#their first time in milwaukee so that was cool

[bawnjourno]

Sparks at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee, WI on July 6, 2023

[wonderjanga]

When Billy was a Newbie

I like to think some of these scenarios happened when Billy was first starting out as a hero.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *doesn’t even let them finish and socks the shit out of them and takes them to the police department*

This happens a good twenty times until one villain has enough.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *about to attack while they’re talking*

Villain: “OKAY WAIT WAIT WAIT, STOP RIGHT THERE YOU BASTARD.”

Marvel: *stops, confused*

Villain: “I know you’re new to this whole thing, but you do realize you’re supposed to let us monologue and tell you our evil plan, right?! You’re not supposed to cut us off!”

Marvel: “I’m not?”

Villain: “No!”

Marvel: “Oh. I’m sorry about that, Mx. Supervillain. I’ll let you and the other ones talk next time.”

Villain: “Wait, really?”

After this, he actually does end up letting them talk and all that.

I also think something like this would happen when he was getting used to fighting crime.

Marvel: *throws one of the big blue mail boxes at some low level, human, emphasis on human, crooks* “Oh… my bad, guys! I was a little too harsh.”

Crooks: *severely injured* “What do you mean ‘your bad’?!?????? That was a little more than harsh!”

Then, there’s the fact I think he wouldn’t care about where he’s saving people. By that I mean, Billy has a lot of free time because he doesn’t go to school. Because of this, you’ll casually see Captain Marvel in flipping Milwaukee helping some people who got into a car crash, then in Orlando helping out with a fire, then in San Jose helping someone who lost their dog. Point is, if there’s someone to help out, he’ll help. Through this, he met Superman actually. Funnily enough, it was while holding up a building.

Marvel: *holding up a building*

Supes: *flies down* “You’re Captain Marvel, right?”

Marvel: “Huh? Uh yeah?” *looks over Superman, seeing his suit and thinking he’s another hero (Billy doesn’t know most heroes because this was when the time bubble recently popped)

Supes: “You need a hand with that?”

Marvel: “Yes, please.”

Supes and Marvel: *work together to move the building to somewhere safe so it won’t hurt anyone*

Marvel: “Thanks.”

Supes: “No problem.”

*awkward silence*

Supes: “If I can ask, what brought you to Metropolis?”

Marvel: “I’m here to fight crime…?” *says like it’s super obvious*

Supes: “Wha? Don’t you have your own city?”

Marvel: “I mean, I guess. Fawcett isn’t really my city though. I just protect it.”

Supes: *blanking and trying to come up with something to say* “Captain, you can’t just go around in other hero’s cities and fight crime for them. It’s a breach of territory.”

Marvel: “It is?”

Supes: “Yes, it is. Honestly, I’m just happy you didn’t do this in Gotham. Batman would’ve been furious.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay then… so just stick to cities that don’t have heroes?”

Supes: “Well, I guess but don’t you normally-”

Marvel: *beaming smile* “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Superman.”

Supes: “Your…welcome? Wait, what do you mean ‘stick to the cities that don’t have heroes’?”

Marvel: “Oh, well, when crimes slow and nothing’s going on in Fawcett, I kind of just fly around everywhere looking for stuff to do. Just the other day I helped these two old, farmer people, husband and wife, lift their tractor out of some mud.”

Supes: *a little astounded he has that much time on his hands* “Really? Where was that?”

Marvel: “Kansas. I think the town they lived in was Smallville or something?”

Supes: *nearly shits himself* “Ah… I see.”

Then there was the time he met a random Green Lantern. He had no idea what the Lantern Corp were, but any information Solomon gave him made them sound cool though. But you want to know the worst part of this interaction? The Lantern was trying to give Marvel a ring.

Random GL (RGL): *talking about how he wanted to give Billy the ring and yadayadayada*

Marvel: *not even listening due to the Gods talking a whole lot*

Mercury: “BILLY STEAL THE RING!”

Marvel: *saying this out loud* “What? What ring?”

RGL: *confused, says something Billy isn’t paying attention to*

Mercury: “THE RING ON HIS FINGER. KEEP UP WITH THE PROGRAM.”

Marvel: *still talking out loud* “Oh okay okay… how do I do that?”

Solomon: “You are supposed to use your will.”

Marvel: “Huh? Solomon there’s no way that’ll wor…” *trails off as he wills the ring off the lantern’s finger* “I take back what I said.”

RGL: *starts to fall*

Marvel: “Holy moly!” *rushes down to catch him*

RGL: “Earthling what the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that??!?”

Marvel: “I’m sorry! The voices has told me to.” *gives them back their ring*

RGL: *flies off grumbling how he’s a psychopath*

Then there was when Marvel joined the Justice League. When he got the communicator, he put it in his pocket dimension and promptly forgot about it.

Marvel: “The Justice League hasn’t contacted me. I wonder if I’ve done something wrong…”

Meanwhile…

Batman: “This is like the third meeting he’s missed, Clark.”

Supes: “I know, I know! I’m sorry! He didn’t seem like the type to skip out on meetings. He talked like he had a bunch of free time.”

WW: “You should go talk to him. You are the one who invited him.”

Supes: *sighs* “I will.”

Back in Fawcett…

Marvel: *helping a cat down from a tree*

Supes: *flies down when he sees him* “Captain! Can we talk?”

Marvel: *hands cat back to its owner* “Mr. Superman. Of course! I’ve actually had something I’ve been meaning to talk about with you too.”

Supes: “Right, well I guess I’ll cut straight to the point. Is there a reason you haven’t shown up to the last meetings?”

Marvel: *stares at him with the most confused face* “Meetings?”

Supes: *confused at Billy’s confusion* “Yes? You get notified on your comm about them.”

Marvel: “Comm… Comm?” *thinking face before recognition flits across his face* “Wait, this thing?” *reaches hand into pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm*

Supes: *slightly horrified when he saw his arm disappear for a moment* “Yeah. That.”

Marvel: *taps comm and sees over 45 unread notifications* “Oh.”

Supes: *wondering how in the world Marvel never checked his comm* “Oh indeed.”

[januaryembrs]

I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]

GIF by fightingdragonswithwho

decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone

word count: 17.5k

warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.

author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,

I might just be in la la la la la love’

The one with the revenge.

“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck. 

“Only if they have evidence,”  Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins. 

Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth. 

“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark. 

“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.

She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss. 

She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won. 

Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long. 

And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another. 

David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him. 

Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another. 

“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section. 

They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing. 

“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer. 

“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle. 

Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.

Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so. 

He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab. 

“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face. 

“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore. 

If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on. 

-

Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her.��

“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.  

“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?” 

“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,” 

Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”

The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer. 

He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love. 

Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch. 

He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen. 

“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”

Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years. 

Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks. 

Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted. 

Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.

Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer. 

He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried. 

He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless. 

“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.

He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.

“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear. 

He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set. 

“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now. 

Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office. 

“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so. 

And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him. 

Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.

2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.

She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently. 

“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness. 

“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?” 

He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.

Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances. 

“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance. 

“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so. 

She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself. 

“You’re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms. 

“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it. 

“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking. 

“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried. 

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,” 

He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”

“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this. 

“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?” 

“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”

He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.

She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other. 

“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children. 

She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material. 

He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do. 

Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him. 

He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on. 

Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke. 

“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”

“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”

Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to. 

“...Shit,”

“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.

“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered. 

Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out. 

“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom. 

Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit. 

Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”

“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?” 

“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”

Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy. 

After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time,  Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer. 

The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.

Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-

A window. A window. That was it. 

Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough. 

Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself. 

As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze. 

Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall. 

Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror. 

A beat of silence passed between them. 

“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding. 

“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?” 

“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things. 

Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!” 

And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car. 

Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.

Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that. 

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head. 

“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead. 

Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights. 

“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror. 

“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual. 

He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips. 

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing. 

“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-”  Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,” 

He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really. 

He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become. 

“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”

“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,” 

He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more. 

“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman. 

And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep. 

And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died. 

3. The one with the fake boyfriend.

Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen. 

Because it was their room now. Not just his. 

She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work. 

It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-

He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?” 

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light. 

His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror. 

His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.

Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”

Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth. 

“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.

“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.

“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that. 

“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”

Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”

“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”

His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”

“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”

“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”

“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.

“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations. 

“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.

“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.

–

“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life. 

If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.

Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.

“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.

“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap. 

“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.

“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression. 

“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant. 

She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that. 

“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,” 

Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands. 

“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it. 

“Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”

He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin. 

“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room. 

“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more. 

“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step. 

“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer. 

“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.

He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date. 

“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them. 

“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after. 

He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second. 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”

But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime. 

He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus. 

And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry. 

–

“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat. 

“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more. 

“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,” 

“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet. 

“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,” 

“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?” 

“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”

There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly. 

And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details. 

“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations. 

And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely. 

“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”

“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”

Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,” 

“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head. 

And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend. 

God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over. 

Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego. 

But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her. 

His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh. 

“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?” 

Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker. 

4. The one where someone finds out.

“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.

“Oh, of course!  I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,” 

Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”

Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,” She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?” 

Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together. 

Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams? 

Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay. 

It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly  if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree. 

She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked. 

She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be. 

Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”

Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork. 

“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz. 

“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,” 

“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.

“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?” 

Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,” 

Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact. 

“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”

Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.

 “What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase. 

“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic. 

“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,” 

‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care. 

Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day. 

Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,” 

Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed. 

If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her. 

“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”

“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off. 

Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”

“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving. 

“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light. 

Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”

And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.

–

She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes. 

Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.

His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it. 

“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created. 

Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her. 

Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking. 

And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk. 

It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious. 

“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless. 

And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate. 

Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman. 

“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.

“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-” 

“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.

This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.

But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field. 

And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye. 

“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”

“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”

“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman. 

“Pen, I’ll explain-”

“But you- YOU!” 

“Shhh!” 

“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,” 

JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down. 

“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.

“You don’t wanna know,”

–

“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly. 

“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast. 

“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-” 

“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,” 

Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”

If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again. 

“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze. 

“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home. 

“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden. 

“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”

“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,” 

They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.

Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,” 

Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,” 

Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.

“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”

And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul. 

Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast. 

Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate. 

“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair. 

“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,” 

And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was. 

5. The one where he gets shot.

“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,” 

“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp. 

Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step. 

So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders. 

She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd. 

She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it. 

Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public. 

So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.

And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster. 

His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met. 

I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you. 

–

“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”

“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..” 

Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now. 

“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,” 

Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.

“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!” 

There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her. 

“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,” 

Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?

“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.” 

She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly. 

“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her. 

“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her. 

Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub. 

He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of. 

Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy. 

Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently. 

“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”

Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.

–

Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.

“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line. 

Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.

Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid. 

“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her. 

Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay. 

“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?” 

“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,” 

“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,” 

Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders. 

“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword. 

She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-

“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first. 

She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face. 

Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.  

She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse. 

“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip. 

It was going to be a long night. 

–

Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice. 

He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery. 

Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. 

She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it. 

“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him. 

“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”

“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,” 

It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same. 

Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew. 

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”

“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”

Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly. 

“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,” 

Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile. 

He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?” 

Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had. 

+1. The one where they tell everyone

She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast. 

Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend. 

And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer. 

And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least. 

She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor. 

She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be. 

“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”

But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain. 

And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers. 

Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him. 

She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle. 

“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.

He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending. 

