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jaydenix · 1 year ago

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Why Mirta is my favourite Winx Club character

I mean, the aesthetic helps. I like redheads and goths, which she is both of, also she has that black sleeveless top which seems to keep popping in my "literally me" characters (Susie from Deltarune, Dipper from Gravity Falls, and Hilda from Pokemon B&W)

So what do I see in Mirta?... Idk I like her ig, what? I don't have to have super well-thought opinions every time, she's just cool! And you know it!

But I guess a little extra analysis wouldn't hurt would it:

So as we all know, Winx Club's witches aren't the best. The show takes a very simplistic view that fairies are innately good, and witches are innately evil. This essentialist view has been critiqued extensively overtime and for good reason: it's a major missed opportunity to have such a narrow idea of what fairies and witches are, and also is just not very original. Witches and witchcraft in media have been portrayed extensively as just simply evil with no real explanation. Winx Club could have chosen to have taken a more interesting and original interpretation, but true to the shows mission statement of being brutally average, it doesn't. I've got some of my own ideas of how they could've handled this and I'll probably share those in a future post. But sufficed to say: Winx Club's witches are definitely a disappointment (for a more comprehensive look at witches, see Unicorn of War's video on YouTube about the subject).

But then we have Mirta, the one good witch supposedly. Bar the Trix, the ancestral witches, and maybe Griffin she's probably the most important witch in the show at least earlier on. The fact that she's actually different by being good invites intrigue to her character, she actually believes in something which is really quite cool and a nice standout amongst the rest. The Trix clearly are the mean girls in Cloud Tower with other witches wanting to be like them or to be friends with them. Lucy, Mirta's best friend, is in this camp and is disillusioned with her looks and supposed status and seeks to remedy this by trying to be more like the Trix. Mirta on the other hand doesn't follow this dogma and tries to convince Lucy to stay clear of them. This is great, though as I've said it would've been nice if the show portrayed witches more broadly as being a bit less black and white. Her assistance to the Winxes was cool too informing them of the Trix' plans and actions. Wow! Isn't that so awesome! She was shaping up to be an interesting and well-developed and fleshed out side character and then they remembered it was season 1 and that's illegal so they turn her into a pumpkin so they can forget about her. Why? Because fuck you! That's why! Though seriously, I don't mind in theory she was turned into a pumpkin but like really? She could've been a really fun part of the equation throughout the latter parts of season 1 as like the Winxes' witch counterpart. ALSO, when they bring her back to Alfea in pumpkin form, did they not think to like, ask Faragonda to turn her back? The Trix did the spell pre-dragonflame I highly doubt it's anything Faragonda or at the very least Griffin couldn't handle which I'd imagine they'd probably want to inform her of what'd happen considering she's one of her students?! Man if I was Mirta I'd be PISSED off. #JusticeForMirta. Eventually she's freed from her pumpkinhood and once season 1 concludes she decides to become a fairy and transfers to Alfea. Like with becoming a pumpkin: I don't hate that she does this on principle, but I do think it says a lot about how the show writes its witches that the one they make out to be good-natured ends up choosing to become a fairy. Like the view of fairies and witches is THAT rigid.

Though I also do think it's a fun transgender analogy, the idea of being able to transition from witch to fairy and vice versa. The 4Kids dub takes this idea much more seriously with Mirta being described as "transmagic" and Darcy also states "she claims to be fairy who just so be happened to be born in the wrong body", this appears to be a very intentional parallel to the "born in the wrong body" idea that is often used to explain what being trans feels like*, and this was back in 2007 for crying out loud. Additionally Mirta and Lucy are probably the closest thing the main show has to a queer couple, obviously not canon by any means, but they have a very strong bond and are shown to dance together at the end of season 2 (or was it 3 I forgot). Mirta therefore arguably has the most going for her out of any character when it comes to Queer representation.

*Just to be clear, I know plenty of trans people dislike and discredit the "born in the wrong body" narrative, I'm just pointing it out because it does seem this is what the scriptwriters were aiming for.

I like Mirta a lot because of what she could have been. I really think she's an awesome character who had a lot of potential to be fleshed out way more and serve a more involved role in her allyship with the Winxes in season 1 and beyond. It would've been so cool and she deserved way better. I imagine many would be wondering if I think she should've been part of the Winx as she's probably the second most commonly proposed member besides Roxy to be one, and the answer to that is fairly definitive no. Six to me has always felt like a natural limit for these kinds of groups, any more and it starts to be a bit much, which is why I'm glad Roxy didn't become a proper part of the group when season 5 came around (though she still deserved more than what she got). Simply adding Mirta the Winx would ignore the problem that she doesn't get fleshed out enough as a character. Maybe it could've worked in some alternate timeline but she could've been a useful asset to the Winx and the show as a whole whilst not necessarily being a member.

So that's why I like Mirta, she's a fun character who I will defend that she should've gotten more until the day I die. This gay little goth redhead has been my favourite for a long time and I don't see that changing any time soon. Keep stanning Mirta people.

P.S: I really didn't expect this post to get this long LOL I genuinely was gonna post just the "idk I like her" bit and then move on but I was like "ehh, I'll write a little bit" and then I spent 2 hours writing way this whole thing it's 3am I need spiritual assistance okay BYE.

#winx club #winx #mirta #winx mirta #winx club mirta #winx witches #winx club witches

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gjsxj0 · 8 months ago

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the dragon prince's last season was below mediocre, the finale was terrible and the major reveal was the worst thing i have ever witnessed. this post is long and strongly worded and typed up at midnight.

harrow being in pip was predicted since s1. everyone knew because they laid it out clear as day. it was intentionally set up and like all good bits of writing, the audience sees it and knows what is coming up.

why 6+ years into tdp's lifecycle was it made canon. after years of not answering it or just giving "half truths" (aaravos much?) all to just say "screw the audience" and make it confirmed in a scene that has its own issues and it was AFTER A TWO YEAR TIME SKIP.

not only that, it ruins harrow's and viren's relationship to such a degree i can only assume the creators just hated these two in the end. harrow being in pip implies:

viren intentionally did it without harrow's consent, costing harrow his autonomy whilst also making viren never actually caring about harrow in the end (which the canon does not support, i have eyes and reading comprehension). this begs the question: HOW COULD VIREN NOT HAVE UNFINISHED BUSINESS aka show up in the inbetween? harrow was the one relationship he cherished and then they pull this stunt and said "actually no viren is terrible even tho he DIED saving a kingdom that never deserved him."

viren did it and harrow WANTED it to happen which makes harrow look even WORSE than he was already set up to be. a king who struggles with the responsibilities and weight of his crown and is tired of these issues that he... kind of lets happen. it was interesting to see where it goes but wow this makes harrow an asshole if he just flew out of that window and did NOT come back to katolis for over 2 years.

viren... didn't?? do it??? which doesn't make sense because this show never has a mage unless its callum or its for plot convenience (and they die or are a one off character) and we are just back at square one. if they go this route, i will have to applaud the audacity for them thinking their audience is really that stupid.

not to mention the whole "black person spends a good chunk of time in an animal form" trope, which they should have just dealt with early on.

pip theory being canon in a two year time skip... let's pretend i accept this for a second:

they said arc 3 would be another time skip. 7-12 years possible. what the fuck. so harrow is never coming back (he said fuck katolis or he is DEAD EITHER WAY) or its gonna be relegated to a graphic novel or book (if they even complete the draft in time for publication YEAH WE KNOW WHY BOOK 3 NEVER HAPPENED). and even then. the original 2 year time skip. there is not going to be any actual explanation for it just like there was no good reason for rayla to leave callum bc there will be nothing to show for it.

they really couldn't just let this one theory never get addressed. it could have been a poorly done red herring but no. this is a massive fuck you to everyone that watched the show since day 1.

that interview on cartoon universe's youtube page where they just admitted they were tired of being asked where harrow was for so long they just did it. it was intentional and it was to spit in our faces.

their relationship means barely anything now, its too late in the story for them to fix this NOT LIKE THIS SHOW COMMITS TO ANYTHING ANYWAY and i hope aaron ehasz and justin richmond never write another cartoon again.

