#sending you lots of love!!!
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eliasbouchardslut · 9 months ago
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happy valentines day!! i followed u back when magnus archives was still airing iirc and just want to say that your horny posts about elias were always a delight and that i enjoy having you on my dash. get urself a teddy bear with chocolates, you deserve it
!!!! thank you sweetheart!!! i was going to buy myself a big teddy bear but it was like $40 😭 i'll probably go out tomorrow and buy a bunch of chocolate when it's on sale :^)
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sheryl-lee · 2 years ago
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ever watched pushing daisies? it's only 2 seasons long and if you want smth colorful and funny to gif, this show would make for pretty gifs, i think :) (but it's not a very popular show, so it wouldn't bring you many notes, i'm afraid :/)
hi, and i actually never have but have always wanted to! pushing daisies has been on my watchlist FOREVER - especially because i love bryan fuller (hannibal nbc my beloved <3) and have no doubt that i would really enjoy the show. i've been meaning to watch it but have never had the time to get around to it, but i really do want to try to sit down and finally experience it. hopefully i will soon!
and if i do, i would definitely be interested in giffing it!!! i'm trying to get myself to stop placing value on notes and just enjoy creating for myself and my followers/mutuals/those who actually reblog my work. and that has been a difficult thing to accept, because it can be really frustrating and demotivating from time to time. but i'm trying to get to that place where i feel more free to gif for myself first and foremost! it's definitely a work in progress. so yeah, i'd absolutely love to gif the show once i've watched it! thank you for sending this in because it definitely reminded me that i still need to watch the show jjvkdffjk but i hope you're having a wonderful day/night ❤️
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mobius-m-mobius · 2 years ago
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I think you're honestly one of the sweetest people on here. We've never interacted much but you're always so sweet and kind and positive. It's really a joy to have you on my dash, even if our fandoms don't "overlap" ❤️
Oh gosh, thank you so much?? 🥺💖
I could certainly say the same right back to you for taking the time to send such a lovely message, it's been quite a long day and what a surprise to log in and see! This blog is just an outlet for things that make the world seem a little brighter in my own eyes but hearing it can bring some joy to others as well means everything to me.
Haha and it's also nice to hear you mention our fandoms don't overlap because that's one of the coolest things about Tumblr imo, being able to have fun and express your personal favs while getting a glimpse of what everyone else finds so wonderful too! Such a cool way to discover something new or just enjoy the good vibes of people being passionate about what they love 🥰
Thank you again for this, I hope your December has been off to a wonderful start and that you're having a great day 💕
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starlightiing · 6 months ago
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do you ever miss that friend? the one you fell out with? i'm going thru smth real similar with a friend or exfriend or whatever right now and it really sucks. i miss her a lot.
Oh sure, of course I do, anon. That's only normal and perfectly reasonable. There is a grief involved with having this person in your life and them suddenly not being there anymore. I can only speak so freely about it right now because it's been over a year and it's been VERY recent that she's reached back out to me only to yell and scream and call me names again, which has made me not really want anything to do with her at all anymore.
But in the beginning it was really hard. She was my best friend. For about 8 years. We were very close, she knows things about me no one else knows. Embarrassingly enough, I was in love with her at one point for quite some time.
Getting into an argument and not speaking anymore doesn't change anything that we had in the past. It is the same for you and your friend, you can't just SHUT OFF your feelings because there was an argument. If they're suddenly not there when they've always been there, it takes time to heal from that.
It does get better, anon. But like all grief, it won't really ever go away. Memories will pop up. Things will remind you of your friend. It'll hurt and it'll suck. But it DOES get better.
And hey, maybe ya'll can actually work it out! You never know. A lot of time people just need space and will reach out once things are better. Not always. My ex friend decided to reach out with violence but yknow, that happens too. But I'm just saying, you never know.
Stay strong anon, I'm here for you!
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ivashkovadrian · 1 year ago
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ahhh i've just read your tags and happy belated birthday!! you're always so kind and supportive and you really make this place more friendly and welcoming 🌼 i hope you had a lovely birthday and i'm wishing you everything the best!!❤️
Eliza you are SO SWEET!!!! ❤️🥺❤️🥺❤️ thank you sooooooo much 😍😘 you’ve brightened my dash for so many years, I am so glad our paths crossed!!!
My birthday was made 10 times lovelier with that gorgeous gifset of yours 😌
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magistralucis · 1 year ago
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@absolut--kurant!
