#hes literally the youngest thing on earth i--

[januaryembrs]

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

[xcrust]

The beginning

“How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations.”

They said he was beautiful. The image that God had put all his values. 

“Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.”

Knowledge, strength, and status that he started to yearn for the honor and glory that belonged to only God. He was God's favorite son and the second of the four archangels he made. The highest of gods creations. But then came the existence of humanity which challenged the place of where he stands. Being told to bow down towards the weak.

This Angel refused both out of jealousy and wounded pride over being commanded to bow to what he saw as a broken, flawed, and murderous species and no longer feeling he was God's favorite creation. 

He is the first fallen angel as well as an archangel who has fallen. He is the first king of Hell and the one who created demons; they regard him as their father and god. The fallen angel had created the known thing called sin.  -------------

Despite the fact that this angel hated the way humanity acts he was the closest thing towards what humanity represents. People are flawed and imperfect, as much as he was compared to be the epitome of the heavens. It is shown that even if you are perfect on the outside it can  be so easy to be corrupted by the seven deadly sins. 

The betrayal that God gave him had been the reason that he grew to be bitter to all life on earth. So since he still had the power of the angels he was more than happy to take out the mortals that stepped into his underworld.  So it created the Prince of Pride

Lucifer Magne

…

Thump, thump, thump 

Two children ran around a plush room. No thoughts are present other than the joy and warmth that they are feeling in that moment. The phrase two peas in a pod could be a massive understatement.  The likeness of these children could be comparable to the gods. However, that is to be expected especially since they were literally two connections away. "Charlie! shhh! we might get caught!" a weak voice exclaimed while running. 

"Don't even worry about it. Everyone is out for the day. We have all of eternity for ourselves." The older one of the two laughed out while running out of the room. The current goal of the kids was to get to the library. Specifically a section that was extremely forbidden to the two.  There was a specific book that described life on earth that described what humanity was truly about. Something that their father truly frowned upon in all ways possible. On that note, who were these two curious children? Why did the father so deeply frown upon this text? 

Why, dear traveler, this is the story of the descendants of the mighty couple of hell. Lucifer  and Lilith Magne. The eldest child being such a peppy child. Embracing compassion and empathy towards all those that are around her. However, almost holding a more idealist way of guiding her through life. Her name is Charlie Morningstar. Meanwhile, the younger counterpart held a more stressed and practical view on life. Y/n was a pessimistic child but that's what you have to grow into when the only ones that you have look at life with rose colored glasses.  "woah this place is so big"  "Well no duh, it took us like 10 minutes to get to the library annnnnnnd we are in the same building" the youngest breathed out while still trying to catch up. As they got deeper into the large room it seemed that time stopped. There were so many books dedicated to life and death. Different things ranging to the mighty Ars Goetia to the imps of the lower lands. 

"Come on! I want to see what is here!" So it continued running around to discover what the world had to offer.  This book was created by the people of earth on others around the world. It was hours that were spent in there trying to look for the book only for them to both fall onto some seats in the corner of a room. A long dramatic sigh came out of the youngest followed by a yawn. Both clearly done with looking any longer.  Seconds later sounds of steps inside the library were heard. 

"Shit." The siblings jumped up and looked at each other. "Y/n, be prepared to hide or run as far from this room as possible?" Charlie whispered out. Meanwhile the thumps of steps were getting louder by the second. The only response that she got was a panicked look given by the younger half. 

thump. tHump. Thump.

"Now what do we have here?" a large voice boomed through.  thump. thump. thump. "Seems that perfection has fallen into the wrong place." Lucifer emerged from the corner of the book shelf. If it were any other moment the siblings would be delighted to hear the pet name. However, now both were frozen looking up at their father. "Charlie? you know what I said about this area." Slowly his gaze loomed over her. "We already let you stray too far; we don't need to be corrupting Y/n onto the wrong path now do we?" A silent hiss came from her mouth hearing that. In Y/n's view, they were stressed. No words came out anyways. This has happened time and time again. Charlie and Y/n would go out, do something for fun. Something new. Get reprimanded once or twice. Although, before it was always light hearted compared to now. The king of hell was contained in pure rage considering the circumstances.  "yeah... sorry"  "sorry? is that seriously all you have to say to this? I never want to see you here ever again." a pause with silence so incredibly tense was presented. "Go to your rooms" In a flash, the three found themselves in their own respective rooms. It's the easiest to guess that the two now alone were sat distraught because they never experienced such a reaction from their dad. Y/n got up from sitting on the floor of their room to the desk to see a new note on the desk by the door. 

Y/n.  You are in closest resemblance to the so-called people of the earth. Beauty incarnate. Perfection. Sympathy to the scum of humanity isn't needed.

Even as a young kid, they could tell that what was written on that note was utter bullshit. From early years in life they gave up on taking information from their so-called guardians. Lilith and Lucifer were completely in love with each other. The only thing that they loved more than each other was themselves.  Any takes that they had was never taken seriously when the only person Y/n ever looked up to was Charlie. Their older sister. Seeing how much disdain that she gave their parents gave a tremendous amount of joy.  If anything that is only further proof that Y/n is not what perfection is and in fact encourages the sin that Lucifer hates so much. 

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #charlie magne #lilith magne #lucifer magne #stolas x reader

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Frank is Pisces

I made a thread for this theory on TSBS Discord server and it blew up (it blew up so much more than I ever thought it would, like Jesus Christ. I'm super happy about it though). I figured that since I moved all my canon info stuff over here from the server, I might as well move my theory stuff over too

Long post warning, since there's a lot here. A lot of this exists because I was possessed by my adhd demon one night, noticed something about Frank, and then ran wild with it

(Last two pictures are part of a chart that SqarletGecko made for this theory. If Sqarlet sees this at any point, hi, hello! I appreciate you for feeding into this, Sqarlet)

There will be more images tacked on later. I'd add them now, but unfortunately, there's a 10 picture limit to posts. As stupid as that is. ANYWAY

Frank’s strong enough to kill two different witherstorms. Although him outright killing them was never verified, it was one of the only ways he could’ve come back so soon. The only other way would’ve been to wait by the portal, but assuming Moon would’ve closed it off due to the dimensions that Frank was in housing witherstorms, Frank would’ve had to find another way out

His name is neither Frank nor Forkface, so it’s entirely possible that it could be Pisces

Sqarlet pointed out that Castor said “Pisces is probably off doing his own thing”, which could be anything, and it certainly doesn’t preclude Pisces being on earth as Frank, doing whatever he’s been doing

In the “Lunar Gets Friendzoned” vrchat episode, Castor mentions Pisces again, this time saying (in reference to how Lunar’s “final test” would go, and how someone would be sent to judge his ability to control his powers) “Could be Nebula, could be Libra. Could be Pisces, but I doubt that. Hell, it could even be Taurus.” This is the second time Castor’s mentioned Pisces, as if he doesn’t have a whopping 10 other signs he could pull names from (minus Gemini and Pisces, obviously). This could be a case of simply sticking to a smaller pool out of the 12 names, but still

Castor has mentioned Pisces offhandedly two different times. Yeah, there could be a really simple explanation for that, but it sticks out to me, and I can't pinpoint why

During an Uno video, they did a “one breath for yes, two for no” thing with Frank, and he confirmed that he had a bad past. Given some of the things that Castor has said about Taurus, it’s a possibility that Frank/Pisces was trying to get away from him. Some other Pisces traits are that they’re supposed to be super empathetic and deeply emotional. If Taurus said or did something that impacted Frank/Pisces enough, he could’ve chosen to leave

For a while, Frank didn’t seem to react much when people acted scared of him, but as he’s spent more time with the channels, he’s developing more emotionally, which would make sense if he was younger. According to a google search I ran, “Pisces emotional sensitivity is high, helping them to remain in tune with others also leaving them vulnerable to criticism, worrying about about the effects that their actions might have on others,” which could explain why he acted so sad when he briefly appeared in the lobby in an FFFS episode and everyone acted scared of him

Pisces has a heightened emotional sensitivity, they're very in tune with the emotions of those around them, and this in turn makes them worry about how others might react to them

In another Uno video, Foxy made a lighthearted comment to Frank about how he reminded him of his son, since he has a habit of inserting himself into situations and things. There are other characters who do this too, meaning that Foxy could’ve compared Frank to literally anyone, and yet, he chose a character that’s a child. If Frank is Pisces, he’d be the youngest of the astral bodies

If you watch him, Frank does have some childlike mannerisms and behaviors. The first thing is the way he sometimes wants to show someone something, but then gets upset when they touch it. It’s like when a kid gets a new toy and shows their friend, but then gets upset when their friends tries playing with it because it’s theirs. The second thing is him apparently drawing on the wall underneath Earth’s bed. Drawing on walls is something that kids do. The third thing is him trying to feed Earth a piece of pizza. Kids will sometimes try to feed people too, though it’s typically only with people they’re close with, that they know pretty well

If Frank is Pisces and therefore the youngest of the astral bodies, there’s a chance that he chose to show up in the daycare because he knows it’s a safe place for kids, and that there are good caretakers there (Sun, Moon, Earth, and Lunar). He could’ve chosen a daycare attendant-esque form to blend in better with the daycare environment, or he could’ve copied what he saw of the caretakers there, much like how kids copy the adults they see

Pisces is the youngest of the astral bodies, so everything that Frank does that seems like something a kid might do,, could sort of tie in with that. Frank has seemed to somewhat mature and "grow up" in a sense as of recently though, so these childlike habits and behaviors have begun to become rarer and rarer

Pisces has ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious. This could explain the times when Frank appeared in both Monty and Earth’s dreams, and then dragged the Stitchwraith into his own mind. In the case of Monty’s dream, Frank knew that they’d had problems with their dad and he’d even offered to be their listening ear, so seeing the shape Monty was in emotionally and mentally after their dad died, Frank may have guided them to an image of their dad to try to promote a form of closure and emotional healing and recovery before Monty woke up (did I mention that being a healer is also a Pisces trait?). He was silent in the dream, so Monty’s mind couldn't have heard his signature heavy breathing and did something funky with that. In Earth’s case, Frank somehow knew that she was having a nightmare and he came to wake her up, repeatedly saying “no fear”, as if he was telling her not to be afraid. With the Stitchwraith, the Stitchwraith wasn’t aware that he’d been pulled into his own mind. Frank didn’t confirm that he was until he told the Stitchwraith that “It’s just a bad dream, a nightmare”, and told him to wake up

More Pisces traits are wanting to help people and being a healer. Adding in the ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious, I feel like creating dreams to help people recover from things wouldn't be too farfetched. In the case of Earth, Frank knew she was having a nightmare and wanted to wake her up so that she wouldn't be scared anymore. To this day, I have no way to explain how he could've possibly known about her having a nightmare, aside from sensing her distress and/or having some kind of connection to her subconscious

I found a snippet of an article that said “When we meet Pisces, we are taken aback by their remote coldness; they often act like confused geniuses or oddballs who have trouble interacting with others.” It’s confirmed that Frank is highly intelligent; he somehow knew how to get into Moon’s computer and registered himself as the primary user, and he somehow swiped Foxy’s voicebox and installed it in himself, then took it back out and reinstalled it in Foxy. Frank is also an oddball, but I don’t really need to explain that one

Frank has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t like Ruin. He’s had many opportunities to take him out or even just attack him, but he hasn’t. Castor has stated that astral bodies typically don’t get involved with things or associate with people unless they really need to. If Frank is Pisces, he may have avoided going after Ruin because it’d go against the rules

There are some mixed messages on whether or not Pisces is a rule follower, but a couple things I found that stuck out to me implied that sometimes they follow the rules, and sometimes they do whatever they want as long as they’re satisfied. We were given a glimpse of this with Frank when Lunar tried to run him over with a car in a vrchat episode. Frank didn’t seem to care as much about the fact that he was nearly run over, and instead, became agitated with Lunar for parking incorrectly. He also made Lunar get in his car, and then proceeded to move it out of the alley and to the drive thru, where Lunar was supposed to be anyways. He might’ve also reacted poorly to Monty and Earth bringing a goose into the restaurant they were in, since animals don’t belong there. Beyond that, Frank’s also gotten upset with Sun and tried to menacingly follow him around the room when Sun cheated during a game of Uno, showing that he doesn’t like cheaters

Frank seems to have a knack for interrupting people’s dates. Most of the time, he’s trying to help but doesn’t seem to grasp that his behavior might be making people uncomfortable, BUT according to google, the Pisces sign is known for being jealous of other people’s love lives. After the death of Ruined Monty, Frank may have started to feel a little jealous of others

According to google, “most Pisceans are very good at earning a stable living,” and “they are usually very effective in any career that needs collaboration with others or inventiveness.” It’s been stated before that Frank works in at least three different restaurants, and a restaurant type environment would require collaboration with others to keep everything running smoothly. He’d be earning good money from those three restaurant jobs, and another Pisces trait is wanting to help people, so working in a restaurant would be a way for him to do that