--

@release-your-sweets s @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal l @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3

@rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover r @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @green_vita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @splatteredpurplepaint

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

just a little something for the darling @yournowheregirl to wake up to! it sounds kinda dumb and insignificant, but i always appreciate your tags in the fun tag games that come across your dash and for always being one of the first that ask something from those ‘ask me’ posts i reblog! it makes me feel appreciated and i am super grateful every time 🥰🫶🥹

There was meant to be two beds.

Steve specifically got a double king room for the goblins, and another room with two queens for him and Eddie.

So of course as soon as they got into Milwaukee the night before the D&D themed nerd fest, the (actually very nice) woman at the front desk says: “We had to swap around the rooms, but the two will still sleep all you boys, don’t worry!”

Whatever. That’s fine, right? They’ll all have a spot to sleep the next two nights they’re here for the kids’ (and Eddie’s) dragon game convention.

He gets back to their rented minivan and passes the key cards to Eddie in the passenger seat.

The van was just the first point of contention between him and the kids’ beloved Dragon Meister, followed closely by…everything else.

The first thing Eddie said when Steve showed up in the rented van was “King Steve is coming along on our journey?”, to which Steve could only respond with “This ‘super cool’ guy you assholes have been going on about this whole time is Eddie “The Freak” Munson? Really?”

Following closely behind are: the tapes and tapes of loud garbled ‘music’ Eddie insists on playing, his absolutely tragic way of unwrapping Steve’s burgers for him when they stop for lunch, the wariness Steve has in the first place about this being the guy Dustin wouldn’t stop talking so highly about…this nerdy, obnoxious, third-time senior…great.

“204 is the Hellions’ room, 207 is us.”

Eddie bends an arm backwards into the feral beast enclosure the second two rows have become over the last six hours and Steve’s surprised he still has his hand when it returns to the front.

Steve gets the van parked in the hotel’s garage, and they head up to their rooms.

“Alright, assholes,” he says to the somehow still rambunctious masses, “This is you guys, Make sure you’re up by eight so we—“

“Yeah Steve, we got it,” Dustin scoffs, “As if we’d risk being late to this.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a “Fine, goodnight.” and shuffles the few steps across the hall to his and Eddie’s door, leaving the troops to file into theirs.

The only thought in his head is of laying down and getting the fuck to sleep. It wasn’t even that late but—

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

So that’s what brings them here. To their one barely queen sized bed.

“I guess I’m on the floor then, huh?”

“I’m not about to let you sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, the King has chivalry does he?” Eddie rolls his eyes and throws his duffle onto the armchair in the corner.

“As much as you, asshole; I just want you to have the energy to corral the gremlins tomorrow.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face. “Look, we’ll just deal with it tonight and I’ll get another room tomorrow.” he lies. As if he’s got the cash for that.

Eddie looks him over, and seems to come to whatever conclusion he needs to because he says “Fine, but you better not be a blanket hog.”

Eddie’s the worst blanket hog Steve’s ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He thought Robin was bad, but this is something else.

Eddie’s fully a burrito within an hour of laying down. After a hearty, but silent, game of tug of war over the worn duvet.

Steve falls asleep angry and cold, and wakes up on a cloud.

He’s so warm and so entangled in the comforter, he can’t help but snuggle deeper into the pillow he’s clutched onto.

The pillow hums back at him and scoots itself under his chin with a sigh.

Steve squeezes tighter onto the pillow momentarily, but his curiosity of why his pillow’s making noise gets the better of him.

He cracks his eyes open, looking down at the thing in his arms.

It shifts as well, and Eddie Munson blinks up at him with those (holy shit…beautiful, deep, dark) doe eyes of his.

“Hi.” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and shuffles himself back into Steve’s neck.

Steve chooses to blame the still sleepy bit of him for curving himself back around Eddie.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve whispers into the now-bared hairline under the other man’s bangs.

“Fucking amazing…” Eddie mumbles, snaking an arm over Steve’s waist and settling a hand in the middle of his back. “How ‘bout you, Stevie?”

“Stevie, huh?” Steve chuckles.

It’s only then that Eddie seems to come to his senses, his head shooting up before he scrambles away, falling straight onto his back between the opposite side of the bed and the wall with an “Oof!” and a “Fuck!”

“Oh shit!” Steve shuffles off the bed and helps Eddie back up, ”You alright, Eds?”

“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine..” Steve gets Eddie back on his own two feet and (reluctantly) lets him go once he’s stable.

‘Reluctantly? Why reluctantly? What the hell??’

“Sorry I was all over you, not the greatest thing to wake up to, huh?” Eddie says, huffing a sardonic laugh under his breath.

Steve hums nonchalantly, “It wasn’t all bad, I slept pretty fucking amazing too.”

Eddie hums an acknowledgment, then: “I wouldn’t—“ Eddie starts at the same time Steve says “I should—“

“You go ahead,”

Eddie’s hands come up between them, spinning the rings on his fingers nervously. “I was going to say that…I.. Iwouldn’tmindifyoustayedtonight..too.”

Steve blinks. “Good thing I was going to say that I really should save my money.”

Eddie’s smile is slightly nervous, but there’s a hopeful tinge to it that Steve can only assume means what he thinks it does (hopes it does).

“Leaves me with more to spend on the Gremlins, right?” he shrugs.

Eddie beams. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, Harrington.”

also, if you haven’t heard it recently: Alice, YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 🤩

[echo-bleu]

More concept sketches for Maedhros post-Angband needing skeletal support/correction. I focused more on the spine/neck braces this time, I'll draw some more slings and shoulder braces ideas at some point.

Disabled characters series

Closer look + notes/rambling under the cut

The first sketch is really just a preparatory one for the second. It's based pretty directly on an existing scoliosis brace called the Milwaukee brace, which used to be the most common and is still used sometimes for, I believe, high curvatures, which would be the case for Maedhros after being pulled by the arm for so long. The second sketch is a try at a more ornamented design, as Curufin and whichever other Noldor creating it would strive to make it beautiful.

The brace opens at the back and requires some flexibility to put on, so it wouldn't be a very early brace for Maedhros (that and the healers/smiths would need some time to attain a good design). It's geared toward correction and not immobilization, he can still somewhat turn his head but it's supported enough to lessen the pain. Leather pads can be added in various places to help with correction, so I gave him a shoulder pad, but he'd still wear some kind of sling or brace for his arm with it, I think.

The bottom sketch is a more ornamented brace meant for formal occasions, not everyday wear. It's aimed at support only, not correction, I think Maedhros could/would only wear it on a day where he's going to be sitting around and not really moving, like the Mereth Aderthad (he's in no shape or mood for dancing). And only later on, once his spine is more stable. This one also opens in the back with laces and various clasps and it's a lot lighter both visually and literally. I think brass would be a cool metal for this one to go with the leather (would it be solid enough? I have no idea).

There is a transcription of my little notes in alt, but I've basically said it all in the text.

Help I put too much research into this 😭

[octuscle]

this is an urgend call for help! I'm a 29yo teacher in europe and I have a problem with one of my students. He's 18yo, the star of the soccer team and of the whole school. he's looking at me and talking with me in a very special way. So I think he has a crush on me. I've to give him a lot of detention but he seems to enjoy it. Last time he says at the end: "soon you're one of us - your countdown is on...' pls tell me he hasn't used your program. If he has, stop this countdown immediately

According to a scribble in the student restroom, you are supposed to be the school's sexiest teacher for the third year in a row. Someone has sketched your cock next to this note. Obviously life-size, because the doodle is impressively large.

Well, you can't be the sexiest teacher for the third time because you've only been here at the school for two years. Before that you were at university. First in Milwaukee. Then actually only for two semesters in Lund, Sweden. But you fell in love with Sweden. And now you are very happy to have got a job as a sports and math teacher at the sports high school in Malmö. Sport here at the school usually almost automatically means "soccer", but as a native American you have less to do with it. Your sports are badminton, athletics and windsurfing in the summer.

You almost despair of the soccer star. A stinking lazy pupil. Certainly not stupid. But really lazy and uncooperative. According to his coach, he is the most disciplined person imaginable on the pitch. Here in math class, he's definitely not. Absolutely not! "Soon you'll be one of us - your countdown is on". That was yesterday… Today, once again, he didn't even show up for math class. Shit, he's ruining his whole career. Besides, you kind of miss him… He's not just a student… He's also kind of… A buddy! Damn, you can't have thoughts like that with a student!

You are looking for your student on the soccer field. Of course he's there. Of course he doesn't have a guilty conscience. Shit, of course you can understand him. After all, soccer is your life too. It was always your dream to become a professional soccer player. But unlike him, you were simply never good enough.

You try to talk him into his conscience without being such a bourgeois. You want to come across as cool. But on the other hand, you also know that you have to assert yourself as a teacher. It's your last traineeship. You'll graduate next year. Now you're still somewhere between the teachers and the students. It's a shitty situation. And the jock just laughs at you when you reprimand him. He says you'll soon be in detention together.

You are actually a really hard-working student. You are very keen to do well in your exams. You definitely want to work as a teacher at this sports high school. Soccer and math. That would be exactly your combination of subjects. But you can't study tonight. The day as a volunteer at the school was really exhausting. Before you go jogging for another hour, you look in the mirror as you change into your sports clothes. The fucking spots just won't go away. You still look a bit like you're still in puberty. But you finally seem to be growing hair on your chest. Maybe you will become a real guy after all. Whether the soccer star likes hair on his chest. Or if he has any himself? The thought of him gives you a boner!

When you wake up the next morning, you pick up where you left off yesterday. With a boner. My goodness, since you've been doing the internship here at the school, you've been kind of hard all the time. Of course, you've got a whole lot of damn tight guys among the other freshmen at your university… But the boys here at the sports high school are in a different league. They wank wherever they go and wherever they stand. And since you've been here, you've joined in.

You've been given a single room at the sports boarding school for the duration of your internship. You have a washbasin in your room, but you share the toilet and shower with the boys from the upper school. You're 21, hardly older than the guys who will be graduating this year. But you're still not allowed to fuck them. Even as a freshman and an intern, you are formally a member of the teaching staff. What a load of shit! How you'd love to let the star of the soccer team fuck you in the shower. It's obvious he wouldn't be averse either.

The internship sucks. Sitting in class without being able to shape it but already knowing everything is even more stressful and boring than it is for the students. Nevertheless, you try to look like you're paying attention and taking notes. This is actually more of a strategy to avoid falling asleep. You can hardly wait until soccer practice finally starts. You can just play along. You're more of a pupil than a teacher. The coach praises you and says that you're wasting a great talent as a sports teacher. He asks you to take the team star under your wing for a while. He could certainly learn a lot from you. Hehehehehe, you think to yourself. I'm sure you could from him too!

After training, you go to the gym for a bit of strength endurance training. Suddenly the soccer star is standing behind you. He runs his hand under your sweaty jersey and plays with your nipple. Thank God you're alone in the gym. You take off your jersey and he sucks on your nipples like a puppy on its mother's teats. Shit, his smell of wet grass and sweat alone is driving you crazy. With one hand you take your boner out of your pants. With the other, you push his head down. He blows like the devil. And you cum like a fire hose.

A delicate fuzz appears on your upper lip. That's the only good thing about fucking puberty. Your voice is cracking. Your pimples are annoying. And every other morning you wake up in a huge mess in your bed. Every morning that Lars hasn't blown you first. Or you blew him. You're congenial on the soccer pitch. Whatever congenial means. But the coach always says that. You think you're totally congenial in the shower and on the toilet and in all sorts of other places too. The fact that Lars and you met here at the boarding school is damn lucky!