#tdp critical #first and last post in this tag bc i dont really post fandom discussion stuff on tumblr but im tired of tweeting lol #sorry if u like the season but i cannot stand character assassination and this arc was full of it #anyway i will not be answering questions at this time if you want to see more opinions on tdp check my twitter #not art post

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goodlouse · 9 months ago

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my thoughts on the two most recent games i've played (mouthwashing and silent hill 2 (2001)) which i've been thinking about alternately for the past few days for similar reasons

going to mention spoilers in here but this post will probably only be fully comprehensible to ppl who have experienced both games

not expecting many to read this but tumblr is quickly becoming my outlet for opinions that I can't rlly post on very public sites like tiktok where any criticism of a media means that I hate it and hate you for liking it. haterism be damned I actually got a net positive from playing both of these games!!

so I started playing silent hill 2 (original because I do not believe in/have the money to buy modern remakes) fresh off the back of silent hill 1 which is a game I REALLY enjoyed. I would EVEN say that sh1 is my number 1 cosiest game of the year.

sh2 is dirtier, bleaker and sleazier than sh1, and is lacking a lot of the occult aspects that I really liked. it's also like one of the most talked about games ever so like . i went into it with the knowledge of a few major plot beats and it took a long time playing to be able to take the game on its own terms.

i also took a little break halfway thru the game to stream mouthwashing for some curious friends. mouthwashing is a game thats very popular w streamers & youtubers and their audiences, so major plot points are also incredibly talked about. I mentioned this to a friend while setting up the game and he said I'll get something out of it anyway and then compared it to silent hill 2, which I kind of brushed off as a "psychological horror w unreliable narrator" thing (sorry choccy if you ever read this) but it turns out the two games are actually very similar in the way they draw my ire LOL

these things being: -sexual assault victim who doesn't have time in the plot to exist outside of her trauma. this is partially due to both plots being very tight and concise with no elements that don't serve a higher function BUT -this is then undermined by certain areas of gameplay dragging. for mouthwashing especially the last ~45 minutes felt very weirdly paced and unfortunately made me think of ppl who speedrun garten of banban in under 2hrs to get the steam refund, which resulted in later chapters being padded w drawn out segments.

The friends I was streaming for that have consumed more media than I have said that a lot of tropes in the game felt a bit derivative, but I don't know the things its deriding from BUT I wish mouthwashing would take more from the survival horrors its imitating in it's style. The gameplay between character interactions is limited to inputting codes you've read or corridors where there's only one correct route and everything else results in a reset - I think people that watched mouthwashing through a letsplayer might not truly get how understimulating that feels. Some more psychologically symbolic puzzles and riddles would not have gone amiss!

which brings me back around to silent hill 2, where I am legitimately just too stupid to do the 'collect and combine 3 items to progress' without a guide. because A) I don't intuitively clear out all rooms because I hate all combat encounters BECAUSE i am being too overly conservative with ammo so every enemy gets a fight to the death with melee weapons

i finished the game with a SURPLUS of ammo btw so that is partially on me for making myself struggle unnecessarily, but oh my goddd the prison/labyrinth section took so long!!

I also quite disliked eddie's plotline, which unfortunately literally just came down to his character design :/ his plot revolves around resentment over the way he's been treated for his appearance, but as a fat fuck myself my grievance was with the way he's been dressed by real world character designers that are falling on stereotypes. its juvenile in a way that betrays the subtlety of the rest of the game, and makes him seem infantile despite being so essential to james's arc. I genuinely think that a wardrobe change would have silenced my gut reaction of "what are they trying to say with this?", and its disappointing to see that the remake didn't take the opportunity when they did with maria

angela's plot was fascinating to me for depicting an abuse survivor with some imagery I've not really seen in other media! I think her character was written with a lot of respect, and her and eddie's plots feel like complimentary and cautionary tales to james, but it's very sad that ultimately her trauma was depicted as something that can't be lived with - this is something she shares with anya. I guess it's kind of disappointing that a womans struggle with sexual trauma ends in death in two games that are 20 years apart, I personally feel that theirs (and jimmy's suicide) is a bit of a tired trope

however. despite finishing extended periods of both sh2 and mouthwashing feeling annoyed and frustrated that they werent as tight as the rest of the game, but now that I've had days to process them my mind has been lingering on a few moments.

-pleasantly surprised by how legitimately startling pyramid heads introduction, really good use of unsettling imagery -sh's soundtracks always hit at the moments it counts -the last hour of sh2 had me in tears, mary's letter was bittersweet and I love how the tone completely changes depending on the ending. as someone that likes the occult stuff in the other sh games I loooove the implications of the rebirth ending but I appreciate it seems a bit left field in this standalone plot

-jim & curly's ladder conversation in the cockpit, I think that one stuck with me especially as the one defining moment in both of their outlooks, the wealth and status inequality that still leaves both of them wanting more out of their lives.. the guilt and resentment that can come of circumstantial success etc etc -similarly the dead pixel convo -swansea's honest monologue -the glitch effect after anya's suicide was REALLY cool visually, it felt like the one defining moment where mouthwashing really took advantage of its medium

TLDR I feel like I learned a bit about what I like and dislike in psychological horror by playing these two side by side, defintely interesting research while I'm drafting a horror comic with a dreamlike atmosphere... :)

#mouthwashing #silent hill 2 #OPINIONS INSIDE #sorry i really do think this much about games critically because i have secret dreams of quitting artist alley and becoming a breadtuber #silent hill

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xerex-reshaper · 2 months ago

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Notes day four) The Raqsai Reunion

Hi, whoever’s out there. Been plane-hopping a bit, and recognised how difficult it is to navigate the cultures of others without clear, big guidances. Books that come through are… rudimentary at the best of times.

Outside of the far continent, there’s a couple factions of us fractals, who’ve been sent outwards from there. I’m one of the Raqsai, the performers. We have these… spiralling landscapes, we burrow into them and burst out with staircases, like the major cities with railings for stairs. Except extremely bendy. Straight lines are all these other homes use, we can’t stand anything that does not express one’s existence. If only there was a delete button, started talking like a Shamashen Officiator. Shamashen are, like lawyers. They’re the law itself, and impart it on everyone, to everyone else’s detriment. Like those Azure-Iouses I keep reading about. They can’t use any green mana, just like how I’ll never touch any blue mana. I don’t talk much with the other three, the guys without red understand all about machines and repeated processes, I’d love to dance with one when they’re off the assembly line (never know what’s being assembled though, last I spoke to one he was making little spinny doodads for more doodads to connect to). Lose black mana, you have these inventors. Creativity personified, like us, but they’re more quantum realignment of aether particles for… I think it was a flying machine? Called it an ‘Ornithopter’, wonder what that was about. Finally, drop the white and you have, devotion. I only saw one, called itself a Devout Throne, it would not stop singing. Praise, absolution.

Hopefully someone can do some anthropology here, quantify all my words into a real comprehensive. And tell me what that Devout thing was about. But I’m saying all of this because, I think I’m leaving Xerex.

The Shamashen have ordinances that keep us in our districts, they claim the radiance of angels miles away dismiss us from The Origin Point, and we must too be divided. We’re all reflections of something here, our societies mirror what’s out there in the multiverse, our behaviours that of people once seen, or to be seen. We must maintain balance by staying put, in these positions.

Then, I visited someone on Bloomburrow. Now, I’m sneaking to Ravnica. I hate being sedentary, there’s a million stages out there. I just, need to stand on them. Not be a backup dancer anymore, but a true centre stage star. This musical has a protagonist, it sure won’t be me, but I’ll put my name into the application box, and take a side character. Ensemble casting is simply not what I am meant to be.

So I’m off, coming back when I choose to. When I’ve been gone long enough for the ordinance to do something about me? Try catching me in the city plane, or wherever I end up. I’ve seen the stage, they just need to find their seats, up in the rafters, cheapest tickets you could conceptualise.

#planar posting #xerex posting #ravnica posting #She’s probably just hubristic #She might flee the legal system of her home plane forever #All the tags are ooc why shouldn’t they be?

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bewarethewolfarmy · 2 years ago

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Great Gatsby (which I hate for the record as a book but that's my personal preference) reminded me of my sophomore English class in high school. So like 10th grade, 15-16 year olds. We had to sit around talking about that book and discussing reading comprehension stuff, you know the schtick.

Well wouldn't you know it but the conversation turned to how my fellow classmates (again only 15-16 years old) felt about the characters and today's topic was Daisy. In which as I remember it did not go well; see my classmates were kids of the millennia and grew up in the time of feminism and women's rights (and wrongs) and found it greatly insulting (both male and female, I need to make sure you understand that this was not only one gender annoyed but a good majority of the class) that Daisy was, well, Daisy. That she talked the way she did, she acted the way she did, that she wanted her daughter to grow up pretty and brainless, yada yada yada.

Now not to toot my own horn but I'd been testing high on reading skills since i was like 6, reading was my thing, reading was my jam, and ever since I was itty bitty i always liked characters more than anything else (which goes into my disliking of Great Gatsby but that's not important right now). So here I am, about 16 years old, listening to a bunch of other teenagers complain and degrade Daisy who I objectively loathe anyway for being a main character of a book I loathe. But I found myself unwilling to stand for that, because there was a clear fundamental issue that I needed to make sure they understood and thus spoke up about (despite being social anxious most of my life).

That issue was that these teenagers of the 21st century were trying to apply their values to a woman of the 1920's. Daisy wasn't made in the 2000's, she wasn't a woman who grew up with the right to vote and choose her own path, treated as at least marginally equal to men; she was a girl who grew up in a certain time in a certain place and complaining about who she is based on 21st century morality and concepts was never going to be fair or right. And it undermined the importance of WHAT Daisy was really saying and feeling, that her wishes for her daughter was ultimately about hoping for a better life for her, in the only ways she felt she had access to. That Daisy was doing what she could with what she had and just because she's not a liberated woman who don't need no man doesn't make her a bad person.

