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#and the thing is i have never and still do not really fit the criteria for autism.

midwestgender · 2 years

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could write a fucking book about the phenomenon in the psychological community in which children are described as fitting many of the criterion for autism or adhd but not fully ‘fitting’ the description and/or the fact that they are hyperlexic or hyperverbal being used to justify not giving them a diagnosis and then the psychology community essentially brushes this VERY LARGE group of children aside because they overwhelming grow up to be ‘neurotypical’ or neurotypical passing. It’s actually largely accepted in the psychological community that there are many children who exhibit autistic symptoms but ‘grow out of it’, and they will even say this about kids who were straight up nonverbal until the age of six or so. And it sucks because there isnt really a way to study this group of people because they arent ever diagnosed, they never get treatment, so they have no clinical record to do followup on. I would wager that these kids that supposedly ‘grow out of autism’ are actually highly likely to have mood disorders + personality disorders in their adult life because they are essentially just highly masked individuals.

#im def one of these ppl by the way <3 #and psychologists who accept the idea of #'high functioning autistics' or 'aspergers syndrome' or whatever u want to call it STILL dont see the above kind of people as autistic #and the thing is i have never and still do not really fit the criteria for autism.#but i still consider myself autistic because i think the issue is the criterion not me

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januaryembrs · 4 months

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TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.

word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)

trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.

next chpt.

main masterlist.

authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa.

A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached.

It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up.

“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,”

“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,”

Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different.

Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug.

Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup.

“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.

Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct.

“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown.

“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought.

“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up.

Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.

“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?”

“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap.

“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.

Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned.

Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister.

“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.

Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered.

“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,”

Spencer gulped quietly.

Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan.

Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze.

She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman.

“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it.

It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors.

She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs.

“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.

“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,”

He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.

“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?”

“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,”

She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”

She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them.

“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”

“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”

“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”

Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter.

“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.”

She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student.

“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again.

“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”

Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words.

How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?

–

“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently.

She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore.

“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly.

“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse.

“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish.

“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod.

“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket.

Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours.

“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,”

“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more.

“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet.

“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt.

“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick.

“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her.

“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,”

“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway.

“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.

Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny.

In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them.

“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face.

Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder.

“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips.

“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them.

“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed.

“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol.

“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown.

“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze.

“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her.

He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her.

“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly.

“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”

A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in.

“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command.

“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,”

“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!”

“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?”

“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand.

“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.

A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be.

“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,”

“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep.

“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue.

Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent.

“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”

Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],”

The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses.

“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun.

“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],”

“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],”

Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car.

“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”

“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,”

With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips.

“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside.

“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,”

“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand.

“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,”

She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened.

–

The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer.

Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera.

She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture.

There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good.

But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately.

“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language.

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully.

She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.

“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair.

“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?”

She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,”

It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them.

“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them.

“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls.

“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place.

“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door.

She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face.

It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice.

Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon.

“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”

Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers.

“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?”

“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.

She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant.

“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod.

“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,”

“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.

“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front.

And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost.

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,”

“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk.

“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?”

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”

His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh.

“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully.

“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did.

Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over.

“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile.

“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice.

“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat.

She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.

“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen.

“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”

“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,”

“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,”

She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs.

“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile.

“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,”

“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,”

“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face.

“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat.

She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding.

It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else.

So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from.

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing.

“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin.

“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,”

“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,”

But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation.

So why lie?

She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately.

“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster.

“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction.

“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,”

The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head.

“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly.

Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do.

And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight.

–

The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself.

“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk.

“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her.

“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes.

“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.

“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.”

“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too.

“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place.

“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”

“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke.

He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that.

“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-”

“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant.

“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at.

“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.

“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,”

The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”

“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.

“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed.

“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,”

Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation.

Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”

She frowned at him, scoffing, “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”

The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”

She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her.

“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?”

Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,”

But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly.

“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her.

“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-”

“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,”

Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself.

He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.

“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”

“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.

“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.

“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left.

“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”

“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”

“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes.

“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”

“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back.

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”

It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house.

Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes.

“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window.

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”

“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”

She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”

“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-”

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”

“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her.

Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”

Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,”

Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her.

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all.

Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.

He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number.

“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.

“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.

“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”

“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,”

“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.

+1. The one where you get arrested.

The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him.

His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so.

Yet so was Emily.

The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway.

“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.

“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?”

She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times.

“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,”

The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown.

Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad.

“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea.

The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,”

The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront.

“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose.

“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb.

“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch.

“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”

“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear.

“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.

She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh.

She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.

Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”

“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan.

“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder.

The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.

“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.

Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her.

“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury.

She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke.

“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them.

“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,”

“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out.

“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”

Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan.

“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,”

If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes.

“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze.

“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,”

Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans.

“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never.

He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far.

“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,”

She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,”

The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”

“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.

Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road.

“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,”

JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line.

“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms.

Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them.

“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,”

Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet.

“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,”

JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later.

“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,”

“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.

“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.

“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more.

“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,”

Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”

The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on.

“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought.

“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,”

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off.

“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault.

“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”

“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”

Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block.

“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs.

“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,”

He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.

He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas.

Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried.

Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth.

“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back.

+2. The one where you graduate

Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life.

With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk.

“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”

Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face.

“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table.

Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.

JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again.

Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up.

It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough.

“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”

“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”

“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”

“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.

Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”

As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.

The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”

Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-”

“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”

“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words.

Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”

Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast.

“Graduating, why didn’t you say!” She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”

Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing.

“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming.

“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”

The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered.

“Bug-”

“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation.

“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,”

“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”

Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”

“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”

“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down.

The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you.

“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,”

JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-”

“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”

“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”

“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-”

The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress.

The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled?

Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her.

But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother.

All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery.

“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.”

P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it.

She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close.

“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”

She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab.

Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika.

She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps.

To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was.

Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her.

Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them.

And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat.

The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand.

And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs.

Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close.

“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer.

“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team.

“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,”

She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand.

“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”

She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.

“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”

“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”

“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer.

Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy.

“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”

Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling.

“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.

“Don’t even,”

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss.

Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready.

“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound.

“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?”

“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,”

Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy.

“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup.

Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”

“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path.

A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first.

She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye.

“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”

She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?”

Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing.

“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,”

“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track.

“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages.

“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses.

“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm.

“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.

“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.

“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand.

“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”

He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,”

He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers.

Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head.

“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long.

Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant.

“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.

“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,”

“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound.

“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”

Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing.

He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there.

It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back.

Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before.

She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery.

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye.

She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.

Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it.

“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off.

That was when the shooting started.

She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening.

Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye.

“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”

“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”

“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church.

They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised.

Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen.

She could only hope Emily was safe.

She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister.

Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.

Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person.

Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall.

“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.”

Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine.

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting.

“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed.

“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,”

And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away.

–

They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax.

She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze.

“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes.

“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered.

“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”

Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push.

“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,”

“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,”

Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”

And so they did.

–

Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals.

She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving.

“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,”

“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again.

The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,”

Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,”

She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”

He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,”

She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly.

“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”

She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude.

“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”

Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”

She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious.

Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness.

“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them.

“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.

If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou.

“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her.

“The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”

She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick.

Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage.

–

The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive.

The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice.

They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms.

This was not good.

“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression.

The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach.

She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily.

But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won.

Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple.

“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight.

“It’s me,”

She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving.

Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.

“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head.

He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise.

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture.

“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull.

She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them.

It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was.

–

She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least.

She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her.

Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds.

She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating.

But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”

Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl.

“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”

“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.

“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,”

She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,”

“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed.

Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action.

–

Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over.

Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?

She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless.

It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now.

It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority.

2:53 stared back at her.

At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened.

2:54.

She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle.

The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor.

“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them.

She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical.

Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost.

Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth.

She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free.

He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet.

“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”

Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine.

She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.

And she saw why.

Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight.

Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps.

Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle.

Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more.

“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her.

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her.

Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared, still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs.

He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly.

“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his.

She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved.

“You saved mine,”

And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay.

Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.

“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”

She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying.

“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”

“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”

Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes.

She stayed with Emily for a month after that.

+4. The one where you leave the altar.

She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building.

Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors.

Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse.

Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran.

Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state.

“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”

“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”

“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight.

“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”

She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street.

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius.

She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister.

“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-”

“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”

Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug.

“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner.

“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body.

“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.

“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric.

“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!”

He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave.

“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”

“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days.

“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,”

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog.

“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”

Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back.

“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll.

“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”

“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,”

She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat.

“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”

“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.

“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more.

“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-”

“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.

“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings.

“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”

“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?”

“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,”

“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,”

“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”

“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess.

“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders.

“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,”

His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off.

“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist.

Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess.

Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,”

Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be.

“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through.

–

let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??

Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺

SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #Prentiss #prentiss!Reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #mathew grey gubler #Matthew grey gubler x reader

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

Note

Heyy there! I just love your ateez reactions so much and I saw that requests were open, so here is mine, I hope that's ok.

So, I've seen this concept a bit with other groups but I never found an ateez one, when they give the reader gf privileges, like the reader kiss them on the cheek and they don't have a problem with that (looking at you, hongjoong) and other things like that they don't let the others members do at all. I just imagine the others being so dramatic about it too lol.

ateez giving their s/o partner privileges

genre: crack, fluff, everything in between

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, wooyoung acting like... wooyoung, sanho bromance, idk its all very chaotic ok??

a/n: there is a LOT of wooyoung in this like he's in most of them because idk he's an icon and i felt like he fit the criteria for most of these so that's that. tysm for your request, this is such a cute and fun idea i love it! sorry it took like 10,000 years for me to do 🧑‍🦯

hongjoong

wooyoung had his hands on his hips when he found hongjoong cuddled up with you on the sofa. legs folded over yours, arms wrapped around you tightly; he had never seen his leader show this much physical affection before. it was a weird sight to see.

"what do you want," hongjoong peered over your head, which currently lay on his chest, to see wooyoung still watching you both.

"oh," wooyoung said bluntly, "i see how it is."

"what are you on about," hongjoong rolled his eyes.

"i can't even poke your cheek without you squeaming away, but then they are all over you," wooyoung gestures to the cuddling session taking place, his tone exasperated.

hongjoong rolled his eyes and grinned slightly.

"yeah well, they're just better than you," hongjoong stated before placing his chin atop your head as you snuggled down further into his arms.

"why are you acting all jealous, you weirdo" hongjoong added as wooyoung continued to glare.

"disgusting behaviour," wooyoung fake gagged at the two of you being cute together. he'd have to get used to this side of hongjoong because you couldn't help but bring it out of him.

seonghwa

seonghwa had a thing about his hair. in the sense that... he didn't want anyone touching it.

stylists can, sure. but when his members came close to it seonghwa would throw hands. they would always mess it up, especially woosan, who were both rough with him in general and liked pulling on his hair to tease him.

but you're his partner. who was he to deny you of such a pleasure? playing with his hair brought you great joy.

so you sat on the couch, his head in your lap and eyes fluttered closed as he was telling you about his day in his usual calm, low voice. your hands folded through his hair, fingers lacing in between the fibres.

"oh i see how it is" wooyoung and san collectively joined the room to ruin the peaceful atmosphere, "you let them touch your hair but not us?"

you just grinned as you watched your boyfriend's eyes roll dramatically at his friends.

"go away" he mumbled, closing his eyes once more.

before you could stop them, the pair came over and messed up his hair quickly and not-so-gently, making him gasp and sit upright.

"little shits" seonghwa snarled as they ran away chuckling to themselves.

"you love them really," you said with a smile, pulling his head back down gently to your lap as he closed his eyes once more.

yunho

you had many benefits from dating yunho. he was handsome, kind, hilarious... you loved everything about him. but a privilege you have with him is helping him pick out his clothes.

"maybe try this colour tie instead," you handed him a burgundy tie, which seemed to please him.

hongjoong leaned against the door frame, watching yunho slide the tie around his collared neck.

"is this why you don't ask me for fashion advice anymore?" hongjoong pursed his lips as you smirked and winked over at him.

"that," yunho had elegantly twisted his fingers and folded his tie expertly quick, "and the fact that you have a very radical style. too noisy for me, i like things simple."

hongjoong shrugged a bit, "why be boring when you can be bold?"

"why where black when you can wear yellow?" yunho remarked back, grinning at you in the mirror as you stifled a laugh.

