#( LITERALLY I THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE POPULATION: 1 AND IT WAS ME

[thelawfulchaotic]

When I am appointed to represent a child, my first action is to separate them from their parents and tell them the following things:

1. I am their attorney. I do not work for their parent or the judge or the cops. I don’t care what any of those people want.

2. My job is to listen to them and try and make what they want happen in court. (At this point I make a joke about how most people want me to get them out of trouble but if someone wanted to be in trouble I would do my best.)

3. What they tell me is confidential. It goes nowhere unless they agree to it. (If old enough, I talk to them about mandatory reporters, and how I’m a mandatory non reporter.)

4. I will give them lots of advice because I’ve been doing court for a while and I know a lot about it, and they don’t. It’s all really complicated, and if they don’t understand what’s happening it’s my job to help them figure it out.

5. They will make the decisions. (At this point I usually have to reassure them that I’ll help, I’ll speak for them in front of the judge, and I’ve got their back. It’s scary to have an adult say you’re in charge, most of the time.)

6. I tell them I know it’s absolutely wild to have some stranger come in here and say “hey, you can trust me!” and that I get if they don’t believe everything right away, because I plan to show them through my actions and my words that I’ll fight for them.

7. But nonetheless, I will treat them like a person who can make decisions, because they are living their life and I am not.

I do not:

Pretend to be cool.

Try to be their BFF.

Overwhelm them with detail.

Let their parents in the room until the kid asks for them. (I provide openings for this, and ask if the kid wants their parent to help them remember and understand.)

I want to emphasize I went into this job knowing nothing about how to interact with vulnerable populations, especially children. The training was minimal, and my role means that I can literally walk into a facility and get an unmonitored visit with a minor client one on one.

In my years of practice I have never felt threatened by a child, even one that was “violent” and “unstable.” It turns out just saying “hi, I think you’re a person with thoughts” is wildly successful? Now people treat me like I have special Child Whisperer powers. My powers are that I ask the child what’s up and I’m not scared to say things that are objectively awkward. I know nothing about anything.

[great-and-small]

When I was in vet school I went to this one lecture that I will never forget. Various clubs would have different guest lecturers come in to talk about relevant topics and since I was in the Wildlife Disease Association club I naturally attended all the wildlife and conservation discussions. Well on this particular occasion, the speakers started off telling us they had been working on a project involving the conservation of lemurs in Madagascar. Lemurs exist only in Madagascar, and they are in real trouble; they’re considered the most endangered group of mammals on Earth. This team of veterinarians was initially assembled to address threats to lemur health and work on conservation solutions to try and save as many lemur species from extinction as possible. As they explored the most present dangers to lemurs they found that although habitat loss was the primary problem for these vulnerable animals, predation by humans was a significant cause of losses as well. The vets realized it was crucial for the hunting of lemurs by native people to stop, but of course this is not so simple a problem.

The local Malagasy people are dealing with extreme poverty and food insecurity, with nearly half of children under five years old suffering from chronic malnutrition. The local people have always subsisted on hunting wildlife for food, and as Madagascar’s wildlife population declines, the people who rely on so-called bushmeat to survive are struggling more and more. People are literally starving.

Our conservation team thought about this a lot. They had initially intended to focus efforts on education but came to understand that this is not an issue arising from a lack of knowledge. For these people it is a question of survival. It doesn’t matter how many times a foreigner tells you not to eat an animal you’ve hunted your entire life, if your child is starving you are going to do everything in your power to keep your family alive.

So the vets changed course. Rather than focus efforts on simply teaching people about lemurs, they decided to try and use veterinary medicine to reduce the underlying issue of food insecurity. They supposed that if a reliable protein source could be introduced for the people who needed it, the dependence on meat from wildlife would greatly decrease. So they got to work establishing new flocks of chickens in the most at-risk communities, and also initiated an aggressive vaccination program for Newcastle disease (an infectious illness of poultry that is of particular concern in this area). They worked with over 600 households to ensure appropriate husbandry and vaccination for every flock, and soon found these communities were being transformed by the introduction of a steady protein source. Families with a healthy flock of chickens were far less likely to hunt wild animals like lemurs, and fewer kids went hungry. Thats what we call a win-win situation.