You've been inseparable since you were 18 at the latest. During the week at Intermat, at the weekends either with your parents. Or at his. Your parents are cool. Although you're not sure if they know what you're up to.

Lars and you both think school sucks. You're here to become professional footballers. You don't need fucking math or history for that. Your coach predicts a glorious future for both of you. The man is cool. He's ancient, probably already 30 or so. But much more relaxed than your other teachers. And he'll cover for you if you skip math again. But only if you've used the time for fitness or technique training. If you don't show full commitment, the coach has no mercy.

It is an honor to have been accepted at this school. You have no intention of disgracing the school!

It's a common saying that the two of you only exist in a double pack. Your classmates have turned 'Lars' and 'Zlatan' into 'Latan'. It's no coincidence that your name is Zlatan. Your parents are huge fans of Zlatan Ibrahimoviv. And the fact that you made it to school here in his community, that you are the second Zlatan to become a national player from Rosengård, makes your parents proud. But if you become a national player, Lars will also have to play for the national team. That's a matter of honor. You look at yourself in the mirror. The fuzz on your upper lip isn't quite ready for a cool beard like the one your role model has. And your parents never allowed you to have long hair. But since you've come of age, you've let it grow. It won't be long before you look like the great Zlatan!

You don't like it when Lars and you are put on opposing teams in tournaments. But Coach is right, of course, he needs to train your killer instinct. An opponent is an opponent. Even if you occasionally get shagged by the center forward. And how you get fucked. Shit, your cock is already famous in the changing rooms near and far. But against Lars' beast… You're nothing…

It's pouring with rain. The soccer match was a mud fight. But you won. "As we agreed, the loser has to blow the winner" you tell Lars after the final whistle. "I can't wait to suck your cheesy boner clean" Lars replies with a grin. Even though almost everyone knows that you are a couple, you are usually rather reserved in public. But today… Fuck it!

[annieqattheperipheral]

you have to read this in full!!

i gotchu from behind the $wall:

The day Luke Prokop shook the hockey world by coming out, he needed to get away.

And stop looking at his constantly buzzing phone.

It was July 21, 2021, and the right-shot defenseman had just become the first openly gay hockey player under an NHL contract. The Nashville Predators’ No. 73 pick in the 2020 draft was just 19 years old and hadn’t even turned pro yet. He didn’t know how it would impact his future. His nerves were fried.

But one text message was impossible to ignore. He didn’t recognize the number but certainly knew the name.

“Hey, it’s Auston Matthews. I wanted to congratulate you. I look forward to sharing the ice with you someday.”

Prokop was blown away. The Toronto Maple Leafs superstar wasn’t the most famous person to reach out — that honor goes to Elton John — but the fact that so many NHLers, including one of the league’s best and most powerful players, were offering support meant a lot.

Now 21, Prokop still hasn’t taken the NHL ice, but on Wednesday he took a step forward, being recalled by the Predators’ AHL affiliate in Milwaukee. He could become the first openly gay player to appear in an AHL game Friday night for the Admirals in Rockford.

As difficult as the decision to come out was, Prokop told The Athletic in an extended conversation recently that he’s been mentally and physically freed by it. He doesn’t have to hide. He can be himself, on and off the ice. Heck, he can even date.

“It’s been massive,” he said.

Teammates and fans have welcomed him in his journey toward the NHL so far, from Calgary, Edmonton and Seattle of the junior WHL to, most recently, Atlanta of the ECHL. They treated him like he was any other player.

Not that there’s not room to grow. Prokop figured more players would come out after he did. They haven’t, not that he would rush anyone’s decision on that. He’s also been disappointed by the developments over the past few years with the NHL’s inclusion efforts, including the Pride tape “debacle.”

He can only control his own actions, though, and doesn’t regret his decision.

“I’d like to think I’m a realistic person,” Prokop said. “I know hockey is not going to be forever. As much as (when I came out) I would have loved to keep playing, I was OK with not playing any more if it didn’t work out — just being able to live my life the way I wanted, to be myself.

“But now, I don’t want to stop playing. It was definitely nerve-wracking. You never know what the reaction is going to be inside hockey, outside hockey, because no one has done it before. We kind of went out on a limb and hoped for the best. It’s been way more positive than we thought it’d be. You’re going to have some keyboard warriors, which there were a few, but I was expecting more.

“I did not expect the amount of support I got from NHL players. That was really cool.”

- - - - - - -

The Matthews text and Elton John phone call the morning after were memorable, with the gay rock legend welcoming him to the community and offering his email address if Prokop ever needed anything.

Prokop found even more comfort in a moment that came a few days later — the first time he played hockey since his announcement. It was a four-on-four league in Edmonton at Meadows Rec Center, a place where pros and NHLers competed and kept in shape during the offseason.

Prokop was on a team with Colton and Kirby Dach. The other team had Philadelphia Flyers goalie Carter Hart and the Boston Bruins’ Jake DeBrusk. During warmups, Prokop found himself near mid-ice. The first guy to approach him was DeBrusk. The two had met previously through mutual friends. DeBrusk tapped Prokop’s shin pads with his stick.

“Congrats,” he told him. “I’m really happy for you. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I didn’t know what the reaction would be,” Prokop said. “So that meant a lot.”

Prokop was returning that year to the Calgary Hitmen (WHL), the junior team he had played for the previous four seasons. But there had been a lot of turnover on the roster and, of course, a lot had changed for Prokop. So he decided to address the team in its first meeting in training camp.

“Everyone knows what I did last summer,” he told his team. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. There might be a lot of media asking you for an interview. If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to do them. If you have any questions for me, come ask me. I’m an open book. I just don’t want you guys to feel uncomfortable.”

In that dressing room, Prokop had heard plenty of the uncomfortable language that’s not uncommon for any locker room. He even admitted using it. He didn’t want to out himself. He wanted to act straight, be “one of the guys.”

“I heard it, but it wasn’t all the time,” he said. “I also took it from the perspective that these guys don’t know any better. It’s hockey language. It’s how guys talk. They don’t mean it in a harmful way. They use the word ‘gay’ as a filler at the end of a sentence to make something stupid. ‘Well, that’s so gay.’ I wasn’t comfortable with it, but I used it myself. I didn’t want to seem like I was out of the mix.

“Some guys texted me (after I came out), ‘F—, sorry if I said anything to offend you when we played.’ I’d just say, ‘Guys, you had no idea.’ The lesson is you don’t know what everyone is going through. The words you say do matter. Make sure you think before you speak. It’s a silly rule you learn in kindergarten. It applies to life when you’re 22 or 35 and never goes away.

“The way hockey is going with the language, guys are naturally changing their language. I’ve heard a change in language on every team I’ve been on.”

Prokop said that season was the best of his career, both from a production standpoint and a personal one. He was traded to the Edmonton Oil Kings early in the season and had 10 goals and 33 points in 55 games for them, helping them win the WHL’s Ed Chynoweth Cup and advance to the Memorial Cup.

Luke Prokop won the WHL’s Ed Chynoweth Cup with the Oil Kings in 2022. (Courtesy of Oilers Entertainment Group)

Luke Pierce, then an assistant coach for Edmonton and now the head coach, said the staff and management had discussions with the leadership group before acquiring Prokop — making sure they were comfortable with it, feeling out whether their room could handle the attention. Pierce said he asked one of the captains, Blues prospect Jake Neighbours, for his perspective. Neighbours had known Prokop since they were 10 or 11, growing up playing in spring tournaments together. He told Pierce and the staff there would be “zero issue” and he’d be a great addition.

Neighbours said nothing really changed, that Prokop “fit right in” to the team. Pierce at first wondered if players would have any issue with rooming assignments on the road, but nobody blinked. Pierce noted that Prokop would joke about situations and even opened up about his boyfriend coming to visit.

“He put everybody at ease,” Pierce said. “I often tell people, if the outside world could see how the group of men interacted, it would be just a tremendous inspiration on how we should treat everybody.”

Pierce and Prokop pointed out how this generation is more comfortable and equipped to handle LGBTQ+ inclusion issues. Everyone seems to know someone, be friends with someone, or be related to someone in the community.

“I just don’t think guys really care anymore,” Prokop said. “They might be nervous as they have this stereotype version of what a gay guy might look like, sound like, act like. Like me, coming to a team, they think I’ll act a certain way, look a certain way, but they’ll realize three minutes into talking to me that I’m not that.

“Hockey is part of me. It’s who I am. Guys totally forget (about me being gay) when I’m at the rink. They’re not afraid to ask questions. But other than that, it never really comes up. That’s how I wanted it to be. I wanted them to know, but we can all go out and play. I never wanted to be a distraction.”

- - - - - - -

The NHL’s decisions around Pride jerseys and stick tape weren’t a distraction, Prokop said, but he has gotten frustrated about it.

He understood the issue over wearing sweaters during warmups — “jerseys weren’t really their choice” — but lamented that the fact the focus was on the handful of players who refused to wear them and not all the others who did. The NHL’s initial banning of Pride stick tape, then its reversal, was a whole other topic.

“To take away choices from players was really confusing,” Prokop said. “Some of them don’t really care. For some, it was near and dear to their heart. To take it away was mind-boggling. From the players’ side, the support was there. Zach Hyman talked about it, Travis Dermott. I like what they did. They didn’t make a big deal about it before — they just did it. Let fans see the rest, and it’ll take care of itself. There’s a massive amount of support from players in the NHL.”

What do the Pride tape and sweaters mean for someone in the LGBTQ+ community?

Prokop didn’t recall noticing them growing up going to Oilers games. He never got to see someone who was gay using Pride tape on the TV screen. He had to deal with it himself — “jump over those barriers without any help.” But Prokop continued pursuing his hockey career whereas “a lot of people don’t feel comfortable pursuing their career without that exposure, without feeling like they’re being seen.”

“I think with the Pride tape stuff, they were trying to show support for their older fans,” Prokop said of the NHL. “The fans that have been watching hockey for 40-50 years. That’s not how you grow the game. You want to get the younger generation, put these guys in the best situation to promote the game. Sometimes I don’t think the NHL does that the correct way. The Pride tape is one example.”

Prokop has been part of two Pride nights since he came out, one with the Edmonton Oil Kings and another with Seattle. The Oil Kings staff approached him after not having that event on their promotional calendar. They planned it in two weeks and it was a big hit, with around 8,000 fans in attendance.

“Some guys told me it was the most impactful game they’d been in during their career,” Prokop said. “They said they didn’t realize how many Queer fans they had. I don’t think they realize how much my community watches hockey, plays hockey and cares about hockey.

The Seattle Pride night was fan-driven, which made it unique. Thunderbirds fans noticed that other rival teams had a special night for Pride and made a push for their own, making bracelets and T-shirts. Prokop told teammates they didn’t have to wear the stick tape — he knows how superstitious hockey players are. They all wore some, for him.

“I always look at the perspective, the other side of Pride nights — why do you have them if no one on the team is gay?” Prokop said. “The point is that it’s for the fans. For me, it means a lot to play in them to show my community and be a representative on the ice.”

While education is important, Prokop said any real change in the NHL when it comes to inclusion will start with other players coming out. He’s not putting any timeline or pressure on that. He didn’t have one. But that’s when players in the league will see a different perspective, get more comfortable with it.

