#this is one of my favorite episodes of all time

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

Song of the year? overall - Mama by MCR released this year - Good Luck Babe!

Album of the year? The Black Parade by MCR released this year - TTPD (call me cringe idc)

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year? MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

Movie of the year? Dead Poets Society

TV show of the year? BBC Sherlock

Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you? The Sign of the Three BBC Sherlock (the fact that I watched this series 4 years ago for the first time...)

Favorite actor of the year? Nastasha Lyonne

Game of the year? DTI dunno

Best month for you this year? March?

Something that made you cry this year? what hasn't

Something you want to do again next year? Movie night with bsf

Talk about a new friend you made this year She's nice, she is insecure so she lashes out at me at times which is unfair but its fine.

How was your birthday this year? Not great, not terrible. A 3.6 Röntgen ifykwim. The cake was awesome sauce tho

Favorite book you read this year? A Little Life by Hanya Yanahigara Or wait The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde OR WAITTT Bunny by Mona Awad OR-

What’s a bad habit you picked up this year? tumblr

Post a picture from the beginning of the year

17. Post a picture from the end of the year

18. A memorable meal this year? Ramen with an egg Also I'll make thupka for the entire fam today which will be memorable

19. What’re you excited about for next year? I'm gonna count all my sneezes of 2025 so that

20.What’s something you learned this year? That carbon is a fucking whore

21.What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year? I have two posters

22.Favorite place you visited this year? This one village in Jaipur

23.If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be? Don't rely on bonds

24.Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions? I had one of not killing myself so I think I'm holding up pretty well all things considered.

25.Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one Sunny - A brown lesbian who listens to indie music

End of the year Asks

Song of the year?

Album of the year?

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Movie of the year?

TV show of the year?

Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

Favorite actor of the year?

Game of the year?

Best month for you this year?

Something that made you cry this year?

Something you want to do again next year?

Talk about a new friend you made this year

How was your birthday this year?

Favorite book you read this year?

What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

Post a picture from the beginning of the year

Post a picture from the end of the year

A memorable meal this year?

What’re you excited about for next year?

What’s something you learned this year?

What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

Favorite place you visited this year?

If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

[respectthepetty]

The Heart Killers' Colors? - Ep. 6

I got my bizcochitos and boozy and spicy cinnamon dark hot chocolate (not champurrado, never champurrado), so I'm tipsy, jolly, and ready to watch episode six of The Heart Killers for Joong.

I mean for Fadel.

WAIT! I mean for colors!

Eff the colors! I'm here for water-based lube and condoms! Thank goodness for parents who advocate for safe sex, so I can get myself together after seeing Fadel do the walk of NO shame since Fadel should not feel ashamed for enjoying sex! Thanks, dad, for reminding me of my priorities!

Hold up! Are we switching to Shakespeare's The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice now?! Because that story dealt with lies and manipulation leading to multiple murders, and we all believe Mother has lied and manipulated these boys into killing others for her own agenda. *sips boozy hot chocolate*

Black Brooder Fadel is lightening up but is wearing red and Red Rascal Bison is wearing blue, so does this mean Style is a Red Rascal and Kant is a Blue Boy? I think the behind-the-scenes people are lying to me.

Style is wearing red again! And Kant is still on his bullshit, but they are sitting at a blue covered table. Does that mean anything?

It would be easier if Kant was a Green Guy (or even a Yellow Yal). It just makes more sense!

Because, regardless of what Bison thinks about blue, he is a Red Rascal.

See! Look at the blue disappear when he becomes passionate!

And a Green Guy would complement him and his aggressive and passionate personality. He would balance him out, and he would be the chill to Bison's no-chill self. They'd be chiles! They'd be Christmas!

And Style would make far more sense as a Red Rascal because of the way he brings out Fadel's desires!

Are you really a Blue Boy, Style?! I don't know because Dunk's arms are distracting me!

But I do know that I would go anywhere and do anything for this man just like Style does. If Fadel wanted to go to Top Golf, I'd go to that stupid frat bro place for my man. If Fadel wanted to go hunting in the woods for a week, I, a vegetarian, would go sit with him in silence for eight to twelve hours a day and make just enough noise to warn the animals, so he couldn't shoot any of them. And if he wanted me to eat Colorado green chile, I would NEVER DO IT because that's fake green chile and a stew, but I'd watch him eat it (while I eat Hatch like a proper person). That's the power of Joong Fadel.

Alexa, play Letters from Cleo's version of "I Want You to Want Me" from 10 Things I Hate About You!

Didn't I see you cryin' Feelin' all alone without a friend You know you feel like dyin' Oh didn't I see you cryin' I want you to want me I need you to need me I'd love you to love me I'm beggin' you to beg me

This is literally the only color I trust in this show right now, Cinematographer Rath.

BECAUSE PINK = 💕LOVE💕

Oh, thank goodness, the brothers are back to their true colors, and by that I mean chloroforming people until they pass out.

WHAT ARE YOUR COLORS?! JUST TELL ME ALREADY!

Now is not the time to serve cunt. Put those tits back in, you two!

Interesting that Mother is not in full red, but like a dulled orange-ish red.

Even more interesting that Keen matches her. I'd be wary of this kid if I was Bison and Fadel.

Kant is now giving me Beetlejuice and Foot Locker realness, but, thankfully, Style is offering me up some of that Blue Boy-ness I keep hearing about. Yes, Style, be loyal to your man! You are in love with a criminal and this type isn't rational; it's physical.

WHY ARE YOU WEARING RED AGAIN THOUGH?! Is it for love?! Fadel is, once again, light. He loves you too, Style. HE LOVES YOU TOO!

Bison is fully back in red now, and I do not think it's because of 💕love💕. 😬😬😬

Kant thought he was going to put Bison behind bars.

But it's about to get very gay and murderous up in here. In the words of one of my favorite Kesha songs, "This place about to blow" and not how Bison usually does it for Kant.

Kant, this twink is going to end you.

That's what you get for not showing your true color.

[the-nation-of-today]

All I want for christmas is... a loose roll of toilet paper?

[bisexualbrainrots]

After being a casual viewer of 911 for almost 4 years I never expected to actually get into the online fandom.

It has been a rollercoaster ride for me personally. I entered these spaces after 7x01 and never in a million years did I expect to find so many amazing people (even though I started in twitter lmao).

"Buck, Bothered and Bewildered" will always be an episode I'll hold deep in my heart, since I am bisexual myself (as if the user didn't give it away lol). Buck has been my favorite character since season 3, and his relationship with Tommy basically altered my brain chemistry.

I came back to Tumblr after 8 years, I came back to writing fanfiction after 5 years, I fell in love with a fictional couple in a way hadn't in a long time. I owe that to the performances mostly, falling in love with Tommy was so easy, and letting him go is not on my mind, and will probably never be (and honestly, Lou Ferrigno Jr also charmed me).

