#the room of the mysterious universe

[koushirouizumi]

On the second day, Koushiro dropped his “m”s. “You   ay   ot u  dersta  d, Te  to  o  , but I feel as though a heavy weight has bee   lifted off of   y shoulders.” “I see. That’s good.” Tentomon smiled encouragingly.

Digimon Adventure Novel; “The Inquisitive Heart” Translation from Digital Scratch (Link in the comments)

[babitim-royal-au]

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

Pink Taffy' bedroom!!! I loved drawing this- bedrooms are so much fun because you can put so much character into them!

One of the things I knew I wanted was for her to have a platform in her room, and I thought the fence would be a fun add on. I think my favorite prop in her room is the cotton candy lamp! I just think it's cute.

[probablygayattorneys]

So I just heard someone say that some promotional material for Layton confirms that Unwound Future takes place in 1963. If this is the case, I’ve attempted to do some math (as someone who never learned to count, quite difficult, and please grant me some room for error) and I think I have some numbers that are interesting.

He’s 34 in Last Specter. If we add four years for the events of the trilogies and say he’s 37 in '63.

Then if we add thirteen years to get him to 50 (how I got fifty for that number is a sidebar that involves Luke’s ages so I’m not going to get into it now) when he goes missing and we’re up to '76

Add eleven to account for the time he’s [redacted for spoiler purposes] and then that’s when Kat’s game occurs, and for the sake of simplicity, say Alfendi’s is set either concurrently or right around the same time, then Mystery Journey and Mystery Room take place in 1987.

Which gives us birth years for the Layton’s as Kat was born in '66, Alfendi was born in '58, and the professor was born in '26.

We can also use this math to do a really interesting thing which is place the flashback sections in Miracle Mask as '43, meaning that all of that happened smack dab in the middle of World War II.

So….. do with that what you will, I guess.

[izzyizumi]

No One: Me: "The average Digital World astronaut reaches space a total of one time in their entire lifetime, but more instances may be possible with advancements in Space science. Izumi Koushirou, meanwhile, who reached (Digital) ""space"" twice depending on the universe involved, (BOTH times while still as a child) is an Outlier who Should Not Be Counted"

[madmaxou]

The crossover that no one was waiting for.

[alto-tenure]

About the democratically determined PL universe: I'm doing a series of polls on increasingly obscure Layton media outside the mainline games to see what people generally consider to be canon. More details here.

Currently open polls (as of August 24): Layton Mystery Tanteisha/Layton Mystery Detective Agency

[pizzaronipasta]

[nobodysdaydreams]

Things I want out of redeemed Nathaniel Benedict/L.D. Curtain

I like TMBS’s redeemed Curtain/Nathaniel Benedict plot line and am excited to see where it goes. However, he has done some bad stuff he needs to make up for and there are dynamics between him and the society that I want explored. So I started a checklist for our potential redeemed Nathaniel:

A confrontation between Garrison, Milligan, and Curtain (possibly also Kate/SQ). Garrison invented the brain sweeper which means she was likely involved in what happened to Milligan. Furthermore, I have also speculated on why Garrison/Milligan/SQ's biological parents would work for Curtain, though a number of possibilities exists. People have pointed out that Kate/Milligan will probably have the most objections to Nathaniel joining the society (for good reason), but A) Garrison might be just as responsible for the brain sweeping as Nathaniel B) we don't know what answers Garrison or Nathaniel can provide for Milligan C) How were SQ's bio parents involved in their pasts? So while I think Kate/Milligan will have objections to Nathaniel joining the society, and might never fully forgive him, it's not going to play out as it would in the books, because this time Curtain is not the only character they’d be mad at about their separation (@ Garrison) and there is actually something Nathaniel can do to make up for what he did: he can fill in some of the gaps in Milligan’s memory. Would that earn him total redemption? Certainly not, but it's something.

Nathaniel apologizes to Garrison and clears her name. She was probably the closest thing to a friend Curtain had besides Nicholas. How did he repay her? Employee abuse, encouraging her to drink when she's a recovering alcoholic, mocking her ethical principles, using her device when she told him it was dangerous, stealing her ideas, and she’s still being framed for the emergency. I know I also talk about Garrison in the above point but he really did her wrong and needs to own up before she comes back to destroy everybody.

