Teyla. The look on his face when he's breaking through the door is gold. He is a determined man ready to kill if you touch his people, which you did, so prepare to die.

The episode ends with Sheppard reiterating yet again that he would willingly give his life for any of them, even McKay.

Rodney is also at his best. Excited to explore, quick on his feet, comes up with solutions, listens to Sheppard, tries to save everyone, and tries to talk Sheppard out of risking his life. I love the moment he tells Lorne he's not going back to the Jumper because they don't leave their people behind, and Lorne gently agrees and explains that he's not leaving anyone behind.

Rodney may be quick to panic and quick to tell you how you're going to die, but he too will do anything for his team.

Watching these two episodes back to back is great because of the contrast they provide. Sheppard and McKay at their worst and then Sheppard and McKay as they are, which are two men who have worked against their worst traits for the sake of others.

...and next is Sunday. Big, sad sigh.

[olinse]

Watching S3 E16

I felt bad for the clearly overworked and underpaid lab guy in S3 E16

Jane being snarky towards him and commenting about Einstein having the same number of hours in a day was kinda tone-deaf

[atomicfanboy]

The emotions I feel every time I watch Sozin's Comet and see Sokka jump to cover Toph on the airship

[bigforeheadbaddie]

felicity. ben is a loser little bitch. noel is literally your best friend and offering you a great job and you’re turning it all down for BEN???????

[stefyjonas1]

They made a gay joke 😐

[veilsaint]

me watching each member of the bau slowly crack and crumble under the weight of their profession and how it affects their personal lives with their personal emotions bubbling back into their professional lives

[agirlinsearchof]

You know, I really think if the Mayor weren't evil, he'd be a good father-figure for Faith!

I also really respect him for turning down Faith's flirting attempt. For all that he's evil, at least he takes no interest in underage girls.

He's an interesting villain. He's a genuinely pleasant, affable man... even though he's making deals with demons and trying to ascend to a higher state of being for ambiguous but surely nefarious purposes.

[dr-fizzovich]

YAYAY THANKIOU FOR THESE SCREENSHOTS OF ME ^_^

im boutta draw smth right now mootsie... stay tuned. :3

[azurelum1]

I don’t know how to feel when my friend has only watched season 1 to 3 and s15 e20 of Supernatural - like you saw Dean get dragged to hell and was not interested in to know what happens next but curious enough to know how the show ended so you watched the last episode which he dies on a rebar

I -

[the-binge-watcher]

[soulerflaire]

I understand that she's not real and can't affect anything, but it's still grating that they're once again making T'Pol weak and pitiful.

[stormcided]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (1997-2003)

"Doppelgangland" s3 E16

[gf2bellamy]

Hiii, I absolutely LOVE your writing and I was just rewatching S3 of Criminal Minds and Spencers confession about being bullied in E16 made me so sad, I just want him to be happy and loved😭 . Anyway, I was wondering (if you're still taking reqs) if you could do something to do with that story about him getting bullied and him thinking back on those times when he was so lonely and how grateful he is that he now has reader and the rest of the team that care about him.

grateful — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship, mention of spencer's past in school, no details of the bullying though , mostly fluff and spencer just being nostaglic the entire time a/n: haii !! i wrote like 3 different versions of this, which is why it took so long !!! it might be one of my fav things i've ever written <3

You stifled a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat on the edge of the bed.

Behind you, Spencer shifted, his arms sliding around your waist as he pulled you back against him. “We could just sleep in,” he mumbled sleepily into your shoulder. His embrace was warm and comforting.

You couldn’t help but smile, letting yourself sink back into him for just a second, just long enough to savor the way his fingers absently traced patterns against your side. But duty called, and with a reluctant sigh, you shook your head.

“You wish,” you teased, though your voice was just as soft as his.

Glancing over your shoulder, you took in the sight of him, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes barely open, dark lashes fluttering as he fought to stay awake.

“I’ll take a shower,” you offered, turning just enough to press a kiss to the side of his head. “If you want, I’ll wake you up when I’m done. You can sleep a little longer.”

Spencer didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pressed a drowsy kiss to the curve of your shoulder before collapsing back onto the mattress with a muffled thud. “Thank you,” he sighed, already halfway gone. You chuckled, watching as his breathing evened out almost instantly.