This chicken vaccine program became just one small part of an amazing conservation outreach initiative in Madagascar that puts local people at the center of everything they do. Helping these vulnerable communities of people helps similarly vulnerable wildlife, always. If we go into a country guns-blazing with that fire for conservation in our hearts and a plan to save native animals, we simply cannot ignore the humans who live around them. Doing so is counterintuitive to creating an effective plan because whether we recognize it or not, humans and animals are inextricably linked in many ways. A true conservation success story is one that doesn’t leave needy humans in its wake, and that is why I think this particular story has stuck with me for so long.

(Source 1)

(Source 2- cool video exploring this initiative from some folks involved)

(Source 3)

[jmflowers]

Swarla Kisses Rated [x]

1. "Don't get dressed." (22nd November 2024)

The loud noise that occurred at the moment this kiss aired was the sound of an entire population's proverbial panties dropping. Has there ever been a hotter line spoken? This is the power-necking the soap community taught us about. Swarla started off SO strong it's frankly terrifying. 14/10 Carla knew what she wanted.

2. "Have you?" (29th November 2024)

When the most confident dyke on the cobbles asks you if you've changed your mind about your feelings for her, you are required by law to stubbornly keep your hand on your hip. Even if she pushes your hair back from your face as delicately as humanly possible??? If Lisa Swain ever looked at me like that I would burst into flames. 11/10

3. "Is that better?" (16th December 2024)

We reached the domesticity era of their love in 0.2 seconds flat and I for one am not upset about it. The way Carla nuzzles in? The tilt of Lisa's head? The repetition? I was not expecting more kisses so soon in their story. The only way this could've gotten better is if they'd eaten each other's faces after this had been a clearer angle. 7/10 Carla Connor saying, “I want you.” plays on loop in my head at all times.

4. "Mmm... truffley." (20th December 2024)

The prolonged eye contact???? The dazed look on Lisa's face immediately after?? The fucking giggles???? The sheer power Carla Connor has and wields for good (ie. my own entertainment). Coronation Street said y'all deserve this. 10/10 Carla can hand feed me any day of the week.

5. "See you later." (20th December 2024)

Have you ever seen anyone look so peaceful about a decision before? Carla Connor said, "Today's the day I kiss my girlfriend in the street." I know y'all were waiting for that Live Sally Reaction and it did not disappoint. I hope they kiss each other goodbye constantly forever. 6/10 The way she analyzed Lisa's entire face before leaning forward made me scream both internally and externally.

6. New Year's Countdown (31st December 2024)

If you thought I wouldn't lose my mind over the image of them off in a corner of the pub in their own little world, you were wrong. I need to know if this was a scripting choice, an acting choice, or an editing choice for reasons. I'm never going to get sick of the way Lisa pulls Carla closer by the shoulders (almost) every time they kiss. Lisa closing her eyes like that makes my heart stop beating. 8/10

7. "Ooh, your lip!" (31st December 2024)

You ever just get aggressively snogged by a woman who's falling in love with you (while your lip is busted open from fighting bad guys)? Superheroes really don't get days off but they do get the girl. I miss the power-necking (literally a month ago?!?), but this was still so cute. 9/10 for the sheer fact that Carla needed a New Year's like this considering she dies like 12 hours later.

8. "Won't take that long." (31st December 2024)

Carla Connor isn't the only one who nearly fainted shortly after this kiss. Lisa said let me flutter my drunk eyelashes at you. The way Carla opened her mouth?? The breathy, "Shall we go to bed?" from Lisa??? The fucking forehead lean???? I am too goddamn gay for this to be on my screen. How did we get a month into this relationship and already reach 8 kiss scenes? 10/10 thanks Coronation Street for the gay rights.