I'm so grateful for all the people I got to meet here, to those who read my stuff and comment on them, and those who join me in my delusional ideas/spec. I'm grateful for those who've listened to my ideas even though I think they're not that great (this for you two @beanarie and @a-mel0n <3).

The community that has formed over the love for Buck and Tommy is honestly one of the most beautiful fandom spaces I've ever been with. The support has been honest to God, overwhelming, and I will always cherish any and all of you here, those who've been here since the beginning and those who will come later until the end.

Despite not being able to donate this year, I decided to write this and pour my love to all of you, I hope each and every one of you lives a happy life, and for everything to get better.

Thank you @alliwantforchristmasislou for organizing this, and as a goodbye I want to reiterate that this is why #alliwantforchristmasislou <3

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

yeahhh ive learned a lot of sick tricks from my buds and tumblr that help some the first thing i figured out for myself personally was that like, if i dont do enough long form content and enjoyable long form activities (ex: spend all day scrolling and junk) i will NOT have the energy to do the things i actually want to do becuase as it turns out we basically get a limited amount of motivation per day and mines a mess then i learned a neat trick today where you say "i want" instead of "i should" or like "vauge feeling of i could od this or i could do that-" it helps a weird amount and i can then kinda one at a time cross off which activities i do or dont want to do one of my friends has this AWESOME wheel of activities, and they and i and my boyfriend all have our own approaches to the suggestion

they randomize their activities every day then do them one by one all of their favorite things or things they want to grow at per day I personally just go for "try to do one or two things i like a day and if im not sure what i want to do, randomly select em with a randomizer" and my boyfriend randomizes it twice and goes with whatever two things it suggested and does them whetther he likes it or not i personally find even if its just watching a like, episode of a tv show instead of scrolling on youtube, that still counts as "bigger dopamine and happy brain chemicals" time and it helps SO SO MUCH

the final tip i have is threatening myself iwth laying on the ground or otherwise doing something uncomfortable and frankly inconvinent and socially unacceptable in public if i dont do something i know i need to do , it helps quite a bit :) that and of course mindfully enjoying things like with fancy mindfulness excercises those help my final tip: imagine up an evil enemy who you hate whos intentionally standing between you and having a good time, despise them, fight them, do things just to spite them, very fun

oh and of course try to plan at least one thing every day week month and year to enjoy and look forward to that's also helped me a LOT with this

hope some of these rando tips help!

You ever have that "hungry but nauseous" feeling about activities? Like you really really want to do something and you've got plenty of fun hobbies and things you could pick from but all of the options turn your stomach so you're just laying there bored and angry about it.

[d0rothydraws]

Prompt 3: Sylus following MC's holiday traditions that they enjoy.

It was your first Christmas together. You always celebrated it in some sort of way each year. Sylus, on the other hand never had a reason to. Sure the twins did their little festive thing and decorated the base and at time Mephisto as they wrapped him in garland. He never really felt a reason to celebrate - until you.

The festivities started the first week of December. You casually mentioned how you had to buy a new tree, always having fake ones since you moved out on your own. Your current one was falling apart and it was time to get a new one. Though, instead Sylus opted in for a real one. Secretly it was a reason to go out with you to the tree farm and watch your eyes shine as you debated between three different trees. Then finally as you two chose together - a tall and fat tree that looked a little wonky at the top - he told you to relax as he did the hard part.

You waited in the little cabin area where the customers would warm up with a cup of hot chocolate by the fireplace. There was a residential dog sleeping by the owners, an old lady that was knitting in a rocking chair. She told you how her and her husband had owned this tree far for over 56 years and some funny stories about her time working with the customers who would come and buy trees. About the newly wed couples who would come to get their first tree all bright eyed and bushy tailed. They would return the next year and a few of them would be pregnant or even with their newborn. The cycle would continue. Of course not everyone would always come back, or families stayed together. She said she always secretly guessed how the future would turn out for these couples, and she was always somehow right.

Sylus returned to the cabin, snow on his jacket and hair. You made him a warm cup of hot chocolate before you helped dust him off. You could hear the old woman chuckle softly, her laugh full of warmth as if the two of you reminded of her and her husband.

The two of you prepared to leave, Sylus' arm wrapped around your back. You said goodbye to the sleeping puppy and then to the woman who moved to give you a hug. She whispered into your ear softly, her voice so tender it almost brought you to tears.

"I'll be seeing you for several, several years, honey."

--

MERRY CHRISTMAS⛄🎁🎄

This one was inspired by an episode of my favorite sleep aid called Nothing Much Happens. A few years they did one about a tree farm and it was super cute and it became one of my biggest comfort brainrots. So here's the Sylus version 🥹

If you have trouble sleeping if staying asleep I highly recommend I've been using her stuff for over 5 years now.

not sponsored LMAOO.

[aspoonofsugar]

Merry Sinsmas!

It's Christmas, so here come some quick and unorganized thoughts on the Helluva Boss season 2's finale :''') (yes, I am late to this)

First of all, I loved the episode and I thought it worked very well as the season's finale!

MY FAVORITE CALLBACKS

The episode is full of callbacks, which show how much the characters have grown. Everybody already listed them, so here are some of my favorites:

The Circus: The beginning and the end of the episode mirror The Circus, with Stolas waking up surrounded by plushies and Stolas being on a balcony looking up at the sky. This is perfect considering this was mostly Stolas's season. It starts with him in a gilded cage:

Prince, all alone Upon your throne Your power is so frail You raise your voice You have no choice Inside your gilded jail

It ends with him dealing with the responsibility of choosing freely:

Stolas: You don't need to feel any guilt for my situation, it was my choice. It was all my choice. I caused all of this.

Murder Family: I.M.P.'s mission mirrors their first mission ever, as they are asked once again to kill a cheater, even if it destroys a family. The difference is that this time the group and Blitz especially does not follow through. This is clever because 1) It ties into the Christmas spirit :P (one good deed for Christmas LOL) 2) It shows Blitz's growth. He has grown enough that he can now imagine a new family for himself and Stolas in the future. Something he could have never done in episode 1, where his business and colleagues were the only family he could conceive. Blitz has now matured enough he is more in tune with his deepest wishes and can slowly start working towards them. It showcases how an important part of the story (half of it really) is over and how next season is gonna change the game and introduce new objectives and struggles.

Spring Broken: The fight against Andrealphus's dragon parallels the fight against the sea monster in Spring Broken. Both times an imp saves their romantic partner from being eaten by a monster, slays said monster from the inside and there is a "high five" played for laughs. In Spring Broken, the couple in focus is Moxxie and Millie, whereas in Sinsmas it's Blitz and Stolas. This is lovely, as it shows Stolitz have the potential to share a full fledged romantic relationship, just like M&M. Considering Blitz sees Moxxie and Millie's bond as perfect to the point he has tried to live it by proxy, this is a pretty important implication. It shows how much Blitz is now open to a true love story with Stolas.