After you stepped out of the shower, you dressed slowly, pulling on the soft sweater jacket Spencer had given you for your birthday. Spencer hadn’t moved an inch, still sprawled across the bed with one arm tucked under the pillow, his face half-buried in it. You sat beside him, brushing a few stray curls away from his forehead.

“Spencer,” you murmured, leaning down.

His nose scrunched, and he let out a soft, protesting sound before his eyes finally cracked open, blinking up at you with confusion of someone who wasn’t entirely sure what year it was.

“I’m awake,” he lied, his voice rough with sleep.

You grinned. “Sure you are.”

He groaned, rubbing at his eyes before finally pushing himself upright. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in every direction, and you couldn’t resist reaching out to smooth it down, even though you knew it was a lost cause. Then, without warning, he slumped against you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder.

“You look pretty,” he mumbled into the fabric of your sweater, his arms winding around your waist again.

Your heart squeezed. “Thank you, Spencer.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “So do you.”

He huffed a laugh, his breath warm against your neck. “I just woke up.”

“So?” You carded your fingers through his hair, smiling as he leaned into the touch. “You look very handsome.”

You felt him smile against your shoulder, the curve of his lips pressing gently into the fabric of your sweater. Your fingers drifted from his back to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp in the way that always made him melt. Spencer made a soft, contented sound, nuzzling closer. You let him linger there, assuming he was still shaking off the sleepiness. But the truth was, he was wide awake, eyes half-lidded, staring absently at the floor as he soaked in the warmth of your body.

Most of all, he savored the moment.

Being woken up with soft touches and sleepy compliments. Not having to overanalyze whether you meant them, because he felt it, in the way you held him, in the way your voice softened when you said his name. It was still strange, sometimes, how easily you disarmed him.

In the beginning, he’d freeze up whenever you praised him. A lifetime of schoolyard taunts and sideways glances had conditioned him to brace for the catch. But you’d been patient. You’d started small���“I like your smile”—then waited, letting him get used to it. Until he stopped fighting it. Until he could finally believe you.

Now, he just smiled.

“Spence, don’t fall asleep on my shoulder,” you murmured, pressing another kiss to his hair.

His smile widened. “I’m not.”

With a theatrical sigh, he finally lifted his head, stretching his arms above him until his spine gave a quiet pop. He shot you a lopsided smirk before shuffling toward the bathroom. You grabbed the blow dryer, shaking your head fondly as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. By the time Spencer finished brushing his teeth and stepping under the shower, the steam had curled around the bathroom mirror . He toweled off hastily, pulling on his pajama pants and his worn FBI Academy t-shirt. Padding barefoot into the bedroom, he paused in the doorway, watching you.

You sat in front of the vanity mirror, the blow dryer humming in your hand as you tilted your head, fingers combing through your damp hair. For a moment, Spencer just stared. Then you caught his gaze in the mirror and smiled.

“Want me to dry your hair?” you offered, clicking off the dryer, so you could hear his answer. Spencer nodded before he could overthink it.

You stood, gesturing to the chair, and he sank into it without hesitation, his damp pajama sleeves leaving tiny dark spots on the fabric. A flicker of self-consciousness prickled at him, realizing he was getting everything wet, but then your fingers brushed his nape, sweeping his curls aside, and the thought dissolved.

“Comfortable?” you murmured, turning the dryer back on. He hummed in response, eyes drifting shut. Your hands were gentle , carding through his hair, ruffling it just enough to let the heat reach his scalp.

“Is it too hot?” You leaned closer, your breath tickling his ear.

Spencer shook his head. You kept working, and he smiled when you paused to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

It still amazed him, sometimes. How easily you took care of him.His mind flickered back to years of silent mornings: stumbling out of bed alone, dressing in the dark to avoid his reflection, agonizing over whether to gel his hair or not, contemplating if he had it in him to handle the teasing from the other kids.

Now, here you were, fingers tangled in his curls, doing his hair for him.

“Do you want to gel it back today?” you asked, switching off the dryer.

Spencer shook his head immediately, and your smile told him you’d expected that answer. He knew how much you loved his curls, though you’d never hesitated to tell him he looked devastating with it slicked back, either.

“Good,” you said, ruffling his hair playfully. “I get to keep you soft today.” You ruffled his hair one last time, your fingers lingering just a moment longer in those soft curls.

"Thank you," Spencer murmured with a big smile, catching your gaze in the mirror.

