#time in d.c.

[samsseptember]

September  24 - In the Air Force | Time in D.C.

[allbornscreaming]

FONTAINES D.C. — Nabokov Live on KEXP +

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

"You can edit the structure and grammar and syntax of a sentence all day, and then realise that the feeling or the sentiment is gone - and you have to really close your eyes and dig deep and try and remember what it was because it's so specific. Language can be so limiting, and it can make you forget what the innate or original thought was. There's a really good quote by yates: 'a line may take years maybe but if it does not seem a moment's thought then all our stitching and unstitching has been naught.' You can edit to zone in, or you can edit to zone out - and it's difficult to know which one you're doing sometimes."

~ Grian Chatten, Songwriters on Process (2022) 

[atearinspaceairlock]

Congratulations, Fontaines D.C.! (in./in.)

[milla984]

A Million Reasons

Summary: after a phone call from Penelope, Reader teases Spencer about a potential love interest and things don’t go exactly as planned.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff with a little angst

TW/CW: a little bit of angst, brief mentions of food, self-doubt, mentions of anxiety, kissing

Word Count: 1.2k

Thank you @drgenius-reid for taking the time to beta-read this!

The following work is my entry for @andiebeaword's 3,000 Follower Celebration Writing Challenge (prompt n. 12) and is also part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

Spencer scooped out of the paper cup what was left of his ice cream before he finished recounting the events leading to the arrest of the unsub the entire BAU team had been successfully tracking down in Seattle during the past few days. 

“He’ll be charged with ten counts of murder, one attempted murder, and unlawful possession of multiple weapons. He’s facing ten life sentences without parole.”

“Way to go, Justice League!” you cheered, enthusiastic. 

He tucked his hair behind his ear with a cute chuckle. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow so you caught a glimpse of his wristwatch reflecting the light of a lamp post standing along the edge of the walking path; from the bench you were both sitting on you could see the illuminated dome of the US Capitol rising up against the dark mid-summer sky. 

Despite being within walking distance of a major street in the southwest quadrant of Washington, the park was quiet and uncrowded and the nearby gelato shop was one of Spencer’s favorites. 

You took the last sip of your drink, acting very casual. “And that’s all that happened?” 

He shrugged, unsure about which crucial information could have been missing from his story since he was under strict instructions not to fill you in on the most gruesome details of the cases he’d worked.

“Uhm, graphic descriptions of tortures and mutilations are not—”

“I’m talking about a certain homicide detective… the one you gave your number to…?” you explained and his jaw dropped instantly.

“What?!”

You nudged at him with your elbow. “Garcia called me from the Original Starbucks in Pike Place. I couldn’t tell if the hype was about your new admirer or being there.”

“I don't understand how this is such a big deal!” he blurted out in a high-pitched voice. “She showed an interest in what we do so I gave her my card.”

No profiling skills were required to detect his firm intention to avoid discussing the matter, yet the words came out of your mouth like a river in spate. 

“Any chance it wasn’t only a professional interest?”

The way Spencer looked at you, disappointed and hurt, hit you worse than a punch in the liver. 

“What’s with you, guys?! Are– are you all so invested in my personal life because you’re convinced I’m chronically unable to have one without your help?” he snapped, something you’d never seen him do. 

“I’m s—” you tried to reply, even though he was still too angry to let you apologize and cut you off again.

“Or maybe it’s that I’m no Derek Morgan, so why would someone even notice I exist, right?”

“Seriously?! An IQ of 187 and this is the best inference you can come up with?” you snorted, upset by the subtle insult he’d thrown at you - even if you had to admit you deserved it.

His brows furrowed. “Then why did you bring this up?” 

“I didn’t mean to pry, I’m sorry. I truly am,” you admitted, “and the Derek Morgan type is not the one I’d go for, just so you know. I don’t think that people hitting on you is funny or weird, it’s… I’m just surprised it doesn’t happen more often. There, I said it.”

He remained silent for a while, quite aware that Penelope’s inability to keep her mouth shut generated from genuine excitement about what she perceived as good news; sharing such personal information with you meant you had been put to the test over and over and, in the end, deemed worthy of her trust. 

The peaceful atmosphere around you served as an amplifier for the sound of splashing water and Spencer indicated the fountain at the center of the large, round basin in front of you with a jerk of his head. 