This is a nice moment for Moxxie, as well. In Spring Broken he was drunk and was useless during the fight, leaving it all to Millie. This time he supports Blitz and gains a high five and some appreciation from his Boss (which he deeply craves). Him and Loona's team-up is pretty awesome too <3. Finally, it is interesting that during the fight Moxxie and Millie exchange roles. Moxxie tries the melee, by using a sword, whereas Millie tries the firepower. This is a direct inversion of how they are fighting in their skirmish at the beginning of the episode, where Millie uses a sword and Moxxie a giant gun:

I wonder if it foreshadows a deeper integration Moxxie and Millie will have to undergo next season, especially because the pregnancy plotline will definately arise some conflict.

Queen Bee: Loona gets some nice moments, which show how much more open she is with others compared to the previous season. She now refers to Blitz as dad more often and she is even eager to have him spend time with her friends. Speaking of whom, I love we are seeing more Hellounds. It is so great Loona has managed to build some positive bonds from the Queen Bee's episode and she is now better integrated with the people of Gluttony, her birth sin :''') I guess next season these bonds are gonna have some focus, especially considering Loona keeps mentioning Vicky, a hellhound she hates. I wonder if it's her:

On another note, I LOVE that the Hellounds are all dressed as foods to celebrate gluttony, that is so creative!

Ice cream and Hamburger

Pop corn

Their costumes are also all yellow (or different shades of yellow), aka Bee's color! Loona's outfit even loosely resembles Bee's. I am curious if Loona and Bee's foiling will come up again tbh.

Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars: Obviously Sinmas heavily references the two other Octavia-centered episodes. This storyline would probably need a meta all for itself, but here are some thoughts. Octavia's "I Will Be Okay" parallels "You Will Be Okay". There Stolas tells Octavia he will always be in her heart, even when he can't be physically there. He also assures Octavia she will be okay even if the universe gets destroyed (because Stolas himself will make sure of it). Here, Octavia sings that even if Stolas left her, she will be okay, but she is cutting ties with her dad. She also sings so as her world (her family) is symbolically falling apart. The space symbolism is interesting because it ties with Seeing Stars, as there is a meteor shower exploding like a giant firework, just like the ones Stolas and Octavia watched together.

In general, Octavia says she is never forgiving her dad and that Stolas will only know her by her name, but she does so by:

Playing a guitar Stolas gave her

Singing a reprise of Stolas's song

Singing a song with a lot of references to space and stars

Well, let's just say Octavia will never be a stranger to Stolas because Stolas is too deeply intertwined with who Octavia is already <3<3<3

This is made clear in the climax of the episode, where Octavia goes to look for her dad because she is worried about his mental health without the Happy Pills and saves him from Andrealphus. This is once again a reference to Seeing Stars. There Octavia is shown to still be inexperienced with her powers and Stolas tells her he has yet to teach her powerful spells. Here Octavia gets a hold of her powers on her own and uses them to defeat her uncle. So, Octavia might learn to fend for herself more, but she is never truly hating her dad, no matter how angry she is.

I also like that the previous two episodes dedicated to Octavia make clear her outburst is not coming out of nowhere. Stolas has been failing her a lot since the beginning of his affair with Blitz:

In Loo Loo Land he still treats Via as the child she isn't anymore and fails to address the issue that is truly and clearly bothering Via until she forces him to. And even there, although he reassures her, Stolas fails to address the matter effectively. (Not that it is simple).

In Seeing Stars he is so caught up in his divorce, he fails to listen to Via and forgets their past promise. The fact it is Loona to find Via and not Stolas himself really ties into this. It is not that Stolas isn't trying, but at the end of the day he spends the majority of the episode with Blitz, laughing at his jokes and getting horny for him. Sure, Blitz was forced into the sit-com, but Stolas could have left Blitz and kept looking for Via. This shows how much Stolas was already struggling between his love for Via and his desire to build a romantic relationship with Blitz.

In short, Via calling Stolas out on prioritizing his relationships with Blitz over their father-daughter one is correct:

Stella: Sorry, sweetie. No talking to that deadbeat. Andrealphus, look who's finally calling! Andrealphus: Oooh! Took him this long? That's hilarious.

Stella and Andrealphus aren't exactly wrong here either. Stolas waited a lot to call Via. That is because he was shocked and needed a long sleep, but Via can't know it. From her point of view her dad took responsibility for a crime in order to save Blitz, was banished and then ghosted her for a whole night/day.

At the same time, it is obvious Via is gonna to slowly discover more and more about her dad and his pain. Finding the Happy Pills was just a first step into a process of maturation, which will lead her to become an adult. Still Stolas's daughter, but not Stolas's helpless little girl anymore.

As two sides note:

I like that season 1 ends with Loona and Blitz's bond in focus, whereas season 2 ends with Stolas and Via's. It is obvious their two girls are key for Blitz and Stolas.

I like how Stolas's home is now completely frozen. It is a great metaphor for the kind of cold and abusive environment Via is now in. It is kind of telling the only parts of the house, which are not frozen are Via's room (filled with her and Stolas's shared interests) and the closet with Stolas's stuff.

STOLITZ I loved the Stolitz's development this episode! It was the perfect wrap up of their relationship this season. It is especially interesting how their dynamic is now inverted compared to the beginning. Right now the one more openly affective and open to an official love story is Blitz. Stolas is instead too heartbroken and jaded to fully jump into it, despite how much he clearly loves Blitz. Also, as other people noticed:

Stolas: Go enjoy your Sinsmas, Blitzo. I'm fine. You don't have to stay here with me.

This is a call back to Full Moon, as Blitz is now choosing to stay by Stolas's side.

Stolas becoming Blitz's secretary is instead another callback to The Circus:

Blitzo: Yeah! A big office! Circus business with clowns and horses! and the horses will all have good names like Stapler and Biscuit Queen. Stolas: I'm sure you will. That sounds like a good business. Blitzo: Yeah! And, if you want to apply, I'll hire you. Maybe. Stolas: You'll hire me? Blitzo: Yeah, if I feel like it. Stolas: Well, I hope I qualify! You'd be a good boss.

In general, it is gonna be interesting to see Stolas struggle with his newfound situation and self-reflect on his previous privilege.

However, the part I loved the most about Stolitz is the fight against Andrealphus:

First of all, I loved the princess and knight's symbolism because it is so extra and it fits them so well! It is also Stolas's dream come true:

Stolas: You wanna know what I want? I want to know what it's like, to not be alone. I want to be someone's someone. I want to feel wanted. But like, in a romantic way, like I'm standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting: “Harriet! Don't get on that train, it's going to London and I cannot be without you!”

Secondly, I loved all the Disney references:

Blitzo: Hey Elsa! Get your icy hands off my bottom, bitch!

Frozen

Sleeping Beauty

Hercules

They are truly hellbent on turning Stolas into a Disney Princess!

OTHER THINGS I LIKED

Via vs Andre

I loved Via easily defeating Andrealphus. First of all, she is awesome and I adored her star-themed powers! Secondly, it ties very well with the classism commentary of the series.