"fine, i get it" hongjoong pushed himself off the door frame, "have fun dressing your doll, y/n."

"oh i will~" you hummed, slipping your hands over the shoulders of his suit once he turned around to face you, a small grin still on his lips.

"perfect."

yeosang

"oh look it's mister 'don't touch me'" jongho mused as he came in to find yeosang spread out on the sofa with you hanging onto him like a koala.

"oh hello," yeosang vaguely looked over in his friend's direction "what's your name again?"

"oh you think you're so funny," jongho shook his head as yeosang snuggled into you gently. "i was gonna watch the football game in here."

"go ahead" you piped up, your voice sounding muffled because your face was buried in yeosang's neck. the vibrations of your voice tickled his neck, making him giggle. yeah, you guys weren't going to move anytime soon.

jongho's blank expression didn't change; public displays of affection were not his thing.

"nah forget it," jongho said, "i'll leave you lovebirds in peace."

"good, bye-bye" yeosang yawned and you hit him lightly for being rude, giving him a little glare

"i mean 'nooo, stay with us'" yeosang was so unserious he literally can't go 2 seconds without being sarcastic.

jongho shook his head "i couldn't possibly think of anything worse. having fun!" and he walked out with no other words said.

san

san is quite handsy with everyone he is close to so there's not much he wouldn't do to his members than he does to you.

but he would just concentrate his affection on you a lot more. you'd get all the kisses and cuddles you'll ever need to last you the rest of the year!

and the members noticed this.

"no goodnight kiss?" yunho would ask san in a teasing voice.

"not for you," san grinned sleepily, making his way towards his room, where you were waiting for him.

"wow, you've changed" yunho hummed before going back to his video game. of course, he didn't care, he just wanted to get under san's skin.

and he did. san pouted slightly, feeling guilty that he hadn't shown his friend much affection recently.

"you're just jealous because you don't have a partner" san would say, folding his arms over his chest.

when yunho didn't reply san rushed to him and placed a kiss on his cheek "goodnight" he grumbled and yunho grimaced in disgust, leaning away.

"ewww save that for your partner, lover-boy" yunho grimaced in disgust, leaning away from his affectionate roommate, who looked at him in defeat.

mingi

"stop biting me, wooyoung"

this was the third time mingi had scolded the younger member. yes, wooyoung had the tendency to bite the other members. this did not come as a surprise to you at all. in fact, you found it hilarious.

"you let y/n do it," wooyoung said matter-of-factly as your face flushed. mingi rubbed the back of his head and chuckled shyly.

"yeah, don't think i don't notice the love bites you come home like every other day," wooyoung raised and eyebrow and shrugged. mingi did in fact have one of these love bites laying perfectly on the skin of his neck as he spoke.

"well, that's different, we're dating" mingi protested after his initial embarrassment about being exposed, "you bite me because you... hell, i don't even know why you bite me."

"it's my way of saying i love you" wooyoung gave mingi big wide eyes while you giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your boyfriend.

"i don't care why you do it, and that's gross" mingi's face screwed up into disgust. you hid your face in the crook of his neck as you hid the laughter into his skin.

"why are you in his neck, y/n? wanna bite him again?" wooyoung interrogated as you raised a leg to kick him.

"find someone else to bite, this one's mine" you finally decided to fight back, giving as much attitude as wooyoung was coming out with.

"i don't why anyone has to be me at all, really..." mingi stared at the ceiling, wondering what he had done to deserve this affectionate abuse.

wooyoung

wooyoung was another affectionate member. in fact, he was so affectionate that he broke the physical boundaries the members found normal, to begin with.

"you're all my partners, in a way" wooyoung would gesture to the entire room as the other members groaned, and you sat up next to him with an amused look on your face. it was always fun to see your boyfriend interact with the others the way he did.

"san is my wife, for instance" wooyoung laughed at himself, earning a punch in the shoulder from san, who shook his head, clearly offended. this was the usual behaviour he had to deal with.

"but i love you the most" wooyoung leaned on your shoulder and fluttered his eyebrows as seonghwa let out a little 'aww', the other members rolling their eyes.

"thank goodness. now we don't have to deal with the snoring anymore," jongho remarked as the boys started laughing. wooyoung glared at the younger member playfully.

"what an honour and a privilege," you said in a non-impressed, monotone voice. wooyoung glided an arm over your shoulder.

"it is, isn't it?" wooyoung beamed while you stared at him with the same blank expression.

"i need more wine."

"i'll have some more too~"

"no, alcohol makes you snore louder!"

jongho

jongho is another member who isn't as affectionate as the rest. but he finds himself being different nowadays, because he is dating you. you've definitely softened him, he usually initiates most of the physical affection between you both!

"look at you two," mingi teased, playfully, grinning at the two as you walked arm in arm. you were currently on a walk with all the other members and they all couldn't help but notice how jongho was so open with his affection for you.

"what are you looking at?" jongho whined at his hyung, but his grip tightened on your arm. you blushed lightly at this warm gesture.

"you guys being desperately in love with each other," mingi teased and jongho stared at him with a blank expression. you laughed at this simple exchange.

the 99' liners kept going 'aww' and taking sneaky photos of you two because their precious maknae has found the one.

"leave them alone, guys" seognhwa scolded, but smiled dreamily at the sight of you two. he couldn't help it, you both looked so cute.

"it's nice to see jongho like this," he remarked to hongjoong, who nodded along with him.

you both looked like an exceptionally perfect couple, and the members couldn't get enough of how adorable it all was.

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hotvintagepoll · 3 months

Text

Round 1 of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament began with 540 hot women in prelims. Round 1 starts Saturday, March 2nd, with posts going up over several days. All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. Every poll in the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be tagged with the hot woman in it if you need to search for a hot woman in particular.

FAQs:

“Where is [my favorite hot woman]?” It depends. Are all the Round 1 polls up yet? Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for her? If you still haven’t found her, either nobody submitted her or she did not fit the criteria of being a movie woman from 1910-1970.

“Can I still submit hot women?” No, the submission window has closed. Please do not send in women you wish had made it into the bracket. I can’t do anything with those asks and they just make me sad.

“I have additional propaganda for the hot women!” Great! Send me an ask or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. If you see a separate post that relates to your hot woman, like a fancam or a gifset, you can tag me in it. I don’t boost all the propaganda I see or receive, but I try to boost the best of the best.

If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot lady, I don’t accept propaganda that’s from beyond the end of this tournament’s era (ie don’t send me pics of them from before 1910 or after 1970). I also don’t accept propaganda of TV appearances unless it’s clearly a cameo where they’re playing themselves. If you have a TON of photos to submit, please send a few asks instead of one long one. I watch every video I receive so I can add trigger warnings, so please don't send long videos—I don't have time to review them.

I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any hot woman. If you really hate that a certain hot woman is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. If you think a hot woman shouldn’t even be included in the tournaments because of scummy things she did in her lifetime, please read my take on it here.

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot woman’s flaws or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead. Thoughtless bitching will get blocked.

"Where are the hot men?" Most of them are in the shadow realm! Toshiro Mifune was crowned the winner of the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament, and the rest were banished where the sun never shines. You can find all the round 1 matchups here (thank you @markwatnae!), or you can search the archive by tag to find out more about what happened to all the different hot men.

"Why didn't my propaganda make it into the poll post?" Either I couldn't open the link, or there was so much submitted I could only pick a few. Because this tournament is so much bigger than the Hot & Vintage Men one, I'm limiting propaganda to 5 pics per hot lady for Round 1. I know, a bummer! I have to do it this way to keep myself sane. If you have a photo you really want the world to see, follow the propaganda guidelines above.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

#ladies 1 #new masterpost!#this has some new guidelines so please give it a skim #housekeeping

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futureman · 1 month

Text

love like you

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

summary: mike helps you through a rough patch by reminding you of the many, many reasons he loves you

warnings: established relationship, angst, comfort, mentions of depression, anxiety & panic attacks, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.1k

"Why do you love me?"

You ask the question so quietly, Mike almost misses it over the movie playing in the background. At first, he's not sure how to respond—or at the very least, where to begin.

You've never asked him that before, and he'd never given it much thought if he's being totally honest. He assumed you hadn't, either. It's just something he feels.

It's something he's always felt, gradually building since the day you led his sister back to him after she'd wandered off in the supermarket. He took one look at you, your kind eyes and patient smile, and asked you on a date without a second thought. That's what it's like to love you—instinctual.

He glances away from the TV and looks down at you curiously. Your head is nestled on his lap, eyes already locked on his and filled with apprehension he can't even begin to understand. There are a thousand and one reasons to love you; don't you realize that? He'd tell you every one if you asked.

He loves you because you're always there, through the late-night shifts and nightmares, helping him parent a child you shouldn't have to be responsible for at such a young age. You confiscate his controller every time he tries to smash it in a fit of rage, beating whatever boss he'd been fighting for hours like a champ. He thinks you're so fucking cool.

And you understand him like no one else ever has, so attentive and always willing to try. You kiss away his fears, strip him bare, unmask him. Allow him to seek shelter inside you, ride him to a mind-numbing release when his darkest thoughts threaten to consume him.

You hold him when he wants to give up, when the weight of the world is too much and persevering is too hard. The familiar, soothing tone of your voice reminds him to breathe, to tune out the little things and remember that there's still good to be found in life.

It's everything you do and everything you are. That's why he loves you.

But before he can say anything at all, your face screws up and your bottom lip begins to tremble. His chest immediately tightens.

"Woah, hey. It's okay," he murmurs, keeping you grounded in the present despite his rising panic. "You're okay."

You're prone to spiraling, but after years together, he knows the best way to mitigate it is to stay calm. Regardless of the raging storm in your head, you're safe with him, warm and dry at home on your couch.

He caresses your cheek, then trails up to scrub at the crinkle in your forehead. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing. It's—really, it's nothing. I'm sorry, I don't know why I asked you that," you shake your head, averting your gaze elsewhere. But after a moment, your eyes snap back to his, and there's so much pain there, he can almost feel it.

"No, it's...it's everything. My brain won't shut up, and it's mean and loud, and I just—," you pause, clenching your jaw in frustration. "I just don't get it. Of everyone you could've been with, why me? I can't understand why you chose me."

The question feels like a slap in the face. Like he had so many choices and only picked you based on some predetermined criteria of what someone should want in a partner. He didn't just pull your name out of a bowl, either. You chose each other.

He wracks his brain to figure out what he could've said or done to make you believe otherwise, but then remembers this isn't about him. He tries again to explain all of the reasons he wanted to before, to tell you that the unrelenting thoughts ping-ponging in your head are wrong, but you continue on, unraveling before his eyes.

"I'm a shitty person. I'm selfish and useless, and all I do is make everyone around me unhappy. There's always a crisis, I'm always sad. And I always make everything about me," you tell him, getting angrier by the second. "Ugly, worthless, selfish, selfish. I’m a fucking burden. You know, I—I just keep waiting for you to figure it out and leave. To get sick of this...of me."

He listens helplessly as you tear yourself apart, the ache in his chest intensifying the worse your verbal barrage becomes. He knows he can't just reassure away your insecurities or magically heal your trauma, no matter how badly he wants to. But he also can't let this go on any longer.

"Stop," he says softly, cutting you off. Hearing the full extent of your criticism is agonizing, and if it's hurting him this much, he hates to think what you must be feeling. "None of that is true. I think...I hope, deep down, you know that."

The broken look you give him tells him you don't, or maybe that you can't, at least not right now. You open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head and hauls you up into his arms. He holds you close as you start to tremble, guiding you to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

"There's nothing shitty about you, alright? You're the least selfish person I've ever met. Kinda wish you were so you'd stop prioritizing us over yourself all the time," he murmurs into your hair. "And you're fucking gorgeous. I don't want to hear you say any of that ever again."

He tilts his head to meet your eyes. "Got it?"

You shake your head, turning to hide your face in the crook of his neck. He sighs. He just can't fathom how you could possibly look at yourself and not see what he and Abby do. But then again, he might understand more than he'd like to admit.

Everything you've told him tonight feels jarringly familiar. The self-hatred, the unending criticism—he wallows in those thoughts all the time and knows better than anyone that they'll eat you alive if you bottle them up for too long.

He hates that you have to suffer through this just because brain chemistry is indiscriminately cruel. It's unfair. He, at the very least, deserves it.