Point is, the discussion reminded me of this little footnote in my life but it's a footnote that definitely supports the idea that people just don't think sometimes, and they don't really read and haven't for a long time. Or maybe the concept of being an edgelord is so strong in humans at times that they feel the only way they can feel happy is by "advocating" for the most negative view on things: Huck Finn is just a bad racist book, Daisy from the Great Gatsby is a terrible woman and the book glorifies stalking (which like it so doesn't; part of truly hating a book is knowing the book and it really doesn't do that at all even before Gatsby gets his comeuppance), etc etc etc.)

#great gatsby is indeed full of terrible unlikeable characters #but daisy as a woman is not the reason i dislike her #and remember #you can't truly hate something if you don't at least know it #otherwise you're just screaming at the image and not the truth

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 years ago

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snowdrop, part two

A/N: i stand by what I did. this man picks up everyone under the sun. it's fact. he might be a string bean, but he is a powerful string bean. gif used in the moodboard is by the always amazing @fightingdragonswithwho

summary: “It was incredible, even with the rain.”

warnings: Gideon!daughter!reader, reid wears glasses pre s1 because I said so (at least in this fic), smut, angst, rain, I finally used the classic can you unzip my dress trope, kissing, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, very little dirty talk compared to what I usually write

word count: 2811

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Part giggle and part shriek, you rushed inside your apartment building with Spencer’s hand clasped tightly in yours.

He had just meant to walk you home after the concert, but the sudden downpour caused you to sprint and not walk it.

“Oh my god,” squeaked out of you as you finally touched dry ground. Looking over at your date, you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out. Fully aware that he probably looked like a wet rat about now, he joined in the giggle.

“What?” he sniggered, wiping his outstretched pointer finger over his rain-dotted glasses, clearing his vision.

You tried to choke out your answer though the determent laugh, but it was barely comprehensible, “you-… you-… look-…”

Your amusement only strengthened his own, “thanks,” he grinned, as you felt the cold droplets drip from everywhere. The tip of your nose, your hair, even running down your spine. “You look phenomenal too. Water really works for you.”

“Thank you,” you shut your eyes, trying to regain a bit of your composure.

“I had a lot of fun tonight. When you said that you’d planned something, I gotta say I was a bit nervous, but that was amazing.”

“Yeah, well, I remembered you saying that you love Mozart, so I couldn’t stand there and do nothing when the music majors were putting on a concert of no. 21,” you tightened your grip on his hand, not ready for the night to end yet.

“It was incredible,” he smiled, looking at you as if he was attempting to soak in the last bits of joy from this evening, “even with the rain.”

“I, um… Do you wanna come up for a bit? Just to dry off, or I could lend an umbrella or something?” you bit the corner of your lip.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” a sense of relief washed over you, “I mean, I would hate for you to get sick if I could in some way prevent it.”

“Okay, yeah,” he agreed, “you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah, come on,” you beamed and tugged him up the steep stairs.

“This is it,” you swung open the heavy front door to your dark apartment. Only the faint light from the stormy city outside painted the space with streaks and shadows. Finally letting go of his hand, you went to go turn on a few lamps. Slowly following you inside, he didn’t say anything, just took his time, taking in the space around him. “I’ll go grab a few towels, okay?” you announced as he closed the door behind him and gave you the smallest of nods, affirming your brief absence.

Moving with haste into the bathroom, you grabbed two towels from the stack in the cabinet. When you returned, you saw him standing over your dining room table, studying the chess board you’d abandoned mid-game.

“Here,” you handed him the pale blue one.

Only glancing up for a brief moment, ”thanks,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of the wooden board, “I didn’t know you played.”

“Yeah, I do,” you slowly started sobbing up the excess water from your hair, “my dad taught me.”

“We should play a game sometime.”

“I would love that, but fair warning, I’m not gonna hold back just because you’re you.”

“Good,” he looked at you with a bright smile, “I wouldn’t want you to.”

Glancing over his shoulder and out the big window, you asked, “do you maybe wanna just wait it out?” but felt your nose begin to tickle from the cold rain, “it might sto-, achoo, s-stop in a bit,” you sneezed mid-sentence.

“Sure, if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother,” his head almost followed yours in empathy as you dove into your elbow, sneezing again, “bless you.”

“Wooh, thank you,” you scrunched up your face, hoping that was the last of it.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna change into some dry clothes? I mean, just, um, you’re cold and that-“

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you cut off his slight panic from the way his words could be misinterpreted, “I, um, I’ll go do that.”

Walking through the white French doors to your bedroom, you were so used to being on your own that the thought of closing them behind you didn’t even cross your mind. Plopping down the now damp towel on the top of your dresser, you opened up the top drawer and looked inside.

Slowly peeling off your drenched cardigan, you folded it up and laid it down next to the sage green towel. Left in your soft, sleeveless dress, you felt your wet hair caress your shoulders gently. Remembering the company that you still had, you felt a shiver go down your spine, secretly hoping that his eyes were still trained upon you, enjoying the show, since you’d left him in the eye line of where you stood now.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw his gaze hastily find something else to focus on, making you hide a smile.

“Could you maybe help me with the zipper?” you didn’t need the assistance one bit, but oh how you wanted it.

“Oh, um, yeah,” he sounded breathy as he rushed to aid you.

He barely even touched you, just gave the zipper a slow tug, as if your skin was on fire. Maybe there was a point to that. Feeling him this close to you, it was hard to ignore the rumbling flame deep within you.

When it slid down as far as it could go, you felt the air hit your back, but it was more so the soft seeking touch along your spine that made you shiver.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, holding up the loose dress to still cover you.

Slowly spinning around, you blinked up into his dark eyes, “you’re welcome,” he nearly whispered, as you watched his chest rise and fall rapidly.

Adjusting your grip, you let go of the dress with one hand in order to reach up and meet his cheek, lightly bringing him down so that you wouldn’t have to turn into a ballerina. Brushing your lips against his, you felt his fingers find your waist, tightening in the loose cotton draped around it.

As the kiss turned more heated, so did the touches. His palms slid down your bare back and only paused when they found your backside, grabbing a handful of it as you felt his sigh fan across your face, drawing you in that much closer.

You let out a low whine as you felt the soft fabric begin to rise, as he gartered it up in his grip. Pulling back, breathlessly, he asked, nudging his nose against yours, not wanting to lose the contact, “is this okay?”

“Yes,” you encouraged, letting go of the dress completely, sending it down your upper body and stopping where his fingers were still entangled in it. Quickly letting go, it dropped to the floor, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, dress now a puddle on the ground.

Standing now only in your undergarments in front of him, it took a moment before he kissed you again, completely entranced by the sight.

“You are so beautiful,” he muttered, as his fingers slowly explored your skin.

Gliding your hands down to the bottom of his sweater, you caught his ogling eyes before tugging it over his head. His skin was warm, oh so warm, like a fire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Piece by piece, through curious hands and shy compliments, you slowly helped each other undress until you were both left in just your underwear. And like a moth to a flame, you kissed him again, feverishly.

You were so wound up in it all that you hadn’t even registered the way he backed you up until you bumped into the dresser, successfully slamming the open drawer shut. Pulling back with a small gasp, you giggled lightly.

“Sorry,” he apologised sweetly for his unintentional surge of strength.

“It’s okay,” you playfully caught his bottom lip between your teeth for a second.

Gliding his hands down to your hips, he fiddled with the elastic of your waistband. Keeping his eyes glued to yours, he slowly kneeled down before you. “Here,” he took off his glasses and handed them to you. Carefully setting them down on top of the dresser, your breath hitched at the feeling of his breath caressing your inner thighs.

His palm danced over your lower stomach, swiping his thumb lightly over the wet patch on your panties.

Becoming impatient, you did the job yourself and pulled your last remaining clothes off, coaxing out a low curse from him.

“Fuck… look at you…”

“You certainly are,” you exhaled shakily, wanting so desperately to just jump into the jump rope.

“Can I do more than look?” his hands tried to rest on each side of your hip.

The way that he looked on his knees, ogling up at you, you couldn’t squeeze a single word out, only nod.

Throwing your head back, you felt him shamelessly touch you, but not with his fingers, no, they were digging into everything he could reach, from your hips to your thighs, but with his mouth, his lips, his nose, his tongue…

Peaking your eyes open, you saw that he was still staring at you, head buried in between your thighs. “Holy fucking shit,” his tongue swept through your folds, nudging his nose against your puffy clit as he moaned, lapping up your abundant arousal.

“Spencer, please,” you fought the way your eyes wanted to roll back as he sucked down hard on your clit, “I wanna come on your cock,” pleadingly clawing for him to get back up, “I can finish on your tongue another day.”

