Attic Red-Figure Amphora, Type C, Attributed to the Flying Angel Painter, C. 480 BC
Here we see on one side a youth, nude but for boots and a mantle over
his shoulders, walking to the right while playing a lyre, and on the
other, a youth shown in twisted back view moving to the right, looking
back, with a chlamys draped over his left arm.
17 ¾ in. (45 cm.) high
Can you make one where Bucky and the reader go out on a date night and
leave their toddler behind with the rest of the team and then in the
middle of their date they start getting all these texts from panicked
members of the team because they don’t know how to take care of a child?
Btw love your writing and blog!!!
(a/n: thank you <3)
Y/C/N - Your Child’s Name
Bucky has created a chatroom.
Bucky has added Steve, Sam, Bruce, Clint, Natasha, Tony, Wanda.
Bucky: How is Y/C/N???
Sam: You and Y/N left for your date 20 minutes ago.
Sam: IT’S BEEN 20 MINUTES SINCE YOU SAW Y/C/N JFC
Bucky: Y/N and I are coming back home.
Wanda: Relax! We are competent aunts and uncles.
Clint: THOR BROKE THE TV AGAIN BECAUSE HE LOST IN MARIO KART. AGAIN.
Can I request a colorblind soulmate au with spencer please ??? ? (basically everyone is colorblind until they touch/see/whatever their soulmate) I’ll leave the details for you :)
Oh, this sound fun! I can definitely do this. Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!
The sunlight hurt. As someone grasped your arm and led you towards a big…thing…you felt their grasp tighten as you tried to scurry away.
Everything was behind you. Your bed. Your clothes. Your books.
“Mom!” you shriek as you try to wrench away from the grasp that you had by the arm.
“It’s alright. It’s ok. You’re safe,” a low voice coos as you are turned around. You were face to face with a tall, strong, dark man, and it frightened you.
He was a…darker color than your mom.
Did people come darker?
Your eyes widened in fright as his eyes flooded with worry.
“Come on. Let’s get you somewhere where you can clean up,” he coos as he turns to guide you towards the big…thing.
“No! No, please!” you scream as you try to get away. You kick and you thrash. You bite down with your teeth as the man that was holding you cries out in pain. You try to run away, back to the house that had held you close your entire life.
But when you looked up to the porch, you saw it.
Your mother and father laying on the porch.
“Mommy!?” you shriek as you go to run to her.
But someone throws their arms around you and picks you up off of your feet.
“She was hard to bring in,” Morgan murmurs as he presses alcohol wipes to the skin you broke with your teeth. “Hotch had to thrown his arms around her and lift her into the SUV.”
“That means she probably won’t be comfortable with either of you interviewing her,” Spencer rattles off.
“I don’t think she’ll be comfortable with anyone,” Prentiss emphasizes as she comes from around the corner.
Her eye was pretty swollen.
“She packs a hard punch,” Emily murmurs.
“She’s frightened. Try not to take it seriously, she’s been locked up in that house for 28 years. Never been to school. I-I-I’m honestly surprised she speaks as well as she does. As far as we know, she’s never seen her front yard. She was probably just scared of all of the new stimuli hitting her at once.”
“Then you should probably be the one to interview her,” Rossi stepped forward.
“Yeah, you seem to be the most sensitive towards her right now,” J.J. offers.
“Are we even aware of how much she knows?” Spencer asks.
“No clue,” Hotch murmurs as he presses an ice pack against the side of his jaw.
“Good luck,” J.J. sighs as Spencer looks back at the door that housed you behind it.
“Yeah, she’s right behind the green one,” J.J. points before wincing at her words.
It was hard for Spencer, being on a team who had all had their sights restored by that one person in their life.
Spencer had yet to see what green was.
“I mean, the one all the way at the end of the…hallway…” J.J. corrects.
“I know. Thanks, J.J.,” Spencer croaks out as he begins walking down the hallway.
The chair you were sitting in was cold and hard. It was comforting, being reminded of home in such a foreign place. You rested your cheek on the table as you closed your eyes and sniffed hard. The unforgiving surface reminded you of your own bed.
All you needed was a wool blanket and you could go back to sleep and dream of the only place you’d known.
Dream of the only people you’d known…
But the door opened and you jumped, causing you to curl into into your seat as you draw your legs to your chest and bury your face in your knees.
You heard a chair pull out as someone sat down in front of you.
“Y/N?” you hear a light voice say.
You hadn’t heard this voice yet.
It wasn’t harsh, or gruff, or angry. It wasn’t intentionally soothing, or ornery, or fed up.
It was soft.
“Y/N. Do you know why you’re here?” the voice asked.
The voice was a boy.
But not a little boy.
A grown boy.
Like you were a grown girl.
“I think…” you begin.
“It’s alright,” Spencer coos as he leans lightly towards you.
“Is it because I didn’t go to school?” you asked lightly.
Spencer was even shocked that you knew what that was.
“Do you know what school is?” Spencer asked.
“Of course I know what school is,” you spit, “it’s where you go to learn all the stuff I don’t know.”
You felt tears burning behind your eyes as you sniffle and bury your face deeper, muffling your voice.
“I’m sure you know a lot of things,” Spencer smiles as he continues to look at you.
He kept blinking his eyes. It was like something was trying to impede on the corners of his vision.
“Am I here because I’m not supposed to know what sex is yet?” you ask lightly.
But Spencer was struggling to hear you.
“What was that?” he asks as he leans forward more.
“I said,” you begin in anger as you whip your head up.
And when your eyes connect with Spencer’s, your vision bursts as your eyes widen in horror. You spring from your chair as the walls flood with flowing things and your hands brighten before your eyes. You look back up in fear at the man sitting in absolute shock at the table as you watch his suit dance with things you’ve never seen before.
What was happening?
Where was all the dark?
“What did you do?” you whisper as your back hits a wall.
You whip around, your Y/C/H flying across your face as you take it between your fingers and watch it drip with something you’ve never seen before.
And Spencer was rooted to his chair in silence.
He had studied everything on colors. Tonal scales and gradient fades. Why they appear the way they do and memorized their order on a rainbow he couldn’t see.
And then you had looked up at him.
You, the victim of a man who had hidden you from the world.
You, the daughter of a child slayer who had made you clean his bloodied utensils night after night after night.
You were his soulmate.
“What?” he breathed as tears rose to his eyes.
But as he was rooted in shock, you were seeing a reflection of your face in a broken mirror on the wall for the very first time in your life.
You saw all of the bumps and dark spots and dark crusty things lining the things you spoke with. You had no names for them, but as you looked at Spencer’s face in the reflection before focusing back on yours, you knew that your face wasn’t supposed to look the way it did.
And you crumbled to the floor and cried.
Spencer got up from his chair and rushed to your side. He wrapped his long, strong arms around you as he pulled you close, and you struggled and struggled before giving up and sobbing into him.
“Daddy always told me every night, after he would rock me to sleep, that I had to keep telling mommy that I didn’t know about sex,” you cried as he held you tighter and tighter.
Spencer felt anger boil in his stomach.
You didn’t mean rocking as in physical rocking.
You meant rocking as in rocking into you.
And the thought made him sick.
Hotch barged into the room, but before he opened his mouth, he looked into the wide, confused, and relieved eyes of his colleague.
And he knew exactly what had happened.
“I see it,” he whispers as he begins rubbing his hand lovingly up and down your back.