Except, that's not actually true, is it? And if your roles were reversed, you'd remind him as many times as it takes for him to believe it. You'd tell him that he's perfect exactly the way he is. That he's a good parent, brother, and partner, and regardless of all of the shit life has thrown his way, he's still a good person that isn't defined by his lowest moments.

So, he'll do the same for you.

He shifts you on his lap so you're face-to-face, your legs bracketing his thighs, and cups your cheeks to keep your attention on him. He's not letting you hide anymore. He needs you to hear what he has to say and trust that he'd never lie to you.

"You're not worthless or useless or anything else your brain is telling you right now. Okay? You're perfect," he says quietly, stroking your cheek. "I've always thought you were perfect, from the moment I met you."

Doubt clouds your expression. "I don't believe you."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"B-because that's what you're supposed to say when you're trying to make someone feel better," you reply shakily.

Ouch. He hadn’t expected that answer. It stings that you'd think so little of him, especially after all this time. He feels like he’s grasping at straws now, but everything he wants to say is just a variation of how highly he sees you. It’s all equally true, but if you can’t accept that, then what else can he do?

"Then, tell me what you need to hear right now. Tell me how to help you through this, because I love you so fucking much, and I will do anything," he pleads, his frustration bleeding through despite how hard he tries to suppress it.

It’s starting to affect you. You’re shaking like a leaf, and he can tell you want to run away, but instead of letting you go, he wraps his arms around you as carefully as he can to keep you from leaving. He doesn't want to force you to face this. He just needs you to stop hurting yourself. Your face crumples, and he feels his own do the same.

"I don't know. Probably nothing," you tell him, voice cracking. "Look, we don't have to talk about it anymore. I'm sorry for bringing it up in the first place. Can we just go back to watching the movie? I’ll rewind it—“

But Mike doesn't want to let this go. Even if he should, even though you're asking—he's determined to make sure you go to bed tonight knowing how loved you are. His next words come out harsher than he wants them to, but he’s getting desperate. He’s only human.

"Fine. You want the truth? Being with you is hard. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, and sometimes, it hurts like hell," he starts. Your expression morphs from sad to devastated, and he feels terrible for upsetting you, but he has to say this for both of your sakes.

"But that's what makes it worth it. I've never felt this way about anyone, probably never will again. Not because it's easy; because it's you. Sure, no one's perfect, but you're about as close as it gets. You're it for me.”

He truly believes that. Maybe you do, too. The tension in your body is beginning to bleed away, and you slowly sag against him, tucking yourself into his chest. He catches a glimpse of your face as you melt into him, and for the first time tonight, you look hopeful. Nuzzling into your hair, he continues.

"I can't imagine a life without you anymore. It's like you're part of me now, maybe even the best parts, and I fill in the gaps in between. We just…figured it out at some point. Together.” He’s starting to ramble, but he’s too invested to stop. Judging by the fact that you haven’t interrupted him or tried to intervene, it doesn’t seem like you want him to, either.

“Even the small shit other couples fight about. Like the dishes—you hate doing those because digging the silverware out of the sink grosses you out, so I do it. And you fold the laundry because I always burn myself taking the clothes out of the dryer. We talk shit out. We try."

He squeezes you a little tighter. “Maybe those seem like shitty reasons to love someone, but they’re real. Just as real as what I told you before," he says softly, pausing to kiss the top of your head. "You're beautiful. You're kind and passionate, and I’m just the lucky guy that gets to be with you. I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

When he finally finishes, he’s all but gasping for air. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, and he’s breathing so heavily, he feels like he just ran a marathon. But it’s worth it to see the look on your face as you peer up at him, cautious but peaceful.

“How could I not want you?” you whisper, splaying your hand across his chest, just below his collarbone. You're feeling his heartbeat.

"I've been asking you that all damn night," he chuckles. Cradling your head in his palm, he swipes away a few stray tears that fall with the next flutter of your lashes. "So, did I answer your question or should I keep going? Because seriously, I can keep going—"

You snort, effectively cutting him off, then give him a wry smile. The relief he feels is palpable.

“You know, I really don’t deserve you," you murmur as you lean up to kiss the underside of his jaw. When your lips linger, he ducks down to press his against yours, kissing you deeply and pouring in everything left unsaid.

"Sure, you do," he says kindly, but with finality. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you're both starting to look as tired as you feel. But more than that, he's grateful; to have you in his life and to be able to comfort you when you need it most. You taught him that. "And I think we both deserve some sleepytime tea and a really soft blanket...if Abby didn't already steal it off our bed."

Your face lights up, and it's as if he solved all of the world's problems with that one simple offering. It's the same look you give him when he tells you he loves you. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you say it back.

"I love you, too."

thanks for reading!

divider by @saradika-graphics

a/n: this was a homework assignment from my therapist 💀 oops

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt #fnaf fanfic #fnaf imagine #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch

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dairy-farmer · 13 days

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I love love LOVE the idea of Tim being on the other side of an affair! And not the mushy "but then they fall in love with Tim and leave their wife for him" stuff (which is good in its own ways ofc!), I'm talking about unapologetic slutty homewrecker Tim

He fucks these men bc he wants to, he's completely independent otherwise. He doesn't need these men for anything other than good dick, and he can find that anywhere. He gets a thrill out of making married men cheat, what can he say?

But my favorite idea with this, is Tim starting out these affairs when he's still way too young. Like his first successful affair isn't even a cape, it's one of his tutors when he's 13. They only do it the once, but Tim loved it! He would seek out more opportunities, but then he becomes Robin a few weeks later and his priorities shift

So when he's 14 and alone with Superman and somehow finds himself on his knees sucking down a huge cock? He takes the chance where he can. It ends up becoming a regular thing despite Clark's guilt over cheating on Lois, and it gets worse when Tim gets pregnant at 17, in the aftermath of him and Clark fucking for the first time since Tim saved Bruce from the time stream

Clark is conflicted on what to do but Tim is like "whatever, nbd. I've always wanted kids one day anyways, even if this is a little early. Honestly I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner with the way I sleep around" and then Tim realizes why Clark is upset and adds "oh, no one will know the baby is yours, ofc. It isn't any of their business, anyways. And you don't have to take any responsibility, tho it would be nice if you visited on occasion. But I get that Jon and Lois are your priorities and stuff"

So Tim goes through with the pregnancy, as a darling baby boy that he kicks ass at raising as a single mom, and everything is just fine (except maybe Clark's paranoia at being found out). Tim finds out he's pregnant again about a year later tho and he's just as fine with it as he was the first time, and reassures Clark that he knows the baby is someone else's in the JL. By the time Tim is 25 he has five kids, all of them clearly having different fathers (and if you look closely, you could definitely figure out who fathered who. Clark for his first baby, Barry for his second, Oliver for his third, Arthur for his fourth, Wally for his fifth, and a recently married Bruce is responsible for Tim's belly filling out once again with baby number six). The only thing they all have in common is that all of his baby daddies (aside from being JL members) are happily married husbands

Tim never thought he would let it get to the point where he was having these affair babies, and so many to boot, but honestly? It makes him feel sexy, desired, and powerful. After all, it's not everyday you have blackmail over some of the strongest members of the JL

its universally acknowledged that all the bats are a little screwy, they all have a little something something wrong with them. for tim his thing is homewrecking, there's just something about married men that draws him in so much closer than anything else. but not just any men, its the weak ones. some part of tim revels in sniffing them out like a shark, that no matter their words, no matter how much they posture, or how they hold themselves- tim knows that at the slightest opportunity they'd risk losing everything just to fuck him.

so tim's just a little disappointed to find so many capes fit that criteria, just a little bit though. tim only wants their dicks not to lecture them. plus once his short affair with the tutor his boarding school hired, tim had been looking for someone else. someone older, closer, someone who could really fuck tim, not the quiet quickies he'd been having up til then.

and so clark comes to him! bruce is in space and he and clark apparently had some agreement where he'd fly by the manor to check on jason and dick, make sure they weren't in any trouble. only tim doesn't live at the manor and suddenly clark is standing in tim's room, unsupervised and alone with tim who had just been under the sheets and playing with his little cunt. tim barely has to even try. he's horny and desperate and clark is there and big and his hands are so large they drawf tim's head and force him close as he swallows his cock into his wet, tiny mouth. he begs clark to fuck him. and he does, tim's pajama covered bottoms hang around his ankles as clark kneels and wetly sinks into tim's pink baby cunt with a thick wet sound while tim is laid on his bed and whining. clark's cock is so big that he's only able to get half his cock into him, the rest is stuck outside getting steadily dripped on by tim's wetness. clark's cum is hotter than a normal human's and so liquidy it drips down like a broken faucet out of tim's cunt.

for the rest of the time bruce is gone clark returns to swing by, marveling over tim's body an stroking his sides as he rides him, the stretch having been made easier with the help of the lube tim found in his dad's bedside drawer.

clark is tim's longest lasting affair, and while he'd never admit it to bruce, his favorite. after all you can't carry on an affair for years and not grow at least a little fond of someone. its why tim is a little excited when he does get pregnant. he'd been thinking of settling down and retiring for awhile. damian was now robin, bruce was doing better mentally than he ever had before, the rest of the family was mostly at peace and talking rather than estranged. it's perfect for him to retire.

so when he finds out he's pregnant, he does.

tim doesn't actually tell clark he's pregnant, he doesn't see the point, he and clark see each other sporadically so tim could just tell him the next time clark swung by to fuck him, maybe tim would already have the baby by then and they could work on baby #2.

bruce tells clark, lamenting to him about tim retiring due to pregnancy and not seeing how clark goes ghost white.

tim assures clark he wasn't going to tell anyone, that he had no obligation to tim, that this was TIM'S baby and he'd handle everything about it and it was alright that tim wouldn't tell anyone clark was the daddy.

and tim doesn't.

he keeps his promise.

but the baby thing does scare clark away for a little, he comes back eventually but not until tim has already started fucking barry. oh barry, he's so kind and thoughtful. he hears about tim's "unfortunate" teen pregnancy (at least that's what the other heroes were calling it) and takes it upon himself to gift tim supplies and a crib that once belonged to his own children and was so expensive it was a shame to leave it rotting in the attic. tim is visibly pregnant and living alone in his apartment because bruce had not been too happy about tim's pregnancy. and barry is welcome company who chats and asks tim questions about his baby plans while building the crib even though tim knows that with his superspeed he could have it done in under a minute and cut the visit short. but he doesn't and tim appreciates the company while talking about his birthing classes.

barry really is a swell guy even if he accepts the advances of a pregnant teen that he has on his back and fucks on the floor of a baby's future nursery. barry is very into fucking tim, tim suspects a kink but he's not sure which one. tim was already pregnant so there wasn't much use in condoms which barry was particularly happy about as he buried his cock heatedly into tim's reddened cunt.

clark comes back eventually. a few months after tim gives birth to his baby he brings enough diapers to last tim months and fucks him while tim's baby naps in the other room. when tim gets pregnant again tim makes sure to tell him before anyone else does and also assures him that he's not the father which clark just blinks at and it occurs to tim that he probably hadn't realized tim had been fucking other people aside from him. tim doesn't say who (no need to open a can of worms with the information) but does admit they are also in the JL.

tim's affair with oliver is a natural progression as a result of his affair with barry. of course barry confides to olly. they run in the same circles, are "bros" to an extent, and when barry comes to him freaking out about having gotten tim pregnant well of course oliver gets interested. he's curious, wants to feel out the extent of the affair, maybe softly interrogate tim. tim is certain green arrow came to his door fully intending on doing something about barry's affair, instead the only thing he ends up doing is tim.

pregnancy makes tim horny, almost as horny as married men do and so tim getting bent over his washing machine and thoroughly fucked was the natural result.

oliver swings by to see him every time he's in gotham, he swings by even more frequently after tim gives birth to a sweet little girl with a head of blonde curls that he gets weepy over.

aquaman hears about his fellow married leaguers all having affairs from their drunken rambles. the husbands in the league have a bit of a boys club, something that initially started out as a way to bully bruce since he was the only unmarried man. he hears about their shame, but also how they can't help going back, how they secretly check on their kids, and how they're happy that tim's such a loving and wonderful mother, how tim has the best cunt any of them have ever fucked. arthur starts it out of curiosity. he loves his wife, he does. but...arthur has gotten a bit of a reputation among the husbands as a bit of a bore, not really someone who would take risks, who would do something as aghast as having an affair. tim seems like the best option, he's clearly discrete, is very capable of managing league personalities, does well in bed. its a no brainer. arthur is only planning to do it once, just so he can have the badge of honor of having successfully had an affair. but then he finds himself returning. finds himself...attracted. timothy is good company, he's humorous, he's curious, he listens to arthur's laments, he's wonderful company in more ways than one. arthur finds the little mother of three very attractive and before long he's the reason he's become a mother of four. arthur is the only one of tim's affairs that tries making it more, offering to bring tim and his children to atlantis, offering them a safe haven to learn and grow, to support tim and even legitimize their child. mera may be upset with him (very upset) but arthur was still ultimately king.