Strengths of Pisces would include being selfless and thoughtful, passionate and creative, gratitude and self-sacrifice, tolerance and a keen understanding, and being kind and sympathetic. Weaknesses of Pisces include being influenced by their surroundings, being careless, rash, and ill-disciplined, having an inability to confront reality due to an absence of confidence, being insecure, sentimentalism, indecisiveness, and a lack of foresight. These are all from a chart I found, and although I don’t think we’ve seen too many of these weaknesses in Frank yet, we’ve definitely seen a lot of the strengths

We have no idea where Frank was before he first showed up at the daycare. Fazbear apparently had him shipped in to replace Moon, but with how easily he got into Moon’s computer, it wouldn’t be too farfetched to assume that he could’ve possibly also hopped onto a different device and sent a fake email, posing as Fazbears to keep people from asking too many questions about why he’s there

Like Sqarlet has said, we’ve noticed a pattern of astral signs following the usual astrological descriptions, but it’s not necessarily a rule, nor is it to a T. It’s very possible that Frank mostly follows the general tendencies of Pisces, but still has individual quirks and such that are different. It could be a case where perfectionism or a preference for rule-following/organization is just a lil personal thing of his, unrelated to astrology

Another thing suggested by Sqarlet is that the Pisces dealio might explain why Frank’s general choice of appearance is generally uncanny/unsettling. Astral bodies don’t necessarily have a spectacular grasp on how to Aesthetic effectively, at least from an earthling’s perspective

Eclipse once used star power to get into Puppet’s dreamscape, when Puppet was on his way to get Lunar. If star power is what makes dreamscape stuff possible, then Frank would need access to it in order to do the same (see: all the dream stuff he did with Monty and him showing up in Stitchwraith’s dreamscape)

Whenever Frank appears, whoever he appears around is usually experiencing a negative emotion of some sort. Some instances of this can be seen when he showed up and tried to talk to Monty after Monty had a fight with their dad and was frustrated, when Earth and Sun were worrying about Lunar when Lunar lost his voice, when Sun got turned into a dragon and was panicking, and when Earth had a nightmare and was freaking out over it

Foxy’s implied that Frank was probably trying his best to be helpful, during all the dates that he unintentionally ruined. Which… means that although Frank is trying his best to be helpful, he might not understand what “normal” behavior looks like, then he messes up, and then he gets upset when people misunderstand him and his intentions, or when whatever he’s doing ends up backfiring in some way. Pisces’ loves to help others and can’t stand being misunderstood, so this lines up beautifully

During a podcast episode, Frank breathed heavier when Castor and Pollux were mentioned, implying that he may know them. Given how he even attempted to speak again, he likely had some kind of thoughts or feelings toward them, too

The astral bodies are typically aware of almost everything that happens. This might explain how Frank (if he’s Pisces) knew that Foxy would be alone on Christmas. It was only Foxy, Freddy, and Francine present when the Stitchwraith took FC, so unless Frank was spying on everyone or has taken to watching the channels like Ruin apparently does, he shouldn’t know what happened

If the Foxy’s Intervention episode is anything to go by, no one ever knows where Frank is, and yet, he still knows where he’s needed and goes there to help

With the way that Pisces deals with illusions just as much as dreams and the subconscious, it’s possible that the Frank that the Stitchwaith saw was just an illusion. This could explain why Frank wasn’t hit by Stitchwraith’s weird chest laser thing (unless he quickly teleported out of the way), and why we never saw him go up to the Stithwraith and try pushing him around or anything, despite how Frank was acting toward him. We’ve seen Frank physically interact with people before, so we know he can, but if he was an illusion, that wouldn’t be possible

Something else to consider that I haven't shared with the theory thread yet (that I can remember) is that when Pisces feels hurt or betrayed in any way, they can be incredibly vengeful. Their vengeance, according to a search I ran, could be intense enough to break trust and damage relationships, if they're not careful. In killing ruined Monty, Bloodmoon may have unknowingly made Frank feel so deeply hurt that Frank has now decided that he needs to get revenge on him. He kept saying things during their encounter that made it feel like he may be entertaining the idea of getting rid of one of the twins, which... follows a very "you took away someone who meant the world to me, let's see what happens when I do it to you" sort of logic

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #tsams frank #the sun and moon show frank #sun and moon show frank #sams frank #sun and moon show forkface #the sun and moon show forkface #tsams forkface #sams forkface #theory time #'but arson/skellies what about (insert x thing here' #i can guarantee you. I've thought all of this through at least a dozen times #I've been rotating it in my brain nonstop #ever since i first had the idea for all of this #it started with the way his face plates look when he opens them up #and it went downhill from there

[minniemaymalady]

i call this au boringmatsu lol they’re literally just dudes trying to get by on this bitch of an earth!

au info:

oso - has 2 jobs, almost always wearing his work clothes, is in constant debt bc his many many many vices get the best of him, v much misses being a neet but the others are sooooo mean and make him contribute 🙄

kara - is constantly in between jobs, sadly tends to get fired when trying extra hard to impress on the job, helps ichi with house chores when he’s unemployed, still cringe just less so bc the job hunt leaves him too tired to be at full power lol

choro - salaryman, oso and (when possible) kara help with the family expenses (care for their parents, sending the youngest 2 to college, general living expenses) but choro is clearly the breadwinner, S T R E S S E D, graying early, he just wants a day off man!

ichi - homemaker, too intimidated/overwhelmed by the thought of getting a job or going to college, makes kara do all cleaning when possible (not the cooking tho he doesn’t trust kara to make something edible lol), can get obsessive over having things done right (mostly bc he doesn’t wanna give the others a reason to kick him out)

jyushi - college student, on the baseball team,aiming to go pro, struggling real hard with classes, you’d never know it thanks to his sunny personality but he’s v worried about flunking out and disappointing the family

todo - college student, cheated on his entrance exams and is now paying for it by drowning in schoolwork, still doesn’t really know what career he wants he just thought college would be the easier ~more fun~ option (he was wrong lol)

they’re just a bunch of potato boys trying their best lmao

#minnie art #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #おそ松さん #boringmatsu au

[oneatlatime]

The Guru

Happy 2024 everyone and welcome to the first time I managed to type 2024 without first typing 2023! Oh and also a write up of The Guru. That too.

Me too Iroh. Me too.

So Zuko is riding high on that post-crisis 'time to get my life together' buzz that, similar to 3 am life plans, should absolutely not be listened to. Wonder how long before he crashes and burns? There's literally 2 episodes left, so I'm guessing one and a half?

Poor Sokka. My boy's got anxiety.

I don't know if it's a monk thing, an airbender thing, an Avatar thing, or an Aang thing, but I envy his complete lack of nerves.

How is Appa ok with them splitting up for a week after JUST getting them back?

I paused in a funny place. Have bonk-eyed Appa.

I love them comparing heights. What do you want to bet that that guy on the right was one of the youngest allowed to go fight, and Sokka made a big deal about how they're almost the same age and surely that means he can go too, right?

A lot of these Southern Water Tribe people have dreads or braids. That's neat.

Bato's arm is still messed up. That's some good continuity.

I've found the source of Katara's cheek bones. I guess Sokka takes after his mum.

Ok I know this is a really emotional moment (and it is! Sokka's spent two seasons earning this!) but my brain fixated on the furs and briefly thought they were sky bison pelts.

"It's been a difficult week for me." This guy thinks the Kyoshi Warriors are there to provide him therapy. Someone please just crown the bear instead.

He just gave away literally every relevant plot point AND outlined how to make sure all these plot points don't succeed. Crown. The. Bear.

Maybe if these generals spent less time playing with their giant model Earth Kingdom and more time general-ing, the war wouldn't suck so much?

Pretty.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the designs, the colour palette, the music, the sound design of this air temple. I love everything about it. If I had the chance to live anywhere in the Avatar universe, it would be here. Even in its ruined state it's such a refreshing contrast to the claustrophobia of Ba Sing Se. I can feel the freshness of the breeze through the screen.

"A spiritual brother of your people" an adult perspective on a near extinct culture! What a resource!

"and a personal friend of Monk Gyatso" an old as balls perspective. He's got to be at least 130.

Anthropology cul de sac time: this guy is so valuable as a resource on the Air Nomads. There's probably parts of Air Nomad culture that Aang can't ever accurately talk about, because he was a kid when he left, and there was almost certainly stuff that the adults kept to themselves, or only shared with the older Air Nomads. This Guru doesn't seem to be an Air Nomad himself, but there's a good chance that there is knowledge that he has, that Aang doesn't. Aang should be nerding out more about this. I'll do the nerding out for him.

Aang just breezes right by that Gyatso name drop like it's nothing. Huh.

Oh hey Toph. I'd forgotten she was in a box. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dumber really are quite the pair. What's their plan for keeping her fed and watered? Actually, these guys apparently don't know that maps exist, so it's probably never occurred to them that humans need sustenance. They'll rock up to the Bei Fong estate with corpse Toph and wonder why they aren't getting the reward money.

Mai gets called out in-universe for shopping at Hot Topic.

Ty Lee's buttering up of Azula is getting less and less subtle as the season progresses. It's a testament to Azula's lack of awareness that she's hasn't noticed that, and that Ty Lee can get away with it.

Azula's right that it's an extraordinary opportunity. The King gave them quite literally every piece of info required to overthrow his kingdom in a 25 second conversation. I can't blame her for taking advantage of such an easy win.

That's a very effective unimpressed face. And a very impressive beard.

It's funny to see a spiritual concept from the real world pop up in a show that includes things like bending and giant fish possession. The mention of Chakras kind of sticks out. They couldn't invent a Avatar universe version?

"Once you begin this process, you cannot stop until all seven are open." Well that doesn't feel like foreshadowing at all.

This episode should be called "Aang's self-care Journey." It's about time the kid had a me day that wasn't avoidance-based.

Fear: Losing Katara - makes sense. Losing control of his powers via fish possession - makes sense. The Fire Lord - makes sense. But the Blue Spirit? He helped. Doesn't make sense.

Guilt: Running away - makes sense, although I thought he'd worked through that with Katara in the storm. Nuking that idiot General's base - makes sense, but boy did he quite literally ask for it.

This guru is saying some wonderfully accurate, and realistic, things. I love that he's not taking the Katara route of denying anything is wrong. He's going for the acknowledge, then heal route. And yes, it's unfair of me to compare the emotional maturity of Katara to a century+ old spiritual expert.

I'm going to ruin the immersion here and point out that Sokka's dad's voice actor voiced a bunch of characters in season 1. He's doing an excellent job, but couldn't they get a unique voice for a character that's so important (albeit offscreen) to Sokka?

That's an incredibly roundabout way of avoiding pointing out that the Southern Water Tribe are active participants in a bloody war. Sure, we can show multiple characters with visible scarring from horrific burns, but heaven forbid we imply that the Southern Water Tribe sinks ships. The parameters for what is and isn't appropriate on this show sometimes make no sense.

"Aren't you listening? I said the rest of you men get ready for battle." He hasn't seen his boy in two years, but fifteen minutes in his company and he knows exactly what needs to be said and how. That's some top tier parenting. Dad of the year. Dad of the century. Only decent Dad in this show that isn't technically an uncle.

"Follow your passion Zuko, and life will reward you." Great advice for your eight year old audience. Also a great way to end up unemployed.

Positive Sokka creeped me out a few episodes ago. Now positive Zuko is freaking me out too.

Pretty.

Back to Chakras! Shame: Burning Katara - makes sense. But that's it? To have the inner peace of mind of a twelve year old who's somehow only ever done one thing that he's ashamed of.

Is there anyone in the earth kingdom who isn't stupid? Once again wondering at the network's standards. Visible burn injuries are fine, but Mai can't say 'Shut up." It's got to be Shush up. Although I do seem to recall of brief time in the early 2000s when Shut Up was treated as a curse on par with Shit or Fuck. Maybe that was just at my school.

Chakras again! Even for a show that often has an A, B, and C plot, this narrative is ping ponging around a bit much.

Grief: nothing major, just a whole nation. Makes a horrific amount of sense. but I don't buy that he can get over grieving the whole world as he knew it by thinking about his crush. That's way too high a pedestal for Katara to be placed on.

Lies: Not accepting he's the Avatar. Interesting that not accepting that he's the Avatar and not accepting that he's a firebender are two different problems.

I see you reusing the opening credits footage. Your blue filters can't fool me.

PRETTY

Illusion: So we're relearning what we learned in The Swamp. Aang's probably the person currently alive least likely to believe in the rigid separation of the nations anyway. This doesn't feel like an illusion he's subject to?

The way this episode dances between its narrative threads is so great. It's all woven in so beautifully. And this makes perfect sense! Toph's spent her life secretly doing things excellently that everyone says are completely beyond her capabilities. Life has taught her that the statement "you are not able to" doesn't apply. Of course immutable laws of bending physics are treated with the same respect as an adult telling the champion of the Earth Rumble that she's can't earthbend beyond breathing exercises. If you told her that humans can't fly, she'd figure out how within the week.

Plot collision incoming.

Interesting that Katara initially recognises Zuko by his voice rather than his scar.

I'm pretty sure that Zuko and Iroh don't know about the whole brainwashing thing, but wouldn't it be hilarious if Zuko introduced himself to Katara as Joo Dee, and his uncle Joo Dee, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon, can I take your order? That would throw Katara into one hell of a moral quandary.

Katara being framed as the solution for Chakra number four comes back to bite Aang, as she's the problem in Chakra number seven. I knew that pedestal was too high.

