#spencer matthews food

[news-buzz]

Nutritionist reveals one place he 'just won't eat' due to diet News Buzz

The public’s awareness of ultra-processed foods (UPFs) has spiked this year, as individuals increasingly attempt to shun them. High-profile experts such as Dr Chris van Tulleken have been delving deeper into the potentially damaging effects of UPFs on our bodies and minds. In a revealing discussion earlier this year, Dr Chris shared insights with entrepreneur and podcast host Spencer Matthews…

[ioluxe]

            i   love   you   ⣿

i love you ⡕ i told you i do

[strawbeerossi]

You Think, Genius?

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Being friends with Spencer Reid is an adventure within itself. Movie nights are no exception.

Content/Warnings: Friends type humor, tension, mention of food/food fight, best friends to lovers trope, heavy kissing, very sweet smut (wild because I hardly write that, I feel like lmao).

Word Count: 2.7k

Anon Request: spencer reid x sarcastic funny reader? not mean but like kinda like Chandler from friends humour? with earlish seasons reid (season 3/4)ish cute smut. ADDING TO THE SARCASTIC!READER SHE AND SPENCE HAVE A BESTFRIENDS TO LOVERS ARC 🫶🫶

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

RIP Matthew Perry, thank you for playing the king of sarcasm and being my inspiration for this. 🩷

“Serial killers and childhood neglect have actually been linked together for years. Some of the most notorious serial killers were abused in some shape or fashion at home. Which makes sense whenever you take into account how easy it is to psychologically break a person and cause them to shut down, children being more receptive than most adults.” Spencer rambled on about some study he had been reading about.

Everyone was mostly tuned out besides you, your left hand holding the travel size cereal box up in clear view, your eyes wide. “That explains why I can’t stop eating this cereal! My mom made my life a living hell and now, all I think about is cereal. Oh god.” You said in a sarcastic tone, causing Derek to chuckle from his desk.

“She’s a cereal killer.” He joked while you both were giggling, making Spencer look between you and Derek, a confused expression on his face.

“She’s not a serial killer. I don’t think she’d be working here if she was one.”

The laughter continued on at your coworker’s obliviousness. “No, Spence,” JJ shook her head as she approached your chair, gently taking the little box before holding it up. “The joke is that she’s eating cereal. Cereal killer.” The blonde explained as you were turning back to Spencer.

“Oh, it’s no joke. I’ve got six bodies in my apartment right now. Just waiting to get home to do away with them.” You continued on, a little snort leaving your lips as you were getting your cereal back.

As you were pushing a handful in your mouth, you watched as Spencer looked at you with his head tilted to the side. “You haven’t killed anyone. I know that for a fact. You’re too nice.” He said while he was tapping his pen against his desk, JJ let out a huff and waved him off before she was walking away from your desk to get to her office.

“Isn’t there such a thing as killing people with kindness? That is my big move. I will be nice to them and boom,” You punched the palm of your hand to appear menacing. “I go in for the kill.”

Spencer was shaking his head with a soft giggle at the mere idea of it, your sarcasm slowly seeping through the cracks in an obvious way where he could see it.

“Right. How foolish of me to not understand it.” He joked softly while looking back down to the page he’d been doodling on. Your humor was new to Spencer, something he wasn’t really used to. You were a very sarcastic person, hardly ever having a conversation without injecting the encounter with your wit and sarcasm. He was still pretty clueless with it, however he felt he was getting better. Especially now that you had him saying his own sarcastic phrases at random times. It was weird for the rest of the team seeing the way you’d slowly brought Spencer out of that little bubble he was used to.

He was always the one who didn’t understand jokes or take sarcasm, appearing confused a good chunk of his career from the jokes and lighthearted banter. Being friends with you was a good way to learn how to understand though, which was why he was so lucky that you were his best friend.

“I was thinking of watching a movie. Do you wanna join me?” You asked, packing up your things as you looked over at Spencer as he raised an eyebrow.

“Tonight?” He asked, making you shake your head.

“No. Next week.” You answered with a deadpan expression while he crinkled his nose.

“You’re.. Being sarcastic..” He began while you rolled your eyes fondly with a smile.

“You think, genius? Come on, are you gonna come over or not?” You asked while putting your bag over your shoulder.

“I don’t see why not. Can we watch that new show that’s airing tonight?” He asked curiously, already following you out of the bullpen. He knew you’d give him a ride rather than sending him to go on the metro and meet you there later.

“Sure. I’ve been interested in it anyway. The new sci-fi one, right?” You asked as you made it to the parking garage with him as you were both in search of your car.

“Yes! It actually looks very interesting because from what I’ve read, they don’t make up their own rules as they go. They are using actual scientific data and evidence.” He gushed while you were clapping your hands together.

“Like learning in school! Oh how I loved school!” You were laughing as he had taken notice of the sarcasm and nudged your arm.

“Seriously. It’s going to be great! You may not think it now but you’ll enjoy it while learning about the real world when it comes to tech and space exploration.”

“We’ll have to see about that Dr. Reid.”

The ride back to your apartment was peaceful, the sounds of some radio station filling the quiet atmosphere of the car as you passed by numerous street signs. The comfortable silence was something you liked, never needing to strike up a conversation to enjoy Spencer’s company. Even if he was just reading while you were on your phone.

Back at your apartment, you’d just gotten the channel you needed pulled up, having about ten minutes until the show was supposed to air. Spencer made sure to tape it back at his own apartment, wanting to go back and watch alone to fully appreciate the show for more than its entertainment quality.

“Do you want me to run to the kitchen and get snacks?”

“You don’t have to run, Reid. You can walk.”

“Ha ha. So funny. Snacks or not?”

You were waving him off with a little laugh, offering a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Please go get some snacks. I think I have a big bag of that buttered popcorn you’re obsessed with.”

Spencer practically skipped to the kitchen upon hearing the news, retrieving one of your mixing bowls from one of your cupboards. After filling it up generously with the snack of choice, he was stopped by the fridge to grab two water bottles. With the two cold beverages under his arm, he was hurrying to the living room.

“I think we are all set.” He beamed with pride while placing the bowl on the table.

“Perfect. You’re right on time. It should start after these commercials.” You informed him while leaning forward to get a handful of popcorn from the bowl. While pushing a piece of popcorn into your mouth, you were only raising an eyebrow when you felt a pair of eyes on you. “What?” You asked, head turning to face Spencer as he quickly put his hands up in self defense.

“Nothing! I just wanted to see if it was good, that's all.”

“Right. I hate to tell you this, it tastes like buttered garbage. I don’t think you should subject yourself to eating it.” You joked, picking up a piece before flicking it in his direction, his eyes widening as he felt the snack hit his cheek.

“That could’ve taken out my eye!”

“Too bad it didn’t. We could get you an eyepatch.”

That was when Spencer took it a step further, getting a small handful of popcorn before throwing it in your direction. He was too busy laughing at your expression that mirrored his shock from earlier, pieces of popcorn in your hair and some on the couch.

“Is it a war that you want?”

“Me? You started it! Call it returned fire.”

That kickstarted a popcorn fight that didn’t seem to let up. Spencer was reaching into the now empty bowl before letting his eyes widen. He had no more ammo yet you had two handfuls. He was done for.

“You can apologize and we can end this.” You warned, your body now propped up on your knees as you had eventually turned to face him on the couch. “Just one ‘I’m sorry’ can end this bloodshed.”

“Never.”

“Suit yourself, Reid.” You were winding back one hand whenever Spencer was moving quickly to grip your wrist. There was some screaming, some laughing, and eventually you were being wrestled down onto the couch.

“Drop it!” Spencer laughed, both of your wrists being pinned down. “You do that and this will be all over.”

“No way.” You laughed, panting as you were being pinned down, some of Spencer’s long hair tickling the skin of your cheeks. You had both been in that position for a few more minutes before things calmed down, leaving you and the man above you to stare at one another and wait to reach a stalemate.

There was a growing tension, your faces only inches apart as he had you trapped between his body and the couch. Those beautiful eyes were looking down at you, almost as if Spencer was using the close proximity to take in every feature on your face. It was enough to make your face flush, cheeks hot from his gaze fixed on you and only you. The sound of the opening credits for the show you were supposed to be watching was playing in the background yet you could only look at each other.

There wasn’t a beat missed as he leaned down, lips against yours in a soft, yet cautious kiss. He felt like he had to play it safe, although the way you were feverishly returning the kiss told him all that he needed to know.

There was a fiery passion as your lips slotted together, almost as if they were made for one another. Your hands were moving to tangle in his hair, legs now wrapped around his waist as you both gave in to your urges that were always bubbling under the surface for however long you’d known the loveable genius.

It felt right, in a way. The way your were wrapped in one another’s embrace while having a moment of passion that you never expected to happen. However you had to admit, this was better than you ever thought.

Spencer was pulling out of the kiss, face flushed as he stared down at you with a shy smile. “It felt right. I’m sorry.” He whispered, only being pleased with the way you responded by pulling him down to connect your lips again, wanting to savor another moment as if he were going to disappear in thin air if you let him get too far.

The kiss had escalated soon enough, both of your clothes in a pile on the floor as you were tangled up on the couch, nothing but underwear separating you from each other. “Are you sure that you want this?” Spencer soon asked, his forehead against yours. Your friendship was always special to him, so naturally, he was worried about preserving those positive memories and the relationship as a whole.

“Definitely sure. I’ve thought about this for years.” For once, you were genuine. There was no hint of sarcasm dripping from your tone. That’s how he knew this was serious. “I’ve always loved you. I know you know that because I tell you all the time but it’s.. It's different than loving your best friend.”

Your confession had Spencer’s cheeks bright red, head nodding slowly to show he was paying attention. “Y-yeah. I love you more than a friend too.” He said slowly while he was bringing his hands down your hips, his fingertips tracing over your hot skin as he was hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

Your hips lifted to assist him tugging your underwear down, your own cheeks hot from being exposed in one of your most intimate areas. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had sex before and you had confidence when you did but this seemed different.

“I need.. Hold on.” Spencer began while pushing himself up a bit, your watching with a raised eyebrow as you propped yourself up on your elbows. He went for his slacks, getting his wallet.

“Are you gonna pay me for this?”

“What?! No! I-I just..” He began, shuffling through the wallet before he was pulling a condom from one of the wallet folds.

“You have a condom? You were planning for this?”

“No! I have.. I asked Derek for one. Obviously not for tonight but I had to be prepared!” He said quickly while tossing his wallet on the table.

You didn’t tease him any farther, instead your eyes gazing over his body as he was shimmying out of his boxers while standing. Just kissing you had his cock semi-hard, his hand wrapping around his shaft to give a few pumps in order to complete the process although it wasn’t too hard with the anticipation of what was to come tonight.

After sliding on the contraception, he was heading over to get settled between your legs. His eyes were glancing over your glistening pussy, your arousal shining in the dim light of the living room. “Wow.” He whispered, hand moving between your thighs as his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. The pressure alone was enough to make your mouth go slack.

“Fuck.” You breathed while feeling the pad of his thumb start to rub your clit, your arousal coating it with each swipe. He was taking his time with teasing you, at least.

When he was finished with massaging the bundle of nerves and he couldn’t hold back any more, he was grabbing his cock before lining his tip along with your entrance, thick tip breaching your slick cunt as he was slowly pushing into you when you were both ready enough.

There was a pleasurable burn as he was stretching out your inner walls, your hands tightly gripping onto his shoulders as you pulled his body down onto yours just to feel his skin against yours. It was oddly more intimate than you could’ve expected, even with him staying perfectly still with his cock nestled deep inside of you.

There was a soft gasp leaving your lips when he gave a slow thrust, just testing the waters for now as he didn’t wanna go too crazy before you were ready. He didn’t plan on going super hard anyway, that wasn’t who he was. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Keep going.” You urged.

Once you proved comfortable enough due to your persistence, Spencer’s thrusts began to pick up a steady pace and rhythm. Your moans were enough encouragement for him to feel confident enough in the act, not shying away from you as much as anyone would’ve expected.

They rhythmic sound of his skin slapping against yours coupled with your gasps, shaky breaths and moans were filling the living room, the long forgotten show still filling the background noise. Spencer had since embraced you, one arm wrapped under your frame as the other kept himself pushed up over you. He just wanted to feel you close, to hold you as he made love to you.

It was beautiful to him, the way you were holding him and keeping him close in return. It was like you were the only people in the world, no responsibilities other than being close to one another. The warmth of your flushed skin against his was all he needed to be happy.

It was a dream, essentially. A dream so vibrant that Spencer didn’t want it to end, even if he knew that realistically he couldn’t be in a dreamland forever.

As he was torn from his thoughts at the feeling of your hands on his cheeks, he was offering you a smile as you were locking eyes with one another. “I love you.” He said softly, repeating what you’d both confessed earlier while leaning down to press his lips against yours.

It was after the fact whenever you were finally speaking again, body sitting up from the spot you were in on the couch as Spencer had retreated to the kitchen to dispose of the used condom. “Do you wanna come take a shower with me? No funny business.” You put your hands up in defense.

“No. It’s too personal for me to see you naked.” For the first time, Spencer was the one to be sarcastic with you, making you both burst into laughter.

“I’ve taught you well. Come on.”

[foxy-eva]

Spencer taking care of his partner on their period

Content Warning: (16+) mentions food, periods, discomfort, cramps, blood, a little bit of suggestiveness at the end

Spencer is the absolute sweetest when it comes to taking care of you. The first time he notices you being uncomfortable on your period he makes it very clear that there is nothing to be embarrassed about. He encourages you to tell him about all your symptoms - it won't freak him out.

He makes it his priority to be there for you and plan activities accordingly. All you want to do is watch Disney movies and eat snacks? He's right by your side.

Of course he did all the research about what is proven to help with cramps. He offers you things like a heating pad, tea and nuts.

He's always affectionate but especially so when you're on your period (because he knows you crave it). He loves to cuddle up with you and just hold you when you're feeling down. With a little back rub or just stroking your hair he makes everything better.

He would never judge you or make snarky remarks about you being moody. Even when you're not sure if you'd rather laugh or cry (or do both at the same time) he is always so patient.

In case you stain your clothes or the sheets he insists on taking care of it.