“Otherwise, it’s always going to be a story,” Prokop said. “I also can see why guys don’t want to come out. Especially in the NHL. They’ve been very successful, so why change? I kind of saw that from the perspective when the whole Pride jersey story came out. My phone was blowing up. I don’t think guys want to have to deal with that. There was a responsibility for me to talk about these topics. I don’t think guys want to do that. I can see it from that side, why they don’t want to come out.

“I don’t think anything is going to change unless someone else does. Someone else will step up. It’s only a matter of time. I thought there’d maybe be two, three of us by now. But it hasn’t happened. But I know there’s going to be someone else soon. It’s math. There’s what, 700 players in the league? There’s definitely a few more.”

- - - - - - -

While there have been some derogatory comments coming from the stands on a few occasions, Prokop has been encouraged there have been none from opposing players.

“Zero,” he said.

Most of the feedback he’s received, even on social media, has been positive. And it’s not just the comments like Matthews’ that stick with him. Two high schoolers in Seattle, Kaitlin and Jo, reached out to him over Instagram. They are part of the LGBTQ+ community and were struggling.

“Like everyone, they just wanted someone to talk to,” Prokop said.

Part of Prokop’s pregame routine is usually to hang by the bench and listen to music. On many occasions, Kaitlin and Jo would come by and the three of them would just chat for 10, 12 minutes. They’re the fans that Prokop saw every game above the tunnel on his way to the dressing room. They’ve stayed in touch. Prokop even did a Zoom meeting with their high school class last month. “They have a special place in my heart,” he said.

When, and if, Prokop makes his NHL debut, he says he’ll have a special secret plan for them.

Whether Prokop lives his NHL dream remains to be seen. He’s praised the Predators for their support from the first time he did a group video call with the staff. Former NHLer Mark Borowiecki, now a development coach, has been someone Prokop has leaned on often, not only for on-ice advice but for help getting through things mentally.

Scott Nichol, the Predators’ assistant GM, likes Prokop’s potential.

“Big right-shot defensemen that can skate, move the puck. They don’t grow on trees,” he said. “He just needs to polish up his game in some areas in the defensive zone. He’s got the tools. He’s got the skating ability. It’s just patience and embrace the process.”

Prokop is grateful for his support group, from his parents, Al and Nicole, to his brother, Josh, and sister, Alanna. He’s kept in touch with Heather Lefebvre, who is a specialist in hockey engagement and alumni relations with the Oilers Entertainment Group. They talk almost every day. What sticks out to Lefebvre is how young Prokop was when he came out (19), and while he wears this “trailblazer” cap, he’s still standing alone.

“I think this generation is more ready for it than past generations, for sure,” Lefebvre said. “It says a lot to me that nobody else has come out in the year and a half since he has. He’s the only openly gay player under NHL contract, but he’s not the only gay player under NHL contract.

“That’s where I think we have work to do. Is it great that he’s been accepted and can do his thing? Yes. But he looks at the positives, which makes me really happy for him. But that doesn’t mean there’s no negative.”

Prokop takes the positives in his off-ice life, too. He lives with Alanna in the offseason back home in Edmonton. He’s found teammates to share in his hobbies, like golf (he plays 40 to 50 rounds a year). He loves to read, from biographies to sci-fi. He watches basketball more than hockey and has more than 25 jerseys. He cooks. He got into puzzles during the pandemic and is bullish about doing them on his own.

Prokop also feels comfortable getting out there on the dating scene and not having to hide it from teammates.

“Obviously, the lifestyle of a hockey player is tough for some people,” he said. “I’m trying to find the right person to connect with. I’m a softie, a romantic guy. I love love. I’m always on the lookout for that right person to spend the rest of my life with.”

Prokop doesn’t see the label of being the first openly gay player under NHL contract as a weight. It’s more of a responsibility. He has a platform and wants to use it. He’s realistic, “dreaming about winning the community service award more than the Norris Trophy.”

Making the AHL jump or someday the NHL jump won’t define him.

“One of my main goals when I came out is that if I could have an impact on one person outside of my family and friends in my lifetime, I’ve done my job,” he said. “I think I’ve done that and more. And I want to continue to do that.”

[thefrontofmymind]

ex!reader x matty healy ig blurb

FC: Heather Baron-Gracie

a/n: added on blurb

~~~

rass1975 via instagram stories:

yninstagram via instagram stories:

~~~

yninstagram we look kewl

view all comments

ynfan1 OMG YN AND MATTYYYYY

ynfriend sexy beasts xxx

>trumanblack thanks xxx

ynfan2 the goth council has come together to decide all our fates

bedforddanes pale bitches x

>yninstagram ill fuck u up

trumanblack im cool. yn did my makeup, its cool.

view all comments

1975fan1 i am frothing at the mouth rn

yninstagram fit

1975fan2 i so wish i was at this party it looks so cool

rass1975 Yeah yeah. You look cool get over it

yninstagram shut up i'm busy

view all comments

ynfan1 so prettyyyyy

ynfan2 I LOVE THIS

trumanblack fit

>yninstagram didn’t i just fucking tell you to shut up?

1975ynfan1 ok loving this tension,,,,

1975ynfan2 wait is that matty’s guitar???

>1975fan1 OMG I THINK YOURE RIGHT

nme Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Dirty Hit Records ushers in a new era, with the addition of YN on their roster. This news comes after apparent months of negotiation (and close friend of Matty Healy on her side!) New interview in our next issue!

view all comments

1975ynfan1 this has totally convinced me that theyre together why tf would they do a whole photoshoot together if they weren’t

ynfan1 am i the only one who doesn’t like the way they worded this? Like she’s such a good artist, the fact that she’s friends with Matty doesn’t mean anything! She got that record deal on her own merit

1975ynfan2 omg they both look so hot in this

1975fan1 goth parents

yninstagram throwback to when we were allowed outside

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ynfan1 where are you quarantining queen???

>yninstagram with a close friend babyyyy

ynfan2 so sad you had to postpone the tour :((( i was going to toronto

ynfan3 will the new album be postponed too??

>yninstagram hopefully not. Still set for later on in the year ❤️❤️

ynundates yn today performing at Reading Festival!!!

view all comments

ynfan1 ok so we haven’t seen her in TWO YEARS and she’s back and a platinum blonde????

ynfan2 newalbumsoonnewalbumsoonnewalbumsoon

>ynfan3 ikr SO PUMPED

ynfan4 did anyone catch a video of when she said something like ‘im in a different place now than when i wrote all these love songs’ and then i didnt hear the end of what she said???

>ynupdates its on our page! The full quote is “I’m in a very different place than when I wrote all of those love songs. Me and him aren’t together now so…Expect a breakup album soon!”

>ynfan5 omg poor yn :(( (though i wonder who she’s talking aboutttt)

yninstagram officially here to tell you that blondes don’t always have more fun. and i’m on tour in North America in three months get ready.

view all comments

ynfan1 AAHHH SEEING YOU IN NEW YORK

>yninstagram SEE U THERE BB

ynfan2 PLEASE come to asia!!

ynfan3 when is the album???

>yninstagram beginning of next year!!

ynfan4 yn looks so pretty with black OR blonde hair!!

yninstagram first show lets go

view all comments

ynfan1 the COOLEST fit

bedforddanes good luck mate.

>yninstagram thanks mate.

ynfan2 cant wait to see you in Milwaukee!!

1975ynfan1 does anyone else think its weird that yn and the 1975’s tours match up cities like 4 times???

>1975ynfan2 probably just a coincidence, there’s only so many cities in america

>1975ynfan1 idk its just yn and matty havent interacted in so long and it seems like theyve both gone through private breakups recently,,,,got me thinking

>ynfan3 maybe not the best to speculate on people’s private lives?? Lets just leave them to it?

yninstagram new single out now. Not Another Rockstar. its cool.

view all comments

ynfan1 omg wait the caption??? Is that a matty reference???

>ynfan2 idkkkk IM HERE FOR THE DRAMAAA

ynfan3 yn is straight up ethereal

charli_xcx so proud of youuuuu

>yninstagram Xxx

yninstagram london r u ready??

view all comments

ynfan1 so jealous im not there!!!

ynfan2 obsessed with this makeup!!

pollymoney looking lush!!

ynfan3 come to nz!

rollingstone “Growing into different people can hurt, but it’s always the way of life, we just have to move on” - YN talks touring post-covid and new album! Link in bio!

view all comments

yninstagram thank you for having me.

ynfan1 need to punch whoever she was talking about with the quote in the article ‘I was badly hurt by my ex, he’s said some horrid things about me when I thought our breakup was pretty amicable.’

ynfan2 i remember when yn was just starting out and now look at her!!

ynfan3 mother was mothering in this shoot

yninstagram what happens on tour, stays on tour. this includes going to bed at a reasonable hour and being on vocal rest for 20 hours of the day.

view all comments

ynfan1 saw you in Lisbon!! Best concert ive ever been to!!

ynfan2 omg obsessed with that top…

1975adam the joys of tour life hey?

>yninstagram dont i know it?

yninstagram new album, Nothing Matters, is out tomorrow. this is such a personal album for me, showing the deepest parts of myself. 

To you (you know)

Even though we spent months tearing each other apart, and we’ve both said some questionable things in retaliation, you know I’ll always hold you in my heart. I was at my best with you and I hope one day we can reach a point when we can be friends. I miss you and all the funny things you tell me when you stoned off your nut and barely knew how to speak anymore. 

Thank you, darling. For everything.

limited comments

charli_xcx beautiful album baby. top of 2023!

ynfriend love it!!

rass1975 well done mate. Its a good’un

trumanblack love it.

>yninstagram x

[melisnonstop]

Closing Walls And Ticking Clocks

⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️⏱️

Alex’s watch had always been stuck. 00:00:00.

Since he was a kid, he would stare at the sleek black numbers, watching, waiting, hoping that one day something—anything—would change. But it never did. For years, the unchanging clock on his wrist became background noise, an annoyance he eventually learned to live with.

Everyone else’s soulmate watch worked. June’s timer started ticking down in Milwaukee, in the middle of an event during the campaign as Nora stood by her side, lingering on her every word.

But Alex? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

And now, at 23, Alex had long since decided that it was broken. The watch, the system, the idea that fate had someone waiting out there for him—it was a fairytale meant for people who weren’t trapped in the public eye, expected to be everything for everyone.

He didn’t have time for soulmates.

Which is why when his watch finally started moving, he nearly choked on his coffee.

It happened on the third day of his diplomatic trip to London. He had been reviewing talking points with his team, trying not to seem nervous about the upcoming meeting with the Royal Family (a very big deal, even if Alex pretended it wasn’t). The First Son of the United States didn’t get jittery about anything, especially not royal protocol.

But when Henry—Prince Henry, with his perfect bone structure and irritatingly flawless charm aimed at anyone but Alex—walked into the room for the first time, something strange happened.

It wasn’t immediate, not like the stories people tell about meeting their soulmate in some grand moment of eye contact. No, for Alex, it was a slow burn. Henry shook his hand, polite but cold, the same way he had during every other formal event they’d attended together. And then they both sat down, an ocean of space between them as the conversation drifted to the usual diplomatic pleasantries.

Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Until Alex felt the familiar pressure of Henry’s hand brush against his under the table. It was just a momentary accident, their fingers grazing each other for the briefest of seconds.

And suddenly—finally—Alex’s watch flashed to life.

The numbers blinked to 00:00:01 and then, impossibly, started counting down.

Alex froze. His body went cold, heart thudding in his chest as the seconds slipped away on his wrist. For the first time in his life, his watch was moving, and it was counting down from a number so low it made his stomach twist.