tim rejects it. insists to arthur he's fine, that he wants to raise his babies on his own terms and that tim wasn't looking for commitment.

besides if arthur's affair came out, if the fact that he sired a child outside his marriage came out- surely that would incense some people, shake atlantean's view of him?

arthur hesitates but its enough and tim tells him to drop it. that tim will send him pictures of their child through email occasionally if he wants, its what he does with the others afterall.

bruce is the last of them. he was also the last to get married but still. the ink is barely dried on the marriage certificate when a tipsy bruce fucks tim in the bathroom, right next to the baby changing station. tim's dress is hastily shoved up, the top pushed down to expose his milky tits from nursing arthur's baby. bruce's voice is deepened to a near growl and he whispers about how he's needed tim for so long, that this was his last chance to ever fuck him before being tied down forever. bruce's cock is almost dripping with need, the tip messy with precum as he presses into tim's warm cunt with ease, a benefit to having four babies.

bruce fucks tim so hard he nearly leaves a permanent imprint on the tile as he hoists tim's legs up to wrap around his waist.

it's a good wedding night. for tim at least.

the next morning bruce is at his door with an apology, an excuse with his drunkenness. but it doesn't last because it ends with bruce and tim on the couch, bruce buried inside tim again.

bruce is the most possesive of tim's affairs. tim's not sure when he starts looking into it but shortly after starting his affair with tim bruce threatens the others away from him, somehow it got into his mind that he wanted to be the only one fucking tim. but a quick threat to out him to selina and all of a sudden bruce is okay with sharing.

which was the point, it was the reason tim was able to peacefully enjoy his many affairs. there was a built in backup plan. if they ever tried to do something he didn't like, ever tried anything- it would be over for them. people could forgive affairs but affairs with a much younger person, someone he mentored, someone that was more of an honorary nephew, someone they'd gotten pregnant, someone they'd been seeing for years? there was only one natural result to all their marriages if they found out and tim knew they knew it, knew they loved their wives too much too lose them, but they were also unwilling to lose tim.

it was perfect. tim had everything he wanted and things were just as they should be.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #whoops just realized i forgot about wally lol

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nerves-nebula · 4 months

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How did Donnie Evolve from being tortured to being the torturer?

Idk if Donnie has ever been explicitly tortured so much as constantly abused and emotionally neglected/exploited/manipulated throughout his entire life. So I guess the same way I evolved into being um. The way I am now.

Around the time stuff went down with shredder Donnie stopped being… idk how to explain it. It’s not that he stopped being nice. Not even that he stopped doing kind things it’s just like, he’s less, idk… hopeful? I mean he’s still desperate for connection but you can only break your heart so many times.

His takeaway from realizing Shredder was lying to him wasn’t super healthy because he basically accepted that no one but his brothers would ever be his family or care about him. and he never felt that he was really a priority for them in the first place because they have their own shit going on.

Donnie doesn’t enjoy being alive, it annoys him, living and eating and breathing chafes him. The enormity of pain in the world chafes him. His constant disappointment and dissatisfaction chafes him. You already start to see it by the time he’s a teenager from the way he interacts with little leo in the memory comic. He’s tired, he’s blunt, he cares about people but lashes out because he doesn’t really believe they care about him- cuz in his opinion they just don’t. They don’t fit the criteria.

People- April, his brothers- they don’t give him what he needs. Everyone always has something better or more important going on. And he can’t even really blame them, because he doesn’t really believe he’s fun to be around anyway. But he hates how they keep insisting they love him because they don’t make him feel loved. it burns to be told you’re loved and should feel loved and that you’re ungrateful if you don’t because clearly everyone here cares a lot about you. Just being told that over and over and never once feeling it is maddening.

So it’s nice, to be the one in charge. To be the one who abuses and abandons and face no consequences for it. It’s nice to know the only people who could or would stop him (his brothers) probably wouldn’t hurt him to do so. It’s fun to be in charge when you’ve felt powerless, weak, and worthless your entire life. It’s fun to be mean after trying your best to be nice got you nothing but abuse.

Plus, it’s even better if you can justify to yourself that the person you’re torturing deserves it- or at least deserves it more than anyone else- which is easy enough to do when your target is krang.

I’ve always admitted to pouring a lot of myself into my Donnie but writing this out is like. Huh he just like me fr.

#nnstuff #rambling #tmnt donnie #teenage mutant neglected turtles #tmnt krang #ask

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uraichievents · 1 year

Photo

Monday, June 26th, 2023 - Sunday, July 2nd, 2023

General Info

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

For those of you with Tumblr, you can tag your stuff with #UraIchi Week 2023 in the first five tags of your post. I’ll be tracking that tag so I’ll see it and reblog it to this blog. (If it’s been a few days since you posted and I still haven’t reblogged it, something probably went wrong, Tumblr’s not always reliable, so just shoot me an ask about it and I’ll reblog it.)

For those of you with AO3, I will create a collection a day or two before the event starts, and you’ll be able to add your work to the collection when you post. (I’ll toss up a notice for everyone once the collection is up.)

And of course we have our Discord server (link is on the sidebar) so if you want to come and talk about what you’re working on or you just want to chat, feel free to join us there!

At this point, the UraIchi Server has definitely gotten a lot bigger than just UraIchi, but we do still have channels dedicated to UraIchi events.

~ Themes

The votes are in and tallied so here are the results that everyone’s been waiting for! It’s your choice whether or not you want to make a fanwork that includes all the themes of that day, or a fanwork for each theme, or a fanwork for just one. You can make something for each day of the week or just one or two days. And if your fanwork doesn’t fit any of the themes, there’s a Creator’s Choice option on the last day so feel free to bring your own ideas to this event. All prompts can be interpreted any way you want as well, it’s entirely up to you, any extra bits I’ve added is just to help get those inspiration bunnies hopping.

An extra note about the sentence prompts: feel free to change the tenses and pronouns as it suits you. If you’re inspired by a sentence prompt, then of course you should include it in your fic (as opposed to the quote prompts which are just inspiration in a general-theme-of-your-work sort of way), but if you need to change the tense from present to past, or if you’re doing a genderbend fic and need to change the pronoun, that’s perfectly fine.

And now here are the prompts:

June 26th, 2023 - Day 1: the passage of time is a game-changer, for better or for worse

Time Travel AU / Dimension Travel AU

"At this point, I've died so many times, once more isn't going to make a difference."

Post-Canon AU

"This isn't your responsibility." / "It isn't yours either."

June 27th, 2023 - Day 2: o if only the dead could speak— you would hear the stories they could tell, of the terrible things we did for love

Loyalty Kink

"Him or the world? That's easy."

Oaths / Vows

"Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." - David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

June 28th, 2023 - Day 3: is there really so great a difference, between man and martyr and monster?

vs. Gotei 13 AU

"You could at least keep your pet killer on a leash."

Mafia AU

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look when considering violence?" - Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

June 29th, 2023 - Day 4: i was never human to begin with (you made sure of that)

Feral

Eldritch/Horror/Supernatural Elements AU

Binding Contracts

"Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?" - Friedrich Nietzsche

June 30th, 2023 - Day 5: our love was forged across battlefields (we fought for every bit of it, every single day)

Soulmates AU

"I want you to stay. Am I still not being clear enough?"

Arranged Marriage AU

"We accept the love we think we deserve." - Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

July 1st, 2023 - Day 6: redemption or destruction— which one will you be to me?

Touch-Starved Character(s)

"I've forgotten how to be kind."

Mask

"I desire the things that will destroy me in the end." - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

July 2nd, 2023 - Day 7:

Creator’s Choice!

#psa #uraichi #bleach #uraichi week 2023 #uraichi week

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ficfinder-general · 8 months

Note

Hi! I’ve read lots of CodyWan, and nothing is hitting anymore. I like very specific things, and I’ve read all the popular fics, but if you could recommend me stuff with this criteria loosely…

IMPORTANT

-With or without smut

-over 30k words,

-complete fics preferred, but if it is ongoing it has to have been updated less than 3 months ago.

MAIN POINTS:

-forbidden romance, like Cody and Obi-Wan have to sneak around to stop people from knowing

-must have happy ending. Doesn’t need to be a complete fix it but I just want them to end up happy

LESS IMPORTANT BUT I STILL LOVE:

-Sith Obi-Wan. Enemies to lovers never fails.

-Cody doesn’t have rapid aging, or it’s mentioned that it stops eventually or the chip fixes it.

-good brother relationship between the vode, especially between Cody and Rex

-clones speaking mando’a!

DO NOT INCLUDE:

-major character death

-too much angst

-any 212th/obiwan, cloneship, or poly ships including Obi-Wan or Cody. Just the two of them.

I know this is quite specific but I need a fic rec that I haven’t read before, and CodyWan was the ship that brought me to AO3! If you can’t find anything that’s okay but if you have any good recommendations, please tell me!

Hmm… Honestly, I can see why it’s hard to find fics that fit these criteria.

My first thought was The 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough series by ihathbenobiwankebobied (@ihathbenobiwankenobied). It’s a collection of shorter fics, but overall more than 50k words long and there’s lots of sneaking around (and whump but they’re pretty fluffy at the same time! It's not too angsty in my opinion and the secret relationship aspect makes it kinda fun).

Regarding the Sith!Obi-Wan fics, I can wholeheartedly recommend the Name of the Game by esama (@esamastation) and I got my head checked by frostbitebakery (@frostbitebakery), both of them are amazing, but you might’ve read them already.

Since you said you’ve read a lot of fics, I checked ao3 for works I have not read yet, but you might be interested in them:

Peace in the Realm by Rosawyn: looks like a really intriguing medieval AU, completed, 85k, rated M, Cody and Obi-Wan are in a secret relationship

No End in Sight by TreeOfTime: rated T and up, completed, 31k, Sith!Obi-Wan, and seems promising in terms of sneakiness, since Cody’s Qui-Gon’s commander and Obi-Wan fights on the side of the Seppies.

The Good Sith series by sonnyrain: It’s long and ongoing, but it was recently updated (and 8 works are already completed) It’s a time travel fix-it, and as far as I can tell, Cody and Obi-Wan are forbidden from loving each other at first and will only get together later on.

Does anyone have any suggestions?

#codywan fic recs #forbidden love #long fic #happy ending #sithywan #secret relationship #codywan #fic rec

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liamtheshark7 · 2 months

Text

My essay on my Fanny button might be autistic

Note: I have been thinking about this so much and now want to share it because I 1) seen others say the same thing 2) seen that the bbc ghosts fans won’t get mad over headcanons about autism and have a lot of them so that’s cool I will say now

Why Fanny button might be autistic

In this essay I will tell you why I think Fanny button from ghosts is autistic and I think she’s a high masking autistic. It won't be a great essay but hopefully will get my point across. I researched high masking in women for this because that’s a specific thing and I really think it’s her I think it really explains a lot of her because Fanny can sometimes be misunderstood by other characters In the show and people who watch the show and there is a reason for this, fanny puts up such a character sort of like she acts so intense all the time and then it’s hard for people to really see past this but what I think happened to make her like this was that when she married George she started masking a lot more because we see in the Christmas special “he came” she was very different before she is very talented at math autistic people can be very talented in something and love it a lot a special interest perhaps* but she was told she can’t do this it’s for men now when I’m thinking about this I’m thinking a lot of this was impacted by the time she was in and being a woman in this time which is why I researched autism in women specifically masking is alot more common in AFAB people because of society alot so it can still apply here it’s just worth noteing the context and differences in society speaking of the time she was in an how society was then okay a common thing alot of autistic people say or feel is “its like everyone was given a book on how to be human at birth and mine was lost” that didn't attuly happen but that's just what if feels like and this is mainly referring to socialy but fanny did attuly get this book there where rules told to everyone then about how to act how to communicate and act around people how your ment to seem etc so when she married George and he did not love her she thought “I need to follow there rules better if I follow them completely he will love me” and she did she learnt these rules and followed them masking. What makes alot of people who may think Fanny is autistic think this is how hard she finds it to accept change now I have looked at the criteria for getting an autism diagnosis and she dose fit it the only thing is that traits had to have been there since you where a child and we can't know that because we never see her as a child for the sake of this we will assume she did so this here is the first part which is social.