Spencer makes sure he has tampons and pads at his place too so he's prepared when you sleep over and get your period.

He would never admit it but he does track your cycle so he knows when to stock up on your favorite snacks.

It's also important to him to encourage you to do some light exercise like taking a walk together.

He's happy to run you a warm bath or get into the shower with you. Just keeping you as close as possible at all times.

And if you're comfortable with it, he also finds more creative ways to relieve your cramps (after all, he did his research).

If your enjoyed this you should check out my story Unexpected Visit

Find my MASTERLIST here

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @amititties @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey @poo-tay-toot @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter

[deltaharrington]

“Cheat…”

Jason Dilaurentis x Taken!Reader

Warnings: oral (female receiving), much like my “you belong to me” outer banks fic, cussing, 18+

Summary: The reader is seeing someone when Jason Dilaurentis comes back to town. A relationship blossoms…one where they’re more than friends.

“Did you miss me?”

At the sound of a familiar voice you turned, meeting the eyes of none other than Jason Dilaurentis.

“Jason? You’re back!” You said and moved to hug him, his familiar scent filling your nostrils.

“Why did you come back here?” You asked and he looked a bit hurt by this, but he brushed it off.

“I want to be happy” He said “And I want that here”

You nodded your head, looking back towards Spencers house. That’s where you were going, until you saw Jason.

“Do you want to talk? Inside?” He asked and you gave him a guilty smile.

“I would but I’m here to see Spencer and the rest of the girls” You said “Maybe tomorrow? I can bring us lunch?” You suggested and Jason smiled, nodding.

“Call me later, okay?” He said and handed you a slip of paper “Here’s my new number” He said and smiled before hugging her one last time.

——

When you got inside Spencer’s house, the girls were looking at you with concern.

“Jason? Are you always attracted to dangerous people?” Hanna said and you laughed.

“Me and Jason are just friends! Plus I’m already dating Matthew!” You said, bringing up your childhood friend, now boyfriend.

“Hey! That relationship is fresh! Jason could ruin it” Spencer said and you gasped.

“I will not let Jason ruin it! He’s just a friend”

“Friends don’t stare at each others abs” Hanna remarked and your face flushed.

“How could I not- he was shirtless…”

“See! I knew it! He’s dangerous Y/n, please be careful” Spencer said and you nodded.

“I will be…he’s just a friend”

—

Jason’s lips roughly crashed onto yours, pressing you up against the wall in his doorway.

You let out a gasp as he trailed his kisses down your neck, leaving a few marks behind in the process.

“Jason-“

“You can’t stop thinking about me, can you?” He whispered in your ear.

—

You woke up with a gasp, hearing your phone alarm ringing in your ear.

“I just had a dream about Jason…” You trailed off, looking to your side to see your sleeping boyfriend.

You sighed and got up. You had to go to Jason’s for lunch today.

You got dressed, picking out a sundress, wearing your hair down.

You sent him a quick text to ask him what he wanted from The Grill and when he replied, you left your boyfriends house.

—

When you got to Jason’s, you knocked on the door.

He answered almost immediately. He was wearing a really tight shirt and some jeans.

You look so hot. You thought to yourself.

“Oh- thanks” He said and your face flushed in embarrassment.

“I said that out loud?” You said “I’m so sorry-“

“No, no it’s okay” He said and gently pulled you inside. “I like when you compliment me” He said and took the bag of food from you.

Your face was still flushed and you could imagine the shit eating grin on his face as he walked away.

Once you made it to the table Jason came out of the kitchen with nothing in his hands.

“Where’s the food?” You asked and he smirked a bit.

“I was thinking…” He started and moved towards you, his eyes roaming over your body. “I think I want dessert first” He said and wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up onto the table.

He pressed his lips against yours and you couldn’t help but moan into him, causing him to smirk.

“Jason I…”

“You have a boyfriend, I know” He said “But I can make you feel better than he can” He said and laid you down on the table, lifting the bottom of your dress up so he could disappear underneath.

You gasped as you felt his breath against your panties, your legs automatically closing a bit.

He wrapped his biceps around your thighs and he held your legs open.

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

He removed your panties and gently licked a stripe along your folds. Your body jerked upwards and you let out a whimper.

“Jason- please” You begged and he chuckled moving your dress up so you could see him.

“As you wish” He said and began eating you out.

Your head fell back as moans left your throat, unable to contain them.

Jason flicked his tongue against your clit and he sucked on it a bit, placing his attention there.

“Fuck! Jason…” You gasped and bit your lip.

You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged, earning a groan from him.

“Please please…Jason I’m close!” You said and he smirked, humming.

It didn’t take long for you to cum, Jason didn’t want to make you wait longer than you needed to.

He helped you ride out your high, holding your twitching legs as you came down.

Your face was flushed and you looked fucked out. He smirked.

“I knew you were into me” He said and your face flushed.

“What would your boyfriend say about this?” He said and you looked up at him.

“I won’t tell if you won’t” You said and he smirked.

“Let’s eat lunch” He said and walked back into the kitchen, leaving you a blushing mess.

[toasttt11]

game seven

June 24, 2024

Spencer’s chin was resting on Quinn’s bare shoulder as he was laying behind Quinn with his arm wrapped around Quinn’s waist looking out the balcony door that he had opened so he could see the beach.

One of Spencer’s favorite places that he has surprising grown to love is Florida, he loves the warmth, the smell of the salt in the air, being so close to the ocean and being able to touch the sand so quickly.

Matthew had a room made for all of his siblings once he got his house in Florida and Spencer uses his room the most out of everyone. Matthew also never gave his houses address to his parents so it became Spencer’s safe space.

Since the Canucks were eliminated from the playoffs a few weeks ago Quinn and Spencer stopped in Michigan for a few weeks seeing Quinn’s family, spent a few days in New Jersey before their joined Spencer’s siblings in Florida for the Stanley Cup Finals.

Originally everyone thought the series was going to end in four games but the Oilers came back and now they are going into game seven.

It has been a pretty fun time traveling back and forth watching the games for Spencer and Quinn, it was pretty enjoyable for them as they weren’t playing and just got to watch.

Spencer traced the fresh scar on Quinn’s cheek, one of the only pros of not being able to sleep often is being able to look at Quinn for so much longer and just hold Quinn as he sleeps

Quinn eventually started shuffling awake and held onto Spencer’s arm that was wrapped around his waist.

“Morning Q.” Spencer softly whispered to Quinn kissing his cheek. Quinn sleepily smiled shuffling back and more into Spencer’s warm embrace letting Spencer nuzzle more into his neck.

“Morning Spence.” Quinn mumbled back closing his eyes as he enjoyed Spencer’s touch.

After a good while of the two just enjoying laying in bed holding each other they eventually both got out of bed heading to the shower and showering together before they got ready for the day.

Spencer would not be caught wearing anything Panthers so he put on a pair of black trousers, a black graphic t-shirt and a red jacket, he may not wear Panthers merchandise but he will slip some red into his outfit for Matthew.

Spencer slipped his shoes on and looked up admiring Quinn’s simple all black outfit and of course his black New York Yankees hat.

Spencer and Quinn eventually headed down stairs to the kitchen seeing all of Spencer’s siblings sitting around Matthew’s very large kitchen island.

“The sleeping beauties are awake.” Brady teased his younger brother and best friend, it still shocks him sometimes when he realizes the two are together.

“Yeah yeah.” Spencer just rolled his eyes at his brother ruffling Brady’s hair as he walked to the fridge grabbing a few ingredients for breakfast or really more lunch as Spencer and Quinn stayed in bed till past noon.

“Where Ellie and Em?” Spencer questioned his brothers as he started chopping up some fruit, he smacked Brady’s hand as Brady tried to grab the fruit, making Brady pout

“With some of the other girls, they’re meeting us there.” Matthew expanded making Spencer and Quinn nod.

Spencer finished making some food for Quinn and slid the plate across the counter to Quinn before Spencer put everything else away before sitting down next to Quinn with his own plate and started eating.

“I’ll see you guys after.” Matthew nodded standing up taking a deep breath and shaking his shoulders out, Brady nodded and clapped a hand on Matthew’s shoulder, Taryn bumped her elbow to his, Spencer gave him an encouraging nod and Quinn gave him a smile. Matthew let out a long breath before heading out of the kitchen and out of his house.

A little while after Matthew left the four all headed out to arena.

Spencer driving as usual with Quinn in the passnger seat and Taryn and Brady in the backseats.

Matthew knew he had to invite his parents at least for the public eye to the finals because it’s not public about the nonexistent relationship with Keith and most of his kids but especially with Spencer.

Matthew did not want to invite his father but if it got out that their relationship wasn’t good he would not be surprise if Keith spoke out why they aren’t close and out Spencer to everyone. So Matthew gave his parents tickets but away from his siblings.

Spencer, Quinn, Brady and Taryn arrived at the hockey arena and all headed in and to find their seats.

Spencer sat between Quinn and Brady and Taryn sat next to Brady.

Before they even realized the game was already over and the buzzer was ringing out through out the arena signaling the game was over and the Florida Panthers were Stanley Cup Champions.

Spencer was beaming as he realized his brother just accomplished his life long dream, he shook Quinn’s arm excitedly.

Spencer and Taryn looked at each other and shared a cackle at Brady’s tears making Quinn fondly shake his head at the two.

“Shut up.” Brady rolled his eyes wiping his tears as he elbows his two younger siblings.

Quinn did snicker at Brady’s tears but knew he won’t be any better when he watches his little brothers complete the same.

“Not you too.” Brady groaned looking betrayed by his best friend and Quinn just shrugged.

Spencer, Quinn, Taryn and Brady all headed down towards the ice, Quinn tapped Spencer’s elbow and gestured to where he was going to stay.

Spencer and Quinn talked about it and Quinn would rather he didn’t join them on the ice if Matthew won and Spencer was more than okay with that.

Quinn leaned against the wall as he watched the three step onto the ice and he kept a protective eye on Spencer as he saw Keith and Chantal step onto the ice as well.

Brady pulled Matthew into a hug first making them cling to each other and Matthew released his brother and Taryn lunged at him pulling him into a tight hug.

Spencer tensed feeling Keith step closer to him but took a deep breath not going to let Keith ruin Matthew’s day.

Spencer smiled watery as he looked at his older brother proudly and pulled Matthew into a tight hug, “Good job bud.” Spencer was so incredibly proud of Matthew and he thought out of him and his siblings Matthew deserves to raise the cup first.

“Thank you.” Matthew face was in a permanent beaming smile as he squeezed his favorite brother, his smile dimmed slightly once he pulled away from Spencer and saw his parents standing there.

“I don’t know why he is here.” Keith rolled his eyes gesturing to Spencer and was obviously going on to stay more but was interrupted by Matthew pulling him into a tight hug.

“Shut up.” Matthew coldly muttered into his father’s ear, He would never let his father say anything to Spencer ever again.

Keith grunted his jaw clenched obviously angry but reluctantly desired not to say any thin knowing Matthew could get him kicked out.

Spencer stayed far away from his parents as his siblings all made sure to stand in between the two not wanting their parents near Spencer ever again.

The four siblings all shared a look together not going to let their parents ruin Matthew’s big day so they basically ignored them as their celebrated with Matthew on the ice and watched his get the Stanley cup in his hands.

Matthew being the little rat he is tried to get Brady and Spencer to touch the cup and tried to chase both of them with the cup in his hands only to be stopped by Taryn making him pout that his fun was stopped.

The Tkachuck siblings took so many pictures together on the ice and it was a memorable time for all of them.

Spencer, Brady and Taryn let Matthew head into the locker room first and they would join him in a little.

The three walked over to where Quinn was waiting, Quinn walked over to Spencer wrapping his arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

“Good?” Quinn asked looking at Spencer in concern, He saw Keith and Chantal on the ice and was a little worried but knew Matthew would make sure nothing happened to Spencer.

“Okay.” Spencer nodded back, he’s grown to be fine with not having a relationship with his parents, it’s not his fault and he has a family still.

Quinn and Spencer shared a smile before they started heading to the locker room and starting a night that would not be ending anytime soon.

[swiftieblyth]

Y/N Hopper: Prologue

warnings- Stranger Things, Papa, Hawkins Lap, King!Steve, Hopper, dead sister, divorced parents, grieving, loss, powers

Let me know if I'm missing anything, I'm drawing a blank:(

Word count- 682

_________ST____________

1972

“Hey!” A six year old girl called, walking into her friend's backyard.

“Y/N/N-bear? What are you doing?” A six year old boy asked, sitting with his feet in the pool.

“Are your parents home?” The girl asked, sitting down next to him.

“No. You wanna hang out?”

“Steve, I gotta tell you something.”

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“I’m moving.”

“What? To where?”

“New York City.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. My dad says it will be good for us. But he said he would help me write to you.”

“So we can still be best friends?”

“Always.” The girl smiled, splashing him with water.

_________ST____________

1978

“It’s troll’s favorite food!” A big man yelled, running after a seven year old girl with two small pigtails, as a lady and the now twelve year old girl. “Princess!”

“No, Daddy!” The girl yelled, laughing. “No, Daddy!”

“Roasted princess,” the man called, as he lifted her up into the air. “With paprika and gravy!”

“No! No, Daddy. No, Daddy.”

The little girl stopped laughing and started breathing heavily. The family crowded around, worried. “Whoa, hey!” The man let out. “Hey. You alright?”

“Mom, what’s going on?” The twelve year old asked, grabbing her mothers hand.

“I don’t know Y/N.”

“Jim, what’s going on?” The lady asked. “What happening? What happened?”

“I don’t know.” The man responded. “I don’t know.” The man put her down as she started looking around. “Hey, you alright? Whoa, whoa, whoa. Relax, relax. Honey, honey. Honey, just breath. Breathe, breathe, breathe. In and out. Slow, slow, slow. In and out with me. In…and out.”

“I asked Mrs. Spencer what made the red and she said she didn’t know.” The man read, reading a book to his family, laying next to his youngest daughter in a hospital bed. “And for pity’s sake not to ask her any more questions. She said I must have asked her a thousand already. I suppose I had, too, but how are you gonna find things out if you don’t ask questions? And what does make roads red? ‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Matthew. It just makes me feel glad to be alive…it’s such an interesting world.”