Next to him, Henry stiffened too. His eyes flicked down to his own wrist, and Alex saw the moment the realization hit.

Henry’s watch, normally hidden beneath the cuff of his suit jacket, was glowing with the same numbers.

00:00:00.

Time’s up.

Alex’s heart dropped into his stomach. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Wasn’t it supposed to be a moment of joy, not dread? Not panic?

“What the hell?” Alex muttered under his breath, hoping no one else in the room noticed the growing tension between him and Henry.

Henry, on the other hand, looked pale. He was staring at his watch with a mixture of disbelief and something else—something darker, like fear. When he finally lifted his gaze to meet Alex’s, it wasn’t the usual cool, collected mask he always wore. There was something raw there, something vulnerable.

“We need to talk,” Henry whispered, voice tight.

Alex swallowed, nodding once before standing abruptly, mumbling some excuse about needing air. He could feel Henry right behind him as they slipped out of the conference room, the buzz of diplomatic chatter fading as the door closed behind them.

They stood in the hallway, both of them breathing hard, the weight of the moment settling heavily between them.

“What’s happening?” Alex demanded, holding up his wrist where the countdown continued to tick away. It was down to minutes now, and the sight made his throat tighten. “Why is my watch moving now? Why the hell is it counting down?”

Henry let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving the floor. “I don’t know.”

Alex let out a frustrated laugh. “Of course you don't. You’re telling me the universe just decided to give us some bullshit soulmate timer now and it’s counting backwards?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said again, softer this time, his shoulders slumping as he finally met his gaze head on. “I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

Alex stared at him, chest heaving, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on him. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He had never asked for a soulmate, never wanted to be a part of this ridiculous system.

But now, standing here in this quiet hallway, watching the minutes of his life slip away, the time he was supposed to have with the one person meant for him,he felt something else creeping in—something that wasn’t just panic.

It was fear.

Fear of what this countdown meant. Fear of what would happen after. Fear that for the first time in his life, he had found something that was slipping away before he even had a chance to hold onto it.

And Henry—Prince Henry—stood in front of him, staring at the same ticking clock, looking just as lost, just as scared.

“What do we do?” Henry whispered, his voice raw.

HIs breath caught in his throat as Henry’s hand reached out, hesitating for only a moment before his fingers brushed against Alex’s wrist, the softest of touches, but it sent a spark through him, something electric.

Alex looked at him, his eyes softening. “We live.” He blinked, surprised by the simplicity of it, how the words made their way out so naturally. Alex was scared and unsure of everything, but this? This felt right.

“We don't waste time. We don't let anyone get in the way. We do this together.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.

For a long moment, they stood there, caught in a moment that felt impossibly fragile, like something too delicate to hold onto. Alex could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, the reality of what this meant settling into his bones.

But there, in the quiet of that hallway, with Henry’s hand gently resting on his wrist, he made a decision.

Fuck fate.

He wasn’t going to waste this. Not a single second.

Henry nodded, a beautiful smile lighting up his features. “We live.”

[timebegins-onopeningday]

Time Begins On Opening Day 2024: Round Up Post #1

Happy Friday everyone and welcome to Round-Up Post #1! This post includes links to all works posted in the first half of the season + details about First Half Commentfest which begins today and goes through the weekend.

Soft Deadline #1 offers us 20 (20!!) fanworks for five teams and 104 prompts across several teams as well as some broad and open-ended prompts! For a small fandom and only halfway through the season, that's pretty cool. If you're just finding this prompt meme now, or if you didn't finish something you were working on before the deadline, never fear - this prompt runs the entire length of the 2024 season! There is still plenty of time create.

Enjoy the works, slam that kudos button, leave a comment, and enjoy the second half of the MLB season!

Soft Deadline #2 is September 29, the end of the regular season.

🌞 First Half Commentfest 🌞

First Half Commentfest runs this weekend, from Friday July 19 to Sunday July 21. As we catch up with all these amazing works (fic! art! poetry! y’all are amazing!!) my challenge as a mod for us is to get every single one of these works at least five independent comments from five independent readers by the end of the weekend. (So we’re not including creator responses in that comment count!)

Why? Because it’s very easy to feel isolated as a creator – particularly in a small fandom like baseball rpf. We all know how easy it is to hit the kudos button and move on, but in a challenge designed to inspire creators for a very small, very spread out of fandom, a little encouragement can go a long way.

justleaveacommentfest has a list of resources for helping write comments on fic here and hxphaestion wrote some notes on what kind of comments resonate with artists (scroll for reblog) if you’re not sure where to start.

Let’s get all these works some comments!

🌞 Fanworks from the first half of the season 🌞

That we got as many fics as we did in the first half makes your mod SO happy, because we’re already past what we had last year!! This was a pain in the ass to put together because there were so many links and that delighted me. Shout out to you all, you’re all amazing.

I organized these by fanwork type, then grouped works by team and sorted alphabetically by the creator’s name + title (with the exception of one set of works, which are grouped in order of the series). Enjoy the works, bang that kudos button and COMMENT 🥳🥳

Art

Baltimore Orioles

[collage] heat waves by sapplyandherfriend

a celebration of dingers and slug edit: WOOOOOO TONY IS AN ALL STAR

Toronto Blue Jays

[collage] cheer on your team! by idlt

a toronto blue jays collage made on a 6x4 index card with a bunch of junk from the recycling bin

[collage] love song (show elation) by idlt

a vladdy and bo collage made on half of a page of cardstock with a bunch of junk from the recycling bin and a pile of old magazines that I got from someone in my neighbourhood who was going to throw them out, plus a few star stickers and a picture of vlad and bo pasted on top digitally

Poetry

Toronto Blue Jays

come home (the way they need you to) by idlt

A short poem about Vladdy and home and being seen.

Fic

Baltimore Orioles

one warm summer night (fireworks outside) by Settsplitt

Technically, they’re kind of hidden, standing a few steps down the tunnel, with their teammates all turned towards the fluorescent night sky, eyes fixed on the show. But still, Kyle thinks, as Adley tucks his hand under the hem of his pants, slipping his fingers beneath his belt and digging until he finds bare skin, this can’t be a good idea.

Milwaukee Brewers

In Stadium Light & Shadow by TheGlobeLifeBarn 

A thin satellite in orbit of nothing.

Philadelphia Phillies

Pressure Point by caltrain

Bryce fucked up his hammy and he’s being an enormous baby about it.

you think it’s different but it’s always the same by palimpsestic

Florida’s always so fucking humid, even in February—the air is sticky with unshed rain, hangs heavy with anticipation.

Who’s on First by powerblu (bluspirits)

A lot may have changed since Rhys first got called up to the Phillies: the size of the crowds, their record, the fact that they're playing in the World Series. But one thing is exactly the same: Bryce Harper is still there on the other team, annoying the hell out of him.

put some moves on you, babe (i know you need it) by pronoe

Bryson reminds himself to be careful where he sucks his marks on Alec’s skin, with the way he keeps his jerseys half-unbuttoned.

Seattle Mariners

Broken Foot and Cuddles by Anonymous

turns out that record-breaking pitch had actually been “breaking” in more ways than one. Poor Ty, with the foot fracture.

Toronto Blue Jays

Fiber arts for first inning starts by caltrain

There’s a hot guy no one has ever seen before at the softball clinic. He crushes three balls out of the park off of Kevin and pisses Kevin off so bad that Yusei slings an arm around his neck and kisses his cheek. “Can we get him?” he says happily.

5 Times The Blue Jays were Blue Gays: Number 1 Will Shock You! by idlt

George Springer is writing for the first edition of the new Blue Jays newsletter, organized and edited by Davis Schneider. George's first assignment? Clickbait the fuck out of everyone with the most unbelievable listicle ever (except somehow it is actually that gay)! Here's what he wrote, plus what Davis had to say about it.

he said i have bisexual swag! by idlt

An ode to Jordan Romano's short-lived yet glorious septum piercing (in the format of 2 idiots texting)

the grip of artificial chaos by idlt

Davis and Ernie sneak a moment in the dugout as the fireworks go off.

Out of Left Field by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Danny Jansen and Daulton Varsho were rivals playing on opposing baseball teams in high school. Now, ten years later, they are playing on the same team for the Toronto Blue Jays. As they weather the ups and downs of the baseball season, Danny and Daulton find an unexpected companionship in one another. But there is a lot on the line and neither knows if it is safe to indulge these feelings or if they are better left buried in the past.

Cover Your Bases by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Ten years after being high school rivals, Danny Jansen and Daulton Varsho started playing baseball on the same team for the Toronto Blue Jays. Their months together brought them closer as teammates, friends, and then something more. Now they need to decide what risks they’re willing to take if they want to make their relationship official.

Swing for the Fences by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Danny Jansen and Daulton Varsho are officially dating. Unfortunately, being public figures in a major league sport makes that anything but simple. They’ve agreed to keep things private until the end of the baseball season but that means Danny and Daulton must balance their blooming relationship and their work while navigating the ever-present media attention.

The Longest Road by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

After their nightly game of Settlers of Catan, Davis has a heart-to-heart with Spencer about his growing feelings for their mutual friend Ernie. Spencer offers some valuable advice and reassurance, which gives Davis the courage to accept when Ernie asks him to forgo the living room couch and share a bed for the night.

Therapy with Daulto Varsho by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Daulton has always been a listener rather than a talker. Whether it’s good news or bad news, he’s there to hear out his teammates. Sometimes, this leads to unexpected revelations.

[rosewaterconley]

I solved a mystery that only I care about lol

ok so I have no clue what I'm doing and social media terrifies me. I will probably never touch this account again. why did I have to follow 3 algorithm-selected accounts to get into this website? I can actually name 3 people I'd want to follow on here and it's none of the people your fucking robot told me to follow. but hey, I feel like I have to post it here rather than my blogspot since nobody in the world actually uses blogspot and I want people to see this!

so anyway, there's this band out of the city of Milwaukee called Hero of a Hundred Fights. they dropped a couple CDs in the early 2000s and seem to have broken up, though all their members have been in bands since. that'll be important a little later. for now, Hero of a Hundred Fights are important to me on 2 levels:

I'm a Wisconsinite who has a tiny bit of an obsession with local history and art and really fuck with their weird mathy little corner of the 2000s hardcore scene

I'm a Faction Paradox fan and their 2001 EP The Remote, The Cold contains numerous references to the series! if you've heard of this EP before, it was probably in the context of some "music that references Faction Paradox" list or another

about #2... see, everyone already knows that track 2 is called Faction Paradox and track 3 is called The Celestis. we've all long since put together that the title is a reference to Lawrence Miles' Interference. but what about the lyrics? unfortunately, we don't know. they're not online, and the vocals are good, mind, but rather incoherent.

well, we didn't know. until I ordered a CD copy for like $8 lol. that's all it took! so here you go, the lyrics booklet plus some of the other artwork featured on the CD. artist Nick Slough did a great job on this art and it's a shame only the cover is widely available online (though that's hardly a problem unique to the physical version of this one album). turns out, this is some kinda concept album based on the Miles novel Interference. cool! really love the lyrics on Rope especially. "I need your blood to get this vessel running" and "my life was in your hands, I cut them off and now they're mine" are both raw as hell.

the cover art is pretty interesting. this album was recorded in 2000, released in 2001. the entire creative process occurred before the first standalone Faction Paradox release, The Book of the War. this means the album is entirely Doctor Who-based, not based on the FP series itself. it also means, if we assume the humanoid characters on the art are supposed to be the Remote, that this is the first-ever professional art depicting them!

disclaimer: the booklet lyrics don't 100% match up with what's said in the songs! it's mostly accurate but unfortunately there are some sections missing, some repeated bits that are only written once et al. that's all par for the course but I figured I'd mention it - especially in the case anybody wants to use this to transcribe the lyrics on Genius or some other site like that.

and while we're here, Hero 100 member William Zientara has been in a billion different bands, and I think he's probably the most responsible for the Doctor Who theme on this album. See, he was also in a short-lived band called Managara - named after a Doctor Who tie-in novel so obscure even I, owner of a complete set of Virgin New Adventures who spends my work breaks combing through digital copies of old fanzines, have only ever heard it discussed a handful of times. one of their songs is called Happiness Patrol. more recently, in 2021, he was in the band Fuiguirnet, who have a song called What Grows From the Seeds of Doom! which means Zientara has been randomly tossing Doctor Who references into songs from at least three different bands for twenty years!

so uhh without any further rambling here's the lyrics and art:

[greyplainsttrpg]

5e Villain Arc 3

Sorry for the delay on this. I was working as a bartender for CNN during the RNC here in Milwaukee. Those were like 12 hour days that go well into the early morning, and those consecutive shifts are hard on me. I now have enough brain-space to continue my 5e villain arc.