I've changed my mind. This episode should actually be called "Half a dozen reasons why everyone should just learn to keep their goddamn mouths shut already."

So is anyone going to let Zuko and Iroh know that they're now in immediate danger and need to leave, like, yesterday?

I think the Guru is going for the whole 'if you love them, let them go, and they'll come back to you' thing. Don't cling, in other words. But for the sake of the plot he's suddenly lost his ability to explain Chakras in a way that makes them seem like the logical thing to do. The only clunky bit of this episode so far.

May I introduce you to our Lord and Saviour Toph?

"I am the greatest earthbender in the world." Yes. Yep. Yeah. That's now a quantifiable fact, and it's correct. Look on ye mighty and despair. She's even got Bumi beat.

Earth Tongue Running is a bit wonky looking but it covers a crazy amount of distance.

What's the range on Toph's earth sense? Can she sense what direction Ba Sing Se is?

I hope those two idiots' horse bird is ok.

"You don't know how much this means to me dad." He does. Very much so.

Every word out of this guy's mouth is precision engineered to make Sokka feel like a million bucks and I for one think it's about time someone built him up. Also, seeing this makes me realise how few good parents there are in this show. It's a trope of kids' adventure shows that the parents fundamentally can't be there, but I also think it's a commentary on yet another thing that this war has messed up.

Hey look! Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most, and right now that's in Ba Sing Se, protecting your sister! I love narratives that tie their themes up with a pretty bow on top.

This is Azula laying a trap, right? Which means that Katara squealed to someone about the exact location of Iroh and Zuko's tea shop. Don't like the implications of that.

Photos taken seconds before disaster.

Final Thoughts

This episode was a lot! I mean that in a good way! But I felt a bit like the Maxell Blown Away Guy, the way I kept getting assaulted by yet another plot thread. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a criticism. I think the switching between plot threads and the amount of info in this episode worked 99% of the time. But I'm kind of in awe at the balancing act the writers pulled off and I'm sort of sitting here blinking a bit trying to fit all this stuff in my head. I'm probably going to forget half the stuff I wanted to talk about in this write up, so here goes nothing.

Given the Azula reveal in at the end of last episode, I thought that this would be the episode where the shit hits the fan. I was wrong. I'm glad I was wrong. An episode of set up is required and is nice breathing room, even an episode as busy as this. And I got to leave Ba Sing Se! But this does mean that next episode is going to be calamity after calamity.

Aang and his Chakras: I'm fascinated by this guru. I hope he comes back. That brings the total number of people who were alive before the war started up to three: Aang, Bumi, Guru Patik.

I'm impressed that the run through of the Chakras rarely felt like an info dump. The onion and banana juice thing didn't work for me, but I'm sure it worked for people in the target age bracket. Kids love burp jokes.

So many shows sprinkle in tragic backstories for flavour and then never have them influence the character in the present. It was a nice contrast to see a show take a whole episode to tell Aang "yeah all that sucked. It's ok to feel down about it. Here's how you move forward."

Sokka and his dad: Love it. Love it so much. I love seeing Sokka built up, and he definitely deserves it, but I wonder if this is the reward for a character arc well done, or the set up for a character arc that's about to start? Is his dad's praise his prize for crossing the finish line, or is it so he's built up with farther to fall?

I loved seeing more of the Southern Water Tribe. I loved the fashion. There's a lot of variety in accessories and variations on a few basic elements like those knee guard things. I loved their hairstyles. I loved how cozy and communal that command tent felt. I loved their ships. I wonder how often these guys work out, that they can make loading ramps that are presumably deployed and stashed out of the way frequently, out of whole logs rather than planks. I have a bone to pick with the child-friendly sea mine. But it provides a good set up for a dad joke, so I'll let it slide.

Zuko and Iroh: Of course the one time Zuko is allowed to be in a good place, it's so that he and Iroh both have farther to fall when the inevitable happens. Poor guy just can't catch a break. I'd be mad at Azula for the party crashing that I'm assuming she'll do next episode, but it's been established that Zuko has all nice things taken away from him as soon as he gets them, and I can't blame Azula for being a tool of the universe.

Azula & Long Feng: Azula's acting in Long Feng's prison cell was miles ahead of what Long Feng was doing in front of the Earth King, so I'm wondering if Long Feng has bitten off more than he can chew. Also: conspiring with the enemy to bring down your own city just so you can reinstall yourself as the power behind the throne that will presumably cease to exist as soon as the Fire Nation takes control? That is both treasonous beyond description and an incredible case of shooting yourself in the foot. What's Long Feng's plan here?

Toph and the Dunderheads: it says something about the consistency of Toph's characterisation from her introduction onwards that she breaks the universe this episode and my reaction was "that's neat." It's obviously a huge moment, but of course Toph can do that. Toph can do anything. More importantly, Toph knows that Toph can do anything, so Toph routinely does do anything, especially things she shouldn't be able to do. If you had asked me a few episodes back which character would be most likely to fundamentally redefine bending, I would have said Toph, since she's already fundamentally redefined bending with her earth sense sonar vision.

Also Toph just breaks stuff. Things that come into contact with her cease to function as intended and instead function as Toph requires. Look at the two idiots: both successful business owners, one also a successful hoodwinker of the richest family around. But they come into contact with Toph and their brains take an extended vacation.

Katara & the Generals: this plot was more like an extension of Azula's plot than its own standalone thing. You can't blame her for spilling the news about Zuko and Iroh to someone she honestly thought was Suki. Not much else to say about it, although it's cute that she asks for a table for two at the tea shop. Momo gets a chair!

I like that there's a theme this episode of things going wrong despite the best intentions. No one's acting maliciously here apart from the Antagonists. The Earth King is having an honest chat with people he thought were friends. Sokka vouched for people he honestly thought were the Kyoshi Warriors. Katara shares information about a presumed threat with people she honestly thought were her allies. You can quibble with the wisdom of some of these decisions, but there were all done with good intentions. The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and all that. It brings to mind that Star Trek quote about how you can do everything right and still lose. And this set up is going to hit harder when whatever goes wrong next episode happens. And something will go wrong. A few months ago I figured that the Season 2 finale would be a triumph, but all signs are pointing towards a tragedy instead.

This episode was visually stunning, the soundtrack in the Air Temple sections especially was very evocative, and I applaud the minds that could juggle that many plot threads at once without dropping any. This one is definitely going on my rewatch list.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the guru

[penny00dreadful]

Part 1 Part 3

The F-slur is mentioned here but only mentioned, not used to attack or demean.

“I don’t have a wife. I have… I have a husband.” 

Future-Eddie slapped him on the shoulder. “Hell yeah you do.”

“They legalise it? They-” Robin looked over at her future self, her eyes glossy. “W- they can get married?”

“Yeah.” Future-Robin squeezed Steve and Robin closer. “Yeah. They can get married. Just in a couple of places to start but then country-wide.”

Nancy nodded along as though this was all tactical information useful for defeating Vecna. “Is anyone else going to come through?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Not sure. I think Robin and I were zapped here because our past and future selves were in the same geographical location when there was a pulse. So, sorry to say, Nance, but you’re definitely not about to pop in.”

“Why? Where am I?”

“Still on a plane back from Alaska last I heard.”

“What on earth was I doing in Alaska?”

“Spy shit.” The two time travellers said in unison.

Nancy uncharacteristically stumbled in surprise. “Spy shit? Seriously?”

“Well, personally I believe you’re an international 007, Agent Wheeler, but most of the rest think it’s just plain old boring investigative journalism.” His future counterpart clearly hadn’t lost any theatricality with time. 

In fact it seemed to have gotten worse as he waved his arms around. “You’re like, the top dog at it, dude. Literally so good at it that barely anyone knows your name which you definitely use to your advantage. You’re super cagey on details. 

“But this time around, you were in Korea when shit hit the fan. Again, don’t know what you were doing there but I did hear Pyongyang mentioned once so you were only a jump away from Kamchatka when Ellie felt a disturbance in the force so you volunteered to go see if it was the Ruskies again, but no dice. Completely filled in with concrete. We have no idea how you got there so quickly but my money is on spy shit.”

Nancy stared at him open-mouthed as he spoke.

“So… So I do it? I make it? I succeed?”

“More than succeed.”

“And,” Nancy bit her lip, like she didn’t really want to ask the question but she was burning to know nonetheless. “The whole… marriage and kids thing?”

Future-Eddie glanced toward Steve, occupied by Future-Robin who was trying to distract him from the conversation and Eddie’s heart sank.

“Nance, don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t think you ever wanted that. I think you were told to want that, as a woman, but it was never you. You don’t have any kids, you’re not married and I don’t think you ever want to be.”

Nancy looked almost relieved at the information and Eddie was so confused. 

He still had a thousand questions firing around his head so he decided to latch onto something mentioned earlier. 

“Who’s Cassie?”

Future-Eddie smiled softly. “She’s my youngest.”

Eddie choked on thin air. “Kid?!”

“Yeah.”

“Your youngest kid is my age?”

“God, dude. Don’t remind me. You’ll make me feel so old.”

“You are old.”

His future self shoved his arm. “Watch it, whippersnapper.”

“Who’re your other kids?”

“Here, let me show you.” He pulled a slab of something out of his pocket before shaking his head and pulling his wallet out instead. “I think a phone would be a bit too much, so we’ll do the wallet.”

Eddie blinked. “Right.” Like he knew whatever the fuck the guy was on about.

Future-Eddie pulled some photos loose and in the pile Eddie caught sight of a hairy muscular thigh and a torso littered in old scars stretched obscenely out on a bed and dressed in black lace before the photo was swiftly snatched out of sight and Future-Eddie stuffed it down his pants.

“Woah, whoops! You don’t need to be seeing that!”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, staring at him wide eyed. “Oh my god, you keep that photo in your wallet?!”

“It was an anniversary gift!”

“He’s going to rip you a new asshole once he finds out.”

“God.” Future-Eddie breathed. “I hope so.”

Eddie knew his face must be lobster red. From what he had just seen of his future husband, he was hot, metal as shit with those scars and willing to do things like… that?! He’d hit the damn jackpot. 

If only he’d seen his face.

“Moving on!” Future-Eddie called brightly. “My girls.” He held out a photo of three teenagers backstage at some kind of concert. It looked like they were laughing at something that had just happened behind the camera, their backs to the stage. They all looked wildly different from each other. 

“They’re older now, obviously, but this photo… It’s my favourite. Rhea, Poppy and Cassie." He pointed at each of them respectively 

The girl on the left looked to be the oldest, blonde and short with glasses, dressed in oversized flannels and baggy ripped jeans. Her mouth was wide open in what must have been a cackle, nearly bent double with one hand on her sister's shoulder, keeping her balance.

The girl in the middle was taller, her hair was dyed a dark purple colour with two piercings over her black painted lips, dressed in flowing black lace. She had both hands up as if she’d just been hiding behind them, her eyes wide and incredulous, seeming to only really let out a giggle.

The third was a similar height to the girl in the middle, black haired and freckled, dressed in bright pastel colours with a cast on her arm. She was half hiding her face behind her hair, turned towards her sisters but her smile was so wide her eyes all but disappeared.

They all looked so happy together. 

Holy shit. 

He only ever had Wayne and now… well, in the future he has a husband and three daughters (holyshitholyshitholyshit), he’d built a family.

“Pretty unbelievable, right?” Future-Eddie smiled across at him, warm and content.

“Just wait ‘till you find out what he does for work!” Future-Robin shouted at him from up ahead.

Work? Eddie had never had a job before and everything in his future seemed so perfect, maybe this was the downer. God he hoped it wasn’t some corporate bullshit.

“What do you do for work?”

Future-Eddie blushed which was very fucking odd and scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m retired.” He shrugged.

“Eddie. You’re not going to tell him?”

“How can I tell him? Look at him! He’s having the worst week of his life! He’s being hunted by a town full of evangelical nutjobs, you think he’ll believe me if I tell him I have two Grammys and a Tony?!”

“Okay, pause.” Eddie put his hand to his future self’s chest, stopping them both. “I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.”

Because no fuckin’ way, man.

Nuh-uh.

Not a chance it meant what he thought it meant.

Not him. 

Not some little rat goblin from rural Indiana.

“Two Grammys.”

Future-Eddie nodded. “Two Grammys and a Tony.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose before scoffing. “Why a Tony?”

“It’s called branching out, dude. Don’t gatekeep, it’s not a good look.”

Future-Robin grimaced from up ahead. “Sorry, he’s sensitive.”

“Yes, I’m sensitive, Rob! Lloyd Webber can suck my dick!” He grumbled and muttered in a way that was clearly supposed to be an imitation, “Not built for writing a broadway musical my asshole.”

“So…”

“So.”

“You’re… we’re like, famous?”

Future-Eddie shrugged. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“With two Grammys.”

“We would have more if we didn’t get banned.” He muttered again, clearly not supposed to be overheard.

Eddie just stared. “Dude! How the hell do you get banned from the Grammys?”

Future-Robin faltered in her steps ahead, stuttering in the middle of her answer to Robin about her work as a translator in Geneva.