“No!” A girl cried, grabbing a big man’s hand. “I wanna go with you!”

“Y/N/N, what about your mom?” The man asked, getting on his knees to be eye level with the twelve year old girl. “She can’t lose another kid.”

“No! I wanna go with you! She doesn’t care, she only cares about her new boyfriend that doesn’t remind her of Sara!”

“Hey, don’t say that.” The man said, wiping a tear from the girl's face.

“Daddy please? I wanna go with you! I wanna go back to Hawkins! I wanna see Steve again!”

“I know. I know.” 

“Please, don’t make me stay with her! Don’t make me stay with him!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

_________ST____________

The girl pounded on the door to a house as a twelve year old boy opened the door.

“Steve?” The girl asked, tears in her eyes.

“Y/N/N-bear?”

“Steve,” the girl let out, hugging him tight. “I missed you so much!”

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Steve asked, pulling away to see tears in her eyes and on her face.

“Steve, my dad and I moved back. Sara died, and uh… my parents got a divorce. I was able to come back with him. He’s at work now, but I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“Y/N/N, I’m home!” The man in his police chief uniform called walking into his house one night. “Y/N? Y/N, where are you?” He asked, looking around, looking for his daughter.

“And she’s not with you?” The man asked on the phone the next day.

“No. Why would she be with me? Are you sure she didn’t just spend the night at a friends?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I went home last and she wasn’t there. There was no sign of her, no note, no nothing! It’s not like her to just run away like that.”

[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

Halloween with the team of the BAU (Spencer Reid Smut)

Please do not read this if you are under the age of 18. It includes sex, kissing, fingering.& dirty talk (spencer)

I wrote this story based on the episode where Penelope throws the Day of the Dead party, but I'm changing it into a Halloween party and also it is based on the time that Matthew Gray Gubler Had black nail Polish on because he had his nails done with his mom. The picture will be posted in this story to show what inspired this. His mom wanted him to have his nails done, or the manicurist wanted to do them I'm not sure. But anyway, for a short time he had black nails.

It was a quiet day at the BAU. Luckily for the team it was just paperwork day. It was quite welcome after three back-to-back cases. You haven't been home in a month and half, aside from the sounds of paper rattling, pen scratching the paper, and sigh's coming from the team who are filling out the paperwork, there was really no other sounds happening in the BAU.

That was until you heard the sound of high heels clicking on the floor and the sound of Penelope Garcia 's voice. "Welcome back everybody" she said with a happy tone as she placed a piece of paper down in front of each team member.

Hotch put his pen down and picked up the piece of paper. A black piece of paper with a bright orange pumpkin on it and bright orange words.

The word's saying Penelope Garcia 's Halloween Spooky Spectacular.my place at 8:00pm October 31st.

You picked up your piece of paper and looked at it. "Is this really going to happen? We're having a Halloween spooky spectacular Penelope Garcia style?".

"Yes we are. I want everybody to come dressed up. Come one, come all. I'm so excited". Garcia answered.

Reid Heard what was going on and looked down at the piece of paper. "Yes A Halloween party. I love Halloween".

"I hate to be a downer Penelope, but what happens if we have a case on the day of the party?" you asked.

"Well miss negativity, if we have a case at the time we'll just move it to the next day or the next week or whatever this party is happening. Halloween Spooky Spectacular".

"I'll have to see if I can find a sitter for the night or if will be home to take care of Henry" JJ added.

Two days had gone by and you still didn't have a case, so Penelope asked Spencer and you to help her shop for the party and also help her bring the groceries up to her apartment.

All three of you were chatting about the Halloween party, very happy and excited about the upcoming event.

"I hope I bought enough food for everybody. I want to make sure that everybody has enough to eat and I have very specific things in mind of what I'm going to do with the food that is inside these paper bags". Penelope said as you all walked up the stairs to her apartment.

"I'm sure you have enough food. we have 12 bags of food here Penelope" you giggled.

Penelope unlocked the door and all of you went inside, placing the bags on her countertop in her kitchen.

"I hope so, but I'm kind of nervous. I've never had the whole team here before. Hey Spence, could you check the refrigerator and see how much hot sauce I have?" Penelope asked before getting some fake blood and letting it run down her face.

"Spencer opened up their refrigerator, moving a jar of eyeballs to the side before finding the bottle of hot sauce. "You have enough hot sauce, I think depending on how much guacamole you're planning on making, are you OK.?" He asked calmly as he saw the fake blood running down Penelope's face from her eyes down to her cheeks.

"You didn't even flinch. JJ was right. I told her I wanted to go scary for Halloween and she just laughed at me".

"Oh, I'm sorry. Well if it helps, you probably do have a scary side. I mean, we all have scary sides. Take me for example. On Halloween, I can scare the living daylights out of anyone that's around me." spencer told her.

"OK, so let me get this straight, pen. You brought us here just so that you could scare spencer? That wasn't nice. Penelope Garcia, I am surprised at you." you told her.

"I just wanted to see if I was capable of scaring anyone, and clearly I'm not."

"it's ok pen i love you any way" you hugged her.

"So on to something happier to either one of you know what you're going to come dressed up as to my party?".

"i'm not really sure yet" you told her.

"not sure yet? the party is tomorrow night" Penelope shrieked.

"Well, I already know what I'm coming as. I'm coming as Frankenstein" Spencer told her.

"Frankenstein?" Penelope said with a gasp.

"Yeah Frankenstein. Is there a problem with that? I can try to get a different costume before tomorrow night" Spencer told her a little worried.

"I love that you're coming as Frankenstein. Just can I do your nails, you know, put black nail Polish on them, make you really look like Frankenstein. Please, please, please let me put black nail Polish on you". she was asking him, bouncing up and down, clapping her hands.

"Uh, OK, sure. I guess that would make him look more authentic. You're really excited about this, aren't you?" he asked her.

"Uh, yeah. Ever since the first time I saw your hands, I wanted to put nail Polish on those beautiful fingers of yours." she told him.

You're standing in the kitchen with them, with your hand up on the counter, head tilted to the side with your eyebrows raised, not really understanding what's going on at the moment.

"You want to put nail Polish on my Husband?" You asked her.

"Yes, I do. It's something that I have dreamed of ever since the first time I met him and saw those long, beautiful fingers. I just wanted to put nail Polish on them. I know that I do my own nails, but it's not as satisfying as how I think it would be to do his". Penelope explained.

"Oh no, I'm right there with you. I understand. Every time I do my nails, I think the same thing." you told her.

with spencer looking at both of you like you are crazy.

"ok well you can both do a hand if you want to" he offered.

"REALLY?!" you and Penelope said at the same time.

But you agreed to let Penelope do both hands herself, because it would make it more special if you got to do Spencer's nails alone.

The day of the party came and everyone said they would gather at Penelope 's apartment. She really went all out with pumpkin twinkle lights, bowls of candy, even Halloween inspired snacks.

The one you thought was the cutest was the little mummy Baby carrots. Usually people would do this with hot dogs, but being Penelope Garcia and being a vegetarian, she opted for baby carrots. and you love it

Penelope chose being Barbie this year. And in true Penelope Garcia fashion, she was Barbie from head to toe, literally, from the pink hair tie in her high ponytail to the pink shoes that was wearing.

You chose being an Angel for Halloween. You had on a sparkly white dress, a little Halo, and some feathery wings along with white nail Polish with silver glitter topcoat.

You have to admit though, seeing Spencer with that black nail Polish did make you feel not so Angely. You just wanted to stare at his hands all night knowing how wonderful those fingers feel.

Spencer couldn't help but notice you keep looking at him since you two are the only ones that arrived to the party yet.

"are you ok?" He asked with a little bit of weary in his voice. Not really sure why you keep staring at him.

"oh yeah just like looking at you" you tell him before kissing him.

There are some spooky music playing in the background while Penelope puts the finishing touches on the food.

She's saying something about the food, and as much as you love Penelope, you think of her as a big sister, really. But all you can focus on is Spencer and those damn black nails.

You thought for sure you were going to lose your mind. Thank God there was a knock at the door. It was Hotch. He came dressed as Indiana Jones.

A little bit later JJ showed up. She was Marilyn Monroe in the classic white dress.

The Prentice showed up. She came dressed as a black cat, complete with a tight-fitting black outfit and black cat ears.

"wow you look great" you tell her.

"Thank you. I must look very convincing as a black cat because Sergio couldn't keep his eyes off of me while I was getting ready" she laughed.

Even though there were now more people at the party, snacks were now being eaten, music got a little louder and you were mingling with the rest of the team. well the ones that have arrived so far anyway, you still couldn't stop your mind from wandering the Spencer.

Not helping matters any was the fact that Spencer was now licking ranch dip off of his fingers after accidentally putting a baby carrot too far into the ranch dip from the vegetable platter.

Yep, that was it. You were going to lose your mind. OK, here we go. Mind Officially blown.

But this is so the BAU always knows when you need help, because just as you were about to lose your frigging mind there was another knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" you yelled out with a slightly shrieky voice, Just trying to get your mind off of what you just saw.

It was Rossi. "Hey you look beautiful. What a beautiful little Angel you are" Rossi said to you before hugging you.

"thank you" 

"And you make a very nice...." You stopped looking him up and down, trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to be.

Since he was just wearing one of his suits that he wears every day, so you weren't really sure what he was supposed to be

 "I came dressed up as an agent who left the BAU and then came back." he told you Pointing to the badge that he wears when he's in the station.

"oh so you're David Rossi?" you asked.

"yes i am" he smiled.

Penelope come walking over with a tray of skeleton brownies.

"Hey you made it!. And you're David Rossi What a great costume. No one can pull it off better than you can Sir". she smiled from ear to ear.

"thank you Penelope.

"So everyone's here now, except for the always fashionably late Derek Morgan." Penelope said placing the tray of skeleton brownies on the coffee table.

You go back over into the kitchen where Spencer still standing by the vegetable platter holding his plate with carrots and dip.

"You know the ideas that are in your head are not very Angel like pretty girl." Spencer whispered in your ear.

"What do you mean? How do you know what I'm thinking?" you asked.

"I know because you've been staring at me ever since Penelope put this black nail Polish on me, You keep staring at my hands. I know you already love my hands, but you've been staring at them even more ever since" he whispered.

The heat of his breath brushing against your ear turns you on even more.

"Do you want to see if they feel any better inside of you with black nail Polish than they do without? I know how much you love my fingers, they already make you moan and whine and bring you so much pleasure. Do you think a little bit of color's going to make them feel any better?" he asks.

If he keeps talking to you like this, there's no way you're going to make it to the end of the party.

"Not necessarily better. I just want to know how they feel. Is that wrong for a wife to want to know?"

Spencer smiles and chuckles. "I knew it. You want to see how they feel don't you honey? OK, well here's what we're going to do. We're going to see if they make you feel any better."

"what here? we can't do it here!" you tell him, you are so turned on but your not crazy.

"OK, well we'll just have to come up with something. How about we had a snack to bring and we forgot to bring it? That'll get us back to our apartment." he offers.

"ok, that's good"

 You leave the kitchen and walk back through the living room, heading towards the door. "

We had some snacks to bring and we forgot about them. We were so excited about coming and helping you pen, so we're going to go back and pick up our snacks, OK?" you say rushed.

"oh honey we have food here but i guess we can never have to many snacks" Penelope tells you with a smile before hugging you. "Make sure that you get home and come back safe, OK?"

"ok" 

You're not sure that you've ever seen Spencer drive so fast before? Of course your eyes could not stay off of his hands. Not only the traffic light shining off his gold wedding band, but also those black nails.

You may get home in about 12 minutes. As soon as you're in the parking lot of your apartment, your seat belts are off and you're running upstairs to get inside.

You both run inside and slam the door behind you, making a straight line for the bedroom. You throw yourself on the bed, lifting up the bottom of your dress.

"wow you really can't wait can you?" spencer chuckles.

"no i can't i need you spence please" you beg.

"no need to beg honey i will give you everything you need" he Tells you before reaching down and pulling off your underwear and then looks back up at you and tells you "everything you need and more".

He then takes a long lick right up your center, causing you to moan loudly.

"is this what you needed?" he asks.

"yes" you moan out. As you cleanse the Forest Green comforter atop the bed in your hands.

"Oh OK, so you only need my mouth. I thought you needed my fingers too" Spencer teases you.

"i do please spencer i need them"

"ok what my baby what's my baby gets" he tells you before putting a finger in.

"oh my god, yes move please"

"ok" he starts to move his hand a few times before adding another finger.

"does it feel as good as you thought it would?" he asks before sucking on you clit.

"AAHHH OH YES, YES IT DOES" you yell.

It only takes about 5 minutes before your coming all over Spencer's fingers and mouth.

"so was it better than usual?" he asks you with a smile.

"it was so good, but then again you always are" you pant out.

Spencer smiles and says thank you as he starts taking his belt off and dropping his pants along with his underwear that have pumpkins on them. Something that you can't help but giggle at. You're not really sure how somebody who's so sweet and innocent and has such a pure love for Halloween could possibly be capable of such sexy things.

"do you think you can take me? if you don't want to you don't have to" he asks you not wanting to push you.

"i want you, i need you" you answer."

"you need more? Well don't we have an insatiable appetite tonight? You sure are naughty for an Angel."

He then removed your costume completely and kisses his way up your body before telling you 

"I like that you're naughty" and then kissing you on the lips.

He pushes in with no hesitation. You both moan out at the pleasure of it all. He kisses you with such passion you think for sure this is going to be the end of you, and there's no way that this is going to any time soon. You're going to miss the rest of the party.

But it's okay. Penelope will understand. She knows how much you two love each other. She'll be fine with it.

Spencer thrusts slowly kissing you on the lips and neck before looking at you in your eyes and telling you how much he loves you. He whispered sweet things in your ear as he moves and also interlaces your fingers together.

You both completely lose track of time, completely swept up in the moment, The love, the pleasure that you're both feeling.

after are Both Done. Two orgasms for you and one for him. You both put your costumes back on and realize you didn't get a snack. So you go into the kitchen, open the cabinet and take out a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. "This will do right?" spencer asks and you run back out the door.