A. Need to have persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across multiple contexts, as manifested by the following, currently or by history

Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation; to reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect; to failure to initiate or respond to social interactions

Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction, ranging, for example, from poorly integrated verbal and nonverbal communication; to abnormalities in eye contact and body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures; to a total lack of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.

Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understanding relationships, ranging, for example, from difficulties adjusting behavior to suit various social contexts; to difficulties in sharing imaginative play or in making friends; to absence of interest in peers.

So to fit the first part of the autism criteria you need to have or have had persistent struggles I'm each of those areas as it says above so I will go through them now

On this one I want to go back to thing thing about “it feels like everyone was giving a book at birth on how to be human and mine got lost” referring to social interactions but Fanny did literally have this book there where rules for social interactions and if you followed them then your doing good which is why I think she used these rules to mask but even if someone who is autistic is following all these rules sometimes and I dont actually know how i just heard that people who aren't autistic can still just tell that there is something different there is no way we can see this unfortunately because we only have bits of her life but we know she did have friends who she would mainly talk gossip with but moving on to her death which we have of course much more to go off she dose say very out of pocket things one example which I think alot of people think she was purposely trying to insult Alison but I think she was not really trying to do that she was saying amd making a point of how Alison seemed and that she was not lady like and following the rules whatever but i don't think Fanny saw an attualy problem with what she was saying and this is the “when you first arrived here I though you where a prostitute” she doesn’t really see how this could upset or offende someone she just speaking her mind with no filter she dose not have a filter even when following the rules she was given she still says things which she didn't realise she could not or would not be appropriate so I still think yes to this she dose communication in a strange way with the other characters she can be quite blunt and rude not knowing she is being because it fits within her rules that she knows. Another thing worth noting here is that fanny is closest with the captain who is also quite obviously autistic I think*2 and neurodivergent*3 people tend to become friends with eachother like that.

The main thing I can think of for this is In fanny's body language she always has the same pose same face on she dose notice others body language because she does give out to Alison from doing things not like a lady but again that is most likely learnt she learnt this is how a lady is meant to have her body language and she learnt exactly what to do and look out for when they did the panto for Alison she could not do a different character for fairy God mother and evil step mother the tone the body language was exactly the same despite them being obviously very different characters.

Fanny shows little interest in forming friendships with her fellow ghost, Martha Howe Douglas even says on the podcast that she doesn't like any of them I don't think this Is fully true but it is worth noting also note that many things said on that podcast where also not fully correct I think so it is to be taken with a grain of salt, Fanny definition of friends is “peers and intellectual equals” but a better definition is “a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection” so she dose not understand friendships fully, I also think she tends to misinterpret others relationships for example when you read the book you can see how obvious George's affair with the butler and gardner was she also panicked a lot when she was briefly attracted to Mike she made it alot more dramatic than it really was it took her a while to catch on to the fact that she was being just as bad as Betty in the final and she did not notice the captain being gay either most of the ghosts noticed this. She again dose not fully know when she's being rude I don't think she doesn’t know what is and isn't appropriate to say to Alison and the other ghosts, she also viewed Alison as her own daughter which I did notice that but some people did not it was not the most clear on account of how rude she was to Alison so alot of people did not notice she dose not know why this matters and maybe thinks she's being A lot more obvious as a mother then she really is. Said before but diffrent context when they where doing the panto she could not do a difference between he fairy God mother and evil step mother very different character.

As well as that you also need to have three of the four traits I will put next

B. Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history

Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech (e.g., simple motor stereotypes, lining up toys or flipping objects, echolalia, idiosyncratic phrases).

Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior (e.g., extreme distress at small changes, difficulties with transitions, rigid thinking patterns, greeting rituals, need to take same route or eat same food every day).

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment (e.g. apparent indifference to pain/temperature, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, visual fascination with lights or movement).

I will now go through if and when I think she shows these behaviors

So a lot of the ghosts do things like this more obvious ones would be the Captain, Mary and Robin I am being honest I don't notice these as much in Fanny but let's go through it, one of the main things people notice is in the captain and all the noises he makes mary pat and fanny do this also (+Robin echolalia) Mary more than Pat but Fanny does this also!! Listen to her there's a video somewhere on YouTube titled the sound of fanny or something she does the same sort of stimming noises that they do another thing this is a bit of overthinking perhaps but the way fanny stand her posture the way she holds herself if you look at it she does almost the same one all the time and it's like she holds her own hands and has then on front of her and she sort of moves around the hands now if you copy this posture and you hold your hands tight and you sort of move around the hands it's like hers so I think she's holding her hands tight she's trying to keep still but still moving around that suppressing stims??? Maybe I think so she also if you look close at her hands her thumb moves every so often and sort of very small strokes her hands this could be the stim that got out of her trying to suppress it if you look at her and if you look at the captain in that scene where havers gives him the letter about France surrendering and he runs to the window he is quite obviously If you watch it then you watch him as a ghost, suppressing stims the feel of that scene is very similar to the feel of fanny's scenes. Also when she was combing robins hair could also be a stim thing feeling textures can be a stim.

This is why people usually if they do think Fanny is autistic think it, she can not handle change like at all it can not affect her ons bit and she can't deal with it she get really stressed and really annoyed about it she can not handle it, she does come around to change eventually for example the land being sold she gets very upset about it then she goes off she calms down she talks about it to Thomas and then she is okay she has a big reaction is very upset by it and then she regulates and eventually accepts it. I also think her insisting Alison follows all her rules to be a lady could be part of this. It is common in autism to care a lot about rules and get stressed if they are not followed but not everyone is like this. I definitely think that's part of this as well as other things. When mary got sucked off she panicked alot she first did not process it which delayed processing can also be a thing with autism I do think she shows this sometimes for example when Alison got pushed it took her a bit and then she got mad but that was also her thinking alot and being lost in thought, she doesn't really process it until Mary's moving on starts bringing up change in her life and now she realize something is missing this is going to be different and her friend is gone she has no idea what to do with herself after realizing this she just panics.

Fanny most definitely has fixations I think one of them was murder she wrote which she was very fixated on for a while so much that she brang it into her own life (death) if it weren't for that they would not have known about Lucy I do this also I try bring whatever I'm currently fixated on into every aspect of my life every project I do I learn new things because of it it really makes its way into your life, I also with Dante Dante the stuffed dog I'm not sure is that an object because it was a dog but now is it still a dog or an object dog or and object/dog? But yes, saying you love a stuffed dog more than anything In the world I think is an unusually strong attachment to a thing. Another note is that she is very good with animals. She had a lot and I think I heard that that is common with autistic people but I'm not sure.

Now this one is a bit harder because she is dead but I said before but combing robins hair sensory seeking feeling textures she very much did not like it when she had to go I'm the basement because she did not like the plague ghosts or the environment for sensory reasons could be both this one is more hard because they don't feel everything In death so I do not know.

So Fanny Button dose fit the autism criteria the best I can try prove that I am not a doctor I just really love ghosts and i think this explains a lot about her character

In conclusion I believe fanny button is autistic I believe she fits the criteria for autism and I think she is specifically a high masking autistic I think without that detail it doesn't make sense but I love this theory because it makes her make sense and it helps you to think about her character better.

Goodbye

Notes 2

*the maths thing was never mentioned after that though but you can have multiple special interests so I could be that and something else like maybe all her ladylike rules or her pets gossip don't know

*2 I also think mary is autistic specifically they all have traits lots of them and I'd say I could do this for most of them but it is worth noting, noting that's all we can completely ignore it after this but in TV shows the characters they are people but they are different then people so it's much easier to see autistic traits and traits of anything like for example personality disorders that maybe if they were a real person it would not be the same but that's it I love all the theory's regarding this and they all fit and make sense

*3 yeah they are all neurodivergent probably also I think Fanny and the captain are very similar and show a lot of there autistic traits in the same way or similar

hopefully all this information is correct thank you for reading if you have anything to add I would love to hear it

#bbc ghosts #fanny button #bbc ghosts fanny #lady button

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paper-gold-theories · 1 month

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Say, what do you think Goldheart and Flug's relationship is like if Flug didn't become a villain and worked as a scientist for P.E.A.C.E instead? It is like that Goldheart is a bit older by maybe three years or so and was already a hero by the time Miss Heed saw him on television. Would that mean him and Flug would have never met? Considering that Flug didn't really continue becoming super villain. How would they even meet? What do you think is gonna happen in that scenario?

P.E.A.C.E. Scientist Flug AU (featuring some PaperGold)

I theorized that since there is a villain school there would also be a hero school, my headcanon it's called P.E.A.C.E. Academy School of Heroes.

In the hero school the heroes like GoldHeart would be assigned heroic missions under the watchful eyes of their teachers and mentors and can go on solo missions or fight villains on their own as long as they hit a certain criteria or get a certificate after a stage of their training in school.

The villain school should be the same for Flug.

---

If Flug ended up working as a P.E.A.C.E. scientist, in the begining he would definitely do work such as invent/manufacture/improve weapons, serums to give powers, ect.

Meanwhile, GoldHeart would still be looking for a hero with super powers and/or anything that can be used to mind-control villains in order to end Villainy forever and made an announcement to give the P.E.A.C.E. heroes, scientist an opportunity to pitch their ideas and in return give a position to be a member or employed under The Golden Rule.

Flug sees this as a good opportunity to advance his career so he submits his proposal to The Golden Rule about using his thesis on altering human emotions (that he created while he was in middle school) to create a formula to end villany forever.

Shortly he was shortlisted and was scheduled to give The Golden Rule his pitch and show them a demonstration of a prototype formula for The Golden Rule.

----

GoldHeart has never met Flug before this, but has heard many positive things about Flug's work from the higher-ups and other heroes despite only just started working as a scientist a few months ago. As well as negative things from some heroes such as him being weirdo nerd.

When first met Flug during the day he gives his pitch to him and his team, he was absolutely smitten at the sight of the cutie.

He thought that even if Flug's pitch and formula ends up completely garbage he will de initely hit him up afterwards for a date.

----

Flug starts his pitch on how his formula works and afwerwards demonstration of a prototype of the formula he created with a volunteer test subject.

GoldHeart was absolutely impressed and so was The Golden Rule and decided right then and then that Flug's pitch is the the best and awards him the position as The Golden Rule scientist.

____

Afterwards Flug got a lab in The Golden Rule and continues to work to perfect the formula to GoldHeart's specifications. And eventually ends up dating GoldHeart not to long afterwards.

When he was asked by GoldHeart he was caught off guard:

GoldHeart, smirks: Cute and smart is there anything you can't do?

Flug, flattered: Aww thank you...*flustered* wait what?

_____

Afterwards even though Flug was only supposed to be a scientist GoldHeart wants Flug to be a hero as well. So one day, GoldHeart asks Flug if he ever cosidered becoming a hero. Flug said he did try to apply a few times for hero training however they rejected him because he doesn't "fit the image of a hero" and because he won't get powerful superpowers if they give him the serums available after they did the tests on him.

GoldHeart responds that a lot of heroes got where there are not just because of their image or skill set but because they have connections and know someone or (or alot of times because they are rich).

And GoldHeart says he believes that Flug can become an exceptional hero. so he will vouch for him to attend hero training.

Flug was touched and agrees.

----

So Flug ended taking hero training while he is doing his job as a scientist. And despite Flug believing that he should complete hero training first, and learn the theories, basics and scenarios fist,

GoldHeart believes in "learning on the job" will help Flug become a hero faster and was able to convince Flug, desp te his hesitance to go heroic missions and fight crime and villains.

____

The Golden Rule Members aren't to thrill of Flug being a part of their team, they were already not too thrilled that their team leader dating the Flug who although has done alot to benefit and help out their team, thinks GoldHeart can do better than a nerdy weirdo who won't benefit their leader's reputation, which also might affect their reputation because they are in his team. Having Flug as a part of The Golden Rule would definitely affect their image of being the most popular, cool, and trendy hero group in P.E.A.C.E.