His future self started to walk again, trying to brush him off. “Uh… You know what? It’s a long story, I don’t think we should-” 

Eddie caught up. “No, no. This is my potential future right? I should know, maybe I can avoid it?”

Future-Eddie raised his hand to his jaw again, almost unconsciously, like those words hit him on multiple levels.

“Some things can’t be avoided, I don’t think.” He sighed heavily. “Alright. I got outed. Publicly. It wasn’t pretty. And it wasn’t just me, my husband got outed too. We called a blackmailer's bluff and they followed through.”

Eddie shook his head, disbelieving. “They banned you because you got outed?”

“No… not exactly. Okay, listen. I was in a really dark place at the time and I was so, so angry and you know what we’re like when we’re angry. It was incredibly controversial at the time and still is, kinda. Like a black stain on the band's past but I wouldn’t take it back if I could, you understand me?

“When I wrote it I was feeling super toxic and bitter and I’m not excusing it because it was so personal but the younger generation have picked it up again and they’re seeing it like it was meant to be seen. Like it’s about having to hide and live in fear all the time and how stressful and unfair it is and-”

Eddie sped up his steps just a little so he could look at his future self. “What did you do?” 

“I…” Future-Eddie twisted at his wedding band. “I released a song called ‘Faggot’ and it’s exactly as painful as you think.”

Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Listen, I don’t really know how this whole divergent paths thing will work, how much of my life you will or won’t experience after this. But everything I went through, everything, made me who I am today. It’s going to be really hard and it really fucking sucks sometimes. But it got me my girls. It got me my husband. I wouldn’t give it up for anything, you understand me?”

He looked back down at the ground, contemplating. Even though he’d just heard of some truly awful shit that might happen to him at some point, he couldn’t help agreeing with his future self. He had the girls. They seemed happy. He had a husband and he seemed truly content with him, even if Steve’s shadow was still overhanging. But he didn’t really know that for sure. He wanted to know about who he was married to, even if he didn’t want to know who.

“Tell me about him?”

Future-Eddie’s face split into a wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask. He’s the biggest fucking dork I know. The sweetest guy in the world, kindergarten teacher, little league coach… he sees everything. Self sacrificial streak a mile wide, giving me grey hairs.” He laughed.

“Sounds like a normie.”

“The normiest. It’s adorable.”

“Eddie!” Future-Robin called, waving him over from up ahead. “I need you, c’mere.”

“That’s sweet, baby. But it would never work between us.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, do you have an off switch?”

Future-Eddie’s grin turned feral. “I-”

“No!” She held up her hand. “Stop. Just come here, fucking hell.”

Eddie watched his own future counterpart practically skip over to the others, throwing his arms around both Robins and Nancy while his mind spun like a record without the needle down.

Fuckin’ time travel, man. What were the odds? But what were the odds of an alternate dimension and demon bats and demon dogs and just general demon fuckery?

And he was fucking married? What the shit. Like he’d pretty much resigned himself to short term secret shameful relationships or quick encounters in whatever club bathroom he ended up at in the city.

Some kind of life of settling down, with kids no less, was not something he’d ever dare believe…

“So.”

Eddie looked over. Steve was walking beside him, staying remarkably steady despite his wounds.

“So.”

He smiled at him but it was a little strained at the edges. “You have a husband.”

“I have a husband.”

And it was only really then that it hit him. Those words. Those words felt so… fantastic to say.

It wasn’t just the fact that he’d come out.

It was the fact that the words ‘I have a husband.’ meant that he had a husband. Someone who loved him unconditionally. Someone who stuck with his eccentricities and his trash panda tendencies. His parents were a terrible example for marriage and he knew, he knew that he would never allow himself to end up that way.

So this had to be it.

This had to be real.

“I don’t think I’d mind a husband.”

Eddie stopped dead.

Steve turned to look at him, a small smirk on his face. He strode two steps in front, continuing to walk backwards, keeping pace before placing a finger under Eddie’s chin and pushing his jaw back up. He hadn’t even realised it was hanging open.

“But… but you’re…”

"Yeah, I'm attracted to girls, I can hide if I want to and have an easy life. But boys are an option for me too. Don’t tell me you think I should play it safe because society tells me to. I thought you’d be better than that.” Steve slowed to keep pace with him again, knocking him with his shoulder and the barest hint of that smug smile on his face.

“Wh- I- I am. I am better than that. I’m sorry I just didn’t expect- you don’t-”

“I don’t look queer? Or act queer?”

“No! No, I didn’t mean…”

But he did mean that. He had thought that. And his shit had now been completely rocked because of it. 

His jaw had fallen open again, he just realised. He snapped it closed and his mouth felt so fucking dry. “I think you’d make a good husband.”

“Are you asking?” Steve quirked an eyebrow at him and flashed his teeth with a grin.

Jesus H. Christ he was so pretty.

Fucking hell. Was this what it was like to be on the end of the Harrington charm? God, he was in so much trouble now. 

And Steve was still grinning at him, like a cocky little bastard. “I don’t think anyone would want me as a husband anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I’m lost. Who the fuck would ever pass you up for a husband?”

Steve shrugged, a little more subdued than he was before. Eddie only barely caught the glance in Nancy’s direction.

“Wheeler’s loss.”

“No, I mean I get it. I have a lot of baggage and I feel like these bites aren’t going to just smoothe over. What happens then? What’s my spouse gonna do with me once I don’t have my looks anymore, you know?”

“Fuck your looks man, that’s not why people get married. That’s not why I’d get married.”

“It’s why my parents got married.”

“And you wanna have a marriage like theirs?”

“No! God, no. Never.”

“Exactly. So why do you think you’d allow yourself to get tied down to someone who only cares what you look like?”

“Maybe that’s the only reason they’d have me.” Steve grinned as if what he was saying was just fact. “Like I said, I’ve got baggage.”

Eddie shook his head. “We’ve all got baggage, man. I’m not trying to like, invalidate yours or whatever, but everyone has their shit. Yeah your shit is fucking intense, I mean look around, but that won’t matter to the right person. They might have their own. Might not be alternate dimension time travel shit but could be something similar. Maybe you’ll marry a veteran or a refugee. Or maybe you’ll marry someone who’s never experienced anything worse than a paper cut and when they stub their toe they only say ‘oh dear’. Relationships… marriage is a partnership, their baggage, your baggage, it’s there to be shared. It wouldn’t matter to me. I’ll take on my husbands shit and I’ll marry a man who’ll take on mine too. I know I will. I’m sure of it.” 

Steve was staring at him like he had six heads. 

Fantastic.

After he’d just spilled himself out of his mouth and everything.

But he wasn’t gonna back down. 

It’s what he believed in his heart of hearts.

“I just-” Steve started. “I’ve never heard anyone describe it like that.”

“Like what?” To him, it just seemed like common sense. 

“Like a partnership. You know like people always say relationships are commitment and dedication and selflessness.”

“Well yeah, they are but it has to go both ways. You can’t have one side putting in all that effort.”

“Partnership.” Steve muttered quietly, considering. “It has to be equal, right?”

“Yeah, now you’re getting it. It has to be equal.”

Steve’s smile was softer now, to go right along with his eyes. “You’re gonna make someone a really good husband one day, Eddie.”

Fuck, wasn’t that just a cupids arrow straight to the heart. And now Steve was looking at him all tender and it was driving him insane.

“You gotta at least cook me a nice dinner first before asking for my hand, there, Stevie.”

Steve shrugged. “Okay. What do you like?”

“Wha- I… What do I like?”

“What do you like to eat?”

Wait.

Wait.

His mind was blank. He should really be able to improv his way out of this but his head was completely empty.

“Italian, I guess?”

Steve’s grin almost turned conspiratorial. He reached up and lightly tugged at one of Eddie’s curls. “Fuck, you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

“I’m on the run from the law at the moment, sweetheart.”

“Not for much longer if I have anything to say about it.”

They were interrupted by raised voices ahead of them. There was a brief moment of panic before he and Steve realised it was just the two time travellers bickering loudly as the trees started to thin and houses began to come into view.

“Well, why can’t we remember any of this then?” Future-Robin asked.

“Because it hasn’t happened to us in our past. It’s happening to us in our present. And their present. How can we remember something that hasn’t happened yet? Because it’s happening now. To four different people. Their timeline has already diverged from ours just by us turning up. This isn't our story anymore, it's theirs.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Future-Eddie waved his hand at her. “Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.”

Future-Robin reached out and swatted him over the head. “You’re such a dork!”

“Hey!” He shoved her. “I only got into sci-fi because of you. Before you I was blissfully existing in a fantasy only realm.”

“Yeah.” She shoved him back. “You’re fucking welcome.”

They kept pushing and prodding at each other before it descended into chaos, devolving into some kind of childish slap war until eventually she had him in a headlock.

“Aaagh, Stevie! Help me!”

Steve just blinked at the two of them, probably trying to figure out how he was supposed to corral two adults who were nearly triple his age.

“So in the future, you and Robin seem to have some kind of… friendship?”

“Friendship?” Future-Eddie squawked. “No friendship here. She’s my soulmate by proxy. My sworn fuckin’ enemy.” From his bent over position he managed to grab her behind the knees and haul her over his shoulder.

“Barbarian!” 

“Buckley, my tabletop wife, you know I’m a bard.”

“Would you two shut the fuck up?!” Nancy hissed. “You’re gonna get us eaten.”

Future-Robin was let back onto her feet, quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

It was objectively hilarious, watching two grown adults who could technically be their grandparents mutter their apologies as if they’d just been chastised by the school principal. 

It was even funnier watching them punch each other in the arm as soon as Nancy’s back was turned. 

“We’re here.” Nancy said, staring out at the houses. “C’mon.” Without a backwards glance, she took off running.

“Nan-!” Robin lowered her volume as they all chased after her. “Nancy!”

By the time Eddie and Steve had followed them through the front door, the rest of them were disappearing upstairs. 

“Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?” Nancy was asking, holding what looked like a diary.

“Would you have believed us? You need to see evidence for yourself, you know that.” His future counterpart answered.

“What did I miss?” Eddie wheezed, placing his hands on his knees. 

Fuck, he needed to give up smoking.

“It’s 1983.” Robin answered, patting his back.

“Is this more time-travel fuckery?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Future Eddie and Robin spoke at the same time.

“The Upside-Down is stuck in 1983. The day Will Byers went missing.” Nancy clarified.

“Right. Okay. 1983. Cool.” Eddie gave a thumbs up, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He glanced around. “Hey, where’s-”

He was abruptly cut off as the entire house around them shook, sending him tumbling back into the hallway. The sounds of photo frames and Nancy’s knick knacks crashing to the ground surrounded him but underneath it all his blood ran cold when he heard a pained shout from downstairs.

“Steve?!” He called out, panicked, trying to get to his feet but being defeated by his own severe lack of athleticism and the incessant shaking of the very earth beneath him.

He crawled towards the stairs, thankful that the shaking had stopped by the time he reached the first step. 

He flew down them, nearly landing square on his ass again before catching sight of Steve, leaning heavily up against the wall and clutching his sides.

“Steve! Are you okay?” There were red patches starting to bloom under the makeshift bandages around his waist and he hissed in pain, as Eddie took hold of his arms, pressing his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder.

“I just… I just need a minute.” 

There was the sound of something ripping beside him.

“Shit. Things move fast in this timeline, don’t they?”

Eddie turned his head and froze, staring wide eyed at the third figure standing next to them.

Part 1 Part 3

-

I'm thinking one more part for this auspicious anniversary/time travel fic. I'll update the posts with links and the AO3 link too.

Thanks everyone for your sweet comments and tag requests! Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. 🖤

Tags: @epiclazersharkshark, @estrellami-1, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @addelyin

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #ficlet #fanfic #stranger things #steddie fanfic #penny00dreadful #ao3 #archive of our own #steve and robin #eddie x steve #eddie and robin #time travel au #steddie time travel #37 years to the day #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy stranger things

[in1-nutshell]

Hello!! I love your work! Everyday i literally check your page to see if you upload! You are the best!

Now, can i please request a human teen buddy ( around 15, small ) who is a genius, but still a kid, loves to have fun and literally seem dumb but is very smart. They end up on the lost light, and they hang around with some of the bots, like whirl, percy, nautica, brainstorm, rewind, domey, ratchet, drift, rodimus and mags & megs.

At first some of the bots had fun, but one time buddy, trusted them with their past. Telling everyone around that they didn’t had a parental figures growing up, they were always in foster care and the only thing that helped them was their intelligence, and because of that ended on a program to the lost light. Most of the bots are shocked, and they comfort buddy. But without buddy knowing, a war starts between their friends to win the custody of buddy and guide them.

Magnus wanted buddy to be in his care because they respected him and always asked him questions.

Rodimus wasn't much on the war, he was going to be the one that anounced the winner, but still wanted the best for their little friend.

Brainstorm and Percy tought of buddy as the little genius since they helped them sometimes in their works, and liked having them around.

Nautica tought of buddy as the sweetest thing and wanted to be around and never leave them like their real parents did.

Rewind and domey were fond of the kid and wanted to help them, and because they had a good taste in movies.

Drift was actually fond of buddy, because they never saw him as a monster or a traitor. They knew his backstory and all his problems, but they always treated him with adoration. He teached them how to fight and how to wield a sword.