Nathaniel and Nicholas develop a sibling dynamic with their sister + Nathaniel possibly saving her (like a paying it forward type thing, also him suddenly experiencing what he's been putting the other characters through). I speculate over what their sister's relationship might be like, and I'm hoping they go for an older or younger sister rather than a triplet. We've gotten used to Nathaniel and Nicholas as twins. An older/younger sister leaves more room for possibilities (e.g., older sister would remember things about their past that the twins don't know which gives her an advantage that plays into Nathaniel's fear of not being the one in control. A younger sister would put the twins in a position of being the older sibling and might make them feel some level of responsibility, especially if she's had a difficult life and they weren't there to help her).

Nathaniel apologizes to Sticky for the waiting room and to Sticky and Reynie for grooming them to be his tools for world domination. More specifically, instead of using the fact that he relates to the boys to manipulate them, he actually uses it to help/mentor them this time. The season 1 scene where Sticky said his greatest fear was "not being wanted" and the camera focused on Curtain's reaction was good. Plus Nathaniel tries to hide it but anxiety and stress really break him down, we see that in season 1 and the end of season 2 when he realizes his plans aren't working and he's not the in-control leader he thought he was. The anxiety/trauma fuels his need for control. Redeemed Nathaniel might want to make sure the boy’s anxiety/trauma doesn’t lead them to the same mistakes he made. For some reason, my brain is giving me a scene of overwhelmed out-of-control desperate Sticky/Reynie feeling like they have to make a difficult choice to save everyone and being like "I know it’s wrong, but I have to do this. It’s the only way” and Nathaniel looking at these literal children like "no it's not. You don't have to do anything or make any decisions on your own, nor should you. Especially not this. There are always other ways. Trust me, you don't want this"

Nathaniel relating to/teaming up with Constance. I've pointed out the parallels between Curtain/Constance numerous times (e.g., the way they both insult people and jump to the most violent conclusions). I want Constance to write an insulting poem about him, I want them to slowly come around to each other, I want their insults to go from insult-insults to affectionate-insults, I want them to connect on the fact that they have unknowns about their families, I want Nathaniel to help her understand her psychic powers, and I want them to have an uncle/niece relationship.

Nathaniel awkwardly apologizes to Rhonda and Ms. Perumal, is surprised they forgive him, and feels like he doesn't deserve it. They don’t give him a free pass, but the fact that Ms. Perumal had that "maybe we need to save the bad guy" speech and Rhonda always tries to see the good in people makes me think they'll get him to open up. Like he guiltily asks why they forgave him, and Rhonda says something like "They say that the child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. And I see that you have been that hurting child for too long, eh? Have some tea" and next thing you know Nathaniel is sobbing and opening up to Ms. Perumal about adopting/parenting struggles, what a horrible father he was, and how he wants his son back. Nathaniel keeps falling asleep during the conversation, but Ms. Perumal and Rhonda just calmly enjoy their tea and wait for him to wake up again.

Number 2 never trusting Nathaniel but tolerating him because he makes her food. This would be funny and in character. She had to witness Mr. Benedict’s fake happiness more than anyone. Curtain tried to manipulate her and eventually brainwashed her. She’s also naturally suspicious and wouldn’t immediately trust him. The only thing un-brainwashed Number 2 enjoyed about the compound was the snacks (even when she told off Curtain, she still took the treat he made). I can just see her glaring at Nathaniel from across the dinner table like: "I’ll never trust you" *proceeds to eat four helpings of the meal he prepared especially for her*

This goes without saying but: SQ. Nathaniel needs to get his son back. He needs to make things right, apologize, and tell his son the truth about his adopted and biological families.

If Nathaniel runs into Jackson and Jillson's cult based on his philosophies, he should probably do something about it.

He should apologize to Martina too. Her college apps were screwed up because of his silly classes.

Bonus: If his redemption is fake or he has a ulterior motive (e.g., sister blackmailing him), or he morally relapses, the time Nathaniel does spend with the society causes him to emotionally struggle with himself and eventually leads him to the right path. The relief that fell over Nathaniel's face when Constance woke up + when he watched everyone hug and unconsciously took a step forward: once he’s around the society he desperately wants to be part of the family whether he admits it or not. That’s a long way from his earlier “treat them without mercy”. Would love to see how that progresses.