9. "Please don't leave me here." (1st January 2025)

The fact that Lisa could walk away from Carla in this moment is frankly mind-blowing; her face is the same colour as Betsy's shirt. Lisa, woman, OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES. Someone said Carla looks like she died 3 hours ago and they're not wrong. 3/10 because I'm a sucker for the domestic nature of this but also I want to punch everyone in the face for not protecting our sick baby. Gold star for the Corrie makeup department and their highlighter collection.

10. "Are we okay?" (8th January 2025)

Lisa Swain's affectionate eye roll immediately after Bobby interrupted them is like 1/1000th of how we all really felt. She lingered on this kiss for so long. The hand coming up to cup Carla's head? The forehead lean again? Carla's little smile when she realized what was about to happen? Give these ladies a room that isn't in hospital or full of their children. 9/10 we're watching f/f hurt/comfort fanfiction live on ITV.

11. Comforting Hand (9th January 2025)

We're deep in the trenches of this hurt/comfort storyline now, kids. I hope Lisa plans on sitting vigil at Carla's bedside for the rest of their damn lives (yes I'm wearing my clown makeup while I watch this soap). 4/10 because my self-deprecating baby pulled away from the love and support she deserves.

12. Good Luck (13th January 2025)

As far as kisses go, this barely passes the test, but THEY ARE FAMILY. Carla, proper bricking it. Betsy, also bricking it. Good thing Lisa Swain swooped in to wish her wife girlfriend good luck with the most vanilla cheek peck known to man. Someone get them a room and a dialysis machine whirring to drown out all their kids, stat! 5/10 cause I respect the domesticity.

13. "We'll make it happen either way." (17th January 2025)

At the precise moment that Carla Connor's head settled in against Lisa Swain's shoulder and her eyes closed and she smiled that little smile while Lisa declared them a 'we', my heart officially stopped beating and I passed away. Rating this soft head kiss an 8/10 from the grave because (whatever entity you believe is on the other side) agreed with me: that's the Connor-Swain family!

14. "I'm not scared. I'm not." (20th January 2025)

Carla Connor is absolutely not scared. And she absolutely did not inch forward slightly so that Lisa could be the one to decide to hold her and make her feel safe. Absolutely none of that happened. I'm going to forever be soft about all these forehead kisses and collapsing-into-each-other hugs. Rating this a 9/10 for the utter loving, vulnerability of it all. Now, go make sweet love about it!

15. "Ugh, in my dreams." (5th February 2025)

DOMESTICITY ERA IS A GO. They greet each other with kisses, y'all. We're really in it now... we've made it! Coronation Street said have all the vanilla lip pecks you desire, cause they live together. 7/10 Because all I'm really thinking about is them staying up all night in the glow of the dialysis machine making sweet love.

16. "...the best possible future I could imagine." (5th February 2025)

Lisa Swain: Certified Softy said I'm gonna stick by you so hard, Carla Connor. Through sickness and in lunch break. I'm obsessed with how committed she gets to these hand and forehead kisses; how long she hovers on the moment, making eye contact, making sure Carla knows what she means. 8/10 This is what love looks like.

17. "Just introducing myself." (10th February 2025)

Listen, I know y'all went feral for this show of dominance kiss (and it was really such a dyke power move), but this had literally nothing to do with Carla and everything to do with Lisa and Rob's dick-measuring contest. Carla didn't even close her eyes. Do we know if she consents to public displays of affection in front of her estranged, murdering little brother and his prison guard? Grab your pitchforks cause I'm giving this a 2/10

18. "...I want him fit enough for the transplant." (10th February 2025)

Lisa really said, "I know who your brother is now, but I'm still soft for you," and we respect her for that. Even if Carla in this moment thinks she literally doesn't care. Can you hear the cogs turning in her head, Carla? Let a woman scheme. Rating this a 5/10 cause she's got a Carla-shaped space in her arms and I'm mush about it even when they're too focused on kidney transplants to kiss sloppy-style.

19. "Oh, I love you. Thank you." (12th February 2025)

A barely audible "I love you"?!?!?! I nearly didn't believe it myself. But if anything warrants such a declaration, it's Lisa running Carla a bath. This whole scene was so domestic and life-partner-coded that I could implode just thinking about it. 7/10 cause there's hands and whispering and that's like gay kryptonite.