However GoldHeart has already made up his mind and there was no way of changing it and one death glare was able to silence any protest they have about Flug. (So they would often keep their opinions to themselves or just talk among themselves when GoldHeart was not around)

Other heros are also jealous of Flug's fast progress despite having no superpowers and not having an image of a cool hero. And some even believed he only got so far only because he was dating GoldHeart.

So Flug will have to prove to everyone his capabilities as a hero.

----

GoldHeart supports Flug every step of the way and is quick to vouch and defend him and silence any falsen rumors spread a out him.

He says things may be rough at the start and things will get better. And its just a matter of time before others sees how great he is as a hero just like him.

___

(Note: If Flug and GoldHeart were dating but did not have the capability if a hero, GoldHeart would not allow Flug to be apart of The Golden Hero, but if Flug wanted to use GoldHeart's fame and to do his own thing, such as starting his own business, he would allow it and encourage it.)

_____

Additionally Flug never went to Black Hat Institute so Miss Heed never met Flug and was never able to steal his thesis.

Hence, she was unable to join The Golden Rule, but despite was still able to become a popular heroine at P.E.A.C.E. (but was still less popular as she foes not have Flug's mind controlling formula to get people to obsessively love her.)

How she managed to become a popular heroine is similar to Villainous: through her father's money and and connections and her agent/community manger Anana Pina helping to maintain her popularity.

During fights her father also hired strong heroes to be her sidekicks to fight and do all the work for her while she gets all the credit and recognition. Something like her dynamic with Omega and Coyote or also something like this (below):

(image source)

As she does not have the mind controlling perfume she also did not apply to get powers to complement the perfume (see theory) hence in this AU, she does not have superpowers and relies on money to get ahead and often takes credit for other people's work because of her laziness.

----

Similar to the other heroes, Miss Heed is jealous of Flug despite being similar to her having no super powers as well as his relationship with GoldHeart thinking "THAT SHOULD BE ME!!"

And would glare seethingly at him every time she crosses paths with Flug.

Miss Heed would definitely spread false rumors mouth about him on social media if she could however there was a strict rule in P.E.A.C.E. not to bad mouth any heroes (as it would affect the organization's reputation if they do) and anyone who does so would face disciplinary action from the board (GoldHeart who would not take to kindly to anyone spreading false rumors about his boyfriend), hence she results to complaining and bad mouthing Flug to other heroes and the people in her circle such as her sidekicks, assistants, agent and her hero "friends".

And other methods:

She spends most of the time competing against Flug in everything and tries GoldHeart's attention so that she can prove that she is better than him (most as petty things like merch sales, chocolate bar sales, brand sponsors who can sign the most autographs, get the most likes in one post, modeling, building a sand castle, get more people to arrive at their birthday party, or during team challenges in P.E.A.C.E. hero retreats/company bonding activities, ect) and more fit to be a member of The Golden Rule and GoldHeart's lover than Flug.

(Such as loudly praising her own accomplishments and awards in front of a large crowd in front of Flug or saying how much nicer her costume is at a party)

Flug finds the whole thing rather annoying and dreads the interaction and tries to ignore her baiting but sometimes would agree to her competition due to her utter persistence wearing him down.

GoldHeart is annoyed and angry and would often ignore her and/or yells and threatened her during her attempts at getting his attention or saying anything bad about her boyfriend making her feel utterly humiliated and embarrassed that her crush hates her so much.

And would also cheer on his boyfriend in his competition and would lavish him with praise and affection every time he wins or loses. (He wins most of the time)

Making Miss Heed even more jealous, angry and frustrated at Flug's relationship with GoldHeart. And even screaming and throwing a hysterical tantrum.

Ironically her obsession of beating Flug ended up making her lose her popularity as she starts to prioritise beating Flug over her own reputation which Flug always beats her in the competition when he indulges her at times and nearly all the attempts lead to utter humiliation and make her look more desperate and/or to embarrass herself.

_____

Along the way Miss Heed's crazy obsession with Flug will make her develop some feelings for Flug leading her to kiss him at the heat of the moment during one of their competitions. This caused Flug to be shocked and GoldHeart to punch Miss Heed in the face for kissing his boyfriend.

#villainous #villanos #dr flug #dr kenning flugslys #goldheart #gold heart #herbert leth #flug #villainous headcanons #villainous au #villainous miss heed #cecilia amanda kelly #villanous theory #villainous omega nuclear #villainous coyote

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lovesick-feelings · 2 years

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Hello! If you have the time can you write a wandered nightmare Freddy with a dating who is a mother figure to the freddles (the little freddies) it can be headcanons or a one shot your choice :)

Anon i'm so sorry this took so long!! (┳Д┳) This turned out waaaaaaaay longer than I was expecting it to be due to all the scenarios of how i wanted to approach this! I actually didn't make this one yandere focused because I wanted to focus more on reader developing a relationship with the Freddles. I may come back to this since this fanfic made me appreciate Nightmare Freddy so much more! As always thank you for requesting beloved anon!! (´• ω •`) ♡

TW: Female reader, Freddles have rabbies or smth

“I can watch over them while you're gone!!” You blurted, making all heads turn towards you. The cub's ears perked up in surprise. Even Nightmare Freddy was taken aback by your suggestion.

Ever since the Freddles ignored their father's commands to leave their last victim's house cat alone, they have been grounded for the night. On those occasions, he’d take the Freddles with him. Making them sit in a corner to think about their actions. This time, however, you couldn't let it happen.

“₳ⱤɆ ɎØɄ ₵ɆⱤ₮₳ł₦ Ø₣ ₮Ⱨł₴ ĐɆ₵ł₴łØ₦?”

If this were last month, you would have slept easily knowing you wouldn't have to deal with them. However, things have changed since you started dating the bear, taking the mother role with it. Lately, you've noticed how agitated the toddlers have been acting since their father's recent work load. Repeatedly throwing tantrums and destroying objects more than usual. Even going as far as disobeying orders from their father leading to now.

You’ve made attempts at trying to engage with the cubs but you'd always end up holding yourself back from fear. It was a common occurrence for the Freddles to become out of hand. Especially with how scared you were of them, you'd rather have them destroy your furniture than maul you. You knew they wouldn't, but the thought still lingered in your mind. There was a reason Freddy had to be there with you to set boundaries.

“Yeah I'm sure” obviously you weren't and Freddy knew it too. He scanned your face before giving his response.

“VɆⱤɎ ₩ɆⱠⱠ. ł₣ ₮ⱧɆɎ ฿Ɇ₲ł₦ ₮Ø ₥ł₴฿ɆⱧ₳VɆ, ₵₳ⱠⱠ ₥Ɇ” Freddy leans over to kiss your head and walks off, disappearing into the shadows. You look back to seeing the boys. The first one looked at you with a deadpan expression, while the other one was trying to hold back their excitement. The last Freddle, still upset, looked away.

‘Oh boy…’

“Um… who wants sweets?”

“I DO!!!”

It’s decided. You start the night making sugar cookies together.

“Okay so… we're gonna need this” you peered over cabinets and the fridge collecting ingredients needed for the cookies. Pouring the contents into a bowl, you allow each of the boys to crack an egg and mix it in.

“Hey, I didn't stir yet!”

“I know just give your brother another second”

It was always best to equally split everything between the three as one extra second would easily unleash chaos. After each of their turns, you decide to mix the rest of the batter, in case of any leftover chunky, unmixed cake batter.

“Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Can we have sprinkles on the cookies?”

“Yeah sure,” It felt strange when the Freddles would refer to you as “mama”. As cute as it was, you never considered yourself to be a proper mother. A proper mother would love their kids unconditionally, go out of their way to help them, and make them feel happy when they're down. The last time you checked you didn't fit much of the criteria. You often wondered if the Freddles really considered you to be their mother as well.

You were suddenly pulled from your thoughts when you heard a loud thud. Your attention snapped towards the boys. One of them climbed the cabinet shelves, knocking over bottles in an attempt to reach the sprinkle bottle.

“Hey don't do that, you're going to get hurt!” You grabbed the bear from behind, putting him down.

“But I wanted to help…” He huffed, hanging his head.

“I’m sorry I didn't mean to yell at you” you reach for the sprinkles and put a few on the cookies

“I don't want you to get hurt. If you need anything you can always tell me, okay?” You smile at him. He looks up and nods. You clean up the mess and place the cookies in an oven. Leaving it to heat up.

“Okay so what should we do next?-”

“TAG!!!” The cub hits your leg. All of a sudden, the three cubs darted to the other direction, leaving you in confusion.

‘At least give me time to think ’

You run behind them trying to catch up with their speed. If there was one game they were best at, it was tag. They knew it because it was the one they suggested playing the most. Within a couple rounds, you could feel yourself slowing down and you think the cubs noticed too, because they're suddenly going slower when it's their turn to catch you. Curse your lack of stamina.

Luckily, the boys agreed to change games when you suggested playing hide-and-go-seek (for your legs’ sake). Looking for hiding spots, you decide to hide in one of the many wardrobes in your home. For once, they haven't caught you so quickly.

‘Am I actually winning-’ You felt your victory diminish when something pounced on your back, wrapping its arms around your neck and letting out an inhumane scream.

“Geez!” You jumped. The little boy giggled from the scare, making you sigh. Thank goodness your flexes didn't throw him back.

“I gotcha mama!!” the cub shouts excitedly, still clinging to your neck.

“Yeah good job!” you chuckle, holding onto him from behind so he wouldn't fall.

“You're getting really good at this”

“I know hehe!”

“Hey you cheated, I was gonna check there next!” The other two ran into your spot. So much for your most successful hiding spot.

By the time the little ones were tired, the cookies were already done. You run to the oven and remove the hot cookie tray placing the cookies onto a plate to cool down. You settled each one of them down and put on a Halloween movie to watch.

“Thank you, mama!” They cheered, grabbing the cookies from the plate. You smiled, settling the cookies on the coffee table. Seeing them be so comfortable around you gives you a sense of warmth that you never thought you'd feel for the nightmares.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Can I get some milk?”

“Me too!”

“Me three!”

“Alright, give me a minute to bring them” You stood up and headed to the kitchen. You grabbed some plastic cups and began to pour milk inside.

“Mama, can I get chocolate with mine?” You jumped from the surprise. He let out a mischievous giggle at your reaction.

“Sorry, mama!”

“No, don’t worry about it '' You lifted him and placed him on the counter. You were both silent as he watched you bring out chocolate powder and pour some into three different colored cups.

“Hey mama, why are you so scared of us?” You looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, you are! Every time you see us you get scared and run away! I thought you hated us for that” Your eyes widened.

“What?! I’m not afraid of you guys! Well..” you paused for a second.

“Yeah, sometimes I get caught off guard by your surprises, but I would never hate you guys for it. If I was I would not be here right now” you pat his head.

“I know I don't show it to you guys a lot, but I really care for you a lot”

“I love you mama!” He jumps off the counter to hug you, making your heart swell. You gave him a quick squeeze before planting him on his feet.

“I love you too, now let's go back to the movie!” You both made your way back with the cups of milk.

You put each of the cups and the table and made a seat between the cubs on the couch. The boys cuddled up to you as if seeking warmth from the cold while downing their cookies and milk. You embraced them kissing each of their foreheads. For a second, you felt someone else was with you but you shook away the thought. When the film finally came to a close, you peered down at your cubs. It was obvious from their closed eyelids and drowsy faces that the time was near. You stood up.

“Alright, time to go to bed!” The kids shot up and their whining filled the room.

“But mama!-”

“No buts, you guys will take a bath and go to bed” Their ears drooped down again. You honestly had to pat yourself on the back for that.

“Wait, can we play one more game!?”

“A game of hide and seek and then we’ll go to bed!” They gave their best impression of puppy eyes.

‘Your lucky you’re so cute’ You gave out a dramatic sigh

“Alright fine, we’ll play and then you'll have to get ready” they nodded in agreement.

“And if we win we get to stay up extra longer!!”

“I never said that!” your immediate response was met with giggling. Without a second notice, you turned to the wall and started counting. Realizing the game had already begun, the cubs fled into hiding. Luckily, it didn't take much to grab the first two. One of them hid under the couch and the other in the cabinet of the kitchen.

‘Now for the third one…’

With the two squirming in your arms, you searched around your home. You searched every nook and cranny yet not a single bear showed up. How is he hiding so well?

“Do we have to shower before bed, mama?”

“Yeah, we're not that dirty!” The other one chimed.