Feel free to add on.

[yeonban]

POV you're me reading Seiroku's birthday reply

[unproduciblesmackdown]

woah... that's some premium human (kittycat?) heart in conflict with itself

(fr everyone in lackadaisy is kittycats to me lmao. going like, whoa, neat humansona ideas....)

and also fr like everyone get in on "mordecai killed atlas even though of course he didn't do it b/c he Wanted to: bet on it" if only for the fun drama of it all....it Is fun & funny to me that like, sure there's only so many major characters, and sure there's no incorrect one to point to like "wow what a delight" but i wasn't really That previously aware that mordecai is like a fan fave like omg the bad bitches (especial popularity) he pulled by being autistic :'] we just don't expect to see it lmao. like this theory should also be more popular then if even just by virtue of that premium kittycat heart in conflict with itself material it supplies. pointing at mordecai like haha he's sooo upset about all this and That Is Why He Quit, not to go investigate marigold which he's also just said he Wasn't doing until just now. we've seen the [oh grief? besot? interesting] bonus material....not that i don't think most people do imagine that of course mordecai has a good amount of emotional investment in things driving him here, but this does ramp it up which i think also works as an argument in its favor; like i'd be inherently more skeptical about any theory that required mordecai to actually care less about things lol than about any that gives him more personal emotional motivation

truly like "we know mordecai wouldn't want to kill atlas..." (agreed) "...so he can't have been the one to kill him" like first of all lol no way is it a Writeoff anyways, like we've got a mystery here but we Won't imagine ways in which [nobody could ever kill someone they didn't want to kill] wouldn't apply? second of all: Think Of The Drama Of Him Killing Him Even Though He Wouldn't Want To

[koushirouizumi]

While Koushiro swam his way through the zero gravity air-space, Vadermon chased after {Koushiro} with the zigzag motions of a UFO, shooting at {Koushiro} at every chance.

The rings of light were more powerful than they looked. The stars that took on a direct hit from them burst into smithereens. "Just how do we beat Vadermon?" {Koushiro}'s inquisitive heart back where it belonged, it did not take long getting down to work within Koushiro. Calming himself, {Koushiro} analyzed the situation. {Koushiro}'s Digimon partner Tentomon was currently in the form of Babumon, who didn't have much fighting power. {Tentomon} would have to evolve. But how? What was evolution anyway? What are Digimon? What are the Chosen Children? "I want to know! I want to know! I want to know!" Koushiro shouted. A single star above {Koushiro}'s head glittered. The star changed into a shape Koushiro had once seen before, flying like a comet into Koushiro's hand. It was a Crest.

Digimon Adventure Novel; “The Inquisitive Heart” Translation from Digital Scratch (Link in the comments)

[the-i-of-the-jeremy-bearimy]

Devastating: no one can appreciate my outfit today besides me.

[anantaru]

stop calling me daddy! — sunday

synopsis. calling your boyfriend daddy was the best way to watch him lose his mind ᰔ

cw. daddy kink, rough fucking !!! hello it's sunday ?? prone bone, fem! reader

you can't stop it, can you? although do not worry yourself because sunday loves it. so much.

"don't, fuck— don't fucking call me that again baby," the mysterious man found himself beyond any possible explanation, outwith his habitual limitations whenever you dared to call him that, no, better yet moan it out as filthily as you could.

that certain word, well, it made him feel perverted— dirty and disgusted for being aroused by it, vulgar for liking it— especially when he's deep inside your guts, pressing in and out to watch your pussy spread and slick him up, his hips bouncing off your ass while he has you forced down your stomach, one pillow squished under your hips to keep you properly steadied for him.

all to soon he gasps again, wet squelching noises loosely hanging in the room as your liquids splash from your weeping cunt to his shaft, all down his balls and lift his spirits a little higher, like he's on top of the universe, his mind altered and opened to the possibility of admitting that he cannot help himself but fucking love when you call him daddy, "you know what it does to me, you know what it fucking does to me don't you?"

he continues and lazily blinks down at his erection connecting to your pussy, utterly out of breath spreading your ass cheeks to watch your arousal slither out at each thrust, all delighted and amused.

granted, he's a little angered but he feigns it, sunday believes it's important to keep a certain form of etiquette, even with his cock balls deep twitching within your clenching walls and bulging each time you moan it as loud as you could.