"Oh my God, they're so going to know what we did". You say with your hands up to your face is Spencer drives back to Penelope's.

"Well, is that so bad? We're married, We're in love. They'll understand. There's nothing shameful about what we did." Spencer tells you, trying to calm you down.

You pull back up to Penelope's and run inside with the bag of chips.

As you do you hear Penelope saying. 

"Seriously, this is your costume? You couldn't even try for me?"

You close the door and look over to see who she's talking to. "Oh damn, it's Morgan" Spencer says.

"Baby girl, I told you I don't like Halloween. I don't like people going around dressed up like that. I find it creepy. So at least this is a Halloween shirt." he tells her.

"Really? a Halloween shirt is a shirt that says this is my costume. You couldn't even get something that has a pumpkin or a ghost or something?".

"It's orange."

"That's your argument. It's orange. OK? Everybody else got dressed up. Even Rossi".

"Rossi's dressed up? Seriously, You're going to tell me him coming here in the suit that he wears all the time is dressing up? What exactly is he supposed to be?" morgan asks.

"He is a FBI agent that came back to the team."

"so he came as Rossi?"

"well yes, but still it counts."

"This could be good for us. Maybe we can make it look like we've been here the whole time. They seem pretty occupied over there. Maybe Morgan won't notice." spencer whispers.

You both go the opposite direction of where they are on the other side of the room and run to the kitchen.

"i think we made it" spencer tells you.

"Hey pretty boy, don't think I didn't notice you just running into the kitchen." morgan yells.

"damn" spencer says.

"Well aren't we a little late to join the party?" morgan smiles.

"oh no they were already here, they forgot the snack's." Penelope told him.

"Ah, OK, so you went all the way back home just to get a bag of salt and vinegar Potato chips. Hmm. I'm not buying it. Plus, you two look like you got caught sticking your hand twice in the candy bucket."

"morgan please" spencer said.

"oh come on Pretty boy, I'm happy for you. I'm glad you got a little Halloween loving and really while you're in an Angel costume. Oh girl, that's naughty."

"We took the costume off first" Spencer said lowly.

"well At least you took the time to take off her costume." Morgan said, given Spencer a little nudge on the arm with a smile.

"Everyone came around to see what was happening in the kitchen. Oh, nothing, nothing. Just having some fun with pretty Boy over here. Though not as much fun as this little Angel did with him tonight, but I digress."

Aside from being completely humiliated and now you are a dark shade of red, you're sure that Spencer must be too, but the green face makeup is kind of hiding it.

You and Spencer, along with the rest of the BAU, had a really fun time at Penelope 's Halloween party. As the party came to an end, everyone agreed that this should be a yearly thing.

It was after midnight by the time the party ended, and close to 1:00 by the time you and Spencer got home. That didn't mean that you couldn't have another round of fun though. Post Halloween fun was just as fun as Halloween fun.

after two more rounds of passionate love making. spencer held you in his arms.

"So do you think maybe Penelope might be interested in throwing a Christmas party?" spencer asked Running his fingertips up and down your arm as he held you.

"yes, why?" you asked.

"Well, because if it's anywhere Nere as fun as Her Halloween party was I will definitely be going. I was thinking maybe we could make my nails red and green for Christmas." he giggled.

"really? you would let me do your nails for Christmas?"

"as i said before what my baby want's my baby get's" he told you before kissing you but when we get a case we will take it off, just like this color ok?" he asks.

"ok" you answer.

"and now for round 3" spencer giggles. 

oh yes this is a Halloween you two will always remember.

Masterlist

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 3 | S.R

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer is at a loss after leaving the BAU. You find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time and life as you know it will never be the same again.

A/N - Chapter title from the Set it Off album “Cinematics”. Song lyrics at the end of the chapter.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - drinking, Spencer’s rapidly declining mental health, nightmares, mentions of blood, swearing, cleaning up a crime.

WC - 4.9k

Chapter Three - Nightmare

The scraps of paper littered the bed like the world's most depressing confetti in his pathetic party for one. Ramblings of a man on the brink of destruction riddled the torn pages, manifestos of his rapidly declining brain. 

Names and crude drawings of warped human faces seemed to taunt him, coming alive from the paper and wrapping themselves around him in a blanket of evil. 

Linwood Jones.

Rico Hernandez. 

Alex Matthews.

Taylor Gardener. 

Eric Gomez.

Peter Cohen. 

And they were just ones within the District of Columbia. 

He had his bed sheet wrapped right up to his neck, pulling it close around his body like a cape and looking somewhat like a down on his luck superhero. 

It had been two weeks since he’d stormed out of the BAU and he’d only left his apartment once since to buy an obscene amount of scotch. He was down to his last bottle which meant he’d have to venture out again, but honestly, leaving the confines of this room seemed an impossible feat. 

There were days when Spencer’s bed held him hostage, the sheets working like hands keeping him firmly in place, wrapped in a straight jacket of his own mind. But it was preferable to being let loose on the world. There was something about being alone that enabled him to breathe so much easier than when he was surrounded by people. 

But as he brought the bottle to his lips and noticed it was almost half empty, he knew he had to at least make an effort to drag his sorry ass out of bed today, being sober didn’t seem like a safe option for him right now. 

Time had ceased to exist for him, his curtains pulled tightly shut so had no concept of day or night. Once his cell phone battery had died he didn’t have the impetus to charge it. It was a relief to be honest, it meant he wouldn’t have to hear it bleating every time the team tried to call or text him. 

They’d tried to visit too, JJ, Garcia, Rossi and Emily had all knocked on his door and proceeded to try and engage him by talking through the door. It was painfully similar to when he was grieving Maeve’s death only this time Garcia hadn’t left baskets full of food. 

He had nothing to say to any of them. All they’d want to do was talk him into coming back and that was something he categorically could not do. What he was going to do however, was still a mystery. 

He took another swig from the bottle before rubbing his hand aggressively against his eye. A few days ago his left eye had started to twitch, the way it had when he left prison and it was yet to stop. It was growing sore from the way in which he kept rubbing his palm against it. 

He still had PTSD from prison, maybe he always would. And it was only fuelled by the stress of wondering what the hell his next move was going to be. He couldn’t fathom thinking that far into the future. The only thing he could focus on right now was the list of names and the fact that he was rapidly running out of scotch. 

Tomorrow might be better. Some days he was completely fine, a normal functioning human being. Some days he was able to leave the clutches of the bed that held him captive so he could shower and eat. Other times he didn’t leave his bed for days at a time. 

Some days it was one step forward, five steps back. Some days Spencer wished he could cease to exist entirely, become one with the bed, close his eyes and never wake up. Today seemed like it might be one of those days. 

Sometimes it felt as though he wasn’t alone in his home, like there was evil lurking in the shadows, ready to come forth and pull him down into the darkness with them. He wasn’t sure he would have the energy to fight them if they did, maybe drowning in the abyss with his demons was how it was supposed to end for him.

Maybe it was all the faces that belonged to those names, taunting him, begging for him to do something before it was too late and they hurt more people. But how? How did he defeat these monsters that flew beneath the radar? 

A voice continued to nag him, begging him to do something for these victims who couldn’t help themselves. He had the brains, he had the resources. He had almost a complete puzzle in front of him but he was missing a key piece. 

He continued sipping his scotch while his eyes darted between the scraps of paper littering his bed. At some point he managed to free himself to use the bathroom after going hours without urinating. He kept the sheet wrapped tightly around his body as he padded through to the en-suite, relieved himself and quickly shuffled back into his bedroom. 

His brain was telling him to get back into bed but for some reason his feet kept on walking, no real destination in mind. He did that sometimes, just wandered the rooms of his apartment aimlessly, running his fingers along book spines or his chess set or the back of the couch, maybe in an attempt to keep himself tethered to a reality that was rapidly slipping away from him. 

The cracks in his psyche had become chasms, giant gaping holes in his brain in which his sanity was falling through piece by piece. The isolation didn’t help, he should reach out to someone, use them as a liftline to pull him back from this brink before he dove over the edge. He needed a light to shine through the darkness, to convince him this wasn’t the end for him before it was too late. 

But he was far too stubborn to admit he needed their help, he would rather die in a pool of his own self-destruction than ask any of them for assistance. 

He continued wandering the apartment, sinking his toes into the thick shag rug and keeping the bed sheet tightly wrapped around his body. His eyes darted around but he wasn’t looking at anything in the room, his eyes were bouncing between the names that seemed to follow him everywhere. 

The world would be a better place if those monsters were dead. Even if the cops did get their heads out of their asses and arrest them, prison would only hold them so long. Death was what they deserved. 

Oh how he would love to be the one to put an end to them, to point a gun between their eyes and pull the trigger. No, that wasn’t slow enough, death would be too fast. Maybe he could wrap his hands around their necks and squeeze until life left their demonic eyes. No, not gory enough. They deserved to shed blood. 

He found himself in his kitchen without realising he’d walked through there. The top drawer was open and his hand was reaching inside towards the back. His fingers wrapped around a handle, and he was soon withdrawing an object that had remained untouched in the back of his drawer for over a decade. 

Gideon had bestowed the antique hunting knife on him for his birthday one year, many moons again. Much like most of Gideon’s gifts, Spencer hadn’t understood why exactly his mentor would think he’d require such an item. Maybe he knew. 

Maybe even all those years ago Gideon had seen the evil within Spencer. Maybe he’d always known this was where Spencer’s road would lead him. 

The blade would make the perfect weapon to slice open the throat of a murderer or a rapist. It wouldn’t be an instant death and it would be messy. He could stand over the body of his victim while he watched them bleed to death. 

Suddenly Spencer knew what he needed to do. It all became so clear in startling clarity. It was as though a thick fog had cleared and he was finally able to see the horizon. Those people who flew under the radar, evaded capture from law enforcement deserved to die. 

And it was his job to do that. 

The list of names he’d been building up in his mind for the last two weeks were just the tip of the iceberg. There were hundreds, thousands more out there who had literally gotten away with murder. 

Not anymore. Spencer would make sure of it. He would ensure those men would never hurt another human being. It was all so fucking clear now. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this sooner. 

Spencer held the blade up to the light and saw his reflection staring back at him on the shiny metal surface. 

For the first time in months, he was smiling. 

***

“Ok if you yawn one more time, I’m going to start thinking you don’t appreciate my dazzling personality.” Luke cocked his eyebrow at you across the table as you stifled yet another yawn.

You shrugged in apology and lifted your drink to your lips, taking a hefty swig and hoping the caffeine in your vodka cola would help even a little.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” 

“You still having those nightmares?” He sat forward in his chair and leant on the table with his elbows. 

It had now been three weeks since Spencer left the BAU and none of you had heard from him even once. Several members of the team had tried to go to his apartment but he was either never there or simply wouldn’t answer the door. You hadn’t tried to contact him, despite the fact it was killing you not to. And almost every night since his departure from the team, you’d been having nightmares. 

They all followed a similar pattern. You were back at the Fugitive Task Force, hunting down one of the most prolific serial killers the world had ever seen. He was wanted by multiple federal, state and local law enforcement agencies across the country and suspected of killing upwards of one hundred people. You’d received a tip off on his location and gone in pursuit alone. 

You’d traced him to a desolate cabin in the woods on the edge of a lake. It was pitch black out in the woods, leaves crunching under foot as you approached the house, firearm drawn in front of you. There was a single light emanating from inside the cabin on the second floor and it was glowing red. 

Creeping up the front steps you found the door unlocked and before you opened it, you lifted your collar and spoke into your comm system pinned to the lapel. 

“I’ve reached the house, I’m continuing in pursuit.”

“Wait for backup Y/L/N, don’t be a hero.” Luke’s voice came through the crackly speaker in your ear.

“Negative, there’s no time. If he even catches a whiff of police presence he’s fleeing again. This is our only chance.”

“Y/L/N stand down, wait for backup.” Luke hissed. 

You didn’t reply and instead you reached for the door handle and entered the old cabin. The floorboards were a little creaky and you held your breath as you cautiously traversed the first floor. 

Luke’s voice kept sounding in your ear, distracting you from your mission but you didn’t recall what he said, it was always some incoherent mumbles. As you headed towards the stairs you removed your earpiece so you could give the situation your full attention. 

The walk up the stairs was always distant, somehow you seemed to appear at the top of them with a door in front of you. Not stopping for breath you gripped the handle and entered the room. 

On the far side of the room shrouded in red light was a figure with his back to you, looking out the window. His image was hazy, as if the room were filled with smoke. 

“FBI! Put your hands where I can see them!” You screamed at him but he either didn’t hear you or ignored you. 

And then the dream always turned weird. Blood started to pour down the walls and a claret waterfall appeared between you and the unsub. It came down like torrential rain, completely obscuring them from vision. 

“FBI! You’re under arrest!” 

You felt it start to cover you, the warm, sticky substance falling heavily into your eyes, your mouth, soaking through your clothes. 

“FBI, show me your hands!” You spluttered against the onslaught of blood. 

“You can’t help me.” A voice came from the distance, oddly recognisable but you couldn’t place it. 

“I’m not here to help you, I’m here to stop you.” 

“You can’t do that either.” 

And like the Red Sea parting, so did the waterfall of blood and the unsub walked right towards you with a menacing grin on his face, covered from head to toe in blood. 

You gasped as he closed in on you, dropping your firearm on the floor in shock as he advanced. 

“There’s no helping me, Y/N. I’m too far gone.” Spencer chuckled manically seconds before he lifted the blade in his hand and suddenly drove it towards your heart. 

And that’s where you always woke up, panting and sweating and sometimes even screaming. It didn’t make any sense. You knew dreams were interpretive but what was this supposed to mean? You were worried about Spencer clearly, but surely you weren’t that concerned about him? 

You’d made the mistake of telling Luke about your nightmares, something you wished now more than ever you hadn’t disclosed to him. 

“I guess.” You shrugged. “It’s no big deal.” 

“I think it is, you look exhausted.” 

“Thanks.” You pulled a face. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“You could just call him, you know? Or go to his place? It might put your mind at ease.” Luke wore his concern on his face.

“He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to see any of us. Seriously, I’ll be fine.” You downed the remains of your drink and stretched your back. “I should go home though, I am exhausted.” 