Ratchet saw the kid most of the time because they were in the medbay a lot of time, watching when they healed somebot, he saw something on the kid, determination. He liked the kid, it reminded him of Drift. He started to teach them some medicine things.

Ratchet and Drift loved the kid, and they came to think of them as their own. When they heard their backstory they were sad, because, who could leave a great mind to itself, but they took the oportunity to be their guardian.

At the end of the day, ratch and drift won custody. And they were going to talk with buddy that night at swerve's. But as soon as they come inside, they hear crying. They inmediatly ran to the scene. And then they see how Buddy is chewing out some bot just because they talked badly about drift. After the bot rans out crying, drift grabs buddy and spins them in his arms while saying " you did so good, sweetie. You are the best!! That's my kid." Buddy's in shock. The ratchet says " that was awesome kiddo, you are awesome. You are the best kid." That hurt buddy and they answer with tears that they are the best parents in the world. After talking everything down, they become one little family. A little family who takes care of each other.

Sorry if it's to much. You can change or erase what you don't like.

This...I like this...

Let the custody battle begin!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy in the custody battle of the Lost Light (Ratchet and Drift are the winners)

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human reader

MTMTE

Buddy was sent to the Lost Light via the ‘Young Liaison program’. This program helped get the youth of the nation into space programs at minimal to no cost at all.

Buddy was drawn from a lottery to join a field expedition on the Lost Light.

Their main assignment was to keep an eye out for any potential security risk Megatron may still have for the inhabitants of Earth.

They were certainly one of the youngest to graduate from the program, but that didn’t stop the adults from putting the 15-year-old on the ship.

Magnus and Rodimus making their way to the main bridge to meet with the new human liaison.

“I heard they were their youngest human graduate in the program.”--Rodimus

Magnus nods, showing him a data pad with the Liason’s record.

“Indeed, as well as having excelled in most of their classes, listed top of their classes and highly recommended by their peers-- ”—Magnus

“Sheesh! They sound like a mini you.”--Rodimus

They both stop when they see a small human looking from their perch in wonder at the ship around them.

“Magnus… did you also forget to tell me that they’re a kid?”--Rodimus

“…That explains many of the vague writing…”—Magnus

The human turns to the two mechs smiling widely walking to them with a hand outstretched.

“Hello! My name is Buddy, and I am your new liaison for Earth! You must be Rodimus and Ultra Magnus. It’s an honor to meet you two!”--Buddy

Rodimus flashes a smile at them and holds out a digit so Buddy could shake it.

“Welcome aboard Buddy. Have you gotten the tour yet?”--Rodimus

Buddy’s eyes widen in excitement.

“No sir, not yet. But I was hoping to know more about this ship and all!”--Buddy

Buddy stands up straighter.

“I mean—Thank you for offering me a tour Captain sir.”--Buddy

“You can just call me Rodimus, Buddy. Now, shall we?”--Rodimus

Rodimus offers his servo to Buddy to climb on.

They look a bit hesitant but then throw caution to the wind and climb on.

Buddy relaxes a bit sending him a happy smile.

They turn to Magnus.

“I will be reporting to the meeting room for our review Ultra Magnus sir. I have some paperwork that I need to review with you concerning Article C 4, sub section 3—are you okay?”--Buddy

Magnus is trying to hold in everything together.

“O-of course.”—Magnus

Buddy just had stars in their eyes as they met their new bosses and got the tour around the ship.

Many of the bots didn’t mind the little human now amongst them.

Soon enough Buddy managed to worm their way into the sparks of most of the crew thanks to the time spent together and the adventures they had.

One late night at Swerve’s Buddy decides to open up about some of their personal life before the Lost Light.

They bounced around from home to home thanks to the foster care system their ‘parents’ put them in.

And how their smarts were the only reason they even managed to get into the program.

There are some comforting words passed around.

As the words began to be pass around, many bots suddenly realized something.

They wanted to be there for Buddy.

Maybe even a potential parental figure?

… now let the custody battles begin.

To make things as fair and as safe as possible Megatron, Magnus and Rodimus pulled the entire thing together. Well, more Magnus and Megatron than Rodimus, he just really wants to be the announcer.

Magnus had to go through all the paperwork and applications for Buddy’s custody.

“No, no, no, definitely not them. What—who put Overlord’s name on the registry form!?”--Magnus

Whirl’s laughter is heard at the end of the hall.

Buddy safely in his cockpit taking notes per Whirl’s request.

“You see Buddy, we have to destroy them bit by bit. Sometimes you can’t to the big stuff, but it’s the teeny stuff that can REALLY winded a bot up.”—Whirl

Buddy nods scribbling more in their notebook.

“WHIRL!”--Magnus

“Now for the next part, escaping the claws of authority!”--Whirl

After the registry was filled, the rest was simple count of elimination or forfeit.

Many bots did find themselves thinking twice about becoming parental figures to Buddy and preferred to be friends to the human instead.

Heading into the semifinal’s things got a bit more structured.

Buddy spends about 2 weeks with each bot or bots who are potential candidates for the custody.

At the end of the 2 weeks Buddy is to stay with neutral bots meanwhile everything gets ready. The neutral bots were bots that didn’t want anything to do with the competition and could keep a relatively unbiased opinion of the competitors.

“And the winners for the neutral bots are… Ambulon, Powerglide, Nautica and… Whirl? How did Whirl even—“—Rodimus

Whirl smashes a cube on the ground in victory.

“HAHAHA! SUCK ON THAT LOSERS!”—Whirl

“Whirl, we all—“--Nautica

He tosses Buddy into his cockpit and runs out.

Powerglide, First Aid and Nautica run after him.

“Whirl! Stop hogging Buddy!”--Powerglide

“We’re coming Buddy!”--Nautica

“Don’t try to resist! It’ll only make him angrier!”—First Aid

“WHATS HAPPENING!!!!?????”--Buddy

Oh, that was the little detail that somehow never occurred to anyone on board.

To tell Buddy about how some bots on board were getting into fight to be their parents.

Buddy just thinks that they are holding some sort of ‘Can you stand the Organic’ competition like what happened last Halloween.

The finalist came down to 3 pairs, each with Whirl’s choice of Team name.

Brainstorm and Perceptor aka Simpatico.

Rewind and Chromedome aka RDCD.

And Ratchet and Drift aka Dratchet.

Brainstorm and Perceptor were first.

 They tried bonding with Buddy with all sorts of scientific things.

Trying to reach Buddy the best way they knew how:

Science!

Whether it be lawfully good science or Chaotic good science, that was up for debate on most days.

Perceptor walking back into the lab.

Brainstorm runs out the door with Buddy in his servos.

“Brainstorm! What in the name of—”--Perceptor

“HIT THE DECK PERCY!”--Buddy

Perceptor investigates the lab just as a colorful explosion of confetti filled the lab and part of Perceptor’s face.

“I told you not to do it!”--Buddy

“But it was a challenge! If that inventor could do it, so can I!”--Brainstorm

“Its fictional Brainstorm! Cloudy with a chance of meatballs is a FICTIONAL MOVIE! None of its inventions are supposed to work because its FICTIONAL!”--Buddy

“But—”--Brainstorm

“BRAINSTORM!”--Perceptor

“… I suggest you start running Stormy.”--Buddy

“Agreed!”--Brainstorm

By the two weeks the pair had grown fonder of Buddy, but the pair soon realized that it would be best if they just stayed close friends with Buddy.

It wasn’t anything they did wrong, rather seeing another couple look at Buddy made them forfeit.

Next up…

Rewind and Chromedome.

They do have talks about more sensitive things than Brainstorm and preceptor being slightly more in tune with their emotions than the other pair.

They end up bonding through movie nights and stories.

“No way!”--Buddy

“Yes way!”--Buddy

“Wait, wait, wait! You’re telling me that Prowl and Domey used to be partners?! I mean how?!”--Buddy

“It wasn’t all that bad…”--Chromedome

“What was that Domey?”--Rewind

“Nothing!”--Chromedome

But like the last pair, they saw it better to have Buddy as a close friend or have them see the pair as uncle figures.

Finally Ratchet and Drift.

Buddy eased more with them having spent the most time with them prior to this.

That’s what happens when someone is a bit accidentally prone to bruising and weird unrelated injuries and loves learning about alien culture.

They go well together.

Buddy opens a bit more with them as they also share some advice and stories.

I have something I want to share with you guys…”--Buddy

“We’re here kid. What is it?”--Ratchet

“I…I’m afraid…”—Buddy

Drift raises an optic.

“You’re afraid? Afraid of what?”--Drift

“One day I’ll slip up here and then they ask for me back. I’ll never see you guys again and—and—I’ll be all alone again…”—Buddy

Buddy looks down and shakes a bit trying to hold back the tears.

Drift reaches out first and hugs Buddy close to his spark chamber humming a little tune.

Ratchet makes his way to the two and holds them both.

“You’re not going anywhere kid. You want to know why? Because you’re good at your job and you have help. Do you think any of those scraps for brain peers of your back on Earth could be doing what you’re doing? They’d quit within the first hour.”--Ratchet

Buddy chuckles a bit.

“That and no one will let you go from the ship because of that. You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”--Drift

Two weeks are done, and it is time to officially tally everything together, even though it is obvious who won.

Buddy gets sent with the neutral bots to Swerves while they look over the data.

Dratchet wins.

But Ratchet and Drift don’t celebrate their win. They want Buddy’s opinion on this before anything.

It’s their life too, they should have a say in it.

The pair go to break the news when they hear crying and yelling coming from Swerve’s.

Ratchet and Drift are sprinting to Swerve.

They burst through the door to find a bot slightly cowering at a red-faced Buddy.

“--AND IF YOU’RE MINISCULAR PROCESSOR THINKS THAT YOU ARE BETTER THAN DRIFT AND RATCHET YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING! YOU HONESTLY THINK YOUR HOT STUFF!? IF I WAS BIGGER, I’D PLANT MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR AFTERBURNER THAT YOUR DESCENDANT WILL STILL BE TASTING MY TOES! AND ANOTHER THING—"--Buddy

The bot runs out of the bar before Buddy could continue their verbal rampage.

The bar erupts in cheer and praise when the bot leaves.

It wasn’t often to see the little liaison snap and the utter verbal beating, while well earned, was brutal.

That was something to celebrate.

Drift and Ratchet weave their way through the crowd as Buddy is getting passed around.

Drift grabs Buddy hugging them tightly.

“THAT’S MY KID!”--Drift

Buddy looks at him startled.

Ratchet pats their head affectionately.

“You earned that one kiddo.”--Ratchet

Buddy suddenly understands what they are saying and starts bawling on ratchet’s digit hugging them tightly.

The pair is a bit scared but soon realize that they are tears of joy.

They pair relaxes as they enjoy the free drinks and keep Buddy close.

Some day this turned out to be.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #human buddy #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte x platonic reader #mtmte ratchet #mtmte drift #mtmte ratchet x platonic reader

[a-hundred-musings]

You know, here's a small rant from me: I hate it when Celebrimbor is shown to be a "softie-boy" or a "naïve child" or just... someone condescending and stupid. Like, yeah I'm guilty of it too (who isn't?) but it just makes me wonder why he's presented as that in fics anywhere.

I read this fic on AO3? Celebrimbor is a stupid duck. Or he's just very naïve and easy to prank. I read another fic? Celebrimbor is a whiny baby who can't stand up for himself. I read another one? He's a man-child.

Look, I get why he's presented in that way, but can we not do that? Especially considering the things this boy has gone through which really wouldn't make him a "child-like" person, but more of a mature adult who has experienced things no one should ever experience.

Before and during the First Age, he's experienced so much:

Nerdanel and Feanor falling out -- that basically messed up entire Aman back then, but mainly their kids, so imagine how Curufin would have reacted to that.

The feud between Feanor and Fingolfin and Finarfin

The time when Feanor threatened Fingolfin

The time when the Two Trees were destroyed

The time when Melkor killed his great-grandfather Finwe.

Feanor going Mad™

The uprising of the Noldor

The First Kinslaying

His grandfather going feral and his father and uncles swearing an oath on a literal suicide-mission

One of his youngest uncles getting burned and basically died (or lived, depends on which version you follow)

A time of literal darkness. Like, no light at all. It really messed up the psyche of so many people.

Feanor abandoning his brother on the shores of Valinor -- that would mess up anyone really.

A literal battle. Like, more blood is being shed -- not only of elves, but of other creatures Tyelpe has probably never seen or heard of before.

His grandfather being so consumed by his fire and spontaneously combusting. That too, he either saw or heard of Feanor literally bursting into flames -- that is pretty traumatising.

The crossing of the Helcaraxe -- no seriously, that would mess anyone up knowing that people they love are literally walking on glaciers and over deathly waters with a 50% chance of survival.

Maedhros being crowned King of the Noldor, and an unspoken fact that there is more than one king of the Noldor -- the political implications here...

The abduction of Maedhros. Need this be explained further?

His uncles and father being concerningly close to starting a whole world-war

The rising of the Sun and the moon (like, what are those big spheres in the sky? Are they something from Melkor? Are they a sign of the End™? What is it?)

The arrival of Fingolfin's group, with more dead and furious people.