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KeyBird, a keyboard set featuring bird silhouettes that correspond to the letters
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caelum-et-ocean · 1 year ago
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Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! ♡
AWWWW THANK YOU ANDIIIII <33
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kimtaegis · 5 months ago
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JIN HUGS JIN HUGS! for @jinstronaut ♡
cr. namuspromised, dwellingsouls, 0613data
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 10 months ago
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Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#lan wangji#Yungmeng Jiang training arc AU#I wanted to try out a different paneling style for this one - sorry I'm a day late! (there will still be a post tomorrow to keep on track)#The original 3 panel comic idea was fine but the point of this new schedule was to take time to push myself a bit more.#I was taking a look back through some comic artists I felt inspired by#and I really loved how Lynda Barry fills her gutters with patterns and doodles!#Obviously I'm not going as absolutely wild with it as she does but it was a great exercise!#I truly think the gutters are the most important and most overlooked part of any comic. There's lots going on in that space.#It's the same with timeskips. The implied movement between moments that we don't see changes depending on how wide that gap is#You're here for the funny tags so here's some that ties this time talk together:#I think LWJ was thinking about that second note from day 2 but it took him 7 days of hazing to commit it to paper.#I think he sends it a day later and immediately regrets it. Chasing down the messenger and everything.#You know if something actually happened to his brother he would never ever forgive himself for putting the bad vibes out there.#Third time skip was the hardest because there was so many possible flavours of jokes here. Day 8/9 was a personal favourite.#day 14 was also funny (week by week). I think the debate on 'how long does lwj take to catch feelings' is more or less:#'how long does it take for him to arrive at a particular stage of grief and yearning (and awareness of it all)#This is a symphony. There is an act by act structure. Every day he is fighting to keep his old sensibilities. He is losing so badly.#(I'll be returning to the main comic soon but there is more of this AU to come!)
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fisherrprince · 21 days ago
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Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,
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#sorry it’s how my brain works (sometimes can only see things in terms of tv scene-)#tumblr exclusive video fancy…#dcmk#my art#(quietly coughing and spluttering) OK alright I can feel the creative brain explosion slowing down. geez#coughs.#nyways. weird that there hasn’t really been a main case where poison is involved in a certain way#If I watch my own scribbled boards for too long im gonna get too embarrassed to post. Send post#Subarus hair is still infuriating by the way like take that off your normal hair is easier. The beanie is easier#you like Have to have the side corners on this haircut or it doesn’t look right#anyways. shiho ptsd moments I think she kind of gets irritated that shinichi doesn’t react the same so when he does she gets like#weirded out and vindicated and a little protective. Like woah wait. Love that you understand me rn don’t like that you feel bad I am going…#to…………. ssssssssssit here about it…………………………….. uhhhh. do you want. a rubix cube to get your mind off it#I don’t want to talk about my feelings I just want you to get it. you don’t wanna talk about your feelings either which is……………. Hmmmmmm#I like her. love of my life miyano shiho#masumi sera#conan edogawa#ai haibara#akai shuichi#let conan swear. HE SWEARS A LOT BUT LET HIM SWEAR IN ENGLISH I KNOW HE KNOWS THEM#man needs his emotional support akai family they like him#rigorous trials to being approved by the akai matriarch but everyone else likes him already and have already picked him up multiple times#and shuichi would let him swear
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awesomefringey · 27 days ago
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Hi Sabine if you could please spread this, this account lists all the memorials planned for Liam across the world and regularly updates them, for those who wish and are able to attend https://x.com/HS_News_/status/1847077799942934740
Sending lots of love ❤️❤️❤️
LIAM PAYNE MEMORIAL
Europe:
🇬🇧 London | October 20 - 2pm | Hyde Park
🇬🇧Liverpool | October 19 - 2pm | Docks on keel wharf bridge
🇬🇧 Glasgow | October 20 - 2pm | Sir Walter Scott Statue in George Square
🇬🇧 Manchester | October 20 - 6pm | Cathedral Gardens
🇬🇧 Birmingham | October 20 - 4pm | Chamberlain Square
🇧🇪 Brussels | October 19/20 - 2pm | Parc de Bruxelles
🇫🇷 Paris | October 20 - 2pm | Jardins des Tuileries
🇩🇪 Munich | October 20 - 3pm | Olympiahalle
🇪🇸 Madrid | October 20 - 3pm | Plaza de Santa Ana
🇸🇪 Stockholm | October 19 - 6pm | Svartensgatan 8
🇵🇹 Lisbon | October 27 - 6pm | Meo Arena, Oriente
🇮🇹 Milan | October 20 - 3pm | Piazza Duomo
🇺🇸 US:
Newark - Delaware | October 19 - 4pm | Glasgow Park
NYC | October 19 - picnic* at 11am and another event at 6pm | Washington Square Park
*Picnic RSVP : https://partiful.com/e/2WoJi0Onf8jWijlyFU8E
Boston | October 19 - 2pm | Boston Common
Chicago | October 19 - 2pm | Gather at Grandmother’s Garden outside of Lincoln Park Zoo
Los Angeles | October 19 - 4:30pm | La Cienaga** Park in Beverly Hills
**RSVP : https://partiful.com/e/P5qPcaZkgLizNYhzP0mm
South-America:
🇧🇷 São Paulo | October 27 - 2pm | Parque Ibirapuera
Oceania:
🇳🇿 Auckland | October 20 - 2pm | Freyberg Square
🇦🇺 Sydney | October 20 - 11am | Hyde Park (Memorial fountain)
Asia:
🇮🇳 Mumbai | October 20 - 5pm | Marine Lines, Opposite Pizza by the Bay
———————
EDIT: added Boston
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cubbihue · 2 months ago
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Does Timmy have any friends in fairy world?