“Of course! Unless you want to scare everyone with your smell,” You scrunched up your face. Just as they burst into laughter, you caught a glimpse of someone running. Looking over, there were crumbs near your dresser. You inched closer to notice the small space between the wall and the dresser. Enough space to fit a child. You were proven right when you peeked over the top to see him holding his mouth from giggling.

‘Aha I found you’ You step back to put down the other two Freddles, putting a finger on your lips. They nodded. Curious of what your next move will be.

Everything felt as if it were happening in slow motion. The moment you reached out to scare the last Freddle hiding, he squealed and bit your hand, leaving tiny, broad bite marks. You pulled away, causing you to stumble back and hit the ground. The boys quickly rush to your side.

Their words somehow seemed drowned out from the stinging pain on your hand. Luckily there wasn't much blood leaking from your wound, but the wave of pain was almost unbearable. When you look up towards the children you finally realize their anxious faces.

“Mama are you okay?!”

“Does it hurt?!”

“I’m sorry! I didn't mean to!!” They were obviously afraid. Sure, they had their moments where they played a bit rough, but it was never meant to harm you. You can't help but feel bad for making them worry.

“No no don't worry! It was just an accident. I know you didn't mean to hurt me” The bear nodded his head, tears threatening to spill.

“I know you were scared but you have to be more careful dear” You held out your arms for him to embrace you. The three ran into you, hugging you tightly. You can feel your clothes start to dampen from their tears.

“Sorry, mama…” Their cries were muffled from your clothes. You tried to soothe the boys.

“Here I’m gonna fix my hand first and then we’ll get the bath ready” They followed you into the bathroom where you bandaged up your hand. For a small bite, you have to admit it certainly packed a punch. You ended up using your other hand to get the bath prepared as you didn’t want others to worry the children with discomfort.

“You guys want extra bubbles?”

“Yay!!”

You scrubbed their hair and ears while they played around with the bubbles. It was good seeing them back to their mischievous selves. You don’t think you could handle more gloomy faces tonight. You dried each one of them with a towel and give a fresh pair of clothes.

“Alright now get into bed!” The boys raced to your bed. Jumping and shifting the once neat covers. Once you appeared, the Freddles settled down and they turned towards you trying to quiet their giggling. The same laughter that once gave you goosebumps now sounds so innocent and adorable. You couldn't help but laugh at it yourself.

“Are you guys comfortable?” They hummed in unison as you patted down the blankets. All of a sudden, they burst into giggles.

“What are you laughing about?-”

“ⱧɆⱠⱠØ~” You jumped.

“PAPA!!” The cubs cheered. Nightmare Freddy let out a chuckle. You could feel his arms wrap around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“ɎØɄ ₳ⱤɆ₦’₮ ₲łVł₦₲ ɎØɄⱤ ₥Ø₮ⱧɆⱤ ₳ Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₮ł₥Ɇ ₳ⱤɆ ɎØɄ?”

“Don’t worry they weren’t being difficult, right boys?” They nodded their heads.

“₲ØØĐ, ₦Ø₩ ⱤɆ₴₮, ₩Ɇ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₳₦ ł₥₱ØⱤ₮₳₦₮ ₥ɆɆ₮ł₦₲ ₮Ø₦ł₲Ⱨ₮ ₳₦Đ ₩Ɇ ₩ØɄⱠĐ₦’₮ ₩₳₦₮ ₮Ø ₭ɆɆ₱ ØɄⱤ Vł₵₮ł₥₴ ₩₳ł₮ł₦₲” You tucked each one in. Giving them their good night kisses. Nightmare Freddy couldn't help but admire the little family you've built for yourselves. Who knew you could give his cold, dead heart such a jump-start.

“₴₩ɆɆ₮ ₦ł₲Ⱨ₮₥₳ⱤɆ₴ ₥Ɏ ₵Ʉ฿₴~”

“Sleep well, dearies”

“Bye mama, bye papa” The Freddles let out before falling into slumber. You both leave, closing the door behind you.

“₴Ⱨ₳ⱠⱠ ₩Ɇ ₮₳₭Ɇ ØɄⱤ ⱠɆ₳VɆ?” You nod. With his hand still wrapped around your waist, Nightmare Freddy leads you to your room.

“ł ₥Ʉ₴₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₦₭ ɎØɄ ₳₲₳ł₦ ₣ØⱤ ₮₳₭ł₦₲ ₵₳ⱤɆ Ø₣ ØɄⱤ ₵Ʉ฿₴. ɎØɄ ₴₮łⱠⱠ ₳₴₮Ø₦ł₴Ⱨ ₥Ɇ ₩ł₮Ⱨ ɎØɄⱤ ₮ØⱠɆⱤ₳₦₵Ɇ. ₦Ø₮ ɆVɆ₦ ₣ØӾɎ ₵₳₦ ₴₮₳Ɏ ₩ł₮Ⱨ ₮ⱧɆ₥ ₣ØⱤ ₮ØØ ⱠØ₦₲. ł₴ ₮ⱧɆⱤɆ ₳₦Ɏ ₩₳Ɏ ł ₵₳₦ ⱤɆ₩₳ⱤĐ ɎØɄ?~”

“A break would be nice” He laughs at your comment.

“ł ₮ⱧØɄ₲Ⱨ₮ ɎØɄ ₴₳łĐ ₮ⱧɆɎ ₩ɆⱤɆ₦’₮ ฿Ɇł₦₲ Đł₣₣ł₵ɄⱠ₮. ɎØɄ ₵ɆⱤ₮₳ł₦ⱠɎ ₴ɆɆ₥ɆĐ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ Ⱨ₳Vł₦₲ ₣Ʉ₦. ₳ ₴Ⱨ₳₥Ɇ ɎØɄ ĐłĐ₦’₮ ₴₳VɆ ₥Ɇ ₳₦Ɏ Ø₣ ₮ⱧØ₴Ɇ ₴₩ɆɆ₮₴ ɎØɄ ₥₳ĐɆ” He faked a sniffle.

“You saw?!” You hissed, trying not to raise your voice.

“₩ⱧɎ, Ø₣ ₵ØɄⱤ₴Ɇ~ ł Ⱨ₳Đ ₮Ø ₥₳₭Ɇ ₴ɄⱤɆ ₮ⱧɆ ⱧØɄ₴Ɇ Ⱨ₳Đ₦’₮ ₵ØⱠⱠ₳₱₴ɆĐ ฿Ʉ₮, ł₮ ₩₳₴ ₩ØⱤ₮Ⱨ ₴ɆɆł₦₲ ₴Ʉ₵Ⱨ ₳ ₱ⱤɆ₵łØɄ₴ ₥Ø₥Ɇ₦₮ ฿Ɇ₮₩ɆɆ₦ ɎØɄ ₳₦Đ ₮ⱧɆ ₵ⱧłⱠĐⱤɆ₦”

He sits on the edge of your bed. Patting his lap while holding out his arms towards you, you sit letting his cold embrace engulf you. You set your head onto his shoulder as he holds you close. While others often search for warmth from their lover, you enjoy his cool body. It was refreshing, like easing your head onto a cold pillow.

“ĐłĐ ₮ⱧɆɎ ⱠɆ₳VɆ ₮ⱧɆ₴Ɇ ₥₳Ɽ₭₴ Ø₦ ɎØɄ?” You look up to notice Freddy scanning the bite marks one of his little ones left. You could hear the sternness of his voice.

“Yeah, but it's fine. He didn't mean anything by it.” He hummed a response.

“ł’ⱠⱠ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₮Ø ₣łӾ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₮ⱧɆ₦~” He starts kissing your wounds. Taking his time trailing up your arm and onto your neck.

“Freddy”

“ɎɆ₴?~”

“Please try to make more time for the children '' You gave him a solemn look

“I know that you’re busy but you’ve barely made an effort to give an ounce of attention. They are obviously lashing out at everyone because they miss you and-” You stopped your rant when you noticed the grin spreading on his face.

“ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₵Ⱨ₳₦₲ɆĐ ₴Ø ₥Ʉ₵Ⱨ ₮ØĐ₳Ɏ ĐɆ₳Ɽ~”

“What?”

“₦Ø ₦ɆɆĐ ₮Ø ₣ⱤɆ₮” He strokes your hair “₥Ɏ ₳₱ØⱠØ₲łɆ₴ ₣ØⱤ ₦Ø₮ ₳ĐĐⱤɆ₴₴ł₦₲ ₮ⱧɆ ₴ł₮Ʉ₳₮łØ₦ ₴ØØ₦ɆⱤ. ł ₳Đ₥ł₮ ₩ØⱤ₭ Ⱨ₳₴ ₮₳₭Ɇ₦ ₳ ₮ØⱠⱠ Ø₦ ₥Ɇ ₳₦Đ ł₮ Ⱨ₳₴ ₴Ⱡł₱₱ɆĐ ₥Ɏ ₥ł₦Đ. ł ₱ⱤØ₥ł₴Ɇ ₮Ø ₮₳Ⱡ₭ Ø₣ ł₮ ₩ł₮Ⱨ ØɄⱤ ₴Ø₦₴ ₮Ø₥ØⱤⱤØ₩”

“It's alright. Thank you for listening”, he held your hands in his rugged, tattered ones. Kissing your hand ever so gently left you flustered. It's so strange how someone you once considered dangerous and twisted can now be so charming. You kissed his cheek and laid your head back on his shoulder.

Tonight went well for your first night alone with your cubs. You knew there was no certainty that future nights would be just as easy, but you were still proud of yourself for what you could do. You may not have much experience with children, but that won't stop you from trying your best for your kids.

#nightmare freddy #nightmare #five nights at Freddy's #fnaf #fnaf x reader #yandere fnaf #fnaf yandere #yandere art #fnaf human #nightmare freddy x reader #fnaf 4 #fnaf 4 x reader #fnaf 4 nightmare freddy #nightmare freddy x yn #fnaf 4 nightmare freddy x reader #nightmare freddy x mother reader #mother reader #x female reader

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reviewinghiccup · 9 days

Note

Hey!!! I’ve gone through your entire list of posts and loved it. There’s a lot of psychoanalysis which makes the work a fun read.

Though I’m curious, what is your biggest inspiration or take-a-way from Hiccup? Do you have any other HTTYD character that equally inspires you. What about the franchise that speaks to you the most?

Sorry if the questions are loaded, but I’m curious, you dissect and approach the franchise in a detailed, humanistic way, I wonder if that’s kind of how you also view the universe.

HELLO DEAR!!! Sometimes I wish you guys weren’t anonymous so that I can find you and thank you for filling up my Inbox with such amazing words of encouragement.

To hear that anyone has just read this blog and enjoyed it really makes my day. I pour my heart into my writing and I just want to say I love answering these questions and I am sorry I took over a year to reply. Before I get to why lemme answer you first.

My biggest inspiration and take-away from Hiccup is:-

He is different

I grew up with Hiccup. When the first movie was released I was the same age he was and going through my own season of not fitting in and awkwardness. I wanted so much to be noticed and recognised. Physically I was also very different. I didn’t fit in anyone’s mould.

Peers are precious about certain things and kids with many friends usually meet their criteria - but I couldn’t. Not even close.

I know how it feels like to be alone and misunderstood, even by my own parents.

but he is always kind…

Hiccup doesn’t subscribe to revenge, at least not around his immediate peers like Snotlout who sometimes, I really do feel he deserves it. He believes that there’s always something, to understand, to fix or to improve. That industriousness actually makes him the perfect leader to propel his people forward into the future. In a world where everyone focuses on what’s on the outside, he hyper fixates on what’s on the inside and if we really start listening to why people say what they said instead of just taking their words literally you hear so much more.

he stewards his gifts well.

He can invent. He’s been inventing before meeting Toothless. He’s good at it. And he meets every physical challenge he has with an invention.

He is also a natural born leader - though he never fit the mould of what a Viking should look like, he fits the mould of what a leader should be. A leader needs to earn his respect, and though still the smaller male Viking, he is very well respected.

He is fearless.

Push comes to shove, Hiccup is reliable, courageous and quick thinking. He does not back down from a challenge. Yet, he isn’t intimidated by others strength - he allows everyone else to hone their skills and be their best selves as he has allowed himself to be.

HICCUP inspires me because his growth and leadership and story comes from him first accepting himself and in time, he becomes everything he was suppose to be. My biggest take-away from him is, you will never lose if you give yourself time to see the bigger picture of why things are the way they are.

Of course I love Hiccup for so much more, but I don’t know how much you’d wanna read 🤣 Nonetheless, on the top of my head, that’s what I think he means to me.