As you turned to your jewelry box, a comfortable silence set between you. Spencer hovered near the closet, fingers absently pushing through hangers.

"How many files do you have to work on today?" you asked, tilting your head as you debated between simple studs or the dangling earrings Spencer had gifted you last Christmas.

"Not many." His hand paused on a gray cardigan before moving past it. The fabric was too heavy for the season. "Why? Do you have a lot?"

You hesitated just a beat too long, fingers freezing over your jewelry selection. Spencer didn't need his profiling skills to recognize that tell.

"Just a couple," you mumbled, suddenly very interested in a pair of earrings.

Spencer turned fully then, leaning against the closet doorframe with arms crossed. The smile that tugged at his lips was equal parts exasperated and unbearably fond.

It was so different from the transactional relationships of his past. His classmates' sudden friendliness still left a bitter taste, their smiles never reaching their eyes as they slid their unfinished homework across the library table. How quickly their feigned interest evaporated once he'd solved their equations. But you'd rather drown in paperwork than risk inconveniencing him.

The irony wasn't lost on Spencer, the one person he'd move mountains for refused to let him carry even a single file.

Not that it would stop him. He'd already resolved to discreetly claim half your workload once you visited Garcia. Some habits, like his inability to watch you struggle, were too deeply ingrained to break.

When you finally turned from your jewelry box, you found Spencer still frozen before the closet.

"Oh, Spence," you breathed excited, as you jumped to his side. "Can I choose your clothes? Please?"

Spencer didn't even pretend to consider it, as he sat on the bed. "Have at it," he said.

He smiled when he heard your delighted squeal. You studied the closet , your tongue peeking out slightly in concentration as Spencer watched you. The earrings you'd chosen, simple silver hoops, swayed gently as you turned.

"Wanna wear this?" You held up a soft heather-brown cardigan.

Spencer didn't even need to think. "Yes." His answer came instantly, just like his approval of the dark slacks you selected next. Some habits remained, he still reached instinctively for his standard white button-up to wear beneath.

"Okay, put this on." You handed him the outfit.

As Spencer changed, you turned your attention to his tie collection. The rustle of fabric behind you told you he'd pulled on the pants; when you glanced over your shoulder, you found him standing there with the cardigan and button-up still unbuttoned.

"Come here." You hooked a finger through his belt loops, tugging him closer. Starting at his hips, you began buttoning his shirt, working your way up to his throat. Spencer remained perfectly still, his breath shallow as he watched you through half-lidded eyes.

He could have done this himself. Should have, maybe. But right now, Spencer was completely transfixed, by the way your brow furrowed in concentration, by the warmth of your fingers skating across his bare chest, by the incredible normalcy of letting someone this close. You held up a navy tie, tilting your head before shaking it.

"No, not this one," you murmured, turning back to the collection. Spencer barely registered the rejection, he was too busy marveling at how effortlessly you'd touched him, how naturally he'd allowed it.

Years of bullying and taunts he'd never forgotten had conditioned him to change in bathroom stalls. Yet here he stood, letting you dress him. What would his young self think, seeing him now? The thought almost made him laugh.

"Perfect!" Your cheer snapped him back to the present. You looped the tie around his neck. Spencer felt guilt creep up on him, he should be doing this himself, not letting you fuss over him like this. But then you stepped back, your face lighting up with admiration, and the guilt evaporated.

"God, you look good." Your grin was downright smug as you adjusted his collar one last time. "Patting myself on the shoulder here."

Spencer let out a soft chuckle. “Thank you,” he murmured, before cupping your face gently between his hands and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

"You're welcome," you whispered, smiling when he didn't immediately let go. His hazel eyes had gone soft and distant. You touched his wrists where they still framed your face. "You okay, handsome?"

Spencer blinked. "I just love you," he said, so simply it stole your breath before he was pulling you into a hug so tight your toes nearly left the ground. You laughed into his shoulder, the sound muffled by his cardigan as your hands spread across his back. "I love you too."

The morning passed in a blur. You drove to work together, stopped for coffee and chatted about everything and nothing in the car. In the bullpen, you'd barely made a dent in your paperwork when Garcia texted you, summoning you for "urgent sparkle consultations." You pressed a kiss to Spencer's cheek on your way out, smiling at the way his pen stuttered mid-signature.

When you returned, half your files were gone.