Andrealphus is a Marquis, while Stolas is a Prince. Via is Stolas's heir, which means she is more powerful than Andrealphus, even if her powers are still raw. The short fight makes the difference clear as day.

Why is this important?

Thematically, it makes Andrealphus an interesting foil to Stolas. As a matter of fact he is clearly meant to be seen as Stolas's negative parallel. Both are homosexual nobles forced to repress their sexuality to fit the role they were given by society. However, they clearly both resent said role.

Stolas tries to evade it by starting an affair with Blitx, the first thing that truly makes him happy in years. He acts outside what is expected from Goetias, ignores protocols and eventually helps I.M.P. at a great personal cost. He is slowly going to face and unlearn his unconscious classism in the next season, as he works with Blitz and the others.

Andre tries to climb the hierarchy because he thinks that if he were more powerful and richer he will be happier. Hence he makes use of Hell's rules to dethrone Stolas and steal his assets. However, no matter how much he tries.

First of all, Hell's hierarchy isn't as easily destroyed, especially if you play by its rules:

Satan: STOLAS! I hereby strip you of your status, your power, and your title; Andrealphus: Yeees! Yeeesss! YEEESSSS!! Satan: For the next hundred years. Andrealphus: Oh motherfuck! Seriously?!

Secondly, no matter how much Andrealphus tries, there will always be someone higher than him. Stolas is gone, but Via is already able to kick his ass. He will always be a Marquis and never a Prince.

Thirdly, Andrealphus associates value to social status, but his short fight against I.M.P. makes very clear there is more than powers to a person's abilities. He is immensely more powerful than imps and hellhounds, but he sucks at fighting and it shows. Blitz and the others are able to hold their own easily.

Last, but not least there is no amount of social status that can buy true happiness. Andre being linked to Elsa is funny, but it is also meaningful when we remember Elsa is a lonely girl, who represses her emotions to fit into a system. Well, Andre does the same. He probably represses who he is (his sexuality) and is left cold and unhappy.

In short, just like Striker, Andre too is probably deep down unhappy with the current state of society. However, our protagonists' dark foils try to change their state by hurting others and crushing them under their feet. The protagonists instead more genuinely oppose the system by trying to help others.

Plot-wise, this might lead to some interesting developments.

First of all, this might tie into the Stella-centered episode. It is probable she was forced to marry Stolas, so that her family could social climb. This might explain why she was so angry about Stolas's divorce and why it was so important for her and Andre to get some retribution from Stolas. Their family is on a lower level than Stolas's one.

Secondly, Andre might at one point decide to kill Via, so that he can keep Stolas's assets for himself. This might become true especially if Via keeps rebelling against him. In this case, I have a pretty good idea of who Andre is gonna call:

Striker: Well, this has been fun, but every good thing has to come to an end. Shame you won't see your kid, again. Stolas: Don't you dare breathe a word about my daughter. Striker: Oh. Finally hit a nerve, huh? Stolas: I swear, if you go near her, I will destroy you.

Striker threatened Octavia in Western Energy, so this checkov gun might fire. If so, it will be a chance for Stolas to help Via, for Blitz to face his dark foil once again and for Via to discover the truth about her father's attempted murder.

The pregnancy plotline

This season we have a little conflict between Moxxie and Millie in Happy Campers and I was wondering if they were gonna have a bigger one later on. Well, it seems they will because the pregnancy plotline is going to bring some drama in the relationship.

As for now, to me it seems Millie is not convinced about the pregnancy and might contemplate an abortion:

Millie: What? Didn't he cheat or s-s-something? Come on, this is fun! We've done this kind of t-t-thing before. Blitzo: Just… not this one, Mils. Not today. Millie: I can do this one, I can do this! Blitzo: Millie! Moxxie: We'll do it next time! It's just not worth it. Millie: Don't start, Moxxie! Just because you aren't demon enough to do this job, doesn't mean…

Her being the most insensitive while watching the happy human family seems as foreshadowing that Millie doesn't really want kids. At least not now. This might change of course and I might be wrong. Still, the fact she hasn't told Moxxie about it yet is pretty indicative of how confused she is at the moment.

In general, to me it seems Moxxie and Millie are partly subverting feminine and masculine tropes, as Moxxie is more feminine (musicals) and Millie is more masculine (fighting). At the same time, I think they are also meant to deconstruct these ideas.

Moxxie exhibits some traits of toxic masculinity that clearly come from his father. For example, in Happy Campers he is obsessed by the fact he and not Millie must complete the mission, because he must prove himself to the boss. Or in The Harvest Moon Festival he tries to show he is as strong as Striker, even if his talents lie elsewhere.

Millie might soon reveal she herself might feel pressured to conform to some traditional feminine roles. For example, she might fear that becoming a mother might mean she has to give up her career. Or she is scared of how others (like her family and husband) will see her if she gives up the baby. All in all, she comes from a rather traditional environment and I am curious to see if this inspiration will be used to explore her pregnancy.

SINSMAS

I LOVED the idea of Sinsmas for several reasons.

Thematically, Sinsmas is really about self-expression:

Blitzo: Uh, it's Sinsmas! You know, the day every Hellborn celebrates and acts on their birth sin? Or any sin, whichever ones they want, honestly!

It is about giving in to your vices for one whole day (it is really similar to Carnival), so that you can indulge in what makes you happy, even if it is considered strange or wrong.

This is very important for the theme of classism:

Stolas: I cannot say I'm familiar with this holiday. Blitzo: Really? Wow, rich people don't have any fun, do they? Stolas: No, fun is free, but we can afford nice things.

Stolas is a noble and nobles do not celebrate Sinsmas. That is because the Goetias can never truly express themselves:

Stolas: Yaaaay! Birthday, birthday! WOOHOO! Birthday tiiiiime! Mister Butler: Calm yourself, young prince. You know excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia.

They have to repress repress repress.

So, it is telling Stolas slowly embraces the spirit of wrath throughout the episode.

He starts by trashing Blitz's office (luckily it is insured :P):

Stolas: Augh! Come on, you suck! You fucking suck! You fucking piece of shit, move you fucking face, you goddamn sucking motherfucker— GAH! WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT I AM! THIS WAS SO STUPID! I CANNOT BELIEVE I COULD BE! THIS FUCKING STUPID! I RUINED EVERYTHING! MOVE!!! YOU SHITTY DESK!!!

And he ends by trashing Andrealphus:

He has left the Goetia for one month in universe and he is already fitting in :''')

World-building wise, Sinsmas is very interesting because it is mostly celebrated by Hellborn Demons. Karen, who is a Sinner knows nothing of it and is uninterested in it. For her it's just Christmas.

As a result, I wonder if Pride as a sin is less celebrated than others during this Holiday. We see decorations for Greed, Wrath and Gluttony mostly. But I am sure people from Lust, Envy, Sloth will mostly celebrate these sins. However, the Demons typical of Pride are Sinners or Goetias, both of which do not celebrate.