“Promise?” he rose back up, swiping the back of his hand over the now glossy lower half of his face.

“Yes,” you scurried to tear his underwear off, cock virtually springing out and hitting him in the stomach, “please, I’m on the pill, is it okay with you if we just-“

“Yes,” he breathed out, rutting desperately against your palm as you reached down to touch him.

You let out a shakily, “o-oh,” as he finally filled you up, stretching you out so good that your bottom lip quivered. He then hiked your left leg up around him, rocking into you with slow, yet hard thrusts.

Both the clattering sound of small knick-knacks rattling on your dresser from the force of his hips, but also the lewd squelching noise of your pussy filled the apartment.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he smiled against your lips.

“Yeah, well, we were just out in the rain, so…”

“Shut up,” he replied lovingly, giggling as he pressed his lips against yours.

You felt the weight of your right foot lighten as he half lifted you up off the ground, desperately bouncing you up and down on his warm cock with surprising ease.

You didn’t care that the knobs on your dresser were digging into your back, all you could focus on was just Spencer. The sloppy, messy kisses, the impossible spots he managed to hit repeatedly, and the beautiful sounds he produced, transporting you to another dimension.

“Holy shit,” you felt your thighs shake around him as you couldn’t prolong the inevitable end any longer. Somehow noticing, so cued in on you and every little reaction you fed him, he snaked a hand down to rub your clit harshly, “holy shit!”

Burying your face in his shoulder, he practically manhandled you in the last few moments. Only blinking once and somehow you were now lying on the bed, Spencer bent over you, feet still on the ground, pistoling impossibly deep into you.

“Fuck,” he rumbled as you clamped down around him, being the cherry on top of his sunday.

Panting, it took around a minute before his hips stopped the torturously slow thrusts they kept up, long after the both of you finished.

Like two puzzle pieces, you just stayed there for a while, slowly becoming human again through soft touches and slow kisses.

“Spencer,” you smiled against his lips, “I have to go to the bathroom,” giggling, you tried to wiggle out of his tender hold, “you have to let go of me, I’ll be right back.”

Begrudgingly letting you go, he propped himself up onto his elbow and kept a close eye as you got up. Noticing how his vision caught sight of the load running down your thighs, he bit down on the palm resting against his cheek, just to restrain himself from jumping your bones again.

Snatching up the robe that was still draped across the messy chair in the corner of your room from your morning shower, you flashed him a cheeky grin before disappearing into your bathroom and leaving him alone.

When you returned, you didn’t find him in your bed, but now partially clothed, glasses back on, standing in front of your bookcase, completely still.

“Spencer, I know that you love to read, but even now, after that?” you teased, coming up to wrap your arms around his midsection, giving his shoulder blade a small kiss.

“Who’s that?” he didn’t move you welcome your embrace, just pointed hesitantly at the framed photograph nestled in between a few stacks.

“Oh, that’s my dad,” you smiled at the memories the picture evoked, “he’s actually the one who pulled a few strings and got me the job at the library after he started teaching at the school. I think I was maybe 11 in that picture? It was the first time he took me with him on one of his, as I called it as a kid, bird adventures up in his cabin.”

“That’s your dad?” his tone made you creep around to search his face.

“Yeah, why?”

Eyes locked on the photograph, he breathed out, “that’s my boss…”

“What?”

“That is my boss, that’s who, that’s why I’m at the school, he’s why…” he explained, looking rather dazed, just as you must have.

“Your name’s-”

“Spencer Reid,” he filled in, not in the mood for guessing games.

“You’re doctor Reid? The one that just started?” he nodded, making you feel as if you were losing everything before it had even begun. “Oh my god…” you backed up, “you’re him… I feel like I know you from everything he’s been telling me. I mean, he won’t shut up about you,” you slapped yourself mentally for not connecting the dots.

Your dad had never ever liked any of the people you’d ever dated, so imagine how he’d react if you came strolling up with his co-worker on your arm.

“It’ll be alright, Y/n,” Spencer said deliberately, “this doesn’t have to change anything.”

Turning your back to Spencer, facing the big window, you closed your eyes and tuned him out as he kept on pleading his case, simply trying to think.

“…I mean,” you started to register his voice once more, “I know he has a gun, but I don’t think he’d actually use it-“

“We can’t do this,” you concluded, cutting him off. “I can’t ruin your career before it has even begun.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Spencer,” you slowly turned to face him once more, “how serious do you think people will take you when they find out you’ve been banging the boss’s daughter since day one? You think you’ll be treated fairly? Get the same opportunities? They will stop at that fact and think that’s everything to it. Everything to you. They won’t think you worked as hard as you have to get where you are, to them, you simply slept with the right person.”

Tears in his eyes, he tried to reach for your hand, “Y/n… they won’t fixate on something like that-“

“Yes, they will…” you sobbed, “yes they will, because people are dumb and stupid and shallow, so they will, trust me, they will,” you spoke with certainty. Your dad was one of the founding members of the bau, he had raised you to know exactly how human beings ticked. Walking up, you gently grabbed the sides of his face and said, “you deserve everything this world has to offer. You’ve worked so hard to get what you have, don’t let me ruin it all. I care about you too much to stand in your way.”

“Y/n, I lov-,“ but before he could finish the declaration, you shut him up with a teary kiss.

“Please don’t say it. Please don’t. Just, grab your things and go, try and forget I ever existed-”

“Forget? Y/n, I have an eidetic-“

“Eidetic memory? Yeah, I know. My dad told me.”

The always talkative doctor did say another word, not even a single sound. All you could hear was deafening quiet and the rain, still in a fight with your windows.

The rain… it didn’t stop.

next part

#snowdrop #lea’s writing #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x gideon daughter!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid hc #spencer reid series

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hbosscreations · 1 year ago

Text

So much of people's misunderstanding of John Constantine comes from a lack of reading comprehension, understanding of literary tropes, and a plain lack of interest in the source material. See below if you're interested in the ramble.

Let's briefly touch on the topic of tropes and their use in fiction, shall we? I’m gonna keep this part around 200 words for the sake of my own sanity.

How many movies, tv shows, novels, video games, and comic books have the trope of ‘adult takes care of child’? So fucking many. The trope is literally called ‘Badass and Child Duo’. Taken directly from https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassAndChildDuo

‘The Badass and Child Duo occurs when a badass takes it upon themselves, out of goodness, interest, or circumstances beyond their control, to protect a young kid (typically an unrelated orphan).’

(If you have the time, you should read the explanation for the Badass at the top of the page, because if someone wanted a succinct description of John, it’s actually not that far off the mark.)

The Badass and Child Duo an extremely common trope, so common in comic books that most mainstream heroes don’t have to name the kids they rescue. From just a comic writing standpoint, why would you not use this extremely common trope for a character who’s major trauma that everyone who writes for him knows about is not being ‘good enough’ to save a child and the lingering guilt that leaves behind? (This is such a small interpretation, but it's the one most people who write for John seem to at least peripherally get).

As a general rule in fiction, when someone’s inciting incident is ‘failing to do x’ it becomes part of their story that at every opportunity they have at a redo of ‘x’, they’re gonna do it.

Moving on to 'doesn't like children' and 'is super mean'.

John is, by his own admission is a mean son of a bitch, and depending on who's writing him it varies how bugfuck awful a person he is. That being said, as you've provided, there are overwhelming examples of John's kindness and affection towards children even if he's not emotionally interested in taking on a parental role.

There are very few examples of John Constantine around children (and they aren’t just drawn into the background) where he’s not careful. The man often puts himself at great personal risk for children and teens, and takes it personally when they are fucked with.

He met Noah less than 48 hours before. I might argue part of the reason he cares so much in this moment is that Noah saw his friend’s butchered body the night before, but John doesn’t just save Noah. He saves him, sets him up for success as best as he knows how, and tells Noah to go back to school. Then makes Noah his driver, effectively making it so he can keep an eye on the kid and make sure he's safe.

But yeah, John Constantine hates kids. Hates people. He’s sooooo awful.

As for people who think John Constantine is not a kind man, I just do not fucking get that? How many of his stories are him getting involved with a situation because someone needs help and he happens to be nearby? He almost can’t help himself, which in a Doylist interpretation would be ‘well yeah, otherwise there wouldn’t be a story’, but let’s be Watsonian here. John Constantine is a man drawn to supernatural shit, who likes being right, and likes being the best in the room.

In crossover material and fanfiction. Where most of these people are learning about him.

Anyone who’s read any of the comics or even just watched City of Demons should have at least some understanding of just how kind John Constantine can be. He’s a man who has been so far down that he’s been to hell on the regular, and it’s clear that he might not know how to relate to other people, but he never wants someone to feel the way he does.

In The Fear Machine timeline, John devotes months of his life to finding a little girl named Mercury while her mother fucks off to a magical girl's retreat. I could talk about that whole storyline for a while, but instead I want to focus on a small portion of it that takes place in a rented room. He's been living there for six weeks at least, finds someone related to the situation with Mercury, hears a weird noise in the man's room, and finds him trussed up with a plastic bag over his head.