20. "You're gonna be here when I get back..." (14th February 2025)

The arm grab. The reciprocal I love yous. The fact that they're STARING INTO EACH OTHER'S EYES AS THEY KISS. Listen, I am a weak woman and this kiss nearly took me out. Not that unlike how Mandy took Carla out of the hospital like 24 hours later. 8/10 cause I'm about ready to propose on their behalves.

21. "You tryna get away without a little kissy?" (12th March 2025)

Carla Connor certified fucking loser when it comes to Lisa Swain. Honestly, she could've said anything and that's really what she chose. But then she yanked Lisa to her by the neck and hummed through the entire thing and I very momentarily stopped dreaming about the day they'll kiss like it's November 2024 again. 8/10

22. "We can't keep around Betsy 24/7, lovey, can we?" (17 March 2025)

The pat on Lisa’s head moments before this kiss occurs will live rent-free in my mind for all eternity. Carla Connor said, “down, girl.” I’m just over here thinking about the weeks of Lisa comforting Carla with head and hand kisses and how Carla is now returning the favour. It’s about balance, folks. 7/10 for the sheer number of places they’re physically connected in this scene.

23. "Well, that's your department, missus." (17 March 2025)

Lisa Swain popped like a damn balloon with one touch from Carla Connor. You know when you’re cuddling with someone you love and you’re suddenly so exhausted because you’re so at peace? That’s this moment to me - even if Lisa’s brain is still positively swirling with stress and Carla’s is run rampant with guilt. They’re safe together and that makes this kiss pure. 6/10 for the way Lisa’s eyes close and her little smile appears.

24. "I shot my own daughter." (26 March 2025)

Thank goodness for this camera and this lens, but fuck this angle. How am I supposed to dissect kisses for ratings when I can’t even see them, Corrie?!?!? Carla’s first response to Lisa’s confession being to pull her closer makes me feel so many things all at once. They really said they’re a team, y’all. 3/10 cause I’m not heartless, I just want some words with the director and DP and editor of this episode.

25. "Tantrums and hormonal breakdowns?" (28 March 2025)

It’s so gay of them to have lasted all of 12 hours in a fight before they were collapsing into each others’ arms, crying and professing their love. I’d like the look of relief and exhaustion and peace on Lisa’s face in this moment tattooed on the inside of my eyelids so I can look at it while I try to sleep. 7/10 cause I need all of their scenes shot Big Brother style for my sanity.

26. "...we can get through anything." (28 March 2025)

There’s a vine somewhere that makes the exact squeeeeing noise that’s been playing on loop in my head since the moment this kiss aired. The fucking sound of them kissing! The eyelashes, the tears, the l o o k i n g. The SNIFFLE. 9/10 I never expect to be as gay as I am about them, and then moments like this occur and a god damn pride flag pops out of my mouth.

27. "Come 'ere." (28 March 2025)

Thank GOD Alison King is a soap queen who knows how to work those camera angles for her own coverage. I’m sick with the Sappho from the way Lisa looks up at Carla as she is pulled into this kiss/hug combo. They’re so everything I could literally die. Bury me beneath the cobbles, Corrie; I’m here until the end of this couple. 8/10

[medowlarken]

now that i've finished the game and have had time to digest, i can't stop thinking about Maelle's act 1 and 2 dialogue lines that i had initially thought were just odd, but now make me go insane

full game spoilers under the cut!

i specifically mean her comments about the gestrals. she's the only character who blatantly comments on their intelligence (or lack of) and she does so on multiple occasions. they attacked us not caring that we're not nevrons? what do you expect, they're gestrals. Gustave shouldn't bother apologizing to that one guard he yelled at; it's a gestral, it'll forget the whole thing in a minute anyway. she even comments on Monoco, arguably the most 'human' of the gestrals after he fails at his wannabe suave introduction ('i guess he really is a gestral after all').