So, I am wondering:

Do some Sinners who have been in Hell for a while celebrate Sinsmas? Do they stick to Christmas? Do they fuse the two holidays?

Was Pride more celebrated as a Sin before Lucifer decided not to get involved in Hell's affairs anymore?

Do the people of Pride have some specific festivities? Or to better say, do different Rings have different festivities?

I love holidays in different cultures and I would honestly just love a series dedicated to the different holidays in the Hellaverse :''')

MY FAVORITE EPISODES OF THE SEASONS

So, since this was the season's finale, I think I can now say which episodes were my favorite this time around! It is difficult because I thought this season was pretty strong overall, but if I must choose:

Ooops!

Mammon's Magnificent Musical

Ghostfuckers

Mastermind

Sinsmas

These are my favorites! In particular, Mammon's Magnificent Musical and Mastermind are my two pick choice, in no order.

This is all! Merry Christmas to who celebrates and Happy Holiday to everybody!

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 705, part 1

It's time to talk about my boards for episode 705 of the last season of The Dragon Prince. I did a lot of stuff in this episode, so instead of going in order, I'll divide my work differently for this one, we will talk by group of sequences and not in order of appearance.

Let's start with the sunfire elf side of the plot. As a lot of you know, most of my work in this show was related to the Sunfire elves, and to be honest Janai and Amaya are two of my favorite characters of the show, so every chance to work with them is always a bless.

I did all the scenes of Karim talking with Amaya in this episode. It is hard to explain how I feel about Karim, he is such an idiot, but I am also kinda fond of him because I spent so many hours working on him thinking about his mannerism and motivations. I am fond of him, but I also hate him, hahahaha.

There is not a lot to say about this sequences, they are pretty straight forward. While I can understand why Karim hates humans so much, that doesn't mean he is right about it, and this hate is starting to feel like pettiness, and well fits him, he is a really petty man.

Let! Green! Say! Ass! hahahaha. Its always funny to board this kind of little jokes. I love Green and Amaya dynamics, they are such good friends, and I love how Green is always making sure that Amaya's bluntness is not coming out as "rude". But sometimes I feel he should just translate directly what Amaya is saying, because I don't think Karim deserves special considerations, haha.

That little speech Karim does about how he and Amaya are not the same was interesting to board for me. I wanted him to feel aggressive and menacing, even if his hands were tied. Like he was trying to intimidate Amaya, but she will not bend, she can see thru his BS. I wanted him to trespass into Amaya's personal space, portrait him as the bully he is. He says that his faith comes from knowledge, while the truth is that he leads using fear. Such a pathetic little man.

Another instance where is wish the rigs where able to translate between the expressions from the boards. I wanted him to spit his words trough his teeth when he says "humans are vermin, a plague", like his mouth is full of poison and hate.

But the Amaya, who is mostly motivated by making sure that Janai doesn't regrets the decision of killing her brother, does the right thing and reminds him of the fact that Miyana is pregnant, that there is a future worth to live for. Karim shows some doubts, so Amaya leaves and Miyana enters the stage.

I feel kinda bad for Miyana. I mean she deserves the punishment she got, at the end of the day she betrayed her people. But I feel bad for her, because I think that she honestly loves Karim. Imagine loving such a foolish man. And Karim can not learn a lesson, he keeps being an idiot. He is offered a second chance to be with his family, but the only thing he can see in Miyana is that she is carrying "his heir", and Miyana is right of being offended by that. But she wants to believe that he will made the right choice. And maybe for a minute Karim ponders it. I wanted him to loot vulnerable and maybe open in the final shot, so I made him kneel close to Miyana, laying his head on her belly, close to his child. We know how this will end for him, but for a moment there is maybe hope that he will change... no?

My next scene in this episode is one I am really fond of. Is the one when Terry says that the only person who can stop Claudia is her mom, and Soren is really against that idea.

First, is always fun to have a moment with Terry. I have really small ones during my work in the show, so this one was a blast. Second, I got to have another emotional Soren moment, and that is always nice, because Sores in my boy.

The back and forth of this conversation is pretty straight forward too. What was important for me was what will be the moment that will make Soren change his mind, and support the idea. So I decided to use Corvus for this.

Soren is struggling with the idea of bringing her mother back, even if that means they will have a real shot making Claudia stop. Corvus see his pain, and touch his shoulder. We talked before on how touching is a love language between this two, they don't need tons of words. Corvus is saying "I know that it's hard, but I am here with you". On my boards I had him giving Soren a little nod, they removed that for the final shot, and I think is ok. The nod is not necessary, Soren understand what Corvus means. With his support Soren can do it.

So he gathers strength and gives the drawing to Ezran. I like that in the animation stage they kept Corvus hand all the time on his shoulder. For Soren the idea of facing his mom is one full of pain and conflicted feelings, but he doesn't need to face it alone, he has Corvus at his side (as a partner, friend, soulmate, brother, whatever you see them being).

I love them so much...

The second part of this post is about the last sequence I did for this episode, it is a small one, but one that you could say... brings a "surprise"!

I will posted right away, so stay tuned!

[drowning-rabbit]

when i tell you this made my chest HURT ow.. you took one of my favorite episodes, made it ten times better (like seriously filled all the plot holes that bothered me), broke my heart and then mended it again thank you you are wonderful

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her.  He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief. 

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

*

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location. 

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

 "Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

 “Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

 “Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

 It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

 "Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

*

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control. 

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it. 

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth. 

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else. 

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

*

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

*

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength. 

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you.  That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch

[nassaugirlie]

I don't always enjoy the recurring joke of the possible romantic relationship between Sherlock and John, but I do enjoy most of them and this one is one of my favorites. I really think it works so well because of Sherlock's sometimes very literal way of thinking. It sounds so pure to me.

But what I particularly like about this moment is that Sherlock admits that he already likes John and knows it's reciprocated. And this is the same episode where you can see Sherlock visibly uncomfortable about having to deal with a former colleague and it's mentioned in passing what his relationship with them was like back then.

It's very early in the series still and it's easy to overlook, but this moment in the context of why Sherlock is a loner and what his insecurities are is very telling. At least to me.

Sherlock is an ass and he knows it. And we know he is a loner but he has fooled himself all his life into believing that he didn't yearn for some kind of genuine relationship with someone. He believes that more than his intellect, it's his personality that has prevented him from creating those relationships because you have to be a very specific type of person to treat someone like him, when in reality that personality is the response to an unspeakable trauma that he doesn't even remember.

It is sad because part of his personality is a defense mechanism and at the same time a sabotage to himself. They feed back each other and he doesn't even realize it, so he doesn't know how to stop it. Until John.

All of this is just to say that this is why I like so much the idea that he seems to know with such certainty in such a short time that a relationship he feels comfortable in is forming between them.

[velvetvexations]

as an autistic trans man, sometimes I feel less safe in public presenting as a man than as a woman, because, especially in certain places, man + visibly autistic tends to be more often falsely read as "dangerous and predatory" than when people read me as a woman.