John stays up all night with Simon, he holds his hand until he falls asleep, and then spends the rest of the night watching over him. Is that for practical reasons? Sure, the man who tried to kill Simon might come back, but you don't need to hold someone's hand and comfort them to protect them. John Constantine holds this stranger's hand, because he's alone and afraid and John can help.

Long story long, anyone who looks at me and says John Constantine is a man who doesn’t care about other people is welcome to come fight me outside of Grokk and Roll. I’ll gladly sit on you and force feed you comic book pages.

If you're one of those people who are upset about John carrying about others, especially feeling somewhat responsible for kids, do me a favour and don't talk to me. (/hj) If you think that he would never act in a parental way because he "hates children" and doesn't care about anyone than you fundamentally misunderstand his character.

His origins story is that he accidentally doomed a young girl, Astra, to hell and wants to save her because he feels responsible, for crying out loud.

Do you all just think of us, adults and older teenagers who say they 'hate kids', as some sort of monsters who will kick a child out of our way? It literally just mean we don't like dealing with the annoying nuances of brats, and all kids are bratty sometimes.

#john constantine #hellblazer #This post made me so irrationally angry #I haven't even finished my first read through of everything he's been in yet #but I know it's a mischaracterization to say he doesn't care about people/doesn't care about children #Do people take John's self deprecation as actual truth? Because you should never take first person narration as fact.

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fizzyorange-v2 · 2 years ago

Note

any thoughts on pd ep 33, comprehensible or not?

‼️ MAJOR SPOILER AHEAD FOR EPISODES 30-33 OF JRWI PRIME DEFENDERS ‼️

also sorry anon this got way out of hand

Oh man where would i even START. I think what’s really getting me is the heartbreak. What’s still haunting me is that very last line William says, “I really wanted to have a brother.” Like fuck. FUCK!! Fuck Charlie Slimecicle for always giving his characters the most excruciating of sibling relationships and fuck Bizly for playing David so goddamn well.

William got himself into this mess by following his brain, by thinking that the logical thing to do to save the most people and make sure everyone got out of this alive was to just let David take his samples and make sure no one else got hurt in the process. But it’s so clear in episode 33 that despite his better judgement, despite knowing LOGICALLY he shouldn’t trust David, shouldn’t believe him… he does. Because he wants to believe his brother might not be so bad, that he might finally have a brother at all, that there was one thing that came out of deadwood that wasn’t sick.

I keep going back to that scene in David’s private room, where he gives William what is ostensibly his first drink, plays the role of big brother so well, asks him questions to which William spills everything because how could he not? After years of feeling like and believing the older brother he always considered better than him hated him, disliked him, thought him (rightfully in his mind) a freak, how could he refuse this olive branch?

So William tells him everything, and David tells him to come home safe. David tells him he’ll protect him if he needs, that he can come to him for help. When William goes to awkwardly leave, David pulls him in for a hug.

And the worst part of all? I don’t think David is necessarily lying. Or faking. Not fully, at least. I think David is finally interested in William now, in his own twisted way. I think he’s stopped seeing him as some weirdo little brother who disappeared to go be some self righteous hero, and instead started seeing him as… an equal-ish. Someone more on his level. Someone who does see the world for what it is, and is willing to do what it takes to make those hard calls. He was using William, absolutely. Manipulating him for his own ends, without a doubt. But I think he meant it when he told William to make sure he made it back safe. I think he was also welcoming to the idea of them getting closer, maybe becoming brothers for real.

That’s why I think David was so confused when William came bursting into his penthouse with Vyncent. I don’t think he understood one bit why William was so upset. Other than the news that one of the vigilantes had died, nothing else in his mind had changed. It appears he didn’t even know she did, his people just knew to cover his tracks without needing to be told. He wasn’t keeping it a secret from William, his true lie was in telling William the serum was harmless in the first place. And I think he’s going to stay confused, and I think he’s going to feel betrayed and I know any chances of them ever really being brothers died with Cantrip.

And it breaks my heart for William because he wanted to believe so hard. He was going to split those samples, y’know? He told Vyncent “the board made him do it”. He told David about Ashe. About his fears around Mal. About how he’s afraid being able to drink and feel and live again might all go away. He wanted to have an older brother he could trust so bad. And now one of their only friends is dead, and William killed her, and no amount of logic or rationalisations or leaps of faiths in the world is going to fix that.

William’s haunting speech to David at the end… fuck man. All that rage, all that guilt, all that self hatred William has projected back and forced down the throat, nose, ears of the brother that doesn’t but should. Turning the tool he learnt and used under David’s command back on him.

My thoughts? I think William was doomed the moment he tried to win an argument in that operation room with the older brother he always considered smarter better and more successful than him in every way. There’s nothing more impressionable in the world than a younger brother.

But I also think William might finally stop digging himself deeper, at least for now. How heavily Cantrip’s death weighs on him, Dakota’s reactions, Mal making another appearance, what David and his parents are going to be like after all this… it is all still up in the air.

Fuck man. Ultimately, I still can’t get over that very last line. “I really wanted to have a brother.” Because that’s what it was all about, really. Not being pro hero or anti hero, not a villainous descent nor a sudden morality change… just William hoping his older brother could finally love him.

But David just proved his theory right: that everything that comes from Deadwood is sick and twisted and wrong. Nothing good has ever come from that place. Certainly not David… and certainly not himself, either.

#jrwi pd #jrwi prime defenders #prime defenders #pd spoilers #prime defenders spoilers #pd analysis #william wisp #david bell #fizz character thoughts #fizz asks

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mishafletcher · 5 years ago

Note

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping.

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but—

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something.

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers.

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too.

#queer stuff #lgbtq #gold star lesbians #long post #sorry #Anonymous

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orcabreadguy · 4 months ago

Text

Yeah I don't know you in real life, I made that very clear. "From an outside perspective" - hence my opinion shouldn't matter to you. Are you really going to let some mentally ill guy who's using you as an outlet dictate your life? Aw no :( What a shame. I stated that I only know the bits on your blog, I made that very clear. You just lack reading comprehension and I find that absolutely hilarious. You can believe all that you want about your own lived experience. But spreading around the belief of "the absence of a disorder is non-disordered plurality!!" doesn't really help your case, my guy.

I'm not trying to reason with you, my guy, nor am I trying to take some moral high ground. If I wanted to take the moral high ground I would've ignored you long ago and reported you to Tumblr.

Oh noooo endos dni is such a hateful tag I'm so butt hurt. oh no I'm 30 years of age and I get soooo hurt when people on the internet use a tag I don't like!! consider blocking it. consider blocking the accounts if they make you that uncomfortable. Instead of, y'know, stealing their posts!

If people want to relate to them they can relate to the original posts, they don't need you to be some sort of "saint" <3

I would absolutely love to leave you alone if you stop taking people's posts and take down the ones you've already stolen! All of them. Write your own positivity, take inspiration from the blogs you disagree with in terms of some "major beliefs" but don't blatantly steal their posts. Jeez... it's almost as if this whole time the reason we haven't just blocked you is because you're going into anti-endo spaces and stealing their posts - if you were doing anything else, I simply would've just ignored you.

Will be turning reblogs back on for certain posts once we can sit down and write responses to the anti-endos who think they're being clever and cool by fakeclaiming.

Yes, let's fakeclaim another trauma survivor by lumping them in with endogenic systems and telling them they don't know about their disorder and that if they knew about it they would hate endogenic systems.

We don't base our disorder on hating other people for experiencing a part of it.

For every disorder, there is order.

DID/OSDD = chaos

Non-disordered/endogenic = order

Trauma causes disruption

Being plural for reasons other than trauma is not a disruption if the person experiencing it doesn't claim that.

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wizkiddx · 5 years ago

Text

the worst case scenario

okay so this is possibly part 1 of a v v angsty dad!tom fic!!

WARNING: the section under the cut of this is v v v dark with mentions of death and some graphic descriptions of blood etc - please please don't read if any of these things may affect you <3

the part above the cut (the keep reading bit) is completely fluffy (a bit of childbirth but not graphic) so you could read only that first bit as a stand alone if anybody wanted to

dad!tomholland x reader

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“Stop laughing at me!!!” Y/n exclaimed in mock anger before bursting out laughing, knowing she did look pretty ridiculous.

“I can’t help it you just…. You look like an elephant!” Tom cackled from his reclined position lying on the couch, whilst his 8 month pregnant fiancé struggled to get up from her seated position on the floor - where she had spent the last half an hour wrapping presents for her nephews birthday.

“You know a supportive soon to be father would’ve helped me up!” Replying with a scowl that didn’t last long, Y/n finally standing up took the three steps to the couch before uncerimoniously collapsing into it.