of course it's not serious--they're more jokey little snipes here and there when one of them does or says something silly. and the gestrals are supposed to be comedic relief created by a young boy, hence their childishness. but when i first heard those lines, i couldn't help but think it was a little...odd. they stuck with me, made me go 'huh' every time she said them. they're passive, almost unthinking condescending little comments that, while not malicious, show that Maelle doesn't really consider the gestrals to be on the same "level" as the humans. they're dumb little sillies who like to fight and that's about it. and maybe all the expeditioners feel that way, but the thing is, she's the only character that says so out loud. not even type A scientific brainiac Lune ever implies she thinks of gestrals as lesser. it's only Maelle and she does so more than once.

to me, this was the very subtle first instance of Paintress Alicia poking through the Maelle paint shell. how Painters feel about the inhabitants of their Canvases seems to vary, but it's def not as equals. how could they? they're literally gods. the humans in the Canvas were only created to populate Aline's fantasy city and her care for them stops there; Clea straight up does not gaf and uses them as tools; we don't ever see og Verso's pov, but seeing as how Monoco and Esquie are based on his dog and childhood toy, it's not very hard to guess. after Maelle/Alicia regains her memories, i was fully expecting for the sentience of the Canvas' inhabitants to be a talking point, especially when arguing with Renoir about why they should preserve it. like, the humans and non-humans living there are alive. destroying the Canvas would be murder, right? that's how Maelle/Alicia should feel, and that should be her main motivation, right? right???

except she doesn't. in all her arguments with Renoir she only ever talks about how they need to preserve the last sliver of Verso's soul residing in the Canvas. about how it's her home, how much she needs it to exist to be happy. it's kind of about her brother, but it's mostly about her. not once does she say "you can't kill my friends because they're people who don't deserve to die because of our family drama". the only time she brings it up is in her fight with Verso, and even then it comes off more of an attempt at (well-meaning) manipulation. because after she realizes what she is and the power she has, i don't think they're fully people to her anymore. not really; not in the way that her and her family of Painter gods are. it's like the gestrals in acts 1 and 2. this is painfully apparent when she talks about Verso in front of painted Verso--not once does she acknowledge his agency. she insists that Verso would want his Canvas to live on despite his literal painted clone repeatedly trying to kill himself and everyone else. she talks about him like he isn't there, because obviously she would know better than he would. she's the original's sister. the Paintress. they're hers and she needs them.

ironically, the only Painter who really shows respect for the personhood of the inhabitants is Renoir. he apologizes to painted Verso for his fucked up existence and listens to Lune and Sciel when they speak to him directly. he acknowledges Sciel's grief for her husband and unborn child. that doesn't mean he won't erase them all because ultimately his family comes first, but it's still more respectful than any of the other Painters. he also agrees that destroying the Canvas is the best course of action for everyone. the Canvas is broken beyond repair: it's been twisted by his wife's grief, his eldest daughter's anger, and now his youngest daughter's obsession. and the inhabitants caught in the middle will never be able to do anything but suffer through the consequences; they've actually done nothing but suffer in the humans' case, since they were never supposed to be a part of Verso's world in the first place. they only exist to play make-believe with Aline, and now she's gone and their world's creator is dead. to Renoir, destroying them is the same as saving them, and being the benevolent god his family can't or won't be ('strange to offer oblivion as recompense').

that isn't to say that Maelle doesn't love her friends, because she does with all her heart. but they aren't the reason she wants to preserve the Canvas. and you can love someone and still not necessarily respect them. after act 2, she doesn't mention Gustave once, and it's not because she's accepted his death. it's the opposite. death is meaningless now that she can reverse it for everyone. as their goddess/daughter/sister/friend, they will never be on the same level as her, and her need to protect herself from grief and pain means that in the painted ending, she probably will ultimately break her promises. she will never let Verso go. no one will ever die or get sick or change in ways that she doesn't like; they'll stay exactly as she needs them to be, for ever and ever because who is going to stop her? in the painted ending, it doesn't seem like anyone knows the truth of what's happened besides her, Lune, Sciel, and Verso. maybe Gustave would say something, but it looks like he's too busy being happy with Sophie (as he should be; Maelle made sure of it).