Yeah, as an autistic trans woman who doesn't pass, I feel that. <3

Honestly thank you so much for what you do on this app. I'm so glad there's people who are actually willing to stand with trans men instead of pulling the "um well I have it worse so do NOT talk about your own oppression EVER or else you're a transmisogynist!" I'm so happy I found your blog and I hope you have a great week <3

I hope you have a great week as well!

Eh a long while ago Chris Fleming made a video making fun of polyamorous people which used a lot of the same hurtful stereotypes society already perpetuates against us and I’ve not paid attention since

Noted, as someone who is also poly.

i wish the queer community didnt put so much emphasis on sexuality labels like i just want to have sex why do i need to put a word to it

very valid

about the dropout “discourse”: hot take but real life people are not representation. theyre people. real people are not queerbaiting you and real people happening to not be transfem (and I have literally seen transfems in some dropout episodes theyre just not part of the main cast) is not a lack of representation. these are real people. stop* *not you, the people being shitty about it

the complaint is not in any way coming from a genuine place tbh

hey! i just wanted to let you know how much your blog means to me as a trans guy. you and your reblogs have given me hope at trans unity, and lets me know that i-- that we-- aren't alone. so thank you for everything you do, and i greatly appreciate your support and look up to you 💛

Thank you. <3

i redownloaded etsy recently and seeing all the trans stuff saved to my favorites is so sad. i used to feel happy and proud and i wanted to be open about being transmasc. but since all the discourse got worse i just. cant bring myself to feel like it matters. it makes me feel like im trans and yet i will never matter the way other trans people do.

You do matter anon, I promise. I love you, you matter, and I'm glad you're here.

As a trans guy a lot of the self-ID'd TME transmascs weird me out so much. Like why do they all sound like "I am so strong and my power to Harm Women is immense. I could do it so much and I feel the pull to the Transmisogynist Dark Side but *unsheaths sword* I will protect them instead with my big strong testosterone arms from my fellow men" like what even is that. Who is into this.

it's so incredibly obviously bad but it reinforces some people's victim complexes so it's praxis now

a trans person will joke about their experience and a trf will jump in to assume theyre a white transmasc who has never ever faced any real difficulties for being trans

every time

Out of the many, many stupid ideas in this dumb discourse, I've finally decided the one I hate the most is that underlying implication that transmascs just aren't trans enough. It's so gross seeing people imply that we aren't really trans. Our dysphoria is minimal discomfort at most, apparently. I've seen people post about and imply that transmascs will never understand not feeling like a person or being unable to live a life pre transition and that's why we have privilege, i guess - are you kidding me? It's like our experiences are a joke to these people who are clearly so wrapped up in their online discourse bubble that they're just detached from what it's like for trans people as a whole. Sorry for the vent (would rather not post this on main and I don't have anyone to talk to) but it's just the most grating part. Also it's like. Low-key transmed shit. Thought we left that behind, c'mon.

transmeds are like ants they come back every summer

i wish TRFs had a label they proudly called themselves so i could jsut go through their tags and block them, but noooooo they HAVE to frame their transphobic bullshit as Brilliant Transfeminist Theory. like atleast radfems are fucking honest about being radfems

That's part of why I made antigonism a label for anti-TRFs to call themselves~!

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

GINGERWREN'S PAYNELAND RECS 2024!

I can't believe we have had Charles and Edwin for less than a year. Even still, we've had a lot of fun! I wanted to share some fics, art, and gifs that made this year worth it for me personally. I was talking to a friend recently, and we noticed recent rec lists seem to be short, tag based lists with no real input from the list writer. Many of them also seem to rec the same few fics. Sometimes I feel left out as a smaller writer, and I know my favorite fics also don't always make it onto these lists either.

So, gentle reader, I will not be making a list of tags and summaries. You can read the tags on the fics and the art work, should you choose to view. I will be telling you why I love the works themselves. This is the best way I can think to recommend work to you.

Without further ado: the list is below.

WRITING

sweeter than honey from the rock - @dearheartdont

This lives rent free in my head. Literally in my mind this is like a lost episode or something. I do not want to spoil it or anything, but some of my favorite things in it are the world building (there are delightfully sympathetic clients, and witty antagonists), Charles does... exactly what one would expect Charles to do in order to help the client and protect everyone, and he makes things temporarily worse for himself. Rest assured though, there is a very, very satisfying resolution. Really, this is such a wonderful fic.

Winter Bloom - @skinnybritishdudes

PINK!!! EDWIN!!!! NOW!!!! This was my request for our server's Christmas exchange and it blew me out of the water. Genuinely, the magical mischief PLUS the subtle horror PLUS the absolute tenderness at the end?? Was everything I wanted, and more than I expected. Friendship ended with my own pink Edwin origin story. THIS is Pink Edwin now. Run don't walk for this one (as you can see, I still have not calmed down I am so excited about this one).

Nothing Left to Hide - @roseganymede95

I know I need to say more than "spider jar" but there's a point where I just start crying softly and going "spider jar" while I am reading. Honestly I'm sure if I said that to you, you would probably know which fic I'm referring to. It's this one. It's brilliant. It rewired my brain early on and I haven't been the same since. I found a spider jar pin because it may as well be canon in my mind. They call each other mine in the fic what more do I need to tell you to get you to read this? Join the spider jar cult with me.

right. never finished it.- taableclofh

A classic. Charles tries to save Edwin from Hell. He figures some things out in the process. (This is canon divergent in the best possible way and was a real balm on the soul, somehow).

molliculi (soft little things)- @williamvapespeare

This was made in a lab to make me cry specifically. The first time I finished reading it, it was two in the morning. I stared at my bedroom wall for like twenty minutes, bleary eyed, and then finally managed to type something to @williamvapespeare (who was really gracious about whatever mess I sent, lol). God fuck. It's a character study on Edwin. It's a history of living and dying in 1916. It's wondering what it means to continue on existing, but never have lived on with your peers. It's an outsider's perspective on Charles' trying to figure things out. Go. Go now. Suffer with me.

All Rights Reserved- @phoenix-soar

Do you like possessive Charles? (There's one right answer and it's yes). This fic is the fic. This also lives rent free in my brain. I wish I could say something more coherent but honestly I do not know how much I can say- well there is this lovely description where Charles compares Edwin's eyes to the sea on a stormy day (ao3 is sadly down, I cannot pull the full quote, but it was gorgeous). The rest... 🌶️🌶️🌶️

The Case of the Omegaverse Portal - miraworos

Omegaverse, as specified in the title. Also a very well written casefic, and some really satisfying feelings revelations. Once again: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

ART

Kiss (Blue) - @ent-is-indecisive

Genuinely A I am just amazed by how lovely all the kisses you draw are. Like they come out stunningly, over and over. I have no idea how you pull off this wizardry but it is amazing. Anyway I picked the first picture we ever talked about but I am also genuinely blown away whenever you drop something in LOMA

Collab Gifset For Payneland Week- @mellxncollie

I know you have all seen Ollie's gifs. If you haven't, what are you even doing? (Maybe you're new here. That's okay). It's something special when Ollie makes a gifset for your fic. Genuinely, sometimes I just go back and stare at this one because WOW THOSE ARE MY WORDS. BUT ON A GIF. Genuinely thanks for making my first year in the fandom special Ollie.