Luke nodded and finished his beer and the two of you stood from the table and gathered your things. He escorted you out of the bar and onto the street. 

“You wanna split a cab?” He asked with a smile.

“We live in opposite directions.” You chuckled. “But thanks. I think I’ll take a walk, it’s only a few blocks.” 

“It’s late, let me get you a cab.” He tried again.

“Alvez, I carry a gun. I think I’ll be ok.” You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him and placing a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you Monday, assuming we don’t get called in beforehand.” 

He offered you a smile that told you he wasn’t happy about letting you walk home alone but he also knew you could handle yourself better than most people he knew. Not only could you run circles around him but you were also a force to be reckoned with in a boxing ring. He knew you were probably the last person he needed to worry about. And like you’d said, you did carry a weapon. 

“See you Monday, conejito.” He winked at you and you gave him a wave in response before turning and heading on your way. 

You enjoyed walking the streets of DC at night, especially this time of year in late spring when it was still a reasonable temperature. You kept one hand on your purse, like always, your personal firearm tucked inside just in case you ever needed it. In all the years you’d lived here you never had, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. 

You walked on autopilot, your legs carrying you in the direction of your home for several blocks. That was until you came to a particular cross street and you halted in your tracks without meaning to do so. 

If you carried on left you’d reach your apartment in two blocks. But if you went four blocks right you would end up at a different apartment, one you’d previously spent a lot of time at, but you hadn’t visited for a while. 

You looked up and down the street, your mind fighting an internal battle. You should go home, but if you went home you would inevitably only be inviting more nightmares. 

You could just pass by his place, not even stop, just walk down the street and make sure everything seemed normal. Although, what would you class as out of place? What did you expect to find? 

Before you’d realised you’d made up your mind, you’d started walking again, in the opposite direction of your home. 

***

Spencer sat in the driver's seat of his old Volvo in the small alleyway behind his apartment building, only illuminated by the moon high in the sky. The ancient engine rumbled, vibrating his seat and echoing around the otherwise silent street. He shut the car off and suddenly the world around him became still. 

His hands gripped the steering wheel, nails grazing over the stitching in the leather. He kept his eyes trained out the windscreen on the narrow alleyway in front of him. His heart beat frantically against his chest even now. But he felt oddly at peace, a wave of euphoria rushing through his veins. 

He stayed this way for several long minutes, ensuring no one was traversing the street at this time of night. He needed privacy for what he needed to do. 

He glanced at his hands and the substance he’d inadvertently transferred from them to the steering wheel. He let go of it and reached into his pocket for the old rag which he used to wipe all around the wheel before using it to cover his dirty hand and open the car door. 

He slid out into the quiet alley and closed the door behind him before rounding the vehicle to the trunk. Using the same rag he opened it and stared down at the mess he’d made. 

The first time he’d panicked, forgetting his years of crime scene training as he’d surveyed what he done in fear of what the fuck he did next. This was the second time now and his head was clearer, he would stay calm and clean up his mess, get rid of the evidence. Getting caught was not an option. 

He would be smarter about it this time around. No need to fret himself. He’d already taken care of the hardest part and now all he needed to do was clean up after himself. 

He used the rag to wipe the residual blood off his hands, he’d worry about cleaning under his nails and all the nooks and crannies later when he was home. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves and grabbed the bottle of bleach from the corner of the before pouring ample amounts of it into the lining of his trunk. 

Using a thick bristled brush he started to scrub, not a single inch of the lining being left untouched. He spent a long time ensuring he’d gotten every little drop of blood, periodically looking up and around to make sure no one had meandered down the alley. It wasn’t a high traffic area, away from central DC. The alley was occasionally used as a shortcut by pedestrians but he wasn’t too worried. 

Once he’d finished scrubbing the lining he poured a little more bleach onto a clean rag which he used to wipe down the lip of the trunk and all the metal insides. 

His clothes were still filthy, he’d take care of them once he was home. It was only an old t-shirt and jeans, he wasn’t stupid enough to ruin his nice suits. He’d strip down, toss everything into a garbage bag and dispose of them alongside his gloves, cleaning rags and shoe covers in the morning. 

He finished cleaning the trunk and deposited his cleaning supplies in a bag along with the latex gloves before closing it. As he turned to get back in the car, a set of wide eyes stared right at him. 

He froze in place, fully aware of the blood stained t-shirt he wore on display. The eyes blinked a few times at him, legs stumbling backwards a little in fear. 

He took a few calming breaths, quickly trying to ascertain a plan, a way to talk himself out of this. But a bloodstained t-shirt coupled with the knife in his waistband which would have been visible from behind, certainly looked incriminating. 

He held his hands up as if in surrender, not daring to step any closer for fear of making his company flee before he had a chance to try and work his way out of this situation. 

“It’s not what it looks like.” He tried to insist. “Let me explain.” 

But he’d barely gotten his sentence out before you were turning on your heels and running. 

***

Normally you would not be so stupid as to take a shortcut down a dark alley at night but you did have a gun, and it would make the journey to Spencer’s a lot faster. 

Little did you know you would soon live to regret this decision. 

Clutching your purse close to you, you turned off the main street and started up the alley that ran between two blocks of apartments, one being Spencer’s. 

You spotted the little old car parked about halfway up almost as soon as you entered the street but didn’t think much of it. Maybe if it hadn’t been dark you would have recognised it sooner. 

The engine was idling but as you started down the alley it cut it out and soon someone was exiting the vehicle. You found yourself ducking into a doorway, out of sight, not particularly wanting to find yourself in a dark alley with a stranger. You held your bag tighter, ready to grab the gun shielded inside at a moment's notice. 

You heard footsteps in the otherwise silent street and then heard a trunk opening. For a few seconds you didn’t hear much of anything but then a strange sound met your ears. 

Brushing? Scrubbing? Is someone cleaning? 

You swallowed thickly, thinking there could be only one good reason someone was cleaning the trunk of their car at night, off of the main road.

Shit. Shit. What the fuck do I do? 

You tried to calm yourself, reminding yourself you were a damn FBI agent and this really shouldn’t phase you. You could apprehend them, you kept some snap cuffs in your purse. 

Don’t get ahead of yourself. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

You forced yourself to creep out of the doorway, not drawing your weapon just yet, and slowly and quietly headed closer. 

They had their back to you, leaning over inside the trunk but you could tell they were male, tall and slim. The scrubbing sound continued for a while and you stepped closer. It was too late by the time you spotted the knife tucked into his waistband. 

Soon you heard the rustling of a plastic bag and what sounded suspiciously like latex gloves being removed. Your heart raced in your chest as the man shut the trunk and stood back to his full height. 

You would recognise that messy mop of curly hair anywhere, even from behind. You stopped walking, physically unable to take another step once the realisation set it. 

And then Spencer turned and his eyes landed straight on you. 

Your eyes immediately fell to the blood soaked shirt he wore and your stomach coiled into knots as the pieces slotted themselves into place. He stared at you for a few moments before he raised his hands in surrender. 

“It’s not what it looks like.” He croaked out. “Let me explain.” 

But you didn’t hear him out. Despite your years of FBI training, your fight or flight response took over. And your brain chose flight.

You turned back down the alley and started running as fast as your legs would carry you. You could hear your heart beating in your ears but you could also make out the sound of footsteps chasing after you. 

“Y/N! Come back! I can explain!” His voice carried after you but you didn’t stop, if anything you quickened your pace. 

Luke had always been in awe of how fast you could run. Conejito, that’s what he called you. And if there was ever a time you needed to run like the wind, it was now. 

Maybe it was the fear slowing you down, or maybe Spencer was quicker than you expected, but you didn’t even reach the end of the alleyway before he caught up with you. 

You smelt the metallic blood seconds before a set of arms were wrapping around your torso and a hand was clamping over your mouth to stop you from screaming. 

He grabbed you and shoved you against a wall, pressing his body into your back to cage you in. He was panting from the exertion, but you were just trying to figure out a way to reach for your gun. 

“You’ve got to let me explain.” He spoke into the side of your face. “What you saw…it wasn’t what you saw.” 

You tried to talk back, tried to scream but your sounds were muffled against his hand. He pressed you firmly against the wall and you felt his hand that wasn’t on your mouth scrabbling behind you. And you knew exactly what he was doing. 

You felt him open your purse and seconds later he withdrew your firearm and tucked into his waistband with the knife. 

“You won’t be needing that.” He spoke again. “Look, you’re going to come with me ok? We’re going to go up to my apartment and we’re going to talk. We can either do it the easy way or the hard way.” 

You’d been in situations like this before, more times than you could count. You knew your best chance at survival, your best chance of apprehending an unsub was to do as they said with little resistance. 

You nodded your head against his hand and that seemed to be enough for him as he stepped back a little, but wrapped his hand tightly around your wrist. He slowly removed his hand from your mouth and turned you around. 

His eyes bore into you, waiting to see if you might scream or not but you knew better. You stayed silent and eventually he started walking back up the alley, dragging you by the wrist with him. 

As you walked you couldn’t help but think back to all those nightmares that had plagued you since Spencer’s departure from the BAU. They’d seemed so unrealistic, just a twisted amalgamation of your worry for Spencer. But now it didn’t seem so far-fetched. 

Spencer hadn’t been the same since prison, that much you all knew. But it seemed as though it had awoken a monster inside of him, and now you were trapped in a new nightmare, one you may never be able to escape from. 

They're coming, creeping from the corner,

And all I know is that I don't feel safe.

I feel the tapping on my shoulder,

I turn around in an alarming state.

But am I losing my mind? I really think so,

Not a creature in sight,

But, what you don't know.

Is that my breathing gets faster and so does my heartbeat,

I wish this was over, I wish that this was a dream but,

I created a monster, a hell within my head.

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own,

Oh, I'm so scared.

I created a monster, a beast inside my brain.

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own,

My mind impaired.

Awake me from my nightmare.

Wait, something doesn't feel right (feel right),

No, something seems wrong (wrong).

And I've been feeling this way (oh, that's too bad),

For far too long.

As my vision gets blurred, my skin's getting colder,

Appearing young, while I'm growing older.

I collapse to the floor and scream,

"Can anybody save me from myself?"

I created a monster, a hell within my head.

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own,

Oh, I'm so scared.

I created a monster, a beast inside my brain.

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own,

My mind impaired.

Awake me from my nightmare.

Walking to the ledge, I find myself looking down,

Frozen still with fear, now I'm plunging to the ground.

If only I knew how to fly,

Then I could convince myself this isn't my time to die.

Instead, I'm rocketing faster and faster,

I dive-bomb to the floor.

And when my body crashes to the pavement,

I'm right back where I was before.

I created a monster, a hell within my head.

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own,

Oh, I'm so scared.

I created a monster, a hell within my head.

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own,

Oh, I'm so scared, no, whoa.

I created a monster, a beast inside my brain.

With nowhere to go, I'm out on my own,

My mind impaired.

Awake me from my nightmare (I'm so scared).

Awake me from my nightmare (I'm so scared).

Awake me from my nightmare (I'm so scared).

Awake me from my nightmare (I'm so scared).

Awake me from my nightmare.

Next Chapter

Taglist

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @dirtytissuebox @dreatine @dr-spencerr-reidd @spenxerslut @radtwinkie @drayshadow @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @dielgonacoffee @hotchandspencearedilfs @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle

[starry-hughes]

i need a blurb of mackie and mark sticking up for aspen!!

with mackie going to florida, aspen was helping him get everything in line. to pay her back, mackie took her to lunch on campus. he didn't think much of it, neither did she. it wasn't anywhere special, just one of the fast food options on campus.

"and you can call matthew for anything! or spencer! or me, i'll drive down to florida if i have to!" aspen reassured him. mackie chuckled, "i'll keep that in mind."

they two walked out onto campus, taking a short walk to all the places mackie loved before he had to leave. aspen hadn't even looked at her phone or the clock, not realizing that her boyfriend was walking out of his class.

mark was close behind her boyfriend, not even paying attention until her boyfriend shouted. "aspen! what the hell are you doing?" he barked. mackie instinctively got in front of aspen, he was protective over her as if she was his own sister.

"we just got lunch. mackie is leaving for the airport tonight," aspen said in a small voice. "you didn't answer my texts because you were too busy with him?"

mark didn't want to get involved but he stepped up, his anger popping out a little too much, he usually kept his anger for the ice but this wasn't sliding. "dude, calm down." mark stepped in.

"i'm sorry," aspen said. "aspen, don't apologize, he's being unreasonable and a dick," mark said. "it was just lunch dude, don't speak to her that way," mackie defended. "don't bother coming to my place tonight," her boyfriend spat before storming off. aspen's face was red from embarrassment after many students saw what happened.

[prettiestboyreid]

i was tagged by cutiepie @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi

last song: it was a song made for the euros a couple of years ago but i'll reveal too much if i say what it is :/

favorite color: im a pink and brown girlie all the way through im sorry its basic

currently watching: criminal minds rewatch 3 but also love island us and uk (i thought i would hate the us version but im sorry the uk can suck it this year i love you babes but whats going on this season??)

sweet, savory, or spicy: i simply cannot choose. i think mostly spicy or sweet?? savory only for the right type of food but sweet and spicy all the way

currently reading: reader x spencer reid or rumple buttercup hehehehe

last movie: hoard (i love my beefy joe)

relationship: I AM A SOON TO BE FIANCÈÈÈ (its a long story but its fine) and also he's okay with matthew being in the relationship we're good

current obsessions: SKINCARE but only because my skin is not doing good so i've been spending a lot of time and MONEY on it (also just criminal minds lore) AND CHAPPEL ROAN??

last thing googled: “wound spray" back to the skincare lore

currently working on: THE COURAGE TO POST ANYTHING REALLY

tagging: @icallhimjoey (I know everything about you but i need more im sorry) @lareinaa007 (i know an unhealthy amount about you but i still need more) @reidsdimples (girlie please tell me more)

[theputterer]

Good Things In 2022

“It’s that time of year again! Time to remember all the good things that happened in 2022. I’ve done this since 2017, and highly recommend doing this as a fun way to reflect (and to have something for future reference when you are feeling Down.)

feels like I literally just did this for 2021, and yet.

just under the wire...