You didn't need your profiling training to spot the culprit, Spencer sat at his desk, studiously avoiding your gaze while shuffling papers that definitely weren't his own. The tips of his ears had gone pink. You shook your head, but the grateful smile you shot him made his shoulders relax.

Later that afternoon, as you were wrapping up some notes, Garcia and Morgan strolled over to your desk. “Lunch time, lovebirds,” Morgan said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You two joining us?”

All four of you ended up at Morgan's favorite diner. You stole fries from Spencer's plate and he let you, his arm slung casually over the back of the booth behind you. When Garcia made some obscure pop culture reference that had Morgan laughing loudly, you instinctively turned to Spencer, your eyebrow quirking in silent question. He adored that about you, how you always made sure he was included, how you never let him fake a laugh when he didn't get the joke.

He remembered too many cafeteria tables where laughter died when he approached. Being twelve in a room full of sixteen-year-olds meant always being one step behind, always the outsider looking in.

Now, Spencer found himself laughing genuinely as you explained the joke, your hand squeezing his under the table.

Later that night, you collapsed onto the bed as Spencer's arms opened automatically. You cuddled into his chest, sighing as his hands began tracing absent patterns along your spine.

"Today was nice," Spencer murmured into your hair.

You tilted your head slightly, considering. To you, it had been utterly ordinary.

But Spencer had seemed different. You’d caught him watching you across the bullpen more than once. You’d noticed something was off with him today, but it wasn’t sadness. So, you didn’t press. You figured if he wanted to talk, he would. Now, with your chin propped on his chest, you studied his face. Moonlight from the window caught the gold in his hazel eyes, making them look shiny. He knew exactly what you were asking without words.

"I was just feeling a bit nostalgic today," he admitted, shifting so you could see each other properly. You rolled onto your side, cheek pillowed on your hand, and he mirrored you instinctively.

Your brows knitted slightly at the word 'nostalgic', knowing what you did of his childhood, the term rarely carried anything good with it. But Spencer's thumb brushed the crease in between your eyebrows before you could speak, smoothing away the worry.

"I'm just grateful for you," he whispered. "And the team." His fingers tangled gently in a stray lock of your hair. "Especially you, though."

"Yeah?" You couldn't help the smile that bloomed across your face.

Spencer nodded. "I didn't exactly have much company when I was younger." He was quick to clarify: "I loved spending time with my mom." His smile turned tender at the edges, the way it always did when speaking of Diana. "But I still spent a lot of time alone."

Empty cafeteria seats, the library corners where he'd hidden from bullies, the birthday parties no one attended. You remembered how he'd flinched the first time you'd slipped your hand into his in public, how he'd stared at his phone for a full minute when you'd first texted him just to say good morning.

Gently, you booped his nose. "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're stuck with me forever and ever."

His chuckle was warm and the smile that followed even warmer. "I can live with that," he murmured.

"Good." Your thumb traced the arch of his cheekbone.

A hundred reassurances crowded your tongue, that he'd never eat alone again, that you'd always save him the seat beside you, that every morning could start with you buttoning his shirts if he wanted. But the peace in his eyes kept you silent. This moment was too precious to tarnish with reminders of past loneliness.

So you gave him the simplest truth instead. "I love you." You smiled at him. Eyes full of adoration. "And if it just takes me choosing your clothes to make you this soft every day, I'll gladly do that."

The atmosphere lightened as Spencer laughed. "I liked it," he admitted, his nose scrunching adorably. "Took the pressure off me."

You leaned in closer until your noses brushed. “Seriously,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him once—“I”—then again—“love”—and again—“you.”

With every kiss, his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing slowing as a peaceful smile spread across his face, small dimples appearing in his cheeks. Each syllable pressed into his skin like a seal.

“And I hope you know,”you added between softer kisses now, “you deserve all of this. And all the nice days in the world.”

The final declaration landed with an exaggerated smooch that made him giggle, a sound so purely happy you felt it vibrate through your own chest.

[389]

Twin Peaks S3 E16 (2017) Longlegs (2024)

[little-fat-hamster]

I hate seeing him go through what he was going through here but I also find angry Reid extremely attractive 😓

Criminal Minds S03E16 Elephant's Memory

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[agirlinsearchof]

Doppelgangland! This should be a fun one!

I like the very knitted look of Willow's initial outfit. Yarn sweater, yarn bag, pink skirt... very cute, and Willow-y! The tights don't quite match, but then, the colors don't even match on the rest of the outfit.