Pink Slip- @arisprite

Ari was super great during the flash sketch commissions and we had a blast. Now this reminds me of ongoing convos that @majorlb @deadboyslullaby and I have (and perhaps one day we will do something more with those) but the point here is Ari is great. You all should go and appreciate the wide range of payneland she has made. Her fem!payneland is dazzling, and so is her sad boy Charles (which I think is the first piece I ever fell in love with).

RITUALS - @deadboyslullaby

THE RITUALS ARE INTRICATE. This was a collaboration with @likemmmcookies . @deadboyslullaby worked really hard on the inscription around the edges for this one and I am forever in awe of all the little details here. I want more of them doing strange, arcane stuff together always.

ORBWIN IN CHARLES’ RIBS- @jube-art

This is absolutely what I think is going on when one of them is orbing and the other isn't. No I am not taking feedback. Once more, this was a piece of art that re-wired my brain early on. Ribs are for lovers.

BONUS:

Feathers and Fur - merle_p

Super secret rare pair that rewired how my brain works forever. I love you catcrow. I love you Monty that's a little bit depressed a little bit of a masochist. I love you Thomas who can't help but take in strays but still has teeth and hasn't been declawed in this fic. This fic is just... so... gorgeous*chef's kiss*. I won't spoil it for you, but I implore you to read it so I have more people to talk about this pairing with.

These were all my recs for now. Thank you Dead Boy Detective fandom 2024! We may have had some bumps in the road, but here's to a strong and healthy 2025!

[thecatinyourwalls]

Hot take. Double life had the worst gimmick in my opinion.

To be fair i think all of them are excellent and very fun but comparing my enjoyment of them imo double life is the worst one.

And honestly the gimmick was very good but it had two consequences that i did not like. Firstly, it gave people very random deaths, like Scar was out of the series just because Grian made a mistake while they were separated. It kinda took away the agency of some of the players and they had to play around something that they could not control.

And the second reason i like it the least is because it made everyone very careful and docile, like 3rd life had the problem of people not dying but im gonna be honest this is the first series i couldnt binge because it was sooo slow at the start. Also they had half of the lives that even 3rd life had which made them so very fragile. And that again made them play very safe.

Probably my favorite seasons gimick would be Limited life, since it gave them the most lives to play with and therfore allowed them to play more risky. Also dont forget that this season also had the boogieman, which forced interaction and drama even in the first episodes where noone is panicking about time yet.

ignore teams and iconic moments etc, PURELY the base series concept. cause im curious. didnt include real life because its just 3rd life in vr.

[therollingriceball]

Of Cartoons and Cuddles [ Aventurine x Fem!Reader]

A/N: I recently got hold of the Anan Japanese magazine with interview of Aventurine and it have an interesting tidbits I don't know if available in English or not-- one including that he mentioned that he used to enjoy Clockie cartoons as a kid. So I tried to write something based on that.

---

You knew Aventurine had been tired and overworking himself for a while now, even if he didn't express it clearly. While he had been suggesting a date out for you two for a breather, you're afraid of his perfectionist side that would've just made him busy in other side of the idea of a 'perfect date'.

So you very much insisted on a house date. With cartoon marathons. Clockie cartoons for exact.

Nothing could go wrong with Clockie cartoons-- they're a classic for a reason. You initially thought of watching mindless romcom movies with him, but right now nothing really strikes your fancy. And suddenly, you remembered that time Aventurine casually mentioned that he used to watch Clockie cartoons as a child.

While he might meant nothing much by it--- given you two's age range, Clockie cartoons are the thing most people around the same age have in common about their childhood-- you also knew of how he kept dear of all the happier things on his childhood, like his love for his family.

And so, under numerous blankets-- season being winter, after all, with popcorns and hot chocolate ready, on his cozy sofa in front of his television that seemed too grand for the choice of old cartoons, you two begin your watch-along marathon.

One thing though, you forgot telling him of your choice of movie as opening reels plays along.

"I thought we're going to watch Christmas romcoms." "Huh. Didn't I tell you? We're going to watch Clockie cartoons... or do you prefer romcoms instead? Sorry." "No, it's fine. It's just... a pleasant surprise."

Aventurine chuckled. It may be just be the body's cold weather measure, but his face is reddened. He didn't have the timing to say so, but he's really happy you remembered something he mentioned rather offhandedly.

In between little giggles and laughter the cartoons bring along your watch, he held you close to a cuddle. Too close, even, you could feel his breath on your neck. It caused your cheeks to be the redder one now.

"Heeey. I can't focus. This was my favorite episode as a kid!" "What a coincidence. It was mine too!" "Then let's focus on the show, shouldn't we?" "Nah. I already memorized this episode for a while. I have a good memory when it's about the happier sides of my childhood, you know." "Huh. Fine then."

To those words of yours, Aventurine just giggled-- his giggle made you felt vibration on your neck. He's too close, and his held on you felt quite tight.

"Hey." "Hmm? What is it, Aventurine?" "Nothing. Just... I'm happy you're here to spend time with me. It feels like a reward for working hard recently, if you don't mind me thinking so."

It might not be in the spirit of the comedic, child-friendly cartoon, but now you wanted a kiss after seeing his genuine smile and hearing his whisper-y voice saying those words. But you're a little too shy to say that. So instead--

"Of course I don't mind. Just treat it as a reward if you want to--" "Then, I'll take it."

---of course he could just read through your expression. You two have dated for a while, after all.

And in between you two's shared childhood favorite, you two kissed gently, sharing another memories just for the two of you...

[synchodai]

That Arcane AU episode

S2E7, Pretend Like It's The First Time, is my favorite and most hated season 2 episode. I like it because it mirrors S1E7, The Boy Savior, my (and most people's favorite) episode: Ekko-centric, Silco stealing the show, gorgeous emotional choreography between Ekko and Jinx, a microcosm of its season's themes, etc.

I hate it because it is a microcosm of its season's themes and said themes contradict S1E7.

Let's talk about what The Boy Savior showed us:

Vi rediscovering her community and agency with the Firelights. For the first time in the series, Caitlyn is prisoner and Vi is the one with power over her, but Vi chooses to vouch for Caitlyn so that the Firelights ease up on her and agree to give the Hextech core back to the Piltover Council. This shows Vi and Caitlyn as equals with power and influence in two different realms that they use to move together towards a common goal. (Compare that to S2 where Vi is fully dependent on Caitlyn and contributes almost nothing in their mission to capture Jinx.)