"it makes me ruthless, greedy—" he's dangerously close— his brute strength deliciously adding to the force of his hips, his weight pinning you down on your back as he shoves and shoves your head against the doused pillows beneath.

sunday was groaning in satisfaction by the tight sucking squeezes of your walls hugging him tightly, safely and secured, welcoming the ruthless grinds and swells of his cock hitting all the way inside the knot in your belly as his large hands deepen the grip on your ass.

he smears wet kisses along your neck, being so close to your ear as you can feel his shaken breath inside every warm exhale, "you don't want that do you? want me to be rough with you sweetheart? rougher than usual,"

his cock jerks when you yelp out a pathetic whimper paired with an airy laugh, sneakily grinding your ass back and moaning the more aroused you became, the more you were able to grind your puffy clit against the pillow under you.

"or hmm, maybe you do," sunday laughs menacingly, feeling the room spin as the pure noise of him losing his mind was like the sweetest sugar on your tongue, "that's why you keep calling me daddy," thereafter, the movements of his hips on you, the suave mist of his fragrance flavored with sweat had manifested your orgasm into something way beyond imagination.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

[vaguely-concerned]

I understand and agree with a lot of the frustrations about the shortcomings of Inquisition as a story. but sometimes when I hear people complain about the chosen one narrative in it I do want to just be like... you know it's a deconstruction of the concept more than anything, right. the inquisitor isn't actually chosen by anything except stumbling into the wrong (right?) room at the right (wrong?) time because they like, heard a noise or whatever. or if you think they are chosen, as many do in-universe, that's something you have to take on faith, the maker-or-whoever moves in mysterious ways indeed-style. the Inquisitor isn't actually a Destined Chosen One, they're a Just Some Guy in a fancy hat, self-delusions of grandeur to taste as you'd prefer.

a running thread that goes through all of the personal quests of the companions is the concept of a comforting lie vs. an uncomfortable truth, upholding old corrupt structures vs. disrupting them, and the role of faith in navigating that. (blackwall the warden vs. thom rainier the liar and murderer. hissrad vs. the iron bull, or is that the other way around? cassandra and the seekers -- do we tell the truth about what we find, even if it means dismantling the old order of the world? and so on.) and your inquisitor IS at the same time a comforting lie (a necessary one, in dark times? the game seems to ask) and an uncomfortable truth (we are the result of random fickle chance, no protective hand is held over the universe, it's on us to make a better world because the maker sure as hell won't lift a divine finger to help anyone, should he against all odds exist). faith wielded for political power... where's the point that it crosses the line into ugliness? is it before it even begins? what's the alternative? will anyone listen to the truth, if you tell it?

interesting how you also get a mix of companion agency in this -- you have characters like dorian who ALWAYS choose one side of the comforting lie vs. uncomfortable truth dichotomy. he will always make up his own mind to go back to tevinter and try to dismantle the corruption of the old system no matter what you say, or how you try to influence him. meanwhile iron bull is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum -- so psychologically trapped and mangled, caught in an impossible spiritual catch-22, that his sense of identity is left entirely to you and your mercy. you cannot change dorian in any way that matters; you can be his friend or not, support him or not, but he is whole no matter what. you are given incredible and potentially destructive-to-him power over bull's soul. it's really cool (and heartbreaking) to think about.

this is a game about how history will eat you even while you're still alive, and shape you into whatever image it pleases to serve it, and for all your incredible power right now you are powerless in the face of the gravitational force of time -- of more than time, of History. you won't recognize yourself in what History will make of you, because you belong to it now. you don't belong to yourself anymore and you never will again. the further you were from what it needs from you to begin with, the more you will find yourself distorted in its funhouse mirror. (why hello there inquisitor ameridan, same hat!)

and to me this is so much the core of what Dragon Age is about right from the Origins days -- how and by whom history gets written, the inherent unreliable narration of it all. I hope you like stories, Inquisitor. You are one now.

I do think it's probably still the weakest of the games narratively, and it's hampered by its structure and bloated systems. but I also find it disingenous to say that there's nothing deeper or actually interesting going on with it, thematically. if you're willing to engage with it there is Some Real Shit going on under the high fantasy-tinted surface.