Grinning with this absolute sparkle in his eye, Tom leant forward and slid up to Y/n to pull her into his side. His hand came to rest upon her massive bump - at this point it was almost a rule that if he were touching Y/n he also had to be touching the bump. Tom claimed it to be skin to skin contact and although Y/n were pretty sure that didn’t come into effect until after the baby was born, she wasn’t complaining either.

“It’s a shame your stuck with me then huh?” He murmured into the top of Y/n’s head, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head while tracing meaningless patterns on her shirt over the bump. Tom was beyond excited to become a Dad, family had always meant everything to him growing up (and now). There was nothing he wanted more , therefore, to call them a family of three - or more accurately four, not forgetting Tess of course.

“Oh how I regret ever taking up that extra shift at the club” She mused sarcastically, enjoying how he feigned offence in return.

The way the two had met was so incredibly cliche that it was almost painful, whenever anyone asked how they met she always winced internally. But it was their truth, Y/n had been a caddy at the golf course Tom frequented with his brothers. The nature of his ‘reputation’ meant the caddies always had to sign NDA’s to be paired with Tom’s group and the chosen few were those personally recommended by the golf course. She’d always stuck out to him, mainly because she seemed to be biting her tongue as they worked their way round the course. Caddies, also by job description, were not to speak unless spoken to; to be polite and courteous but not chatty. So, given how professioial she was, had taken some convincing for Tom to drag it out why she looked in physical pain whenever they played the 13th hole.

“Look somethings on your mind I can tell! If you hate me I can arrange another caddy I just -“ He followed her march to back from the hole toward the little buggy, ahead of his brothers and Dad who were making small talk from behind.

“FINE! Okay fine.” Reaching the end of her tether, Y/n snapped, whipping her body round to face him. “It’s your grip! On this hole especially you always play the driver with you pinky too far down the shaft, it’s why you always end up in the bunker on the 13th! It’s bloody infuriating because them I’m the one that has to clean the buggy you’ve trampled sand into!”

“Oh…. I-I … I wasn’t expecting that” Tom had spoken quietly, in an unfamiliar tone to Y/n. Over hours she’d spent on the course with them over the months, Y/n had gotten used to his storytelling voice when recounting an insane experience to his family that he’d had in the world of Hollywood; his grumpy voice when he played badly, which was often; and then his gloating voice - most definitely the worst and intolerable. This voice though, was different.

“I-I’m so sorry I have no right, I just-“ She’d out her foot in it …. badly. The young actor was one of the most clubs most prestigious and valued members; and she’d just insulted him. Clearly, she was also about to be in search of another job.

“No no I appreciate your tip… I didn’t even realise you play?” His gracious smile calmed her nerves a little, though Y/n still wrung her hands together as she replied.

“Well we aren’t supposed to talk about it but the club let us employees loose after hours… I practice quite a bit”

“Seeing as you think my game is so shitty, you fancy a round next time?”

Flash forward 3 and half years and a proposal, they were now taking their next massive leaps in the world together. Bringing a whole new life into it. It was bloody terrifying, they both openly admitted. But it was also exciting, new, incredible and… and made them even closer. Now they had to be in each others lives forever, no escaping.

“How many days left?” Craning her neck back on his shoulder so Y/n could meet his brown eyes, she knew the answer would be immediate.

“15 till the due date and the app said they’re the size of a rhubarb but I don’t really know what that means.” He knew more about the pregnancy and birth than she did. He had about a dozen different apps on his phone (including one pointlessly comparing the size of the baby to carrots/ watermelons/ onions), had read 4 different books (which for Tom was the equivalent to reading Newton’s book ‘philisphica Mathematica’.)

Ever since she’d told him about the pregnancy Tom had excelled every expectation Y/n had of him… massively. Without even having a conversation surrounding it, he had explicitly cancelled all major work commitments within 2 months of the due date and until around a year after. He had flown back and fourth across the world so he could pop in and check on you. He’d also set his whole family on becoming your minders when he was away - Y/n wouldn’t have been able to go a day avoiding a Holland (or Osterfield) if she had tried.

The pregnancy thus far hadn’t been the easiest though, hence why Y/n still appreciated to constant worrying texts and calls. During the first trimester the morning sickness had been literal hell; and then you’d had a little bit of a scare with pre-eclampsia during the second. It landed you a 3 day stay in hospital and a very very panicked Tom rushing back from New York on the first possible flight.

So now? Y/n wanted the baby out. She wanted family life as parents. (At which point hopefully Tom would stop comparing the size of your child to an assortment of different fruit and veg)

“You know, you really are going to be the best dad in the world Thomas Stanely Holland.”

“And you Y/f/n y/m/n y/l/n are already a pretty impressive mum.”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

It was 3 o’clock the next morning when Y/n awoke with a sudden groan instinctively rubbing her stomach in an attempt to get them easing up. Now too familiar with Braxton-Hicks contractions, the weird cramping that waxes and wanes but never letting her get any rest - Y/n knew she was in for a long night. With a muted sigh she carefully lifted Tom’s arm off her side, cautious not to disturb him. The poor boy had been up most nights with her, just because baby wasn’t letting her sleep, it didn’t mean Tom wasn’t deserving of rest either.

So making furtive movements at a snails pace, she attempted to tip toe out the room - yet as Tom had pointed out before, she looked almost like an elephant, so everything was relative. Surprisingly though, she was successful, escaping onto the soft cream carpet of their hallway before choosing to venture into the room opposite theirs. It had once been a spare room, though more correctly termed the ‘shit room’ because that’s where all the accumulated shit they got was thrown. Now however, Tom and his brothers had taken on the mammoth task of clearing it out and redecorating - creating the most beautiful nursery one could ever see. Complete with a rocking chair which Y/n made a beeline for, now allowing herself to audible groan at the tight sensation deep inside her.

Normally they would ease after a half an hour or so, yet this time, after what was surely more like an hour and a half they started to…. ramp up. What was a tight pressure sensation quickly became one more forceful volatile and full of pain. She put it off for about 3 or 4 cycles of these, pursing her lips and breathing deeply as she tried to convince herself they’d just simply fizzle away. This couldn’t be the real thing could it? It was too soon - as Tom had said she wasn’t due for another 15 days. It wasn’t happening… was it?

The answer was pretty comprehensively and cohesively given when Y/n tried to stand up, in the hope of walking the ache off, she felt an incredibly tight crunch as her insides seemed to wring themselves together. Oh … and a surge of water soaked her pyjama bottoms.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCKKKK TOMMMM!! TOM-ah shit- MY WATERS!!! TOOOMMMM”The pain had amped up to a very very impressive levels, forcing Y/n to clutch her sides as she kept bending and straightening back up… as if that would help. Her lonesome agony didn’t last long though, a flustered Tom hurtled in the room - his hair sticking up all over the place and although his eyes were puffy from sleep he still had them glued open impressively wide.

“No its-its too- its too early!” In pure disbelief, Tom shook his head staring across at her face, contorted in pain.

“Yeh because-“ She gulped and exhaled in as much of a controlled manner she could through pursed lips; before answering his stupid statement. “Because I can just HOLD IT IN FOR ANOTHER 2 WEEKS SHALL I?” It took a while for Tom to process, looking down at the puddle of clear fluid on the floor and damp patch on her plaid bottoms while it was Y/n’s turn to look upon his it utter disbelief at his stupidity.

“Oh shit shitshitshitshitshitshit!!!!” His words grew with increased volume and place whilst he stayed frozen, his arms reaching out lightly toward Y/n without touching her though. “What do we do?!”

He of course had revised repeatedly and extensively what he was supposed to do when this happened - yet in the moment all knowledge and planning evaporated from his mind. Now wasn’t the time for taking the mick of her terrified fiancé though, Y/n was too blinded by pain as she leaned on the dresser.

“Get the-ah FUCKING hell - phone we need to time them and phone the … the-MIDWIFE.” It was hard to direct a frantic and terrified man when one feels as though her insides are collapsing in on themselves.

Tom gulped, nodding shakily, whilst trying to take deep breaths because although he was fucking terrified it wasn’t him that was giving birth. He had to step up now.

It took barely 10 minutes from the midwife picking up to a frantic Tom for her to assess that they needed to get into the hospital asap. During the pregnancy, all of Tom’s rich friends had recommended paying for a private hospital like the ‘Portland hospital’. The idea was it was a much more luxurious and private experience - of course coming with a heavy price tag. For Tom money was not an issue, so he’d suggested to Y/n and met the strongest rejection of all his life. The NHS was by far the only choice in Y/n’s mind - of course it busier, a lot less serene and not as private; but if god forbid something did happen, that was where all the experts and resources were. The idea of being able to pay for better access to healthcare actually repulsed Y/n and everything she stood for… so in short Tom was met with a very blunt refusal.