The mental health of everyone deteriorating. No, I won't explain because this era was filled with bad times.

No one knowing what to do now, since Maglor was naturally crowned the Regent King of the Noldor, and he has his own problems.

After 34 years of wondering what on earth has happened to Maedhros, he returns scarred with no right hand, and presumed torture marks.

Everyone literally holding their breaths for what will happen next.

Maedhros surrendering his crown to Fingolfin. That would hurt bad like a blow.

Literally only a few years of peace filled with tension.

Fingolfin decides to kick Melkor's arse and dies.

The Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

The Second Kinslaying.

The Fall of Gondolin

Making the decision of abandoning his father and uncles, going on his own separate path.

The death of so many of his family members and father and uncles. That is messed up. The amount of psychological trauma he's already been through...

Like, imagine his guilt of not being there with his father, imagine how much he second-guessed his actions...

The Third Kinslaying. The deaths of more elves, his uncle (or uncles), and really, just more death.

The crown of the Noldor being passed on so many times until it reached Gil-Galad. Imagine the humiliation and just the shock of the realisation of the number of people who have been crowned within a span of a few centuries.

The kidnapping of Elrond and Elros. While it probably wouldn't harm Tyelpe's psychological health, it must have been pretty messed up to find out that your two remaining uncles have committed a few more war crimes.

The War of the Wrath. Now, while it was mainly against Men, there is no doubt that some elves have been killed due to the war (given Gil-Galad's camps etc), so imagine him getting into some stray fights with the orcs or those Men who follow Melkor.

The Fourth Kinslaying. No need to further elaborate.

The death of Maedhros, and Maglor becoming a cryptid. Who wouldn't that mess up?

Surviving the First Age. Like, give this Tyelpe the recognition he truly deserves. Give him a few rings and trophies for enduring so long and he still hasn't gone down to insanity. That too, all this happened within the span of like, 600 years.

The Second Age:

Beleriand is under the sea

His "cousins" (Elrond and Elros) going their separate ways

The death of Elros (I think this is pretty self-explanatory, given the numerous HCs on the twins and Celebrimbor)

No one has any idea what has happened to Maglor. Is he alive? Is he dead? Who knows.

Rumours of a sinister evil lurking in the shadows and really, some tensions are visibly arising.

He finds this very powerful and alluring stranger who knows quite a bit about the art of smithing. They collaborate despite warnings from Galadriel, Gil-Galad, Elrond and a few others.

After giving thought to make powerful rings, Annatar watches over as Celebrimbor makes the rings for Men and Dwarves.

Newsflash: Annatar wants the rings, and he tainted them.

Celebrimbor makes the 3 Elven Rings in secret so Annatar can't get to them, but he gets kidnapped and tortured.

Like, really badly tortured. Annatar wants those 3 rings.

Celebrimbor eventually is killed, and is impaled on a spear, then given to Gil-Galad's camp after years of torture.

He went straight to his family. Can't tell if this will add to his trauma, but still.

While he didn't survive the Second Age, this boy went through so much pain, and... really, I feel like he doesn't get much of the appreciation he deserves.

Thank you for coming to my little rant as to why we need more fics that paint Celebrimbor as someone who isn't a stupid and naïve child, but more of a wiser version of Feanor and Curufin. He is not a tantrummy baby, for Ilúvatar's sake!

#celebrimbor #feanorians #silm #silmarillion #the silmarillion #the silm fandom #house of finwe #house of fingolfin #house of finarfin #house of feanor #curufin #maedhros #russandol #maitimo #noldor #silmarils #fingon #celegorm #fingolfin #silm headcanons #nirnaeth arnoediad #fall of gondolin #tolkien #tolkein #middle earth #beleriand #telperinquar #annatar #mairon #melkor

[cosmicswan]

𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐫

listen to this while reading | back to masterlist

code name: Noir

government name: Aisha Leblanc

personality type: INTJ

nationality: USA

origin: unknown

IQ: 187

shifting to: the first avengers movie

me core

occupation before shield recruitment: professional contemporary dancer, CEO

background info & family:

i was in an orphanage when nick fury was alerted of a super powered kid (me) so he adopted me & trained me in combat & also trained me how to use my powers. my real family is unknown (though my powers look similar to the eternals) but i might script that im not an eternal and see where that goes (my mom was a being that can control reality)

ik,,, almost every super powered dr is me with powers concerning the multiverse and THATS BCS I WANNA BE OP (stfu) and i am literally traveling the multiverse to get there so it isn’t that much of a strech

identity

here’s the fun part, no one knows that i am nick fury’s daughter (i scripted that he didn’t change my last name to his for safety purposes) and my name in the orphanage was my cr last name. but he did change my last name after the adoption to leblanc (for further safety precautions.) so far no one knows about my real identity & powers before joining the avengers

fury is actually a good dad and he let me do the things i want to do growing up (gymnastics, contemporary dance, & modelling) before i decide to join shield and became a spy

avengers

since i don’t want no trauma, i scripted out major worldly (and outerworldly threats) so no doomsday n shit. so this dr is more like a spy dr than anything. i also scripted out any apocalyptic events. zombies icks me out

but nick still make the avengers a team. to wipe out earth’s and other realms major evil organizations, evil politicians yk all that jazz.

and most of the avengers live in the tower. (i want to live that avengers found family domestic trope stfu)

the avengers consist of: bruce, nat, wanda, pietro (scripted out his death), thor, occasionally loki, tony, me, clint, vision, peter (he doesn’t live in the tower), yelena after we demolish the red room, steve, bucky after we save him (scripted him to not kill tony’s dad) i want the full domestic life experience with no beef alright.

i also scripted that matt murdock is the avengers official lawyer. i also scripted a shit ton of safety precautions to not get my ass traumatized so imma just skip that part

and i forgot to mention that my CEO, model, performer persona is totally different than my hero persona (batman bruce moment yurrr) and i shapeshift so my hero and citizen face is literally different.

my powers

my powers are a mix of phoenix force & chaos magic but all in all i am essentially the goddess of the multiverse. higher above kang the conqueror & basically omnipotent (don’t start on the you can’t be op bs)

my abilities include; multiverse travel, reality destruction & creation, time travel, healing, shapeshifting, power fields, impenetrable shields & weapons creation, mind control, elemental powers, reality wrapping, illusions, astral projection etc. (i develop these powers gradually)

human background

i aged down tony stark to be the same age as me! (26 at 2012)

i attended MIT and rivaled tony in all his computer science & engineering classes. i graduated with a double masters degree in computer science & performing arts

i scripted that before i joined shield i was the founder of my AI & vehicle company making me the youngest self made billionaire (unlike tony’s generational wealth) and i pursued contemporary dancing as a hobby but later become a professional performer. and i sometimes model for brands too after resigning as the ceo and handing it over to one of my cr friends that i scripted (im not all in for the hustle life i want to be bougee and not work)

significant others

i might end up with tony with an academic rivals arc but im also interested in natasha 🤭 so idk yet im going with the flow again in the romance field

about me

my personality is pretty much the same as other drs, im probably a philanthropist and a hardcore activist there too, i featured a lot in the covers of the times magazine or ford 30 under 30 (my literal dream) then alot of fashion brands notice my interest in fashion and offered from modeling positions to ambassador positions, im probably going to model for ysl, graff, vivienne westwood etc. im also thinking of making a collaboration with cartier to make timeless classic style smart watches (i hate the style of apple watches)

likes, hobbies & random facts in my dr

what i like in this dr is pretty much the same in my cr with only little differences

i like adrenaline seeking activities, flying planes, f1 racing, probably a street racer at one point, i invented nano tech for tony’s suit, invented nano tech to cure cancer (probably almost got assasinated in the process) i also invented electric cars with solar power (fuck elon) overall my company creates technology like devices, AI, AI websites, solar powered cars, & motorcycles.

i have a charity school of performing arts with students all over the world to learn dance, professional instruments, etc.

i like mansions, luxury staycations, hot milk tea, convenient technology, fashion, dance, parties, chess, and being theatrical & dramatic. once i dreamed about this dr i was on a mission crushing this one dude in a fight while listening to an der schönen blauen donau - walzer, op. 314. it was comical

that’s all for now! pls ask me any questions in my inbox or comments if u have any <33

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #reality shift #shifting realities #shiftinconsciousness #shifttok #desired reality #mcu dr #mcu #avengers dr

[ossifer-bones]

What of the Sun?

AKA: Alecto, Gaea, and Uranus—why John Gaius is connected to Dominicus.

Special thanks to @the-sword-lesbian for inciting me with this question, and then going on to listen to all the conspiracy board rambling that ensued whilst offering up her own excellent questions:

Alecto, Gaea, and Uranus

Alecto is, as we know, named after the Fury of the same name from Greek myth whose name literally translates to ' the implacable or unceasing anger'. John, after becoming God, took the surname Gaius, the masculine form of the name Gaia.

Something notable about the Alecto of myth is her parentage: she is the daughter of Gaea (also spelt Gaia), the personification of the Earth, who was fertilised by the blood of Uranus, the personification of the sky (who was also Gaia's son and husband). Uranus' blood was spilt when his and Gaia's youngest son, Cronus, castrated and overthrew him, with the blood from his severed genitals falling upon the Earth (Gaia) and birthing Alecto in the process; Cronus is sometimes interpreted as also being Chronos, the personification of time.

Dominicus, the name John bestowed upon the resurrected Sun, has its origins explicitly stated by John. It is derived from Psalm 27:1, which he partially quotes while talking to Harrow: “The Lord is the source of my light and my safety, so whom shall I fear?”

“A myriad ago, I resurrected nine planets,” he said. “And I reignited the central star, and I called it Dominicus. As a reminder. Dominus illuminatio mea et salus mea, quem timebo? God is my light.[...]

Dominicus and Thanergetic Stars

He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you … I hid you in me. And when we were together … once the shaman had claimed the sun … I became God. He said, It wasn’t enough. He said, The ships … the ships were still full of people. I reached our hand out into space. I extended. I struggled. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. That started things going. Once you take down the sun, you’re cooking with gas, pardon the pun.

It’s a dark and cold and unlovely part of space, and the stars there are old and were nearly dead then. We nuked them with thanergy and now they’ll shine forever, but the light is not the same …

From the glare of the plex window, beside some perfectly ordinary white twill curtains, the buried monster turned herself so that she was lit in the light of the undead stars.

THE MITHRAEUM, THE SEAT of the First Reborn! The Sanctuary of the Emperor of the Nine Houses, the bolthole of God—the removing place of hallowed bones, and the ossuary of the steadfast! A space station hidden forty billion light-years from the ever-burning light of Dominicus, lit by thanergetic starlight, set in the midst of the circumstellar disc, an ancient jewel within so much dead gravel.

As we see from the above, stars are implicitly naturally thalergetic in character, and through necromantic intervention (nuked them with thanergy) can be rendered thanergetic: undead and everburning, emitting thanergetic starlight. Curiously, nuked them with thanergy is eerily close to how flipping a planet is described by Harrow:

You drove the point of the bone-sheathed blade into the talc—obviously you never wanted it to have an edge of any kind, ever again—and using the sword as your focus, drove a killing lance of thanergy right into the planet’s heart. The planet did not quake, or howl, or freeze, or writhe, skewered on your necromancy’s tines. You began the cascade outward, as you had been taught. A wide thanergetic scythe sheared out into the mantle, deeper into the minute thalergy of the rock, into the solid stone’s buried recollections of the day its ball of dust was formed.

Flipping a planet involves focusing thanergy into a killing implement that is driven into the planet's heart, its soul, inducing a cascading thalergy-thanergy reaction that fuels itself, thanergy decaying thalergy into more thanergy and burning through it:

The thanergy scoured through the soul like a lit taper touched to flimsy. The living flush of this rocky outcrop began to die in dizzying, concentric rings: flipping, the thanergy feeding on the thalergy as locusts fed on wheat. As the soul tore away, an extra thanergetic bloom fanned the fire of what you had already done.

Planets, as we are told in Harrow the Ninth, have souls: a communal soul, arising from the thalergetic complexity of the microbial life present on them much in the same way a human's soul emerges from the thalergetic complexity of its internal microbial life.

“And what has a soul?” “Anything with a thalergetic complexity significant enough to … have a soul. So, humanity.” [...] “A planet’s a ball of dust. Its thalergy comes from the accumulation of microbial life. You can’t consider it one coherent system.” “Call it a communal soul,” said her Emperor. “What’s a human being, other than a sack of microbial life?

This explanation has always reminded me of how the human body is explained in terms of a hierarchy of organisation and complexity: the lowest unit is the cell, cells come together to form tissues, tissues form organs, organs form organ systems, and the sum total of these connected systems is the human body. The soul, then, is implicitly the organisational level above the body: the body is the tissue, the soul is the organ; it is shown by Anastasia's tripod principle that the soul indeed plays a vital part in the functioning of the body:

“There was a bad option where your soul snapped straight into her body, leaving your body stuck with no soul at all, and that would have been a shit time all round.” “Would I have died?” Nona asked, interested. “You’d have tried to,” said Pyrrha. “The body needs thalergy and a soul to keep the lights on. Anastasia’s tripod principle. Body plus thalergy, but no soul, is basically a very weird vegetable … after a while it gives up and shuts down.”