Powder vs Jinx. Ekko tells Vi Powder is dead and only Jinx remains. Vi argues with him saying she can still save Powder. We see the seed of doubt she planted in Ekko sprout when he hesitates to kill Jinx on the Bridge of Progress when he sees Powder in her. (Inadvertedly, Vi saved Jinx's life here. Both Ekko and Vi are wrong because Jinx IS Powder.)

Zaun vs Jinx. Chem-Barons want Silco to hand over Jinx so that the Enforcers will lift their blockade. Sevika tells Silco Jinx is a liability in their mission for an independent Zaun. Silco refuses to hand over Jinx (because it's not a choice between Jinx or Zaun — Jinx IS Zaun, but that's a post for another day).

The Enforcer's brutality is shown in full force. Viktor argues with Jayce for ordering a blockade on the undercity. Ekko calls out Vi for the Enforcers treating people in the undercity like animals.

Why Silco fights for Zaun. He gives a whole speech about suffocating in the toxic fumes of the mines to reestablish his dominance and reaffirm Sevika's loyalty. He reminds them that just because they've had a taste of fresh air, it doesn't mean they should forget that they still all come from the dirt.

Jayce's moral spiral in the name of progress. He's tormented by his betrayal of Heimerdinger, calls on Enforcers to terrorize the undercity, alienates Viktor, and eventually makes the choice (with Mel's urging) to weaponize Hextech.

Ekko vs Jinx. The quick 3-minute scene on the Bridge of Progress did so much for Arcane's reputation. If you asked me what Arcane is about, I would point to that scene. It showed who Ekko is. It showed who Jinx is. It showed the history and relationship between them. It is a commentary on Zaun and its children. Every frame is literally a well-conceived painting. It placed Ekko and Jinx as foils — Ekko is what could be if everything went right and Jinx as what happened when everything went wrong.

Let's talk about what Pretend Like It's The First Time showed us:

Only Powder grieves Vi. Whether purposefully or otherwise, the episode paints Vi as someone who would have been better off as a child martyr. Mind you, in the original timeline, she was presumed dead at about the same age, but I suppose a teen languishing in prison doesn't have the same impact as a public tragedy with a visibly gruesome corpse. Vi's previously established connection with her community is diminished. They DID already mourn her and thought they lost her, and their grief was memorialized through a mural because they cared for HER. In S2, Ekko only paints a mural of Vi to placate Powder, implying that her sister was the only one to truly mourn Vi's passing.

Everyone is free to move to and from the Bridge of Progress. Where are the Enforcers? Why are they gone? Who's keeping out the undercity folks sick from mining gas from mingling with the topsiders? The episode doesn't care.

Silco's life is made better by forgiving Vander. This makes it seem that Silco turned to a life of crime out of spite for one person, when S1E7 had him make a whole monologue why he built his Shimmer empire in the first place. They were being poisoned in the mines — did him and Vander making up clear up all the toxic waste in the undercity? How? When they were younger and working together, Zaun was still polluted, so what's different now?

Perfection is either pretending problems never existed in the first place or everyone turning into lifeless statues. Ekko's version of a perfect world and Viktor's version of a perfect world are both heavily sanitized dystopias utopias that ignore history and come at the cost of sacrificing innocent people. The episode never interrogates this.

Ekko and Jinx. I love Stromae but that dance sequence does not live up to S1E7 at all. The animation consists of blurry and choppy frames — an unimaginative way to simulate the feeling of being in love. Ekko apologizes to Powder for being "consumed" by all the ways the undercity wasn't perfect and "giving up on it" WHEN HE NEVER DID. Maybe he gave up on trying to save Powder, but he kept fighting for the undercity. His flaw was (understandably) looking down on Jinx as an enemy and seperate from the undercity rather than someone who shared their plight. What Ekko had to overcome was seeing everyone as deserving of saving and not just establishing another gated community. He shouldn't have seen Jinx deserving of love only when she was Powder. He should have seen Jinx as Jinx (mental illness, full of shimmer, uncontrollable) and came to the realization she's still one of them.

TL;DR: The Boy Savior was supposed to throw the nickname in Ekko's face because instead of saving Jinx, he was already counting her out as a "necessary sacrifice" for their community to move forward. S1E7 tackled with the idea of having "necessary sacrifices" in the name of progress. Give them this problem child and save Zaun, give up on your sister and move on with your life, just sell out this person that no one cares about and is only a burden on society and everything would be hunky-dory. Silco said no, Vi said no, Ekko said yes and then hesitated (which still led to her death if Silco hadn't saved her). But the message is clear — you do not better your society by sacrificing a scapegoat. Jinx is a product of the evils of her environment, not the cause of it. Class solidarity and all that, something something we are closer to the homeless and the drug addicts than we are to the politicians and billionaires.

However, S2E7 affirmed that, yes, sometimes children do have to die and we do have to sacrifice people for the world to be a better a place. What a mess.

[verdantflamingo]

The morning in a normal abnormal monster family

Some time ago, I found myself in some sort of quarter-life crisis or something, and I ended up binge-watching all the Mostar High movies and probably every episode of the First Gen series. I might check out the third gen too, but it doesn’t have the same nostalgic vibe for me, especially since they split Cleo and Deuce… But Frankie’s new concept looks amazing.

Anyway, during this nostalgia trip, my thoughts wandered to the X-Men and what kinds of creatures they might be in a monster reality.

And forgive me, Emma, but you would 100% be a Twilight vampire. You’re gorgeous, you can read minds, and you can sparkle – not only in the sunlight. I can totally picture a twisted version of Twilight where Scott drives to, well, I don’t even remember the name of the town, and all the vampires fight over him because his mind is just so “readable.”

As for Scott, he was the first one I assigned a monster form. Sure, Cyclops would’ve been the obvious choice, but it doesn’t feel quite right – a Scott who can’t hurt anyone with eye contact? Yes, I read an interesting story some time ago that explored why Scott’s codename made sense, but Scott’s fear of hurting people is a pretty important part of his personality. So there is Scott, the son of Medusa. I think the fear of turning someone to stone is kind of similar to the fear of shooting someone with your powers.

About picture:

Scott and Emma are sitting together in the morning. Don’t ask me why Emma is awake, and they’re playing cards—a version of gin rummy, maybe—and it would never occur to Emma to cheat... Emma is wearing Scott’s shirt, her skin sparkling in the morning rays.

She has golden eyes. I also have a version with red ones, but let’s imagine that she and Scott have been together for some time now, so Emma has switched from human to animal blood (her favorite is horses...), and her eyes have turned gold.

He still has red glasses, but they don’t have to be made of ruby quartz; he just keeps his powers in check. No shirt is needed. And I thought about what kind of snake he would have. A Pseudonaja textilis—the eastern brown snake—felt like the perfect choice. Why? Because why not make the boy whose gaze can turn people to stone even more traumatized? This snake mirrors Scott’s lethal potential and his constant fear of harming others, which is such a vital part of his personality.