Once they arrived on the ward, all it took was one look at Y/n’s inflated belly and the way her body was squirming in the wheelchair Tom was pushing, whilst laden with the baby bags they’d had packed and prepared for weeks, for the pair to be rushed into a side room. After an intense 20 minutes of getting Y/n settled, getting her full medical history and inspection of her vagina the hmidwife’s head popped up from between her legs with a kind smile. She explained in a calming and gentle tone that Y/n was 5 cms dilated and had got to that point fast, yet now things looked to be slowing down a bit. With final words of advice of try to relax she left the pair to it.

They both looked at each other, a matching expression of confusion and relative terror blatantly clear in both their eyes. It had them both burst out laughing, if Y/n then scowled at the pain that shot through her side.

“This is really happening huh?” Tom murmured as he rounded the bed to gently run his hands through her sticky hair.

“I don’t know unless you really do want me to postpone their arrival for a short while?” Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head, although not really able to surpress the chuckle at his finances humour - even if it was at his expense.

“Glad to see you can still be as sarcastic as ever.” He laughed but before she could reply another wave of contractions hit making her instead just scream - grabbing his hand so tightly Tom was certain a bone or two were crushed in the process.

It was another hour or two of the same traumatic sight of watching the women he loved more than anything in the world be in such extreme pain. God knows how his appreciate for his mother grew in that moment - she had had four kids overall, two of them twins! Tom dared to think of the scenes in that room of twin brothers birth. Having to deal with both Sam and Harrys large heads…

Harrison had arrived in the meantime, he was to be the child’s godfather and Y/n was more than happy to have him there - even if it was more of a support to Tom than Y/n. Quite expectantly though, he was just as terrified and useless as Tom - so instead of having one idiot to deal with, the midwives now had double trouble of terrified men.

And yet after another 1 hour or so Y/n was being told to make one final push. Baring down on the gas and air tube, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut together whilst simultaneously contracting every muscle in her body with what little energy she had left. Hearing Tom and Harrisons words of encouragement; the midwifes orders and her own long and continuous scream, Y/n pushed with all she had. It was excruciating and torturous yet she kept going until the most beautiful sound was the only thing left reverberating round the room.

Her babies cry.

Tom looked at the scene in awe, feeling an almost out of body experience as the midwife unfolded from her position leant over the bed looking up to Tom.

“Do you want to cut the cord Dad?” Releasing a breathy laugh, tears collecting in his eyes he looked down at Y/n. She looked a mess - hair flying all over the place; sweaty sheen and a ruined look on her face; panting hard as she caught her breath. But to Tom? Never had he seen her look more beautiful, especially when she managed a small smile, nodding encouragingly at him. So he moved round to the end of the bed as the nurse motioned, while Harrison squeezed Y/n’s shoulder with the proudest look on his face.

It was the first time Tom had ever seen his child. And really, seeing a wrinkly little pink thing covered in all sorts of gunge - it shouldn’t be such a magical moment. But here he was, a single tear escaping over his lower lashes at the sight of them wriggling about. The midwife gave him a second, before gently handing him the medical scissors and directing him as to what to do. Once done, the lady announced the room it was a beautiful baby girl.

The next hour or so was a bit of a blur, the whole situation felt extremely surreal to everyone - but perhaps most to Y/n. Although the baby was premature the doctors had checked and were confident was perfectly healthy, so after both Y/n and Tom having their turn holding her (Tom finally got his real skin to skin time) they brought in a little incubator where she could rest while Y/n was recovering. Due to her prematurity, as a safety net, the doctors did want to keep the baby girl in overnight for observation, which meant the whole party would be staying too.

Y/n loved nothing more than watching Tom and Haz with their baby. The way they delicately cradled her in their strong arms and the way their eyes softened so inexplicably. Y/n swore that had she not just pushed a watermelon sized human out her vagina, the way Tom looked while holding their daughter would make her pregnant all over again.

“I still can’t believe you two created a real life human.” Harrison mused while standing with the baby girl in his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he watched her sleep soundly.

“To be fair it was mainly Y/n” Tom laughed as he squeezed Y/n’s hand (wincing internally as it hurt his already injured hand - Y/n had an almost death grip)

“Oh no credit where credits due… he was involved for a whole 3 minutes or so.” Harrison snorted and Tom scowled at her, yet her cheeky if exhausted grin instantly erased any annoyance.

“Don’t make sexual jokes in front of our child!” He retorted, Harrison still laughing at his friend. Haz loved Y/n too - she made Tom a better version of himself. And now, she’d made him a dad.

**triggering part starts here

After all the excitement of the early morning it was more than fair to say Y/n was shattered, Tom not doing much better. So after a little bit, Tom joined Y/n on the bed and they instantly fell asleep to the light beeping of their babies heart monitor. Harrison stayed in the arm chair in the corner of the room, wheeling the little incubator right in front of him to just stare at the little girl. He had been texting Tom’s family too, giving them details of when they’d be allowed to come and meet the little one, who had just woken up to all Tom’s frantic texts from the night before.

Eventually though he was ped ousnapt of his happy daze, looking over to the bed and seeing Tom groan as he shifted on the mattress that was technically only spacious enough for one.

“You good mate?” Harrison spoke in a low voice, keen not to disturb either the baby of Y/n - she had earned a bit of peace. Tom just mumbled in response, rubbing his eyes as he sat up before letting out a deeper groan.

“-hat the fuck” Tom lifted up the blanket covering them both as Harrison looked on inquisitively. But then Tom leapt off the bed, started violently shouting Y/n as he shook her in a look of desperation. It was violent and harsh, Harrison was horrified as he immediately stood up in an action to pull Tom off her.

“Tom what are you-“

“Get help Haz.” Tom turned around to look at Haz, only at which point could the blonde haired boy make out why Tom looked so insane. Because his trousers, and the bedsheets that were now not hidden by the blankets, was covered in a red sticky substance. Jaw dropping, Haz slalomed round the incubator to stand at the foot of the bed.

It honestly looked like a horror scene. Y/n’s lower half was completely saturated in a bright red liquid that slowly was creeping further and further through the sheets. Her face looked pale, Haz cursing himself for not noticing earlier and her breathing… it looked so slow it was barely noticeable. The silence was only endured for a few moments, before Tom turned back to violently shaking the dead weight below him yelling her name repeatedly and frantically.

As soon as the alarm was raised more and more staff piled into the room, each one carrying a new level of importance and seniority - instantly taking control of the room and shouting orders. Tom had long since been pulled away from the bed by a nurse, who was trying to speak to him and calm him down, but was completely ignored as he focused on the scene over their shoulder.

“Looking like a primary PP bleed but she’s lost at least 3 pints already…. Somone bleep the aenestists and lets get moving to the OR please!.. We’ll need bloods crossmatch 5 units….”

Tom heard to the controlled sense of urgency in the lead doctors voice and he felt as though his heart was being torn straight from his chest. Harrison took over from the nurse, half restraining - half hugging him as the nurse ushered them completely out the room. Shouting over Tom’s desperate pleas to let the doctors do their thing. He fought hard against Harrison but ultimately his hold was enough to keep him back, the two watching from he corridor as Y/n’s bed was wheeled rapidly out the room - what seemed like at least 12 staff members bustling after it.

Harrison knew it was hopeless to try and talk to Tom, as he paced up and down the ‘relatives room’ the two had been confined to. They didn’t have a clue what was going on, no-one seemed to want to tell them - making the worst case option appear the most likeliest in Harrison’s head. A nurse had said the baby, as yet unnamed, had been taken down the neonatal unit so that it was one thing less for them to worry about ; but refused to say anything about Y/n, saying a doctor would come and explain soon.

It must’ve been 20 mins, even if to the two men it felt like a lifetime, when a round and short, greying man with big black rimmed rectangular glasses entered the room. Tom was too in his own head to even notice, pacing up and down the room while constantly running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his breath in regular time - even if his brain was on overdrive. It took Harrison calling his name twice to make him snap out of it, looking up with desperate pleading eyes to notice the stout man, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Are you Mrs y/L/n’s husband?”

“Fiance”

“I’m Dr Webber the consultant gynaecologist, shall we take a seat sir?” Tom stayed rigid, standing opposite him in an offensive manner.

“She’s dead isn’t she?” At Tom’s cold words, Haz’s breath halted in his chest. It had been what they’d both been thinking, of course, it was natural when you see someone with more blood out their body than inside it. The doctor seemed a little shocked at his frankness, pressing his lips together as he let out a sigh.

“No sir she’s not but she is very very unwell. Please, let’s sit down so we can talk about it because I understand it’s a lot to take in.” It took a couple of movements of Tom stood frozen staring but Dr Webber held firm, waiting until Tom took a seat next to Haz before he moved - drawing a chair from across the room so he could face both men.

“First off I’m sorry you were removed from the room and put in here for so long but these situations are incredibly hard and to get Y/n the best care we needed the whole room.”

“Doctor I just… I just need to know what’s going on.” He couldn’t deal with the state of unknowing, Tom was going insane, he didn’t care for the small talk.

“Sorry right, so what we think happened was your fiancé developed a condition called ‘placental accreta’. In simple terms, a bit of the placenta is stuck in the uterus and causes bleeding.”