Without a soul, the biological processes cease and the body shuts down; thalergy, in the absence of a soul, decays into thanergy. Flipping a thalergetic planet involves thanergetically disrupting its soul to induce a cascading thanergetic reaction. Thalergetic stars 'nuked' with thanergy become undead, ever-shining, thanergetic: they are flipped.

Stars have souls. Dominicus has a soul.

Why John Gaius is connected to Dominicus

You said, “So if you die, the Houses die with you. The star warming our system fails, and—becomes a gravitational well, as I understand it?” “Yes. A black hole, like the one that took out Cyrus,”

The Sun would need to be about 20 times more massive to end its life as a black hole. Stars that are born this size or larger can explode into a supernova at the end of their lifetimes before collapsing back into a black hole, an object with a gravitational pull so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. Ergo, the black hole part is a load of bullshit—but, you know, necromancy; the important part of that quote is that John claims that when he dies, Dominicus dies with him.

When Mercymorn tries, and fails, to kill John, Dominicus falters and does indeed begin to undergo a collapse: John's 'death' somehow affects Dominicus from all this distance away, and him coming back results in it stabilising again.

“Right,” he said, and closed his eyes briefly. Then he said, “The sun has stabilized. Hope the Sixth House didn’t get cooked in the flare.”

John says that he reignited the Sun, yes, but I think it goes deeper than just that: I think John put more than just Earth in Alecto's body, and more than just his soul in Alecto's.

Anastasia's tripod principle stipulates that a body with thalergy and no soul shuts down—Dominicus undergoes collapse when John's body is destroyed by Mercymorn, when his soul is decoupled from its material tether—John's soul is the Sun's soul.

“Once the shaman had claimed the sun … I became God.”

The soul of a planet is communal, composed of the sum total of the life present on it: John killed the life upon Earth by inciting a global nuclear war, then killing those humans who were spared the fate of atomic fire. He had to kill the world to put his hands around her throat. He became God by eating her, by hiding him in her, and her in him—the shaman claimed the sun.

He said, I bit through the sun first.

Alecto was born from the blood of Uranus being spilt upon Gaia by their son Cronus; Uranus is the personification of the sky, the husband and son of Gaia. John took the name Gaius when he reignited the Sun, after spilling its blood upon the Earth and creating Alecto: he became one with Gaia, tied his soul to hers and to the sun's.

The Mithraeum is 'a space station hidden forty billion light-years from the ever-burning light of Dominicus, lit by thanergetic starlight'. The ever-burning light of Dominicus contrasted by thanergetic starlight. Immortal, but alive.

“The eyes have it, John.”

He approached her, and she saw that his sclera were black as space. The irises were dark and leadenly iridescent—a deep rainbow oil slick, ringed with white. The pupils were as glossy black as the sclera.

The Emperor of the Nine Houses drummed his fingers over his belt. It still hurt you a little, to look into his terrible eyes: the irises like black shadows of the Canaanite white, that iridescent absence of colour, a shade rather than a tint; the purity of the white ring; then the matte black of the sclera. “A myriad ago, I resurrected nine planets,” he said. “And I reignited the central star, and I called it Dominicus[...]

You could study him without shyness: the shining iridescence of his irises, the unyielding black of the cornea and pupil, the long, square, urbane face.

And his eyes were just absolutely, insanely fucked up: deep black wells, this unreflective flat black. Even from where I was, I could see the white light that circled the irises: a cold, flickering perimeter.

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #tlt meta #john gaius #alecto the first

[aokoaoi]

𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐢 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫. ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ

pairings : big sister!shuri x fem!reader x big brother!t'challa

warnings : ooc characters(?).

authors note : this is not a ship fanfic. everything is completely platonic, just pure sibling relationship<3.

GROWING UP !

— you were only 2 years younger than shuri, so of course, it wasn't difficult for you two to get along.

— compared to your sister, you didn't have very strong ambitions. But even so, you were taught how to rule a nation by your mother when you were younger, and when you were prepared enough, she took you to train to be a Dora Milaje member.

— you were a fairly calm and obedient child back then, and even since you grew into a fine woman.

— you didn't have an interest in fighting whatsoever, but it did cross your mind that you'd end up needing the skills to fight. But you didn't complain and go against your mother.

— there weren't that much things that interested you as a kid. Your sister and brother often picked on you(playfully) for it.

— shuri even tried to get you to be interested in her ambitions, saying that it's 'fun' and 'an opportunity to learn something new'.

— you weren't adventurous, smart like shuri, nor would you be strong like t-challa. Sometimes, as you grew older, you think if you could've done something more than just train to be in an elite group. But despite those, something sparked inside you and motivated you to be the strongest amongst all the members of the Dora Milaje.

BONDING WITH SHURI !

some big brother t'challa scenes<3

— it's awfully loud when there's two of you in the same room. Like seriously, it's just filled with Shuri laughing at your jokes. Everyone sees you as 'the calmer one of the siblings' but boy.. when you're with those 'siblings' its like someone released a whole mammal out their cage.

— despite not understanding half she's saying, you still go visit shuri in her lab to keep her company. She's just yapping to you about what she's doing, while you just nodded, pretending like you understood what the hell she's saying.

•   "(name)? Are you listening or no?"

•   "I am. But I don't understand."

•   "It's fine, at least you're listening."

— whenever her brother is doing something, or is busy, you'd be the one training her some fighting abilities. You aren't as skilled like your brother, goodness no, he's the black panther for Pete's sake, but you are strong. Somewhat.

— shuri always supports and cheers for you whenever you're about to go to your training. Boy, the proudness she felt when she was told that you were slowly beginning to be more skilled the passing days. She's not lying, Okoye said it herself.

— tackles you in hugs almost everytime she's overly enthusiastic to see you.

•   "Stop that. You act like our rooms aren't next to eachother."

•   "I missed you!"

•   "we see eachother everyday!"

— okay but listen to this. The over protectiveness that randomly summoned inside her when she heard that you were getting marriage proposals.

"atrocious!" You and your mother deadpanned at her reaction, side eyeing eachother blankly. "(name), whatever you must do, do not even look at those proposals, okay?!"

— yeah it was a wild experience.

— besides that, shuri is a great sister. She loves you but literally acts like she's the youngest. Seriously, you mightve heard that she's older and you're younger, but when you see these two and know the personally, you'll end up doubting yourself.

— even your own brother said it himself.

•   "Shuri, stop clinging onto your sister like a wild monkey climbing up a tree."

•   "What?"

•   "brother said to stop climbing me like you're a monkey."

— ooh, have I mentioned that you're a great dancer? If not, you're a very great dancer! Dora Milaje members are probably all great dancers if you must say so yourself.

— growing up, shuri was probably your favorite person who ever walked the soil of earth. And then your brother follows right behind her, and then your parents, and then—

— when it's the three of you combined, it's like the whole definition of the word 'chaos'. In the end of the day, T'challa is tired as hell, Shuri went to drain more of her energy in her lab work, and you? Already fell asleep.

— despite being a whole menace the three of you were, mama Ramonda and papa T'chaka were proud of what you three have achieved.

i am very tired<\3 still figuring out my layouts for headcanon posts, so this one is kind of messy rnn. this is also my first time writing about sibling relationships, especially in readers pov so I'm sorry if it's cringey oml😭

#black panther wakanda forever #princess shuri #shuri udaku #shuri black panther #shuri x reader #—aoifics #shuri fluff #shuri #mcu shuri #black panther fanfiction #black panther shuri #black panther #t'challa #black panther t'challa #t'challa x reader #fanfic #reader insert #fanfiction #siblings #sibling relationship #sibling reader

[undeniablespice]

drowned god the weak little beast you put on this earth to write fanfiction and like greyjoys has been neglecting homework in order to reread the affc ironborn chapters and have way too many opinions about the soggiest man in the world. i have Had Some Thoughts on aeron, theon, and names

it really is striking to me just how little people refer to aeron by his name. not just in conversation, but in the narrative itself, with the most notable example of this being aeron himself in his pov chapters constantly thinking of himself not as aeron but as damphair or just The Priest. he refers to himself as damphair or The Priest instead of aeron like twenty times throughout the prophet, to the point where it's used almost as frequently as his actual name. in the drowned man it's only like eight times (which i think is mostly because the vast majority of this chapter is given over to the kingsmoot, where aeron is mostly a spectator and the narrative focus is on the events taking place rather than his reaction to them). in the forsaken, it's ten times, though while aeron is actively imprisoned he mostly thinks of himself as aeron, with damphair being used four times in flashbacks to events that took place in the past, once during a conversation with euron while aeron is defying him, and then three times after he is freed and he can see the sea again

the consistency and frequency of aeron in his own mind thinking of himself as something other than his name reads to me almost like a foil to theon and reek. the identity of the damphair allows aeron to dissociate himself from the burden of his past weaknesses and sins: his pre-drowning frivolity and alcoholism and euron's sexual abuse. for aeron, being damphair is as empowering as being reek is degrading for theon. he is constantly affirming to himself that he is a loyal servant of the drowned god and that this makes him strong. it gives him status and purpose he never had as aeron the boy, who was the youngest and weakest of his brothers. aeron-the-priest cannot be frightened by any mortal man any more than he can be frightened by the dark or by memories. kill the boy to become the man -> drown the boy to become the damphair

(although, of course, when aeron tells himself all this about how god chose him and it makes him strong and special and immune to fear, he is deluding himself. the damphair is haunted incessantly by his brothers. aeron has the tendency to reconcile his lasting fear of euron with his special god-given immunity to such mortal flaws as feeling fear by believing that euron is ungodly/an avatar of the storm god/literally the devil, and therefore not really a mortal man in the same way that balon and victarion are

which is a really interesting parallel to how euron must see himself, what with the whole apotheosis god-king thing he's got going on by twow. in a way, euron is aeron's real god. it is euron's abuse that first connected aeron with faith, and it is faith that aeron uses to cope with and overcome the lasting psychological scars of that abuse and urri's death. aeron doesn't think of euron as a mere flesh and blood human being anymore. he's mythologized the crow's eye in his own mind: euron is not just his abuser, he's a boogeyman, a devil, quite literally the thing that goes bump in the night. and euron knows this, and delights in knowing it and in taking every chance he can to tear down aeron's faith and replace the drowned god with himself as the backbone of aeron's life. which he does not actually succeed in doing, as of the forsaken! aeron keeps his faith like theon keeps his name. it cannot be taken from them)

reek, meanwhile, is not an identity that theon chooses to assume to cope with his trauma. it is forced upon him in the middle of the trauma and he has no choice but to accept it for his own self-preservation. ramsay devastates theon physically: flaying him, starving him, beating him, removing his fingers and toes and teeth and genitals. imprisonment and violence are the tools he uses to take away theon's physical strength to resist him, but reek is how he gets to all the parts of theon that can't be bruised or cut. it's the psychological equivalent of a flaying knife. reek is the weapon he uses to attack theon's identity and sense of self and personhood. though it's important to me to note that those were things theon was already struggling with well before ramsay came on the scene, and that he has an absolutely unbelievably strong will that allows him to retain a degree of his original personality under ramsay and regain his own name later in adwd even after enduring all the torture and abuse. he is a greyjoy of pyke. his name is theon, and if he dies, he will die as theon, not as reek. when he leans into being reek, it is as a means of self-preservation and protection from harm. he basically says as much to jeyne when he tells her to be arya: he believes that serving ramsay and capitulating to his whim is the best way to stay safe. you have to know your name.

ultimately, theon is as relieved to be rid of the name reek as aeron is relieved to see the ocean again at the end of the forsaken. theon's name is a source of pride to him, something that he clings to after he has lost everything else, something that will always be his even after all that has been taken away from him. aeron's name is a source of shame, something that he is reduced to when he feels weak, something that he reverts to when he is powerless at the mercy of his abuser

#aeron greyjoy #theon greyjoy #house greyjoy #analysis #it makes me wonder actually at what point euron stopped assaulting aeron #from what i can see there's no textual evidence that it goes on until aeron's a teenager/young adult but also no evidence that it doesn't #it would be interesting if it stopped entirely after aeron was drowned #further supporting aeron's belief that as a devoted man of god he is now untouchable even by euron #and his faith will protect him #because it has to. because it must. because after balon dies it is all he has left #when the forsaken hits and what aeron wants is for his big brother victarion to come save him... #and it can't happen because victarion is gone and hope is gone with him #hoping against hope that your big sibling will come and save you #the theon-aeron paras are lelling at a dangerous rate #i've got more aeron meta and aeron-theon thoughts cooking in my sick little brain but we're not ready for that #op #religion #meta

[ahegato]

Obey Me Boys: Most to Least Embarrassed about Crying in Front of MC

m.list

TW: mention of death (I just say the word once but I'm not taking any risks lol) Characters: main Writer: ahegato

— MOST

Lucifer absolutely loathes it. He’s the literal Avatar of Pride, and crying is a sign of weakness in his eyes (dumbass). He doesn’t really see other people as weak when they cry, the rule only applies to him. It would take a very long time before he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state.

Satan really doesn’t like it. Not all that weird considering he basically came from Lucifer. If he feels comfortable with you, he would eventually cry openly. I have a personal headcanon that he cries when he gets really really frustrated and doesn’t know where to go.