PERSONAL

I MOVED ACROSS THE WORLD!!!!! I am now living in Dublin, Ireland. it was a move I'd been aiming to do for years, and once I received my citizenship and Irish passport, I decided to give it a shot. I've been here for nine months and am having a wonderful time.

I did more traveling this year than I think I ever have in a single calendar year.

In Ireland, I've visited several counties and lots of Dublin, including: Malahide, Howth, Dún Laoghaire, Dublin Mountains, Glasnevin Cemetery, Little Museum of Dublin, GPO Museum, National Gallery of Ireland, National Museum(s) of Ireland, EPIC Museum.

I finally went to Paris for a few days in June! Visited: Musée d'Orsay, Eiffel Tower, Sacré-Coeur, Notre Dame (closed to visitors due to renovation/restoration work but wandered around the outside and had a fabulous lunch). Bonus points for the Paris Métro, which fuckin rules.

I finally went to Italy for a long weekend in October! Got to see my folks that weekend as well. Spent time in Venice and Florence. Ate a lot of good food and gelato.

My beloved Seattle Mariners broke a 21 year drought and made it to the PLAYOFFS!!!!!!

I have been puttering away on a ROGUE ONE-FRINGE fusion/AU, ENDLESS FORMS MOST BEAUTIFUL. it has been super slow going but I am trying and I WILL finish it.

Similarly, sorta, I took a writing class! I shared a snippet of my original writing which was well-received. I got some lovely comments from my teacher which is currently sustaining me.

Anything bolded below is something I particularly enjoyed and recommend. 

MOVIES

2022 movies I saw and liked:

TURNING RED

THE BATMAN

THE NORTHMAN

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

3000 YEARS OF LONGING

NOPE

SEE HOW THEY RUN

TICKET TO PARADISE

THE WOMAN KING

ENOLA HOLMES 2

BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER

GLASS ONION

BONES AND ALL

THE MENU

AMBULANCE

THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT

2021 movies I saw for the first time and liked:

ETERNALS

THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH

FREE GUY

SPENCER

THE MATRIX RESURRECTIONS

UNCHARTED

TV

EUPHORIA (saw season 1, did not watch season 2. lol.)

MOON KNIGHT

FRINGE

STRANGER THINGS, SEASON 4

MS MARVEL

THE SANDMAN

THE CROWN (the first few seasons and then I stopped : / )

1899

DARK (BRO........ BRO........ BEST TV SHOW OF THIS CENTURY?????)

Special acknowledgment: ANDOR. what a trip and a half to see my beloved son on screen once more. I shared some thoughts here.

BOOKS

Did not read nearly as many as I should have! (I did read some other books but they are not on this last as I did not like them).

"Strangers to Ourselves" by Rachel Aviv

"Greywaren" by Maggie Stiefvater

"Babel" by RF Kuang

"She Who Became The Sun" by Shelley Parker-Chan

"Wild Game: My Mother, Her Lover, and Me" by Adrienne Brodeur

"The Hours" by Michael Cunningham

"The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo" by Taylor Jenkins Reid

"The Burning God" by RF Kuang (incredible series but BOY will it fuck you up!!!!!!)

"The Dragon Republic" by RF Kuang

"The Poppy War" by RF Kuang

"Winter Recipes From the Collective" by Louise Gluck

"You Feel It Just Below the Ribs" by Jeffrey Cranor

"Oscar Wilde: A Life" by Matthew Sturgis

OTHER GOOD THINGS

*some of these things are Good as in well-written or well-made, but maybe not Good in topic.

Saw a couple plays at the Abbey Theatre: "Translations" by Brian Friel and "Joyce's Women" by Edna O'Brien. Quite different, both devastating.

Morocco's run at the FIFA Men's World Cup.

Joplin Sibtain, who played Brasso on ANDOR, shared a reel on Instagram of the SPOILERS riot scene on Ferrix with "Killing in the Name" dubbed over it. Incredible.

Martin Scorsese watches DERRY GIRLS.

Local Man Sees Cheese For Sale At Incredibly Low Price, Makes Executive Decision, Purchases 40 Pounds of Cheese

Is Twitter dying? Probably. Here's a thread where everyone shared their favorite tweets.

This angry little dog.

Mother losing it over her baby's laughter.

Dave Sims' calling Cal Raleigh's home run that sent the Mariners to the playoffs for the first time in 21 years.

Janan Ganesh over at the Financial Times with an incredible and scathing assessment of why Liz Truss and the Tories have never gotten Brexit "right". (Hint: they think the UK is on par with the US.)

Twitter user attempts to summarize RIVERDALE in a thread.

This TikTok of two preteen girls discovering landlines that made me LOL and also made me feel DECREPIT.

Shauna Bowers for The Irish Times with a dispatch from Electric Picnic that featured bangers of lines, including: The most sacred Electric Picnic institution of all remains untouched: the inflatable chapel, where all true love stories begin. “That’s probably the only way I’d be able to get you to marry me,” a woman says to her boyfriend. He says nothing.

Ichiro Girl returns to T-Mobile Park and throws out the first pitch to, of course, ICHIRO.

A story about how dogs are the best.

Pianist named Alex Pian covers "Time" by Hans Zimmer in Lviv, Ukraine, as air raid sirens sound. Really powerful.

Emma Baccellieri for Sports Illustrated explores a topic we've all wanted to know more about: what baseball relief pitchers are thinking when they run in from the bullpen during a bench clearing.

This video of STAR WARS characters singing a classic.... just watch it.

MORE

CONTACT is one of my favorite movies and Rachel Handler for Vulture wrote an oral history for the film's 25th anniversary.

Stephania Taladrid for The New Yorker, on the ground at an abortion clinic in Houston when Roe was overturned. Required reading.

Linda Villarosa for The New York Times, "The Long Shadow of Eugenics in America". also required reading.

Joshua Rothman for The New Yorker, "Anatomy of Error". A neurosurgeon reckons with surgeries that go wrong. Fascinating!

Rachel Pearson for The New Yorker, "Waiting at a Texas Hospital for the Children Who Never Arrive". Dispatches from a trauma center in the aftermath of the Uvalde shooting. Required reading.

Similarly, Albert Burneko for The Defector, "What It's Like Here". On being a parent in America.

Palate cleanser: Cincinnati Reds allow no hits against Pittsburgh Pirates... and still lose. lol.

Evgenia Peretz for Vanity Fair with an absolutely wild ride of a read about a Grey's Anatomy writer who.... made up an entire life.

Rachel Aviv (who never misses, incidentally) for The New Yorker, "How an Ivy League School Turned Against a Student". What makes a "good" victim?

this thread about creepy shit kids say???

PIZZA FOR DOGS.

sending you all warmth and affection and hoping you have a safe, healthy, and wonderful 2023.

tagging anyone who wants to do this (and tag me so I see it!) as well as those who've done this in the past: @vaderkat @fortysevenswrites @leaiorganas @magalis @illuminahsti @i-am-slain @antifandor @alittlemomentum @cassianserso @callioope

[laiwater]

current white men i, as an aspec woc, am currently attracted to.

Firstly, I would like to preface this post by apologizing to myself and my online persona that this is the very first post I am making (though I am no stranger to Tumblr) and will definitely be looking back and cringing. But, I digress, this is purely for personal enjoyment and the fact that I love anonymity.

Second, there is no particular order in which I rank these men, I just enjoy them and their existence and their creations. So, I guess that's how this list came to be.

Now. On to the white men!

Number one, the one and only, Matthew Gray Gubler. Not sure how this obsession spiraled, but I'm positive that it started with an edit of Spencer Reid on TikTok.

He is both a blessing and curse to my existence. I get a visceral reaction when I see him on screen as he spews out his little factoids. I also feel very ashamed and embarrassed as I watch, to completion, a thirst edit of him and all I can is a black screen with my stupid smile reflected back at me. I feel crazy.

It has come to a point where I started watching other things he stars in. (Yes, thirst watches. I am devolving.) Today, I watched The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, which was very entertaining even without Mr. Gubler. Yesterday, it was Suburban Gothic and that one 15 minute bowling mocumentary where he humps the air. Tomorrow? Who knows. Maybe Horse Girl. Side note: I love Alison Brie.

To wrap up my blurb on Matthew Gray Gubler, I want to say 2 things. I love him as a creator and creative. He is the epitome of silly, which is something I think everyone can be just a little bit more, and he most definitely is Tumblr if Tumblr was a person. His history with art and creating is really intriguing and something I look up to! He models, acts, directs, writes, draws, and more. I just love creative people.

Next white man is Irish, has long beautiful locks, and is gigantimasaurus: Andrew John Hozier-Byrne! Professionally known as Hozier!

Unreal Unearth is actually the very first Hozier drop that I got to experience as a new-ish fan of his work. I love everything he creates; his lyrics, voice, sound has so much emotion and power. I was literally in the shower singing out Francesca as the water beat down my back.

My love for Hozier doesn't just stem from his music but also the content of his music, where he draws inspiration from, and how he's literally just some dude. Cue his handsome Squidward story and the one where he was cursing out some badgers.

The best way to describe the content of his music, in my opinion, is yearning for various releases in terms of love, hope, despair, a better understanding etc. He writes so well, and his feelings can be viscerally felt through paper and sound. He always sounds like he's on the edge of something, always anticipating a moment.

Last one, because everything comes in threes, is Thomas Straker, which is the "all things butter" guy, in case you didn't know. VERY random, I think, but I also don't think so.

Love, love, love a man that can cook. Even more so when he is nice to look at, and doesn't desecrate the food he makes (if you've seen those gross cooking TikToks where they completely violate their ingredients, you'd understand.)

Personally, I've been obsessed with this man ever since his butter series because 1) his voice is really really smooth, 2) he unapologetically loves food. Him creating these recipes and watching him eat his own dishes like they're the best thing to exist is elation.

Not sure if I'm starting to sound weird, but I think it's the same way people feel about Carmy from The Bear. Also, I cook. And it's just attractive how he cooks and enjoys cooking despite his comments telling him he uses too much butter - which is ridiculous because butter is what makes so many foods taste rich and good. Literally go shadow Gordon Ramsey as he makes a steak.

Anyways, that's it. That's the post. My laptop is about to die because I decided to write this in one sitting instead of packing because I'm leaving for school in two days. Crazy.

[toasttt11]

right

March 10, 2020

Spencer and Quinn tiredly stumbled into their shared apartment with Elias, Elias went home with his girlfriend. They just won a game against the New York Islander and it was already pretty late.

Spencer and Quinn both headed to their own bedrooms to take a shower in their own bathrooms.

Spencer took a warm shower relaxing under the water and eventually got out of the shower and he knew he was in there for a while as he saw all the mirrors fogged up.

Spencer slipped a pair of sweatpants on and threw a long sleeve thermal and grabbed his phone heading out of his bathroom and smelling food.

Spencer leaned on the doorway watching Quinn heat up their meal preps, Quinn has gotten a bit better with cooking with Spencer’s help but he does heat up the meal plans perfectly.

Quinn didn’t even look up knowing Spencer was in the kitchen, “Can you grab the silverware.” Quinn asked as he grabbed the two containers and took them to the living room.

Spencer nodded and grabbed silverware for the both of them and followed Quinn into the living room. Spencer sat next to Quinn on the couch and took the container Quinn was holding out for him and Spencer handed him his silverware.

Spencer grabbed the remote clicking on Criminal Minds, that Quinn and Spencer started watching at the beginning of the season together.

They ate together in comfortable silence as they watched an episode.

Spencer took the his last bite and saw Quinn was done as well and grabbed his container and headed to the kitchen and washed their dishes.

Spencer walked back into the living room and could tell Quinn was getting really tired as his eyes were drooping and his eyes blinking slowly.

Spencer grabbed the blanket off the bake of the couch and sat back down next to Quinn throwing the blanket over the both of them.

“Thank you.” Quinn mumbled as he pulled the blanket over him self more. Spencer nodded and started the next episode.

Spencer was so focused on the TV he didn’t even notice Quinn fell asleep until he felt a weight hit his shoulder, Spencer looked down and saw a peaceful looking Quinn sleeping on his shoulder.

Spencer felt his heart squeezed tightly in his chest with fondness for Quinn.

Spencer knows how tired Quinn has been lately and was happy that Quinn was able to fall asleep.

Spencer shifted slighty and wrapped his arm around Quinn letting Quinn lay more on him and more comfortable so Quinn didn’t wake up with a kink in his neck.

Spencer hesitated but slowly reached up and gently brushed his fingers in Quinn’s hair and got a soft sigh in response.

Spencer nervously swallowed and gently scratched the top of Quinn’s head and felt Quinn relaxing more and more on him.

Spencer was mindless playing with Quinn’s hair zoning out looking at the wall, thinking back to all the times with Quinn and the things he feels for Quinn that no one else has ever made him feel.

He fears that Matthew and Jack may be right about his feelings for Quinn, he shook his head and he knew he was never going to hear the end of it from those two.

[alullinchaos]

24, 28 and 39 for the handwriting asks

sorry anon you had bad luck in choosing questions </3 i dont like talking abt food much and i also do not watch much live action tv or many movies in general (to have a favorite actor or actress). for the uninformed Matthew Gray Gubler is the actor who plays Spencer Reid on Criminal Minds. he's just a little guy to me.

[xtruss]

The Lies in Your Grocery Store

Most People Accept the Gimmicks of Food Labelling. One Lawyer Can’t Stomach Them.

— By Sarah Larson | September 4, 2023

Spencer Sheehan has sued the makers of Pop-Tarts, Trident chewing gum, and dozens of other companies, waging war against an industry. Illustration by Jordan Speer

In 2021, Duval Clemmons, a retiree from the West Bronx, went to his local BJ’s Wholesale Club and discovered a pleasant surprise in the dairy aisle. Clemmons, sixty-eight, had a long career as a maintenance worker, but was disabled when he fell down some subway stairs, in 2009. “I’m trying to eat healthy when I can, and when I can afford it,” he told me recently. “So when I seen plant-based butter, I said, ‘Oh, this is real cool. This is what I need.’ ” What he saw was Country Crock Plant Butter Made with Olive Oil, a product with a green lid and a label showing a leafy olive branch floating above a buttered slice of toast, with the words “New!” and “Dairy Free” in delighted-looking cursive. “Most margarines, they don’t put pictures of the ingredients,” Clemmons went on.