This is about the Beast Master Ranger, and why it is emblematic of larger problems in 5e.

The Beast Master is truly horrific. At 3rd level, you get a friendo (so long as they are not larger than a medium creature). ONE friendo. Just one. You are a master of exactly one beast. Wow. Truly, I have mastered taming animals. It would be a real shame if this archetype was undermined by a few, easily accessible elements in the game.

So, what does this friendo do? Well, you can tell it to move anywhere within your movement for free "(no action required)". Side-point, if ONLY we had a key word for actions that can be done without costing either your "action" or "bonus action." A "free action," perchance? Image from SRD. Remember what they took from us.

Back on track with the point. Cool, I can send my friendo anywhere within its movement. Once it gets there, what can it do? Oh. I can use MY action to make it either Attack, Dash, Disengage, Dodge, or Help? MY action. The friendo uses MY action to do a shittier version of what I could do. Don't worry, once I get Extra Attack, I can still use AN attack on my turn if the friendo also attacks (not if it does anything else, however). It gets up to 4 times Ranger Level in Hit Points, also known as Wizard HP without a constitution modifier and no spellcasting.

At 7th Level, I can make my pig do two things (again, with my action) SO LONG AS NEITHER OF THEM ARE ATTACK. Now, I can disengage AND dash. Wow. Incredible.

At 11th Level, the beast FINALLY gets an extra Attack. However, again, I must stress--what the hell? MY ACTION?

At 15th Level, if I cast a buffing spell on myself, the friendo also gets it. Cool. Why is this not a 3rd or 7th level feature?

Summary of archetype finished, what the hell were they thinking? How is this class significantly better than just using animal handling on a war dog or a trained bear? Oh wait, young adventurer, Animal Handling does not do what you expect.

This skill is so limited and specific, it nearly never comes up during play. Animal Handling, very specifically, does not let you train animals. The only way to train animals, or should I say AN animal, is through the Beast Master Ranger Archetype. Big lmao. I looked up "Animal Handling" into my web browser search engine to see what GMs think about this skill. I got this result which I find to be indicative and very funny. This was the first result besides listing of Skills, word per word, from the book, so assumedly this might be what the average player encounters if they look up this skill. I mean no ill will to this person, but may I suggest maybe playing a different game?

They capitulate that the rules do not allow you to tame or train animals. However, they suggest that "most GMs allow it anyways." And internet funny people let me do it? Don't you want to be like cool internet funny people? But most GMs should not allow it because that directly interferes with the Beast Master Ranger. It is like, literally, the only thing they can do.

This is a prime example of 5e being ridiculous. On the one hand, they don't want to give martials super-human powers because "that's not realistic." Usually, people point to magic and say "well that's not realistic either." True, but I find a more compelling argument to be that 5e consistently limits what you can do that IS literally possible. Such as training animals.

Side note: Did you know that the current pigeon is a domesticated animal (and then let outside without supervision, thus a feral species)? Like, the pigeon as we generally experience it is not a natural creature. That's why they are such "assholes" and take up space so boldly on city streets. They are not assholes. We bred them to be comfortable around people. They are just not intimidated by people like other animals because we bred that out of them. Very funny.

Pigeons are impossible in the framework of D&D 5e, because it is literally impossible to domesticate more than a single animal at a time, and only level 3 Rangers can even attempt to perform animal husbandry with a single animal. Cops can train their dogs to pretend to smell weed in my car, and cops do not have a high wisdom score, nor are they at least level 3 rangers (but park rangers with rescue dogs might be). Dogs are impossible. How are there dogs in D&D 5e. Are there just enough Beast Master Rangers that they can manage to breed wolves over hundreds or thousands of years to be best friends with us? Pigs? Impossible. Cows? Impossible. Chickens? Impossible. None of these animals can be tamed or trained in any capacity. You can just calm them down (if they are already domesticated, despite this being fundamentally impossible, rules as written) or read their intentions (hopefully their intentions are "I want my progenitors to be domesticated animals, please").

Not only can martials not do super-hero feats, they also can't do basic, normal things. I know that rangers are not strictly "martial" characters, but their spells are... not great.

Ranger spells that effect yourself that can also meaningfully help the beast (like, that it can actually use the effect):

Jump (niche),

Longstrider (by 15th level, not great)

Speak with Animals (I gues the animal can now speak with animals? that's funny)

Barkskin (you will not benefit from this, but considering how shit your friendo is, it might be worth doing?)

Darkvision (niche, because there's a good chance both you and your friendo can see pretty well in the dark)

Find Traps (unironically, the best spell of its level to slap onto a friendo)

Lesser Restoration (if both you and the friendo need this spell, then you save a level 2 spell slot, and there was much rejoicing)

Locate Animals or Plants (not a good spell, not helped by a friendo considering range is 5 miles)

Pass Without Trace (you have two nodes of this, maybe? That can be useful within the range that you can control the friendo?)

Protection from Poison (niche + better resolved with a potion + same problem as Lesser Restoration + L + ratio)

Nondetection (lmao, now your dog or whatever isn't giving off psychic traces--cool)

Protection from Energy (actually usable. First spell since Longstrider that has a consistent use-case, btw)

Speak with Plants (lmao)

Water Breathing (Demon Slayer is cringe)

Water Walk (niche)

Freedom of Movement (has uses, not as consistent as Barkskin or Protection from Energy)

Locate Creature (same problem as Locate Animals or Plants)

Stoneskin (now we're talking. only consistently useful spell since Protection from Energy, btw)

Commune with Nature (this technically applies to your friendo, however there is no additional effect, except that if somebody cast Speak with Animals, then they could get that information out of the friendo instead of you, for whatever reason)

Tree Stride (this could be useful, actually)

This leaves us with around 6 spells you would consistently consider casting for the benefit of your friendo: Longstrider, Barkskin, Find Traps, Protection from Energy, Stoneskin, and Tree Stride. A couple of spells will see occasional use: Jump, Pass without Trace, Water Breathing, Water Walking, and Freedom of Movement. The rest are terrible. Is this really worth waiting until 15th level?

The key issue here, and why the class is so horrible (to the point of dooming the world to no domesticated animals) is the author's perception of action-economy cheating. All game developers need to consider their action economy when designing their game. I feel that WotC design D&D's action economy with similar consideration to Magic: The Gathering. I am no master of Magic: The Gathering. I tend not to like playing it, personally, but it's a fine enough game (for clarification). Cards in Magic that allow the Player to "mana-cheat" are generally considered to be good. There is a scale to this, of course, but it is a generally powerful effect. WotC seem to perceive action economy similar to how they perceive mana (from my experience playing both games). A Character's level and features are akin to their Mana, and the thing that they are doing similar to the text of a card. Some cards, such as the Bear, are honest cards with attack and health. They are like characters who are not specialized to do that action with various proficiency. Think of a Wizard making a melee attack: that's a bear. Other cards are 3/3 with upside (apparently Mayhem Devil is good? idk enough about Magic: The Gathering to care). Those are characters are specialized in that action. Think of the Paladin using smite, and compare that to the wizard. Then there is mana-cheating, basically being able to play more cards then you are "supposed to" during the turn-number/land on field (which could be considered akin to character level). If the Beast Master Ranger could perform an action and command their beast to make an action, that would be considered akin to mana cheating. The Ranger is cheating the action economy by getting "extra attack" (with downside of the extra attack sucking ass because it comes from a 1/4 at max HD creature) before level 5. "THAT WOULD BE TOO POWERFUL!" Squawked Chris Perkins, perched on his stand, hunched over the WotC writers as he ruffles his wings (for some reason, idk, this is the imagery that came to mind lol). Meanwhile, the Moon Druid could turn into a bear... last level... and get a multi-attack from being a bear. And the effect of Longstrider from being a bear. Plus a bunch of extra health from being a bear. Plus extra strength from being a bear.

I just. I just don't understand. Like, I literally understand what they were thinking, I believe, but I cannot manifest into my brain why they considered an extra attack or action from a 1/4 hd creature to be "unfair."

Side-note: how is the beast companion capable of taking the "help" action? Like, how? What can it do? How is it helping with Dexterity (Stealth), or Dexterity (Slight of Hand)? I can see Help as a contextual option based on the kind of animal and what they are being asked to do, but I feel there are better ways to address this (this will come up later).

The most tragic thing about the Beast Master Ranger is that their special gimmick is largely outclassed by the spell, Find Familiar. Not only is this spell better than the Beast Master Features in several ways (as the level three version, but also into the future for a while), but anyone can access it at Level 4, with upside. If you take the Magic Initiate Feat, you can choose Find Familiar as your Spell AND you get two Wizard cantrips. That's pretty good. Any human can be better than the beast master at Level 1 with their bonus feat.

The major benefit of Find Familiar is that the familiar can act independently of your character. There are other upsides:

You can communicate telepathically, which I do not think you can do as a Beast Master Ranger.

If it dies, it simply rematerializes if you cast this again. You do not have to go find another animal (which can be a serious obstacle).

You can unsummon it, unlike the Beast Master's Companion. In any environment that is not the wilderness, the familiar is simply less awkward to maintain.

The Familiar can CHANGE ITS FORM by casting the spell again.

You can send touch spells to another character via the familiar. This is MUCH better than sharing a spell that effects the user with the animal companion ("in many cases"), and it comes PRE-BUILT INTO THE SPELL. This is not a 15th level feature of the familiar. You get this right out of the box. What the shit? Was the writer of this spell not aware of how particularly cruel this mechanic is to the Beast Master Ranger? It is actually so funny.

"Well, if you're so smart, how what would YOU do to fix it?" a 5e defender might say. I have two fixes to this.

Remove it. Just remove the archetype from the game. It should never have been published. It is bad. Replace it with something better.

Okay, so let's say that the Ranger has a number of "Points" to spend equal to their Ranger Class. These points can be spent on a number of Beast Companions, giving them special traits (like bonus to attack or damage, being proficient in skills, bonus to AC, etc). The Ranger can use their action to make all their companions take actions. There would be limits to this that make sense. For example, say at Level 3, the maximum CR a companion can be is 1/4, but at 7th level this increases to 1/2, at 11th to 3/4, and 15th to 1. I don't know how much each CR monster would cost in terms of Points (2 points per 1/4 CR seems reasonable, but that would require testing), and I don't off-hand know what the various elements you could attach to the beasts are. This basic framework, however, would make you truly feel like a master of beasts. This way, Wisdom (Animal Handling) can also be a real skill that does what you would expect it to do. Training a beast to do certain actions is not nearly as powerful as turning a bunch of friendos into awesome and versatile little fellows.