I’m convinced that Barbatos doesn’t cry basically at all. He knows about everyone and everything, almost nothing can take him by surprise. He also rarely gets upset about trivial things, and will at most just express that he’s “not very pleased” about something. BUT, if he were to get burned out from work, that would probably be what causes him to cry.

Belphegor dislikes crying in front of other people, the exception being Beelzebub and you, if you’re close. Already being the youngest, he doesn’t want to be seen like a baby by crying where his brothers can see him. All the siblings basically go into ‘protective brother’-mode.

Luke worries he’ll be seen as a child for crying, kinda like Belphegor, so he always tries as hard as he can to not cry, but usually ends up doing it anyway, especially around people he’s comfortable with. If you as much as ask what’s wrong, the slight lip tremble he had quickly turns into full on crying with tears streaming down his face.

Diavolo is not embarrassed by it per se, but feels he’s supposed to be stronger than that, because he’s the future king of the devildom. It’ll take a while before he feels comfortable openly crying in front of someone, but when he is he will probably ask for a hug.

Mammon is very embarrassed about doing it but just does it anyway. Will deny it until the end of time, though. Sad movies often get to him. Fear may also trigger it. Often clings to you when he does. You’re stuck there now. “I’m not crying!” Mammon sobbed.

Leviathan has been seen crying on numerous occasions, usually over some anime/video game character dying or accidentally breaking one of his figurines. His emotions get so intense that he can’t even try to stop it.

Simeon is very in tune with his emotions, and therefore doesn’t like to bottle things up until they reach the point of a breakdown. But he does feel a bit embarrassed about crying, as he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. But if he trusts you, he doesn’t mind. He’d like to be comforted, but doesn’t want to ask for “too much”, so you’ll have to initiate it.

Asmodeus cries extremely often about pretty trivial things, and doesn't really care. He might be a bit more secretive when it comes to him crying over insecurities he has, but that is more because he doesn’t want people to see that side of him. In his eyes, he’s supposed to be all confident and hot 24/7, you’ll have to pull him down back to earth and remind him that it’s okay to not always feel the greatest about yourself.

Beelzebub doesn’t cry all too often but is not one to hide it when he does, and isn’t afraid to ask for reassurance. Family is everything to him, so he might cry if there is some kind of conflict going on, especially if he had something to do with it. If you allow him, he will sit on your lap.

— LEAST

✦ [ 23/01/2023 ] ✦ ahegato ✦

#obey me #lucifer #leviathan #mammon #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #luke #solomon #demons #angels #all #obey me lucifer headcanons #obey me mammon headcanons #obey me leviathan headcanons #obey me satan headcanons #obey me asmodeus headcanons #obey me beelzebub headcanons #obey me belphegor headcanons #obey me diavolo headcanons #obey me barbatos headcanons #obey me simeon headcanons #obey me luke headcanons #obey me solomon headcanons

[anxiously-going]

Consider with me for a moment an AU:

l. Leonard McCoy was one of several doctors pulled from bases outside San Fran to go on the Tarsus IV rescue mission.

l. (He kicks in Pike’s door demanding what the heck he thinks he’s doing recommending him for a mission like this, he’s fresh out of the Academy, he’s supposed to be a Earth based doctor, that was the agreement. Pike reminds him that he was top of his Psych class and he did exceptionally well working with trauma patients during his residency and that’s exactly the sort of doctors they need for this mission.)

l. So off he goes thinking he’s completely unprepared for any of this, and when they touch down he finds out that no one was prepared for any of this.

l. He’s just about ready to report to the CMO heading up the operation when he sees couple of red shirts wrestling with scrawny kid that couldn’t possibly be more than maybe fifteen and any thought of chain of command is gone.

l. He marches over and demands for the kid to be let go, there’s an argument and complaints of being bite, but as far as Leonard is concerned, he deserved to get bit, and finally they let the kid go.

l. Len catches him before he can bolt again, but he doesn’t try to restrain him, he just keeps him blocked off till he can get kid calmed down and talking.

l. His name is Tom.

l. “Can you tell me why you keep tryin’a take off, Tom?”

l. “JT’s still out there!”

l. That’s all Len needs to here before he’s running after this kid, hoping it’s not to late to get to Tom’s friend.

l. They get to a cave and Tom asks him to wait outside. Len doesn’t like it, but he agrees, the last thing he wants to do is make this kid more nervous. He’s trying to build up some trust with him and that goes both ways.

l. He can hear two quiet voices arguing and after a minute another kid comes out.

l. He’s maybe a year older than Tom and if Tom was scrawny then this kid was flat out emaciated.

l. “I’m JT,” he says with a faux confidence that might have been believable if he wasn’t trembling so badly. “Tom says your with Starfleet and that you’re hear to take us back to earth.”

l. “That’s right. I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy, I serve in a base in Atlanta, Georgia back on earth.” Len keeps a professional tone, trying to let JT lead the conversation in hopes of getting him to come back to base.

l. “Do you have any identification?”

l. And Len obliges him.

l. JT stares at is, gnawing anxiously on his lower lip, conflict clear on his face.

l. And Len takes a risk. “Kid,” he says gently, “I just wanna help you and your friend get home.”

l. “What about Kodos?”

l. “I heard they found a body. I don’t know if they’ve confirmed the identity, but there was a body where he was last known to be,” Len answers honestly, still not sure if the kid trusts him, but hoping he will.

l. “Wait here.” JT goes back in the cave and comes out with eight other children, Tom among them, none of them older than JT, and the youngest maybe four, he carries on his hip.

l. Len guides them back to camp, JT keeps a watchful eye the whole time.

l. Everyone is immediately on them when they get, a few of the kids go running to adults they recognize, and when someone rushes at JT and the kid pulls the younger boy closer to him with a warning snarl Len jumps in, standing between the officer and JT.

l. Len diffuses yet another confrontation and begins wondering when he became a negotiator. He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s a doctor for crying out loud!

l. Fast forward a bit and literally no one can keep a handle on JT, except for Len who seems to be the only person who understands that this is a scared kid and not a feral cat.

#jim kirk #leonard mccoy #tarsus iv #found another one #tarsus au

[zoobus]

you're the new head writer of the obey me series- what's the first thing you're doing?

Assuming time travel to fix these things

Make Nightbringer (NB) Satan like that from the start

KEEP NB Satan like that. Stop giving him emotional growth after two fucking chapters. He wants to be bad!

Drop hints that Diavolo's goofy, male-big-boobed-extrovert energy is a facade. He's so lovable and I want to support every stupid idea he throws out - wouldn't it be great if he knew that? That you're taking the king of hell so lightly?

Make Lilith haunt the narrative. They fought a war against God for her and LOST and she does NOT matter.

^Part of the above. No one holds a grudge against Beel for not protecting the sole reason they went to war, which is bizarre and stupid. ALL of them hate him now. If only there was someone he could rely on...someone who could change their hearts

The dynamic between Barbatos and Solomon is good but the reason is dumb. Make it some The Devil Went Down to Georgia type shit

This is just me but I think it's funny every time they release a Lucifer or Diavolo card and the story makes you third wheel while they hug up on each other. I laugh and laugh and laugh. I would make Lucifer/Diavolo more overt. I would hammer home that you will never have what they share. There's nothing you have to offer that could compare. Go sit in the cuck chair.

Hornier events. I have my team of writers throw darts at the sex page on tvtropes and we work from there.

Belphegor gets his own rewrite section for reasons fans already know

my sister went to earth and broke a big rule by her own volition, thus I must genocide humanity -> my sister was charmed by a human who turned out to be a cultist that sacrificed her in an attempt to achieve immortality, thus I must genocide humanity*

Belphie murders you in front of the people who said they love you and they’re not mad at him once you’re all better -> Belphie murders you and they're still mad at him once you’re all better

The immediate conflict post Belphie-murdering-you-with-no-consequences is the brothers feeling kinda awkward and you have to help clear the air -> The immediate conflict post Belphie-murdering-you is the brothers giving him the cold shoulder. Belphie comes groveling to you to help clear the air (you will be railroaded into doing so, I'm fine with that)

You get one (1) dialogue option where you can mildly rebuke Belphie for successfully killing you -> You can tell Belphie to kill himself multiple times throughout the story if you so wish

Belphie drops the manipulative, homicidal psycho act for snarky, youngest brother and never looks back -> Belphie is a snarky youngest brother who regularly tries to manipulate you, occasionally expresses homicidal thoughts, and possibly leans towards yandere.

Just...stop it with the Anti-Lucifer Force. It's pathetic. We literally went from “successful murder attempt” to “hot sauce in wine” in half a chapter

*Racism is bad but at least let it be based on something?? His motive is like Adam starting a war against apples

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #chapter 16 spoilers #obey me belphegor #obey me dialuci

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

König HCs

Because why not lads. These are some of my personal ones regarding the lore I’ve put together for him. TW: untreated mental illness, childhood neglect, burn injuries, surgical trauma. Uh, some other shit, too, probably. Idfk reader beweader you’re in for a sceader.

Bro has BPD. It covers a lot of the beloved fanon interpretation of him being clingy and hot/cold and scared of being left. He’s got Fear Of Abandonment Syndrome, and he’s like 10% more likely to make a fucky wucky on himself and end up sleeping in the forever box.

Source: I have it and my baby girl only gets the best of the worst from me.

H a t e s d o c t o r s. And hospitals, and surgical procedures, and anything of the like. He’s probably already got more health issues than a blue blood racehorse just from his sheer size alone - prone to heart issues and musculoskeletal strain - but there’s no way on god’s green earth that he hasn’t been through a handful of major procedures because he’s diagnosed with human knife block and bullet sponge disorders respectively.

Sub-point A: born with a cleft palette and lip. Palette was corrected, has a turned second incisor as a result. Lip was botched. Pulled a pot of boiling sugar off a stove and burnt a big-ass portion of his face, neck, chest, and stomach. Multiple painful reconstructive and corrective surgeries to deal with keloid scarring.

Sub-point B: psychology might help OTHER people, but HE is built DIFFERENT. He’s not crazy, you see, and if you suggest otherwise you’ll suddenly develop a case of Backpfeifengesicht and he’ll provide the violence. DBT? That’s Dick and Ball Torture, babey.

Despite this, he lies through his teeth at psych evals. He knows the “right” answers, and he is not going to get his livelihood taken away from him, even if it’s not exactly what he wanted. If he’s answering for his own actions, he can swerve and intuit what thing will calm things down the most and get him the smallest punishment.

Developed most of his wheedling skills as a kid, parents were neglectful as shit. Mostly disregarded him during his upbringing. Youngest of three, an eldest sister and a brother. Not in contact with any of them.

He’s 34. I don’t know if I’ve accepted him being a Colonel into my heart as my lord and savior, I’m still figuring that one out until there’s more concrete canon material besides a loading screen.

Grew up in a hoarder house of apathy, alcoholism, and depression and it was DISGUSTING. Black mold, water damage, trash everywhere, travel lanes carved through the most useless fucking junk. His parents bred Doberman dogs to sell as guard/security dogs, and some lived in the house, adding to the filth and destruction. He can’t stand a dirty house, and as an adult has an insane cleaning routine. Often stress cleans. You could eat off his bathroom floors.

He Does Not Like Dogs. Period. He especially hates Dobermans. He doesn’t like dog breeders worth a fuck either, good or bad.

Did not have any sort of media or anything as a kid. Parents didn’t spend money on tech or pop culture stuff, they were kind of stuck 30 years behind everyone else. His parents were older when he was born, he was very unplanned and not particularly warmly welcomed. Kept himself entertained out in the boonies, did a lot of reading, learned to juggle, learned to juggle knives. Had a big brokedown half-draft horse to take the kennel dogs on longer walks in the country, horsebacked a lot.

Soon as he was in the army, away from his family home, and living on his own, he got his first cell phone and computer and pretty much started living on the internet. He’s self taught in a couple of programming languages, very tech literate, halfway kind of lives on Reddit (narrowly swerved getting redpilled, thank fuck) on his personal time, and built his own PC set up. Built one for Horangi, too, and gives Stiletto advice on her own build when she asks for it.

H E H A T E S K L A U S

Bc I said so, everyone I love hates Klaus. All my homies fuckin hate Klaus.

König was raised secular Jewish, really doesn’t know all that much about it and didn’t get a bris or bar mitzvah, it’s just like Yeah That’s What I Put On Papers to him. Klaus is always getting in his shit about Austria and WW2. König’s grandparents made it out of the camps and went on to become: a microbiologist, a professor at the Austrian University of Veterinary Medicine, a multi term mayor of a small village/candy maker, and a beloved homemaker. The brilliance of the family seemed to leech out with each passing generation, and König sees himself as the dead end of it all.

König has rocked Klaus’s shit about the shitty jokes before and will do it again.

Favorite rugby club is South Africa, and he has an intense crush on Faf de Klerk even though he’s been traded to Japan. He’s kind of hot for all scrum halves tho lbr here.

Lunch break is over and this is ridiculous, will probably do more later.

#könig #konig #konig call of duty #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #konig cod #idk I just slap tags around and go hehe #my head canons