Clemmons, like many of us, had veered toward margarine in the late twentieth century, believing it to be a healthier alternative to butter. “Margarine was my go-to thing,” he told me. “Margarine was amazing. But when I found out that it’s also an artery clogger, in the early two-thousands, I switched over to olive oil.” Clemmons knows many people with heart disease; some of his friends have died from it. He bought the Country Crock and began to eat it on his toast. A few months later, he saw an image of the product online, in an ad looking for members of a class-action lawsuit. Reading, he made a startling discovery: the spread wasn’t made of olive oil, or even mostly made of olive oil. The primary ingredient was a processed blend of palm and canola oils. “I’d been drawn in because of the picture,” Clemmons told me. “And they knew that. I’m sure they knew that. Why wouldn’t people be attracted to things that are natural?”

In 2022, the attorney who had placed the ad, Spencer Sheehan, of Great Neck, Long Island, named Clemmons as the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit against Upfield U.S., Inc., the makers of Country Crock. The complaint alleges that this “so-called plant butter,” as Sheehan described it to me, is margarine in disguise. “Since the dawn of recorded history, humans have enjoyed butter, made from fresh cream and salt, on a farm,” Sheehan’s complaint begins. “For the past 150 years, imitators of butter have attempted to sell yellow-colored blends of beef tallow and vegetable oil to consumers as butter, through the product known as margarine.” Sheehan asserts, reasonably, that we seek out olive oil for its health benefits, which palm and canola oils lack. Also, Country Crock Made with Olive Oil had twice the calories of Country Crock Original, and was more expensive.

Sheehan, forty-four, specializes in consumer-protection class-action suits. Specifically, he focusses on packaged foods, and on the authenticity of their ingredients and flavors. Sheehan has sued the makers of frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts (dearth of real strawberries), Hint of Lime Tostitos (absence of lime), Snapple “all natural” fruit drinks (absence of natural juice), Keebler’s fudge-mint cookies (lack of real fudge and mint), Cheesecake Factory brown bread (insufficient whole-grain flour), Trident original-flavor gum (lack of real mint, despite package’s illustration of a blue mint leaf), and many more, generally seeking millions in damages from each. He also pursues class actions unrelated to food, involving subtle fraud in products such as toothpaste (Tom’s of Maine Fluoride-Free Antiplaque & Whitening, for containing no ingredient that fights plaque) and sunscreen (Coppertone Pure & Simple, for being neither). Sheehan emphasized this breadth of scope during our first phone conversation. “It took Matthew McConaughey years after that movie he did with Sarah Jessica Parker—‘Failure to Launch’?—to be taken seriously as an actor,” he told me. “No one likes to be typecast.”

But Sheehan has been typecast, with his tacit approval. He’s a food-label zealot, and is especially relentless with vanilla cases. (Tabloids have called him “the vanilla vigilante.”) “Real” fruit and artificial smoke flavoring are in his crosshairs, too. Since 2018, Sheehan’s firm has filed more than five hundred consumer-protection class-action suits, making New York one of the top states for such cases. At annual food-law conferences, presenters displaying litigation trends provide two sets of statistics: one including Sheehan’s cases, one without. Some of his lawsuits, including one involving an “aged vanilla” claim made by A&W Root Beer, have resulted in multimillion-dollar settlements; some make headlines; many are dismissed. Defendants and judges “might roll their eyes at a case,” Sheehan said, “because, yes, it can be somewhat amusing. But I can proudly and honestly say I’ve never been sanctioned by a court for filing anything frivolous.”

To the outside observer, some of the quiet comedy of Sheehan’s work comes from the fact that we don’t necessarily consider snack-food flavoring to be “real,” and from the startling idea that anyone would. For Sheehan, though, the farce is the deception itself. “ ‘Smokehouse’ almonds,” he muttered. “These almonds have never seen a smokehouse in their— and Blue Diamond never owned a smokehouse, either.” He has sued the company eleven times.

Sheehan’s firm occupies a suite in a five-story office building in Great Neck, a well-off village about forty minutes from Manhattan. It’s part of New York’s Third Congressional District, the one that elected George Santos and wishes it hadn’t. The village’s quaint center has the vaguely Tudor design of Brookline or Forest Hills, and a giraffe-print bench emblazoned with the words “great neck.” When I first visited Sheehan, he was alone, in a windowed office next to some cubicles. The space was undergoing noisy renovations—the firm had grown from two employees to eight in three years—and everyone else was working from home. Sheehan, who has a boyish face and affect, wore a pink gingham shirt and a thick tan cardigan. It was a seventy-five-degree spring day, and a space heater that said Comfort Zone was on.

“Specialization can be really nice, like a warm blanket,” Sheehan told me. The day’s work included a Zoom call with an attorney representing Upfield, the margarine conglomerate; a meeting with a judge, involving a berry-flavored-Fanta case; updating a plaintiff about a Kroger apple-juice-cocktail situation (“ ‘Cocktail’ is one of those weasel words”); and writing a complaint in a “slack-fill” case, involving a too-empty box of Sour Jacks candy. Sheehan turned and smiled after typing “46% full” into a document. “I do some of my best work after everybody goes home,” he said.

Cases come to Sheehan via many sources, including leads from the public and his own observations. He gave me an example. “So somebody contacted me about those little Fireball bottles,” he said. He was talking about Fireball Cinnamon, a beverage that looks like a tiny bottle of Fireball Cinnamon Whisky—red cap, auburn-colored liquid, label bearing Fireball’s signature fire-breathing dragon. But Fireball Cinnamon doesn’t contain whiskey; it’s a malt beverage with whiskey flavors, which it indicates in fine print. Sheehan was suing its parent company, Sazerac, for fraud. “We’re used to seeing mini bottles of alcohol, and we expect it to be hard liquor,” Sheehan told me.

“Like, you wouldn’t buy a tiny beer,” I said.

“That’s right,” he went on. “When most people see it, especially in places like a gas station or convenience store, where they sell these ‘sin tax’ products—tobacco, the lottery, it’s up there with all the bad stuff—booze isn’t so far-fetched. You’re going to see something familiar and say, ‘Hey, I’ll buy it.’ ”

He looked into the Fireball situation, discovered that he had a potential case, and took out an ad seeking class members—people who’d assumed they’d been buying whiskey—on social media. “And it asked them to contact me, sort of like, ‘Have you or your loved one spent time at Ground Zero after 9/11?’ ” he said. “I’m sure we’ve all heard those ads on the radio or on TV.”

Sheehan pays a marketing company to handle the placement of his ads, primarily on Facebook, and to sometimes list them on Web sites such as Top Class Actions, where people can peruse cases. He follows up with those who respond, explains what’s involved (“I tell people that it’s almost like jury duty or voting—don’t do this because you’re expecting any money”), and files a lawsuit. Each case has a named plaintiff, someone who represents the class, and who typically gets an incentive award if there’s a settlement. “Usually a few thousand dollars,” Sheehan said. Sheehan is paid through fees that accompany settlements; none of his clients are charged.

Sheehan views himself as a tribune of the masses. “We are acting on behalf of the public,” he told me. “That’s what the consumer-protection laws of each state are designed for.” Most regulations on food labelling and representation emanate from the federal government, namely the Food and Drug Administration. But states can supplement those laws—New York’s proposed warning labels on sugary items, for example—and, more important, decide how to enforce them. In Sheehan’s opinion, they barely enforce them at all. “One of the differences between our country and places like Europe, where they don’t have as many lawsuits, is that they have much broader government enforcement and supervision,” Sheehan told me.

He tidied up some file boxes, which were full of empty bottles and wrappers: Haribo, Annie’s, Hall’s, Perrier, Ice Breakers spearmint Ice Cubes, Kellogg’s Harvest Wheat Toasteds, Twizzlers, and so on, all waiting to be scrutinized. “People send me these things,” he said. It was time for his Zoom call with August Horvath, a partner at the law firm Foley, Hoag, which represents Upfield in the Country Crock Made with Olive Oil case. “He’s an egghead, an intellectual,” Sheehan said. He and Horvath have squared off many times, and their dynamic recalls the Looney Tunes wolf and sheepdog, who exchange pleasantries before punching in for a day of battle. A blank box with Horvath’s name appeared onscreen.

“Hello!” Sheehan said. “August, you’re not on video?”

“I’m not having a great hair day,” Horvath said. Sheehan warned me not to talk much: “These guys love to fight about everything.”

It’s a common experience in consumerhood, and in life itself, to imagine that how something is presented at least approximates its reality, and to be disappointed to discover that it does not—that we’ve been hoodwinked, even if subtly, for the benefit of the seller. (Think of Ralphie, in “A Christmas Story,” when his long-coveted decoder pin from an Ovaltine-sponsored radio show finally arrives, only to reveal a secret message that tells him to drink his Ovaltine.) Americans, especially, understand the compact of commerce, and rarely begrudge our role in that near-patriotic process. But nobody wants to be a sucker.

Salesmanship becomes particularly complex in the vast middle of the supermarket, where “edible food-like substances,” as the writer Michael Pollan has described them, are sold, between fresh produce on one end and chilled dairy on the other. Makers of processed foods, which are the main target of Sheehan’s investigations, expend considerable effort trying to convince consumers that their products are healthy, “natural,” and desirable, and we expend some effort believing them, often so that we can enjoy the products’ deliciousness. “The field is all about connotation, whether verbal or visual,” Jacob Gersen, the director of Harvard Law School’s Food Law Lab, told me. “Traditionally, private market gets the front of the package, and government gets the back.” Front labels give us images of farms and fields, and talk of antioxidants, fibre, omega-3s, vitamins, and probiotics; on back labels, we find “natural and artificial flavors,” high-fructose corn syrup, carrageenan, soy lecithin, and xanthan and guar gums.

The gap between these realms is Sheehan’s wheelhouse. On a humid day in August, Sheehan and I visited King Kullen, a supermarket in Manhasset, Long Island. Sheehan approached its terrain the way a finely tuned metal detector approaches a beach. “Potato rolls,” he said, picking up a package and looking skeptical. “It might be impossible to make a roll that is predominately potato flour.” He talked about the F.D.A. and its establishment, in the nineteen-forties and fifties, of thousands of pages of standards, and the particular challenges of artisanal bread. In the jelly-and-jam section, he palmed a jar of Polaner All Fruit. “I had a case against this product,” he said. “It’s not all fruit, because it has citric acid and natural flavor. I even let them slide on the pectin.” He paused, then added, “There is no technical barrier to selling a product that actually is all fruit.”

Much of Sheehan’s work—and the work of the judges and lawyers he spars with—involves parsing the mind of the “reasonable consumer,” a figure who, in her mystery and authority, can seem nearly mythical. As Sheehan sees it, the reasonable consumer isn’t necessarily a highly educated professional, or “LinkedIn type”; she’s a regular person with a regular job. She trusts that a product’s name and packaging imagery closely resemble its contents. In the view of most courts, she isn’t overly credulous—she expects fruit in her jam, but not in her Froot Loops—and, to Sheehan’s repeated frustration, she probably knows that “vanilla” denotes a flavor, not an ingredient.

We passed a rack stocked with Sheehan’s old foe, Blue Diamond Smokehouse Almonds. In one pending case, a court agreed that the bag’s color scheme evoked fire, suggesting, wrongly, that the flavor was drawn from a natural smoking process. Nearby, at the butter-and-margarine cooler, Sheehan noted another layer of deception. “If it’s more than eighty per cent fat, they have to call it margarine,” he said. “So they make it seventy-nine per cent. Nobody wants to be called margarine.” He picked up a container of Country Crock with Olive Oil; his suit is ongoing, but the company had already removed the word “Made.” (Beside it: Country Crock with Avocado.)

A packet of tortillas reminded Sheehan of a suit in which the company’s “use of a Mexican flag” overdid its supposed Mexicanness; a row of flavored Poland Spring sparkling waters made him light up. “I’m responsible for the change of this label, but nobody will ever admit that,” he said, picking up a bottle of its lemon variety. “It used to say ‘a twist of lemon.’ This—‘lemon flavor’—is a little better, but not technically compliant.” Sheehan’s case was dismissed, and the labels looked a little haphazard, as if someone had added the word “flavor” under duress. (Poland Spring attributes the change to “a brand refresh.”) In the dairy section, he pointed out a dubiously Icelandic yogurt he’d sued (“It was made in Brooklyn or something. I thought our case was very good”), mentioned cases he’d filed against various creamers, and shook his head at a box of milk-chocolate-covered Dove ice-cream bars. “These should say ‘milk chocolate and fat or vegetable-oil coating,’ ” he said.

“That sounds disgusting,” I said.

“It might sound patrician, but it enables people to make decisions of quality,” he said.

As we strolled the aisles, Sheehan, who hadn’t planned to buy anything, picked up a basket and began to fill it. He rooted around a floor-level canned-tomato shelf, telling me about San Marzano certification standards, and noted a brand that was noncompliant: “That’s good, because now I can sue them again.” He feistily observed that Kind granola’s large-font “10 grams of protein” claim assumes that you’ll be eating a cereal bowl full of it. At self-checkout, Sheehan rang up several products to examine for potential lawsuits, as well as a packet of dried apricots. “The problem with dried apricots is, you eat the whole bag,” he said. Then we went for pizza, his usual dinner; Sheehan doesn’t cook.

Sheehan, the son of a speech therapist and a carpenter, grew up on Long Island, and on our drive he pointed out his boyhood home, a tidy gingerbread-style house on a pleasantly appointed street. Sheehan is unmarried and close to his family. (His mother lives across town.) A vegetarian, he volunteers with local animal-rescue groups, and he travels with a Havahart trap in his car, for capturing strays. He set up heated sheds for feral cats in his mother’s back yard, opposes society’s “anti-cat bias,” listens to the pro-cat radio personality and Republican eccentric Curtis Sliwa, and does pro-bono work for people with “nontraditional animal companions,” including the eighties subway shooter Bernhard Goetz, in an eviction case involving an alleged pet squirrel. (The case was settled out of court.) When I was in his office, he occasionally interrupted himself to reach out to his parents—calling his mom “just to say hi” mid-discussion of wheat labelling, sending his dad a video of a baby raccoon. “I love raccoons,” he said, as the raccoon made squeaky noises.