“I read a book about the architectural history of D.C. on the way back. This piece was created for the 1876 Centennial International Exhibition in Philadelphia, the US Congress acquired it in 1877 and placed it at the base of Capitol Hill. It was dismantled in 1926, then it remained in storage until 1932 when they moved it here.”

The pedestal held three twin iron-casted sea nymphs wearing wet tunics, with their arms raised above their heads to support a shallow vasque; on top was a group of kneeling child tritons, and the base was decorated with turtle-like aquatic creatures.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled.

The fact he’d for sure started and finished said book in less than fifteen minutes was among the 999.999 entries in your list of reasons to crush over SSA Reid.  And so were his three PhDs, his crooked ties, his passion for Star Wars, chess and Halloween.

“I don’t talk much about my private life. Especially outside of work,” he confessed after a pause. “A lot of times I have a hard time discussing personal issues—”

“Spencer… you know you don’t owe me an explanation, right?” you rushed to clarify.

He nodded and you did the same in response, to confirm you had no intention of pressuring him into opening up if he felt uncomfortable yet you were also ready to listen to anything he had to say; even in dim light, you could see the sadness veiling his beautiful hazel eyes.   

“Garcia was being Garcia, with her ‘look at the world through rose-colored glasses’ scenarios. I gave my card to a homicide detective to discuss behavioral sciences, it was just what it sounds like. But I understand where she’s coming from, I never told her…”

Your whole body tensed up, courtesy of a rush of anxiety triggered by the possibility of him being already involved with someone he had never mentioned, not even to his closest friends; you wondered if he could hear the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Luckily for you, Spencer didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m trying to come to terms with something I’ve been feeling, for weeks now. And I’m worried, because of what happened in the past and I can’t let go of…” his voice broke a little, so he swallowed. “Deep down I’m afraid I'm not the type of person who gets to live out happily ever after.” 

Refraining from hugging him on the spot and holding him close to your heart had gotten increasingly difficult lately, so you settled for a peck on his temple in a clumsy attempt at a comforting gesture.

You feared the worst when he looked at you for a moment that seemed to last forever; you certainly didn’t expect him to lean forward to cup your face in his hands - big hands.  With slender, elegant fingers he tenderly brushed over your cheeks.

You both held your breath, waiting for the distance between you to vanish until your foreheads touched and the tips of your noses rubbed together. 

“... are we really doing this?!” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

You smiled. “Don’t make me wait for another six months.”

Spencer squinted, an indication he was browsing countless data stored in his memory, then he eventually pinpointed the exact moment you fell for him and squeaked in surprise. 

“Christm—”

You pressed your palm on the nape of his neck, guiding his lips over yours for what you both had been longing for. 

Reason number 1.000.000: Dr. Reid was one hell of a kisser.

@thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid, @pretty-boys-book-club, @spookydrreid, @f-me-reid, @foxy-eva, @scorpiofangirl1109, @a-potato-wearing-plaid, @cynbx, @reidsbookclub, @nagemasstuff, @hotchsdharma, @reidmainbitch, @lizzylynch1, @will-grahams-eyes, @padawancat97

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

[daddy-long-legssss]

I think one of the great problems that faces people who are in the industry – within which they have to express themselves – is learning to ignore entirely anyone else’s opinion, especially complimentary opinions because the luxury with being assaulted is that you know instinctively that you’re not to take that onboard because that would affect – in a negative way – what you’re doing. But the same thing could be said for compliments, but they come in sheep's clothing. They invite you to give your sense of self-esteem to someone else because as soon as you start relying upon compliments, then you are giving away your own... I can’t think of the word, but you should be the crux of your own opinion. –Grian Chatten from Fontaines D.C. on Live with KEXP [x]

[aeolianblues]

Talkin' bout my generation... ;)

These were some of my singles/albums of 2020. Were you listening to these? What were you listening to?

[alexturner2005]

Fontaines D.C. - I Love You (Live at Red Rocks)

[mitchellnman]

Something something Ghostface martin

[no-distance-left-to-run]

some recent additions to my vinyl collection

[allbornscreaming]

FONTAINES D.C. — Jackie Down the Line Live on CNN's Amanpour +

[ink-and-dagger]

#notmypresident #revolution

eat shit marie sweatoinette this is my city now

[atearinspaceairlock]

[mazzy-rockstar]

I don’t know how I feel about the new Fontaines D.C

[daddy-long-legssss]

@aeolianblues looks like they added another date for NY! 👀

[aeolianblues]

Presented without comment.