Okay. That's it for this post. Beast Master Ranger sucks because Wizards of the Coats genuinely does not understand or respect their action economy. That's the TL;DR of it all.

-trans rights -free Palestine -WotC sucks -buy my book

Next Villain Arc:

Previous Villain Arc:

[paging-possum]

Milwaukees your protocol

I spent so much time this week being like “ohhhh god I haven’t been working on my comic at all this week, where are the pictures” as if I haven’t been plugging away at the script nonstop. Everyday I wake up and I start writing and then I realize what I’m writing is really weak and then I start rewriting BUT the outline is fairly solid and I’m maybe ⅓ of the way through writing. This will get done and it will be interesting (affirmation) (prayer). 

As previously mentioned, I don't have that much art this week because writing, but I did decide that the characters in this one are going to all get fun unique little outfits because I ADORE putting those together! It’s like designing someone’s room, but you get to see it way more often in the story! Lyssa’s room will show up though, nobody worry, you WILL get to see her space at some point. While doing that I did realize that my roommate and I dress like Lyssa and Terry respectively which is humbling on my behalf but at least I’m in control of his outfits. And speaking of my roommate, the reason I don’t have more characters drawn is because I was going to do that last night but we ended up going through all her dating apps so I could have opinions about all the people she’s talking to and it was a BLAST. It also took 3 hours. But that's what my 14 hours on a bus this week are going to be for (lying to myself) (I will fall asleep immediately).

Of course he has blue hair and pronouns. Other projects this week! I'm drawing lots of cities so I'm doing lots of city studies! They’re very fun and VERY useful for some current things I'm working on >:] I’m hoping to do more when I go home for break this week and am no longer stuck on campus, but for now I’m working off photos my sister sends me since she lives somewhere way more visually interesting than I do. 

On the homework front, I made some very cool things this week! I had to make a piece using a rubber duck in ‘an atypical way’ and ended up making a comic I’m really happy with, but it also has a nonzero amount of me bitching about my old friend group being so obsessed with boys so I can’t really post it. But I can post some of it!

WHAT AM I LISTENING TO THIS WEEK:

Riverdale. Yes it’s a show, yes it’s still been such a core part of this week’s creative process that I just have to put it down. I’m finally getting to season 7 and GOD I love Riverdale everyone watch Riverdale so you can finally understand the triumphs and defeats the epic highs and lows of high school football. 

Too Polite to Fight by Autoheart

Friendly Neighborhood Poltergeist by Rory Webley

Archie’s All American from the hit CW drama Riverdale

Also another blatant plug for my friend who introduced me to devlogs in the first place- she does a radio show on Wednesdays that I always listen to (it’s been running for two weeks but it’s just that good) (if friends or mutuals want to know when/where to listen you can message me and ask) Anyways, she posts the playlists on Spotify afterwards, here’s this weeks if anyone wants to hear it and future sets! a

[shads-shipposts]

Shadow omg I’m LOSING IT I wanna hear more ship stories!!! The snowman made me cry laughing 😂

Oh man the group I was with were definitely characters lol

Wish I had more amazing stories, but seven days didn't allow for too too much. A lot of it was kinda dull and repetitive work.

But the captain was a sliding glass door (unhinged) and such a cutup. One of the hydraulic pulleys broke, hit the deck, and more or less exploded, less than a foot from the captain, and he laughed it off. Two of my fellow scientists (a guy and a girl) were on the bow while I was up in the wheelhouse with the captain and he joked to the first mate that he should hit the horn (pretty sure the guy was trying to flirt with the girl). He often sang along to the radio too, which was entertaining. He caught a shark at one point after night fell and was very animated about that.

I got decently close to the first mate, consider him between friend and acquaintance. Still have his contact actually. We were chillin' under one of the overhangs chatting when we both heard a roar and we looked out just in time to see an F22 Raptor zip past. I could see the pilot's head he was so close, and according to the captain they like to use the ship as target practice.

In that same vein, when I was out there I was keeping an eye out for cargo ships (for obvious reasons lol) and I noticed something that was neither cargo ship nor yacht. A few minutes later the captain came over the radio and said "Hey y'all, Warship Five says hello!". Turns out it was the USS Milwaukee, and the captain asked for "fireworks" from them but they said no. Also I just checked and the USS Milwaukee apparently was decommissioned in 2023, and I had my research cruise in 2022 so that's kinda cool.

That's the main cool ones, the others are kinda mundane/boring but can confirm through my chats with the first mate that a love for the Second Amendment is very much alive and well in sailors lol

Something of note was the cook was sweet, there are certain foods I can't stand for taste/sensory reasons and he often made me special versions. The galley rules sheet was also pretty funny, though they were apparently from the past cook.

I didn't bond too too much with the scientist crew (I thought I did but was proven wrong later) but they did have this cup which was funny.

One main thing I learned about the sailors (and why I remember them more fondly than the scientist crew) is they are the type to talk shit to your face but nice about you behind your back. They're also very blunt and straightforward, and you don't have to worry about them pretending to like you to "keep the peace" or "keep things positive". They address issues when they happen and while they may not always get along, they don't pretend to like someone for some social reason.

Went off on a bit of a tangent there, but I'm still (ironically) salty about some things that went on in that internship ^^;

[octuscle]

I just wanna be a dumb, dull teenager biker… not caring or thinking about anything, only having knowledge is bikes and not even being able to do simple maths, just riding, stinking and farting on my motorcycle….

Do you think you could make it happen? Thanks

Bloody hell! Do you have any idea what's going on here so close to the holidays? Read. The. Fucking. Manual! Select properties, define characteristics, activate. And if that's too much work for you, select one of the default settings. Here's a really cool one. 19 years old, well-trained, C-student throughout. Motorcycle fan. Here you go!

You can't get enough of the feeling of being in a motorcycle suit. Your bare, sweaty skin in tight nylon and leather. And then off you go on your racing bike, onto the highway and steel, leather and asphalt become one with you. It's not the first time that your jockstrap has gotten wet from precum while riding.

You and your bike get hungry. You pull out at the next rest stop. You fill up, take a piss and sit down in the diner. The waitress is on the ball. While the waitress takes your order, you take off your helmet and open your jacket. A gush of musky air comes out. You run your fingers through your long, sweaty locks. The waitress looks a little disgusted. And passes on your order.

Just as your salad with tofu and the cranberry spritzer are served, a group of truckers come in the door. The diner is full. There's only room at your table. Without asking, the four giants join you. The first one asks if that's your bike out there. A rarely stupid question, you are the only guest in motorcycle gear. Your mouth is full and you just nod. "1992 Fatboy?" asks the trucker. The baby is your pride and joy. You nod again. "Difficult bike, but I assume you have experience with the engine". You're still chewing, but you show your calloused and oil-smeared hands to prove it. Yes, your baby is not really reliable. But it's honest American steel. Not some crap from Japan, Italy or Germany. With your mouth full, you say that you used to have a Triumph. But nothing beats the machines from Milwaukee. And then you bite into your burger again. The second trucker orders a large portion of scrambled eggs and bacon, gives you a fist bump and says. "Damn right, buddy. America first!" You burp and confirm "America first!"

Half of your burger is hanging in your beard. You're still hungry. When the truckers' food arrives, you order a portion of the ribs. And another beer. You ask the guys if they want another one. The ribs are delicious. They are dripping with sauce. Your fingers are not only oily, but also covered in fat and sauce. You wipe them on your jeans and the hair on your belly. Your next round of beer is coming. You toast with an "America first", take a big gulp, look at each other and burp simultaneously. You like these guys. Big honest heroes of the highway. You pay for your meal at Lucy's and promise to come by again soon. You say goodbye to your friends and go out to smoke a cigar before continuing your journey. And you really need to piss. But you'd rather do that behind the shed.

Hehehe, you already know why you don't piss in the toilets. It doesn't take long for one of the truckers to join you. He doesn't smoke a cigar. But what's in his mouth is hardly any smaller

Preset found @neusatz-an-der-donau, later pic found @vareddman76

[whatavery]

Wanderlust Chapter 1

The first chapter of my not-so-little fanfiction featuring the Dixie Jazz Drifters Orchestra's early days a decade before they became Lackadaisy's house band. While it plays a bit on what little we know of the band, a lot of this is also my personal head canon. I'll be posting the remaining chapters (So far) over the next few days.

---

The street outside St. Cloud station wasn’t a very busy one. It certainly put things into perspective, a stark contrast to how crowded other stations had been. It was overcast and windy as the next train pulled into the station, bringing with it metallic screeching as it came to a halt. A blanket of steam swept over the platform as passengers disembarked and new passengers got onboard. Joining the howling of the cool October breeze was the sound of smooth musical notes from two brass instruments.

Seated on their luggage, the two orange cats played on, even with the noise from the tank engine and the loud whistling from the conductor temporarily overpowering the sound of their tunes. It was a mellow, slow melody that greeted the passengers as they came around the depot from the platform. The two tomcats were dressed warmly in their coats, the trumpet player even wore fingerless gloves and a scarf. The hat sitting in front of the two was a bit of a sorry sight. In their almost full day at the station, they hadn’t managed to scrape much cash together for tickets to their next stop. Neither of them were deterred by any means. As the passengers came on by, the two cats played on. They didn’t make eye contact with any of them, just simply played as though they were machinations built to do that and nothing more.

Sy’s ears twitched ever so slightly at the sound of coins falling into the hat. He heard them clinking against what little was in there already, but he didn’t look yet.

Once the crowd dissipated, the two cats kept playing for a while longer, until they were quite a ways away. Sy was the first to lower his brass instrument from his lips. He leaned on over and picked up the hat. He scooped the coins up into his gloved hands and counted in his head, his green eyes lit up quite a bit once he finished counting. “Looks like we’ll make it to another station, Zib.”

The other cat lowered his clarinet after playing one of the simplistic early tunes he’d learned years ago. He put the clarinet on his lap and stretched each arm, making his joints pop slightly. “Good. Means we can get out’a here finally. What time is it?”

It was more of a question for himself than for Sy. Zib rose to his feet with a grunt, clarinet in hand, to stretch his legs. Neither of them carried a pocket watch with them. Their only way to measure time had been seeing the overcast sky turn gradually darker.

“Hang tight, I’ll get us some tickets,” Zib said as he reached a hand out towards Sy for the money. He then trudged towards the depot, leaving Sy by himself. Putting his trumpet back into its case, he too rose to his feet, getting a chance to stretch his legs as he put the hat back on his head, his ears laid back to accommodate it. He stuck his hands into his pockets and walked along the length of the depot, glancing towards the trees in the distance that surrounded the tracks. Many branches were completely barren, the few leaves that had held out against the changing seasons having taken on a darker, duller color by now. He remembered how green everything still was when they left Milwaukee.

It had been almost a full month on the road by now. And while Sy didn’t regret leaving with Zib, it was still a lot to get used to; not having a bed every night; not having a meal whenever they wanted it. But freedom… that they had in abundance. No one could tell them what to do out here. It was their own pace, their own schedule and their own journey.