Sheehan did well in school, but he didn’t have any particular passions. He studied history at Georgetown and spent time in the U.S. Marine Corps Reserve. He eventually went to law school, at Fordham, but he didn’t have any particular ambitions there, either. After winning a class-action suit against a streaming service—its subscriptions were un-cancellable—he took on some food-related cases, and enjoyed them. He opened his practice in 2013. “I take what I do very seriously,” he told me. “I enjoy the intellectual aspects of it.”

Some would argue that he takes it too seriously—that he’s a hammer searching for nails. I asked an attorney who has represented several food companies about Sheehan’s work, and cases like it. “I’ve seen some honestly good cases that Spencer has filed,” he said. At the same time, he went on, “I think one of the necessary characteristics of a lawyer is a client—you know, lawyers should be representing the interests of a party that is genuinely aggrieved.” Sheehan’s clients are occasionally unsolicited, but many of them are enlisted through ads. “And lawyers running around doing their thing without clients is bad for society,” the attorney said. “I don’t want to romanticize it too much, but in Japan, when the warlords collapsed, there were these samurai just running around—they were just warriors with no masters, right? And they were causing all kinds of trouble in nineteenth-century Japan.”

Sheehan’s warrior zeal is not entirely unrestrained. At his office, a prospective client called, railing against the forces that sold him a deconstructed Ping-Pong table. The man, a retired music producer (“Harry Chapin, Bette Midler”), had ordered the table online, from Walmart, but it was made by an overseas manufacturer. Reviews said that it was easy to set up; it wasn’t. “It says ‘four-piece,’ but there are over three hundred pieces,” the man said. “There is no manufacturing. The company is an absolute lie.” He’d spent several days trying to put the table together, called Walmart (“All they offer to do is send you another bag of parts!”), and thrown the whole thing out in disgust. “This is gross,” he said.

Sheehan wasn’t optimistic. Walmart wouldn’t be liable, and suing a foreign company would likely be fruitless. “I hate to tell people this, especially when they have a legitimate complaint, but not everything that is wrong can or should be fixed through a lawsuit,” he said.

“These guys are laughing at us!” the man said. “They gather some material, they throw it in a box . . .” he trailed off. “Imagine if you bought a car and they put a thousand pieces in your driveway.” Sheehan suggested that the man “politely” write a review on Walmart’s site, with pictures, then asked him to keep Sheehan in mind for potential mislabelling cases, whether “a TV or a certain cosmetic product.” He gave similar advice to a woman who wanted to sue the Post Office over a P.O.-box imbroglio.

In the cases that Sheehan pursues, plaintiffs and class members provide depositions, often over Zoom, in which they are sworn in, pledge to tell the truth, and proceed to answer questions from an attorney representing a multinational corporation about their experience with a can of butter spray, a wedge of cheese, or a loaf cake. These can be strangely poignant. The class members don’t evoke the snack-food equivalent of a neck-brace-wearing personal-injury firebrand; they’re regular people describing consuming a grocery item, with softly disappointing results. In the case of Williams et al. v. Molson Coors, the defending attorney had one of Sheehan’s clients, a gym-membership manager, recount her experience buying a twelve-pack of Vizzy Hard Seltzer, which stressed the presence of “antioxidant vitamin C.”

“And when you saw the statement about antioxidant Vitamin C, what did you take away from it?” the attorney, Chris Cole, said.

“Being in the health-and-fitness field, knowing antioxidants play a good role in your daily life style and whatnot, I figured they would be beneficial in, you know, negating some of the negative things about alcohol,” the client said. They weren’t; she didn’t like the flavor, either.

Cole asked how she’d expected to notice the effects of the antioxidants. “You mean that there’s no immediate obvious feeling you get after consuming Vitamin C?” he asked. No, she said. That cosmic detail notwithstanding, the case proved successful—the seltzer was made with citric acid, which is low in Vitamin C—and it resulted in a $9.5-million settlement. Vizzy no longer makes claims about antioxidants.

Most Sheehan cases assert that a buyer would have forgone purchasing a product, or expected to pay less, if it had been marketed accurately. In May, I watched him prepare a named plaintiff, Stacey Castle, for a deposition about Kroger’s Private Selection brand of smoked Gouda. Castle, on a Zoom call from Wisconsin, had her hair in a loose bun, and her iPad camera was angled up from below her chin. When she bought the cheese, she’d understood it to be a justifiable splurge, because the Gouda was actually smoked. When she realized it was not, she was sitting in her dining room. “I’m reading the back label, ’cause I had the cheese sitting on the table,” she said. “My exact thought was, You have to be shitting me.” She looked fired up.

“Were you injured?” Sheehan asked, playing opposing counsel.

“My pocketbook was!” she said.

The 1933 World’s Fair, in Chicago, featured an exhibit known as the American Chamber of Horrors—a kind of food-and-drug freak show of products that were up to no good. Strawberry Bred-Spred was a jar of what appeared to be strawberry jam but was actually pectin, red food coloring, and hayseeds. Noodles packaged in yellow cellophane, to resemble egg noodles, were displayed alongside noodles in honest, untinted wrapping. A bottle of vanilla extract, an expensive commodity, had deviously thickened glass, creating an illusion of abundance. The Great Depression had strained food sources to the limit, and producers, like many Americans, were desperate to stay afloat. But the F.D.A., which had emerged after the passage of the 1906 Pure Food and Drugs Act, didn’t yet have the authority to recall products such as Bred-Spred—or even some lethal drugs. So it created the Chamber of Horrors, which travelled the country to raise awareness.

It takes a seismic jolt in mass consciousness to regulate American commerce. One jolt arrived in 1905, when Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle” revealed the terrors of the meatpacking industry, and suggested that a reader’s sausage might be flecked with rat feces or sawdust. (The book had helped marshal support for the Pure Food and Drugs Act.) Another came in 1937, when more than a hundred people died after taking Elixir Sulfanilamide, an antibiotic that hadn’t been tested for safety. The response was the 1938 Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act, a sweeping and robust set of laws, and the basis of U.S. food regulations ever since.

The government has often been gung ho in its health-education efforts: the U.S.D.A.’s nutritional guides and food pyramids, seventies Saturday-morning-cartoon P.S.A.s, Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move! campaign. But the arc of progress has been long. Nutrition labels weren’t required until 1990, per-cent-juice labelling wasn’t widely introduced until 1994, and trans-fat labelling began in 2006. “Other countries have figured it out,” Michael Pollan told me: front-of-package junk-food warnings in South America, Asia, and Europe; a red-yellow-green stoplight system in the U.K. It can take something like the F.D.A.’s fast-food-disclosure regulation of 2016, in which McDonald’s customers were forced to contend with the calorie count of their Big Macs, to remind us that the nature of what we’re eating could be conveyed in a startlingly clearer way.

In the absence of such clarity, some of Sheehan’s cases can make him seem like the boy observing that the emperor is naked. Consider his whole-wheat-flour cases, which point directly to nutrition. “Whole wheat,” Sheehan explained, means “whole grain,” which includes the three parts of the wheat grain: the fibre-dense bran, the nutrient-rich germ, and the starchy endosperm. It’s widely acknowledged to be better for you than white flour, which contains only the endosperm, but all wheat-flour products, including white, can legally be called “wheat,” and are often dressed up to seem healthier than they are. Sheehan walked me through the tricks: adding caramel color; adding oats to the outside of bread; giving bread a heartier, richer, or mottled appearance. Companies “use vague terms like ‘multigrain’ or ‘honey oat’ or ‘honey wheat,’ with an image of a stalk of wheat,” Sheehan said. He looked philosophical. “Some might say, you know, ‘Big Food has a conspiracy to make us all fat and lazy.’ I don’t know if that’s the case, but I think they might say people don’t like the taste of whole wheat as much.”

I asked Gersen, of Harvard, about how to regulate ambiguous labelling. “It’s actually a much harder problem than I originally thought,” he said. “Like, there’s a really strong incentive to over-claim and deceive. Even if you say a reasonable consumer wouldn’t be tricked, it’s almost certainly the case that somebody would. That’s why the company is doing it. And across a lot of food products, across a lot of brands, across a lot of the population, that’s actually not a trivial number of people.” In Sheehan’s Country Crock complaint, he observes that consumer-research organizations—namely Mintel, one of the largest in the world—advise companies on how to respond to shifting demands, including by lending margarines and spreads a healthier, more “natural” profile. When I talked to some Mintel employees, they seemed to agree with Sheehan’s characterization, without taking credit for it. “The one thing I find funny is this revolutionary new product that’s been talked about the last couple of years: plant butter!” Lynn Dornblaser, a product-trend analyst since 1986, said. She laughed. “I think that’s margarine. But that has revitalized some brands—becoming ‘plant butter,’ or talking about being ‘plant-based,’ because plant-based is the hot, cool thing.”

Defendants usually try to have Sheehan’s cases dismissed, “which I always find to be somewhat offensive,” Sheehan said. “It often feels like they’re trying to gaslight you.” He read Horvath’s response to the Country Crock complaint. “What chutzpah! He says, ‘Has no basis to allege’? I mean, no basis? That’s a little crazy.” Sheehan was bullish on the case’s prospects, citing a precedent involving “whole-grain” Cheez-Its; and, indeed, the Country Crock judge had scoffed at the defendant’s claim that “Made with Olive Oil” was merely meant to convey “a flavor note.” “It’s fallen to lawyers like this to offer any kind of accountability,” Pollan told me. “I don’t think it’s the ideal way to do it. But it’s the way the government has left us to do it.”

Around the time that Sheehan was marvelling at Country Crock’s response, Democrats in Congress introduced the Food Labeling Modernization Act, a bill that would dramatically change regulations for food labels. “We’ve all struggled at times to navigate today’s opaque food labels and ‘healthy’ marketing claims during trips to the grocery store,” Representative Frank Pallone, Jr., of New Jersey, said. The legislation, he continued, would make it easier for consumers to determine “the right food choices for their families.” The bill’s co-sponsor, Senator Richard Blumenthal, of Connecticut, said that the legislation would reform “antiquated” rules and include “front of package labels, clearly marked allergens, and clarified guidelines to deter misleading claims.” If enacted, the bill could be a boon for consumers and disrupt the processed-food industry. For that reason and others, it has little chance of becoming law.

A couple of weeks after Sheehan proudly and honestly told me that he’d never been sanctioned by a court for filing something frivolous, a court threatened him with sanctions for filing something frivolous. Judge Steven Seeger of the Northern District of Illinois, after dismissing a complaint of Sheehan’s about the lack of lemon in Polar lemon seltzer (“The complaint fizzles, and has no juice,” Seeger wrote, in an opinion densely fortified with food zingers), issued an order requiring Sheehan to provide the court with a list of all his firm’s class-action filings since 2020, accompanied by explanations of their results.

In recent months, judges and defendants have begun to challenge Sheehan’s suits more broadly. Illinois is home to Mondelēz International, one of the world’s biggest producers of snack foods, which encompasses brands from Oreo and Chips Ahoy! to Ritz, Triscuits, Cadbury, Sour Patch Kids, and Tang—and, until 2022, Trident, Dentyne, Bubblicious, and other gum brands. Sheehan had sued several of them, including Trident, a case that Judge Iain D. Johnston, also of the Illinois Northern District, had dismissed in February. (“When gum gets stuck somewhere it does not belong, conventional wisdom provides a host of remedies: ice cubes, peanut butter, vinegar, or olive oil,” Johnston wrote. “When a federal case gets stuck somewhere it does not belong, the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure provide a different, cleaner remedy.”) That month, Mondelēz, in response to the dismissal of the Trident-gum case, requested sanctions against Sheehan, including payment of its attorneys’ fees. Its request described him as a prolific filer of “copy-and-paste” complaints; in May, Judge Johnston chose to remind Sheehan that “spaghetti is best eaten, not thrown at walls,” and requested a copy of the document that Judge Seeger had demanded.

That document, which Sheehan attached as a thirteen-page spreadsheet in his response, “provides extraordinary insight into the track record of most prolific consumer class action attorney in the United States,” the lawyer Chris Cole wrote on his firm’s blog. Cole has defended clients against Sheehan’s suits, including in the Vizzy Hard Seltzer case. “By my rough count, between January 1, 2020 and April 7, 2023, Mr. Sheehan filed 553 complaints,” he wrote. “Of those, 120 (21.6%) were dismissed outright and 35 (6.3%) survived a motion to dismiss at least in part. The remaining 398 (roughly 72%) were either settled or are still pending.” Cole estimated, conservatively, that since 2020 defense costs for Sheehan’s cases could have amounted to forty-two million dollars.

Several reports stressing the frivolity of Sheehan’s suits, and cases like them, have been generated by firms that represent food-and-beverage companies. The New York Civil Justice Institute, which describes itself as nonprofit and nonpartisan, published a paper in 2021 called “Class Action Chaos,” by Cary Silverman, a partner at the firm Shook, Hardy & Bacon, which represents food-and-beverage companies. “Class Action Chaos,” which says that the suits are “making a mockery of the state’s civil-justice system,” has been cited in national-news stories about Sheehan; other lawyers I talked to in the food-law realm, including on the defendants’ side, disputed that characterization. They saw Sheehan’s suits as a product of the failures of the tort system, or as a necessary corrective in an era of gray-area regulation. Several skeptics admitted to me that some of his suits have “some there there.” “Spencer won’t reject a case just because it has merit,” one said, chuckling.

Though judicial scolding for Sheehan has increased, sanctions, so far, have not. And this summer, Judge Seeger, of the copious zingers and admonishments, directed his ire not toward Sheehan but toward his opponent, B&G Foods, in a case concerning Crisco’s No-Stick Butter Cooking Spray. In August, as we finished eating at the pizza parlor, I asked Sheehan whether judges’ warnings would affect his behavior in the future. “No!” he said. “Why should it? The only thing it affects is that I have to take time to respond to those demands, rather than doing work.” He pointed at my plate. “Do you want another slice?” ♦