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Timmy is more of a socialite than a friend-getter. He can easily make connections with others, and can slip into established groups and create a dynamic with them! The kind of guy who is always invited to events but not related to anyone.
The closest he's gotten so far is Sanderson.
Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]
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jahdefender · 5 months ago
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So I found this posted to reddit and I wanted to share it here because I'm sure there are some fans who haven't seen the Adventures Bible stuff. (I had not so this is just referencing myself)
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yeonjune · 2 months ago
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Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM
#yeonjun#choi yeonjun#tomorrow x together#txt#ggum: making film#gifs#creations#userzaynab#useryeonbins#skyehi#rosieblr#megtag#hibiebear#heyiri#ultkpopnetwork#kpopccc#kpopco#this are like the rawest emotions we've seen from him... I feel... it's really sad to watch him like this#i mean I know they're under lots of pressure and stress#It's only natural when you work with so many people who you could potentially disappoint#and I know it was his choice to make this solo project happen now but i feel like the company could manage his schedule better#because why he films till 3 am and then right next day has a flight to another country for a concert...#and now we know from soobin they're super busy again#I'm worried his body will just say 'enough' one day and something bad will happen :(#and you have him work so hard and stress and then all this losers online whose biggest achievement is getting 100 likes on a post#writing the worst things about him for no reason... its not that hard to be kind and you dont need to have an opinion about everything :D#at the end of the day that celebrity you hate so much is still pretty and successful#and you're just a friendless jobless empty-headed rotten fool with likes on a post that mean nothing once you close the ap#I'm just glad all this is still fun for him and that he has such a great support system: his members family staff who care about him and us#all we can really do is support them and send them lots of love fr ;; you've done well my jjunie ily ♥
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sincerelybubbles · 3 months ago
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Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm
even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.
emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3
warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.
word count: 5.4k
Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.
-
It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag. 
You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness. 
Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 
“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 
“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”
You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 
She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time. 
“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 
You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.
“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”
“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”
“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 
“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 
“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”
“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 
Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 
“Sorry, sir.”
“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”
“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”
-
You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 
“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 
“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.
“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”
And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 
You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class. 
You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 
“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”
“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”
“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”
“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 
“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 
“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”
“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”
“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash. 
“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”
“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”
“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”
“Hm?”
“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”
“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 
Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends. 
It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do. 
“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”
You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.
It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 
-
“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 
This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.
Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong. 
You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 
“Clear!”
Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves. 
“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 
You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 
“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”
“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 
She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch. 
“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 
You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 
“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 
“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 
“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 
You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 
“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 
Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 
Your blood has gone cold.
“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”
Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.
You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him. 
Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.
-
“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 
Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow. 
“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 
“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 
You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself. 
“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile. 
You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her. 
“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 
“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 
It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 
“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”
You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”
“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 
“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her. 
“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”
Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”
“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 
“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”
“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well. 
You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 
“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”
“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”
“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 
She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 
She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 
-
Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 
“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 
You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 
You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 
“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 
You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”
“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”
You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 
You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 
-
Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 
“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 
You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 
“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 
“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 
You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 
“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 
The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor. 
You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.
“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”
All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you. 
And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”
You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 
And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?
Except she doesn’t let it go. 
She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit. 
Not that you really want to leave. 
She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 
“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 
“Hi.”
“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 
“Enjoying the view.”
You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 
-
You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness. 
You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities. 
That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 
You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 
Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains. 
You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 
Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 
You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 
You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 
When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him. 
Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 
“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood. 
You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.
You want to run but know now’s not the time. 
“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 
He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones. 
It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found. 
You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 
“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 
You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 
“This way, doll.”
You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap. 
Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back. 
“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”
You don’t get an answer.
-
You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 
The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 
It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 
“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”
There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 
“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 
His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”
Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 
“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 
“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 
“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes. 
“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.
“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 
It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 
She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three. 
She tries with you in the ambulance. 
You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 
An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 
-
You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 
Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 
So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 
You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 
Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.
There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway. 
You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”
“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 
You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged. 
“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”
You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”
“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”
“So why are you here?”
“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”
“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.
“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 
You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared. 
Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?
“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 
Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.
And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours. 
You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair. 
But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it. 
A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 
And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.
“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”
She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 
“I’m perfect.”
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sandushengshou · 10 months ago
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happy birthday, @eohachu!
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