Sy adjusted his scarf a bit and looked back towards their stuff. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They could only carry so much with them when they also had their instruments. They could both use a bath and fresh clothes, but right now, they were just aimlessly wandering, using the railroads as their only means of travel. They’d crossed over into Minnesota a while ago and it was the furthest either of them had ever been from home.

Sy wondered what would await him if he returned home. Maybe he ought to send a letter home… not that his family would have much of a chance to write back to him, considering how often they were moving to a new town or city. Unlike Zib, Sy hadn’t been leaving anything particularly bad. Sy knew Zib didn’t have the best home-life, and he knew he’d been considerably better off in that regard. But when Zib had stated his intentions to skip town as their peers prepared to move on to bigger and better things, Sy hadn’t hesitated to join him. Sy had left a letter for his family, explaining everything the day the two left together. He was sure Zib hadn’t done the same. Sy had had things lined up for him too, he was going to get into higher education, unlike Zib who had been a bit of a drifter around town for most of the time that they’d known each other…

A light chuckle escaped Sy as he remembered how a much younger Zib had to convince him that he wouldn’t die from skipping school. He remembered spending a whole day around town with Zib, constantly worried he’d look over his shoulder and see their teacher swooping down on them like a hawk.

Rustling, dry leaves blew past Sy's feet as he made his way back towards their luggage. Each had brought a suitcase’s worth of clothes and a case for their instruments. Said instruments were their only way to make money as of now. Sy had thought about taking on more traditional work whenever they hit another major city. It sounded a lot more stable and like it might actually allow them to have somewhere to stay as well, at least with any luck it might.

That said, remembering when they first started doing this also brought a smile to Sy’s face. Two little grade-school rascals on the street corner, playing for cash to buy sweets instead of going to classes. It had been Zib’s idea, of course. They weren’t much to write home about back then; their music dissonant, their much smaller lung capacities hindering them slightly. And of course, Zib hadn’t yet reached his current form where he could charm just about any woman with just his eyes and his tunes.

Zib had never been one for school. Not that he wasn’t bright at all, because he most certainly was. But institutions didn’t seem to agree with his free spirit. Though he’d never gotten as far as Sy had, according to Zib himself, he knew all he needed to know. He’d always been far more interested in his music, so he didn’t lack dedication – Sy knew that much.

Tickets in hand, Zib returned to Sy. Unlike his trumpet-playing comrade, Zib didn’t think about writing home, much less returning. He wasn’t in the mood to be talked down to about everything he did. No, he’d let his brothers enjoy the company of their dead-end parents. It wasn’t like they seemed to have much left for him besides scorn and disappointment. Hell, Zib wouldn’t be surprised if they enjoyed their disappointment in him – it had to get boring to constantly praise his brothers.

“Our train will be the next one pulling into the station. Wanna move around to sit by the platform?” Zib asked, tone not particularly enthused.

“And where are we getting off this time?” Sy asked. Though they usually stayed on the train and got off when they felt like it, this had resulted in them getting ejected from the train once, something Sy wasn’t too eager to relive. The shrug he got as a response certainly didn’t help either. Sy cracked a small smile and picked his stuff up. “Alright, you’re the boss…”

Zib returned the smile and walked with Sy and their stuff to the other side of the depot. The wind was starting to pick up and Zib wasn’t sure if it was getting late or if they were getting darker clouds overhead. Thankfully, they’d have some shelter if it did start raining, thanks to the depot’s roof.

“You want to go back to Milwaukee?” Zib asked suddenly, as if he’d been privy to Sy's private thoughts while he was gone. The clarinet playing cat reached into his pockets and while covering his work so the wind couldn’t ruin it, he rolled two cigarettes – one for each of them.

“No… Do you?” Sy asked as Zib lit his cigarette. He took the cigarette and took a drag and blew out the smoke to let it get carried away by a particularly cold gust of wind, the smoke swirling like a ghostly veil in the wind, before it dissipated completely. The two cats’ yellow-green eyes met for a moment as they stared at each other. Zib didn’t look particularly convinced, but Sy had also given up trying to read his friend’s facial expressions years ago. “Well, I just miss being home is all. I already told you I was coming with you to… find our destiny, was that what it was?”

Zib’s face broke into a smile as he reached over to pat Sy’s shoulder, even giving it a light squeeze. “Yeah, I believe ‘destiny’ was the word you used. But if you really want to go back, I wouldn’t stop you – and I wouldn’t blame you either. You could head on back and get a degree and a stable job. And a wife, probably.”

“Shut up,” Sy muttered, blushing at the mention of a potential wife. He knew Zib was teasing him as evidenced by the smile that Sy couldn’t help but return. “That sure would make ma and pa happy, though. But I want to be happy myself.”

“Ah, selfish happiness – the best kind,” Zib said dryly before bringing his cigarette back to his mouth. He glanced over towards the same trees Sy had looked at earlier. “I don’t know if we’ll even find it or where, pal. Best we can hope for is coming across some place that’s fresh out of two musicians. Maybe we should head on down to Chicago and try our luck there. It’s a big city, it’s bound to have room for two misfits.”

Chicago was quite a ways away, but Sy simply gave a non-committal nod. While they both shared the sense of wanderlust, Zib seemed to be fine with traveling without any sense of direction or any goals in mind. Sometimes it felt like a fool’s errand, going from station to station with no end in sight…

“Cheer up, Sy,” Zib said in a gentler tone. “Just think of it like that time we hitchhiked our way across town. This is just a longer trip – that’s all.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing of it. It wasn’t quite the same, they’d had a goal in mind back then. Zib knew it too, neither choosing to comment on it. “That was the time we-…”

They both fell silent, but it was a knowing silence. They both knew what had gone down that time. While they didn’t feel any shame for it, it wasn’t anything either of them wanted to discuss in public. Sy glanced over, his thicker-furred tail brushing Zib's for just a moment.

“Ah yes, the time we were introduced to Lady Liquor,” Zib said, his face cast into shadow by his hat. It wasn’t what Sy remembered that day for, but he knew Zib was simply being tactful about it out in public. The trumpet-playing cat cleared his throat slightly, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Zib’s thoughts drifted back to that fateful day, four years ago. What had started as two rascals making their way across town after school had taken a turn. Rumor around school had it a place there sold booze to anyone regardless of age. And of course, two fifteen year old rascals like them (Or rather one rascal and his trusty friend who had plenty of reservations) had to see for themselves.

To think that was one of the most useful things Zib had heard in school…

They managed to get there and indeed, they had entered a highly suspect, small building and been able to buy Whiskey. While not the highest quality, it most certainly did the trick. Huddled together in an alleyway, backs resting against trashcans, the two had gotten progressively drunk. Would Zib do such a thing now? No, he most likely wouldn’t have. Had he been able to tell his younger self no, he would have. And yet…

Looking over at Sy for a moment, Zib remembered the effect alcohol had had on him; first he started crying and rambling about his fears. The next he began to kiss Zib’s cheek. It was a strange feeling at first. Zib had kissed girls before, but… he hadn’t quite counted on his best friend wanting to do such a thing. But any pair of lips gracing his cheek was pleasant, he found.

Reaching a hand up towards his chest, Zib pretended to adjust his coat. Just thinking about it made his heart beat a little faster. It was still so hard to believe that it had happened.

But when Sy seemed to sober up a bit, he’d apologized profusely and started crying again. While it was indeed… unusual, Zib didn’t have it in him to be angry with his friend. And why would he? It wasn’t like it had caused him any harm. In that moment, he’d taken a massive swig of whiskey and planted a kiss right on Sy’s lips.

What followed was still mostly foggy to Zib, but what little he did remember would never leave him. Just looking at Sy now, he could vividly picture the scared, young boy who looked like he might die of shame for kissing him. He smiled.

“What?” Sy asked when their eyes met. “Do I have something on my face?”

Shaking his head, Zib simply reached over to playfully hit his arm, gently. “No, I just thought about… well, you know…”

Sy’s ears flattened against his head and Zib could almost imagine how red his face was under his fur. He grinned more. They’d barely made it home, helping each other along the way, especially Zib who had had to really steady Sy. Of course, that was harder said than done when they’d both gotten quite a buzz. That had been quite the night in the Zibowski household when the least-favorite son had come home clearly drunk…

By the time the next train rolled into the station, they had both finished their cigarettes and it did indeed start to rain. It was almost too dark to see now, but luckily lights had been turned on to help them see as they boarded the train. The two wandering musicians settled into their own compartment, pulling the curtain down over the glass window on the compartment door, before locking it.

“Can I sit next to you?” Sy asked after they’d stashed their luggage up above. As the train started moving, the rain appeared to be getting heavier, pelting against the window quite loudly, obscuring their view. Granted, it was so dark outside that it wasn’t a very spectacular view to begin with.

“Sure you can.” Zib had removed his big coat, sitting by in his white shirt and his pants. A tie hung from his neck, crooked and in need of being tied up properly. Zib took the seat closest to the window, facing the way the train drove, as Sy joined him on his left after removing his own coat and his hat. Sy wore a sweater underneath, something nice and soft to keep him warm.

Though they both could do with a fresh change of clothes, the smell of cigarette smoke that stuck to their clothes masked some of the more bodily smells that might otherwise make this close contact less than pleasant. Zib could feel Sy’s whiskers brushing his own as the other cat got comfortable by his side. The two of them sighed, almost in perfect unison.

Zib had always liked train rides. They were a lot faster and more pleasant than car rides. He could get up and walk around each train car, if he needed to stretch his legs. “You good, Simon?” he playfully asked the other cat whose head now rested on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good… Dorian...” Sy replied in a hushed voice right next to Zib. Zib removed his own hat and placed it on his lap instead, his ears getting a chance to stand up for once. He cleared his throat slightly. “So, before… when you were thinking about stuff…”

“The first time we kissed?” Sy flinched when Zib said it out loud, sitting up, looking towards the door, as if expecting someone to stand there and look appalled by what they heard. Zib smirked a bit and stroked the other cat’s head. “What about it, pal?”

Sy didn’t reply at first, just remaining silent as he tried to find the words. “How much of it do you remember exactly…?”

The question seemed to amuse Zib who simply chuckled and reached up to gently ruffle the fur on Sy’s head. “I remember most of it up until I kissed you on the lips. If you even remember that… you were such a lightweight back then…”

“Weren’t we both, honestly?” Sy asked, cheeks indeed warm under his fur. He cleared his throat some, looping an arm around Zib as well. “I remember your speech to be a lot more slurred than mine…”

“If you say so, bud, if you say so,” Zib said, giving Sy a small squeeze to hold him close.

It was so dark outside now that they too were left in near complete darkness, had it not been for the single candle that illuminated their compartment ever so slightly. “You don’t mind if I just… sleep here, do you?”

In truth, Zib didn’t mind, though he also knew that this wasn’t a particularly good look for either of them, should anyone come knocking on their compartment door. “Sure, you can rest a bit…” Zib said despite his better judgment. He couldn’t tell his faithful companion no.

He reached up to extinguish the small flame that kept their compartment lit up, casting them into darkness. A hand gently grasped Sy's shoulder. Rough, calloused fingers gave his shoulder a light little stroke in the darkness as the two enjoyed each other’s warmth.

“Just wake me, if you have to,” Sy said before a small smack sounded in the dark, Zib feeling his cheek warming up as it was pecked tenderly.

Though he wasn’t going to sleep just yet, Zib didn’t want to deprave Sy of any sort of comfort. Especially this kind of warmth. On the road, they had to take what they could get. Above all else, they had each other.