The other HTTYD Character that Equally Inspires me is, of course, ASTRID

To be fair, we know her significantly more than the other characters so it’s natural to fall in love with her.

But they have created a very beautiful character to love.

Astrid is strong and independent, but nothing about that takes away from her femininity. Sometimes I feel like movies/shows about strong independent women make those women so unfeeling and hard.

Astrid feels real to me. She’s driven, self-disciplined and honourable, but she can also be condescending and harsh - and instead of getting defensive about it, she actually listens to that constructive criticism when it comes and changes.

She knows she is born to lead (though not in the same way Hiccup is - which is also admirable because she humbly gives way to him to do his thing) so she needs to learn how to inspire her soldiers, help them improve and make them better. She can’t do that if she always thinks she’s right. That’s what brings about toxic leadership. And she is not toxic.

I admire her dedication to improve. It’s something I love in Hiccup as well, but Astrid just works on herself and her performance. It’s inspiring.

While there’s more, I’ll keep it to these two things for now.

What about the Franchise that Speaks to me Most

Friendship. Trust. Becoming. Young Adulthood. Reality Check. Being lost. Finding Yourself.

So much really. So much.

When I first started writing this blog, I actually lost my grandmother. I loved my grandmother so much. She was warmth, love and life personified.

After she left, I was lost for a very long time, failing exams and switching careers. I couldn’t focus.

This show helped me piece together a lot of my own personal feelings. It helped me think through certain problems. When I synthesised those thoughts into this blog space, I felt like I was dealing with them.

And when I watch Hiccup and Toothless glide in the sky, it made me feel like I am there with them. The soundtrack itself is also very transportive.

I think my favourite thing about the franchise was/is that it made me feel again. At least on the rewatch leading to the creation of this channel.

The franchise when I first watch those movies, when I was really young made me feel “found”, if that makes any sense to you. Because, it talks about not being alone - like how the loneliest dragon could find the loneliest boy Viking. And that these two in turn, found a lonely girl looking for something to see herself in.

Each step of Hiccup’s life was mine. Even when he didn’t want to “take on the family business” and desired to be more than he and the world he’s in is built - that was me, still is me.

This franchise has something for almost everyone. And every which way you turn Hiccup, you will see a small glimpse of yourself in him.

In essence, I think the franchise just speaks and that’s what makes it so damn good.

#hiccup httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd #hhtyd astrid #astrid hofferson #hiccup haddock #httyd review #ask me anything #toothless #Vikings #hello tumblr again

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hotvintagepoll · 22 days

Text

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS tournament! We are now finished with the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament; The Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament is ongoing. Submissions for hot vintage women are now closed, but we are accepting propaganda for those already in the bracket. If you are here for the Dracula Daily polls, those will be posted regularly following the progress of the Substack newsletters.

The semifinals of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be posted Sunday, May 26th, and last a week. The finals will be posted as soon as the semis wrap and last 24 hours. All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. Every poll in the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be tagged with the hottie in it if you need to search for someone in particular.

FAQs:

“Where is [my favorite hot woman]?” It depends. Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for her? If you still haven’t found her, either nobody submitted her or she did not fit the criteria of being a movie woman from 1910-1970.

“I have additional propaganda for the hot women!” Great! Send me an ask or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. You can also tag me in posts (this is the best way to submit gifsets or fancams). I don’t boost all the propaganda I see or receive, but I try to boost the best of the best.

If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot woman, I don’t accept propaganda that’s from beyond the end of this tournament’s era (ie don’t send me pics of them from before 1910 or after 1970). I also don’t accept propaganda of TV appearances unless it’s clearly a cameo where they’re playing themselves. Please break long asks full of photos up into a few short ones so I don't clog everyone's dashes. I watch every video I receive to tag for trigger warnings, so please don't send me super long videos.

I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any hot woman. If you really hate that a certain hot woman is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. If you think a hottie shouldn’t even be included in the tournament because of things they did in their lifetime, please read my take on it here.

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot woman’s stances, problems, or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead.

"Where are the hot men?" Most of them are in the shadow realm! Toshiro Mifune was crowned the winner of the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament, and the rest were banished where the sun never comes. You can find all the round 1 matchups here (thank you @markwatnae!), or you can do a tag search to find out what happened to a specific hot man.

"Tell me more about this shadow realm?" There is too much lore. Send me an ask about this.

"What's up with the vents?" There is too much lore. Send me an ask about this.

"Why are you always talking about James Cagney?" Bing Crosby took him out in Round 1 and I've never forgiven him.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

If you want to search through the different rounds of the tournaments, or see the schedule for future tournaments, I'm including links under the cut.

Relevant tags:

First round of the hot men—#round 1 archive, #round 1 blog

Second round of the hot men—#round 2 archive, #round 2 blog

Third round of the hot men—#round 3 archive, #round 3 blog

Fourth round of the hot men—#round 4 archive, #round 4 blog

Quarterfinals of the hot men—#round 5 archive, #round 5 blog

Semifinals—#TWO KINGS archive, #TWO KINGS blog

Finals—#hot men finals

First round of the hot women—#ladies 1 archive, ladies 1 blog

Second round of the hot women—#ladies 2 archive, #ladies 2 blog

Third round of the hot women—#ladies 3 archive, #ladies 3 blog

Fourth round of the hot women—#ladies 4 archive, #ladies 4 blog

Dracula polls: #dracula daily

Fifth round of the hot women—#ladies 5 archive, #ladies 5 blog

Other featured tags: #housekeeping (organization updates), #family lore (personal anecdotes in asks relating to the hotties or stories about sharing this poll with family members), #hollywood creatures (pets named after old movie stars), and #silly times (what it says on the tin).

Tournament schedule (may still change or adjust):

Hot & Vintage Movie Man Tournament (completed)

Hot & Vintage Movie Woman Tournament (ongoing)

Dracula Daily movie cast polls (ongoing)

Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

Scrungly Little Guys tournament (gender neutral)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pits sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

#new masterpost!#housekeeping #ladies semifinals

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cambriancrew · 6 months

Text

@mandellaeffect

So. It's been several days since this, but we still want to reply. We wrote out a long thing, Tumblr ate it, we rewrote it by hand, and we're just now getting around to typing it up.

And fair warning. We can't talk in depth about this interview and why we said what we said without also talking about the abuse we experienced from our ex. We'll keep it general and nonspecific as much as possible, but please just know, it was REALLY bad. Much worse than what we talk about here. Like we still have PTSD from it bad.

Also it may help to read the AMA we did on Reddit after this interview came out.

So. Our ex believed we either had DID or were demon possessed, and had very ableist views about DID that he used to threaten us with - believed we were dangerous to be around, for instance - and threatened us with involuntarily commitment. He also tried to prevent us from seeing any therapist or mental health care provider other than the extremely bigoted, very out of date pastor/counselor of the church we went to and that our husband worked at.

We worried that he was right, that we might fit the criteria for OSDD-1 because of our failing relationship with him.

But, in all honesty, our relationship had been falling apart for awhile, because he was abusive - obsessed with being the perfect fundamentalist Christian couple, bigotry and all. He tried to make us Crew stop being friends with people who weren't Christians, and people who were queer. He tried to dictate what books we could read - no more science fiction and fantasy even though that's the genre we write and even wrote together with him, or psychiatry books even though we worked in a geri-psych nursing home and what we read was relevant. Tried to dictate what we watched on TV and what games we could play - even though he was a huge Star Wars fan and that has huge Buddhist underpinnings, and played Dungeons and Dragons online a lot which he made us swear never to tell anyone because they might think it was demonic - hypocrite much?

He even got upset that we were talking to people about the issues we were having - he called it "emotionally cheating", regardless of the fact we talked with people we had zero romantic interest in - like our own mother.

Anyway. We DID get a different therapist. And something he said helped a LOT with our concerns about having DID. He said our issues with our husband stemmed from his controlling behavior and emotional and verbal abuse, not our plurality - because after all, there's no mental illness called "supports queer people" nor "prefers to read speculative fiction and books on psychiatry" nor "confides in trusted friends about difficulties".

That said. Our therapist and his overseeing psychiatrist did talk with us about what our husband was pressuring us to do: try to get rid of all of the non-Willows. We had a lot of long, tense discussions about this with our system, and knew exactly what would happen if we tried.

We Willows would have been locked away from the front. Jas, Varyn, and Aery would have taken over as primary fronters, and we knew they'd have no problem with that based on our experiences with playing tug of war for front with them. Without us Willows, we may have developed memory issues, especially if we Willows fought back or resisted. This also would have caused us significant stress which would have triggered our fibromyalgia, and may easily have gotten to the point we would have to stop working because we physically couldn't handle it. And undoubtedly it would have caused us social issues as well, because those three can't mimic us Willows well at all, and prefer to be overt anyway, and probably would have used that to put extra pressure on our husband John: "Sorry, you can't talk to Willow right now. I can take a message to her. When we she be back? Idk, whenever John stops being an ass."

This, per our therapist and psychiatrist, would have been enough for a dx of DID or at bare minimum OSDD-1 - and then our ex would have had a much easier time getting us involuntarily committed. (As he did actually try. Got the state involved and there was a court case and everything.)

Because being endogenic and having tulpas is not what defines whether you have DID/OSDD-1 or not - it's whether there's distress or dysfunction. Doesn't have to be constant, doesn't have to be severe, just has to be present enough to make it harder to function.

Also, we've been in therapy from that time till now, for our depression and PTSD. Those cause us distress and dysfunction. Being plural doesn't - it eases our distress and increases our ability to function. We get worse when we Willows try to do everything on our own.

Also? Tulpas absolutely ARE endogenic - they aren't caused by trauma, and that's all endogenic means.

And. We were not told by Reddit that our headmates are tulpas. When we stumbled on the community, we recognized that what we had done in creating our headmates unintentionally was the same things people in the community were doing on purpose.

We remember sitting down and coming up with the idea of Jas. We remember learning to hear her, in vague images and ideas at first, then longer and longer full conversations. We remember the thrill of first hearing her interrupt our thoughts. We used to have several notebooks and binders full of written down conversations between us, with us Willows doing all the writing for the most part but on occasion Jas would take over just enough to write her own notes - in her own handwriting, different from us Willows' handwriting. We remember meditating to improve our ability to hear her. We remember visiting her in the paracosm, and her visiting us at our writing desk and on the school bus and sitting next to us at church. We remember her creating Varyn. We remember creating Morrie, and when he went dormant. We remember making Tristan&, and when she broke off communication with us - they'll still only talk to Jas.

Point is, we know their origins, all of them. We were there.

There's no "they were there all along." There's no "we don't know where they came from so we just assume they're endogenic." They certainly don't have roles or even the natural abilities of alters - we had to learn to talk with them, we had to learn how to let them front, we had to learn how to switch.

Some of them identify as soulbonds due e to their connection to their home worlds, but "tulpa" still fits too. Even though some of them cringe at the word, as it's uncomfortably close to a term in the paracosm's primary language for something truly heinous.

Point is, Reddit didn't try and convince us of anything. We came to that conclusion all on our own - and not just us Willows, but the whole system.

And per our mental health care team, we don't fit the criteria for a dissociative disorder. We don't even have issues with general dissociation - we score a 10 on the DES-2, and only that much because of questions directly related to plurality, like hearing voices commenting on your actions. (The eternal peanut gallery lol)

Anyway. Back to Dr. Richard Loewenstein - he was told about our origins. He didn't say that our origins were the reason we did or did not have a dissociative disorder. He said it's about distress.

And now that we've long since kicked our abusive ex to the curb (along with the church that turned on us), we don't have even interpersonal issues like we had with him and them. The people we're close to understand and support us. Our health care team supports us, and even encourages us Willows to lean on the rest of our system as that's what's healthiest for us all.

We don't have a mild case of a dissociative disorder. We're not secretly traumagenic.

We're ready and able to even fight for things our ex threatened us with, including our ability to be out at work, our ability to go through the foster-to-adopt program in our state (and our mental health care team is willing to sign off on our ability to do that), and our ability to be free from the threat of involuntary commitment to an institution.

If our ex, the pastor-counselor, several of our ex friends, state medical officials, and more couldn't find enough proof to diagnose us with DID or get us committed, (versus our therapist and the overseeing psychiatrist and our parents), then there's nothing anything y'all can say that will prove what they could not.

#syscourse #@mandellaeffect

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