“That much bleeding?” Haz couldn’t help himself from butting in, he knew this wasn’t really his place, that he was just being there for Tom. But at the same time that was his godchilds mum, it mattered.

“Honestly? Usually not, Y/n had very severe bleed… So she has been taken in for surgery, where the very talented surgeons are trying patch up the affected blood vessels. I’m afraid at this point that’s all I can really say.”

“So… she’s going to be okay?” It was desperate plea for something that, even if Tom wouldn’t admit, he didn’t really believe - it seemed as if none of the three in the room did.

“It’s not that easy I’m afraid. Assuming the surgeons can stabilise the bleeding and fix it…. with blood loss like she has suffered we… we don’t know what the effects of that will be. We tried to prevent as much damage to her brain and body as possible with transfusing blood into her and it was good that she was in hospital so could get treatment almost immediately…. But I’m afraid it’s simply too early to say. The first hurdle is going to be getting her out of surgery safely, only then can we deal with whatever happens next.”

Tom had so many emotions flashing through his head. He knew the doctor was trying to go slow to make the information a little more digestible but it was all so bloody incomprehensible. So when the greying man asked both men if they had any questions, neither took up his offer. Surely they both would after hours of processing and analysing but for right now? They were stunned into silence.

“Okay sir, now I hope you don’t mind me saying this but it really is important for you to hear. You are now a father, as Y/n is a mother. This situation is never easy but as a first time dad I need you to be aware that now your fiancé can’t be your only priority. We are all here to support you but please, just remember that.”

Harrison was so glad the doctor had said that, it was so completely true - yet Haz knew he didn’t have enough power to have said it to Tom. The whole thing was impossible and at the centre was an innocent, beautiful but totally dependant baby.

“What happens now then?” Haz had to ask on behalf of his friend, who was now completely overwhelmed. Dr Webber sighed, leaning back and rubbing his knees before answering.

“If the surgery is successful it’ll be at a best estimate two hours before we will have news for you , then she will be taken into intensive care where everything else would be assessed and further investigations would happen. You can both stay here or go get food, maybe go down and see the baby in the neonatal ICU? I personally promise that as soon as any of us get any news you will be the first to know.”

He was met with the sort of silence that makes you shiver. Sighing heavily, the doctor rubbed his knees, apparently preparing to leave. “This possibly one of the worst case scenarios that could’ve happened but Y/n is in the best hands and we will do everything for her. If you do think of anything you want clarification on, grab one of the nurses and they’ll come and find me.”

And then he left.

The room was deathly silent. Harrison couldn’t dare to look over at Tom - he knew what he would see and honestly seeing Tom like that would only make it worse. God knows how long they sat in those plastic lined, lightly padded hospital chairs. Both in silence. Just thinking… or more like worrying… or more like dreading. It was Tom who actually broke the silence first, his voice barely audible but still the meaning was crisp and clear.

“I can’t do it Haz” For the first time since the doctor was with them, Harrison looked at Tom, catching him directly in the eye. That hurt… Tom’s eyes looked so, so… hopeless. He knew what his broken friend was saying, but honestly Haz didn’t want to hear it so he did not respond. That didn’t stop Tom though, he continued. “I can’t do it. … I-I can’t be a dad without her… I just can’t.”

What the hell was Harrison supposed to say? There wasn’t really a guidebook to this situation. He was clueless. So, cautiously Harrison just leaned over, wrapping his arms round Tom as he all but collapsed into his friends chest. Tom was sobbing harshly as Harrison looked up at the ageing ceiling tiles, trying to surpress his own emotions because now clearly wasn’t about him.

“You can Tom… you have to.” His friend didn’t respond, well apart from harsh sobs that racked his frame. And so Harrison just let Tom cry, folded awkwardly and uncomfortably over the arm rest of the chairs, occasionally yelling into his chest at the unjustness of the situation.

It wasn’t fair. But it had still happened. And there was still a baby girl by herself downstairs.

//////

is this okay or too much? I won't write another part if generally people think its a bit too dark!!!!

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland angst #angsty

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andromedasstarship · 5 years ago

Note

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list!

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #'stori writes #kenna #'stori answers #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid/gn!reader

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zhnnveuxpasdrmir · 1 year ago

Text

I think it's more of a matter of: do you enjoy it?

I could never be a moral arbiter for anyone else! That was the common state of things, too, before the internet made it possible to morally excoriate strangers at a distance. That power is corrupting, too, obviously!

I'm grateful that there wasn't a world wide web or its social media when my art preferences were being formed. I'm glad it wasn't possible to find out what Iggy Pop's thoughts on this or that were, because I'd've lost Iggy Pop's music, and Iggy wouldn't have had a chance to evolve.

Knowing true things about the thoughts of authors is always bad news, I find! Knowing about famous people's behavior is usually bad; if they're very successful, it's bad times ten. Grim facts of life. If the author or host or whatever that you like is big, if they're getting reliably major deals in multiple media, that person is going to be some kind of real crumb. Of Some Kind. That's just what the world is.

I found there were some artworks I couldn't enjoy anymore, after knowing what I know about its creators. I can't say I would never judge someone else for liking them, either, privately! Some art is so politically focused in its inception that a message is unambiguous. Nazi skins of the 80s weren't being cryptic about it, if you see what I mean.

Novels or books - it gets murkier by far. The author themselves might not know how deeply entrenched this or that unexamined prejudice is in their work. Reading critically, deliberately, is a worthwhile practice in any case. Being able to deeply read documents you know you disagree with is an important skill. Libraries are good for that, in my opinion!

What I really meant to say - what's evolving in my mind as I think about this - is that we shouldn't make celebrities of anyone, beyond celebrating the people we know.

I know that's some Marcus Aurelius level shit that no one can reasonably put into practice in the real world, but I also think it's an important guiding principle to consider at least:

maybe making someone famous is one of the worst things we can do to someone.

maybe doing it to someone we love the mind of is one of the worst possible things we could do, to that mind!

It's the hardest with music, for me - it's so easy for me to hate an author and chuckle as I pitch their life's work into the trash forever. I can figuratively backhand a filmmaker's entire catalog without a single thought. But the music - it's different. Yet I have found that some is denied to me, forever from now on, because of what I know about the creator. It's not that I don't love it anymore, it's that I can't bear to hear it.

We can't make those boundaries for others. we shouldn't. we should be wary of people who say they can make those boundaries for others.

You have to be the one that figures out if you keep engaging with the art. If you investigate your involvement with the art, and make efforts to understand why you love this art, there's no moral failure in it. Others can bring details to your attention, about the art, about the artist. You have to be the one in charge of that gate, though. There's no comprehensive rulebook. The people who actually read Mein Kampff today, for instance, are usually the very furthest thing from a nazi that can be imagined; they're scholars fighting against racism, honing themselves and doing the art of war.

I think there are some clear ethics: don't give money to bigots, don't give a voice to people that promote hatred, that sort of thing,

but it's complicated to put even those simple morals into practice. It's always contextual. There's not a handy checklist. It's easy to catch one's self enjoying something wicked. It has to be survivable, it can't be allowed to ruin a person like the stupid scarlet letter.

I think,

that if you're asking these questions you're on the right track:

investigation that leads to informed conclusions. Actions and decisions set in the real world, controlled by your deliberate will, will be the good guiding principle for what's good versus what sucks.

I wonder if a lot of tumblrs are having a deep think about the effects of power on the human animal, and what's left when you eliminate all the Bad People from your diet lately

fortunately for me I've grown quite accustomed to famous people whose work I liked revealing their horrible sides, intentionally or otherwise

Rosemary's Baby, Cyndi Lauper being mean backstage one time, every rock front man in the history of, Nina Hagen - ow that one hurt! I guess I wasn't even 20 yet by the time I'd grown worldly about celebrity. By the time 2000 rolled around I'd long sworn off ambitions of performance outside the truly creative, studio-free version.

In any case what I'm trying to get down is that these people were never personal friends of their audience, to begin with. That's not how it works.

You have to work out for yourself what you can tolerate, artwise, in your life. We're blessed not to know what kind of asshole Aeschylus might have been. Many of you won't ever know what a blow it was to North America when Bill Cosby turned out to be so horrible. The long term effects of his fall from grace just can't be overstated by this point.

It's always always unwise to make a hero or a saint of anyone. Don't make the mistake of thinking there's a kind of person who was never bad, who can't disappoint you.

It's a rare person for whom wealth and power, in any amount, isn't deeply "corrupting" with regard to how others are treated, sexuality, expressions of control, satisfaction of desire. There's a great deal about humanity that is hard to face, disappointing to learn. That's one of the loudest lessons: those we elevate are changed forever by the attention. It might do well to have some better cultural rules and customs in place than complaint & argument. It might be really smart to organize our real life communities around that understanding.

It might give us a better quality of life to decentralize celebrity.

#I love to sing liturgical church music #I am so Very not a christian of any remote sort

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