another line that stuck with me was when they enter the forgotten battlefield and she says "i don't want to see that [death] anymore". not, "i don't want anyone else to die", or "i want the deaths to end". she doesn't want to see it. what i thought was just odd phrasing now makes me crazy over the implications, and the foreshadowing for her painted life ending. because in that ending, she doesn't have to see anymore death because she removes it completely, whether the inhabitants like it or not. it's very those who walk away from omelas, with Verso and og Verso's soul suffering for the sake of Maelle's utopia. it also runs against the whole 'for those who comes after; when one falls, we move forward' mantra, because there is no more moving forward. everything and everyone stays perfectly preserved and stagnant.

of course, that's until she ultimately dies from Canvas exposure and either Renoir or Clea just nuke the damn thing. or maybe the whole cycle just starts over again. horrific either way.

anyway this was long and rambly but basically i love Maelle and her fucked up family of artist gods and i'm so glad the devs didn't pussyfoot around with a neutered, feelgood ending. tragedies should be tragic and the fact that the two choices you get are both fucked despite one of them being lowkey the 'good' ending is based and i love it

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 4.5

Propaganda

Buddy Aurinko (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) (Boba Count: 3):

Buddy is a queer woman who dedicated half her life waiting for her GIRLFRIEND who is now her WIFE. She's headstrong and valiant and dedicated to her craft (space piracy). She's literally so cool and deserves to win. Thank u

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats) (Boba Count: 1):

EVERYONE VOTE ANTIGONE FUNN PLS

I'm voting for Antigone not because she's sexier (she is) but because she needs at least One Win in her life. #girl failure solidarity

1. she is very sexy. We know she's deathly pale, she's described as transparent more than once as well as green and blue-skinned, she's 35~38 depending on what season you're listening to. She's allergic to like everything.

Her hair is canonically always a mess and she uses it to hold on to bones and things she's gonna need later. She wears the same dress every day (it has a hole in it)

She's one with the shadows and can blend in with her surroundings to a supernatural degree.

2. She is rough and socially inept and artistic and the most passionate person you can imagine. She puts her heart and soul into her work as a mortician, SHE CREATES PERSONALIZED EMBALMING FLUIDS TO MAKE THE CORPSES SMELL NICE and she WILL tell you about it.

She is somehow always angry or flustered about something and she will pull victorian era phrases you cannot imagine. She's been saying Christ Alive since before it was cool.

3. SHE LOVES SEXY THINGS!! she is the most fitting for this tournament cause she's the queen of learning to accept her desires!! She loves old french films and their weirdly shot sex scenes, she's canonically really good at writing erotica and likes to read it too. There's a whole episode dedicated to her conquering her fears and appearing on a naked calendar. Also we hear glimpses of her fantasies and she wants to tie up and dom the guy she likes so there's that too I guess.

She spent 17 years locked in her mortuary cause she was sad. SHE WANTED TO BECOME A CLOWN AS A KID. She is everything to me and I love juno very much but she is sexier and deserves to be known that way. VOTE ANTIGONE

Art of Buddy Aurinko courtesy of @junonomenon.

Art of Antigone Funn with thanks to @acornzest.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Buddy Aurinko (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel):

Space pirate MILF with flowy red hair and charm for days

#Buddy it's half of one of my favorite lesbian couples

#buddy buddy buddy

#BUDDY

#milfcity population HER

#miss buddy aurinko please take me out for ice cream please ma'am

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

BUDDY, MY SPACE PIRATE QUEEN

YEAHHHHHHH BUDDY!!!!!

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats):

Amazing character arc/growth; shadows follow her around; afraid of the sun; methanol is her drink of choice; is often told “I thought you were dead” despite a complete lack of evidence other than her deathly paleness; the morgue is her personal sanctuary; absolutely hilarious character; demanded to be co-owner of Funn Funerals with her brother rather than allowing him to continue running the business alone;(spoiler) decided NOT to get with her frenemy who she had been doing a will-they-won’t-they thing with the entire series!; writes smut in her free time

#antigone!!!!!!!!! #i just need one chance with her #she's perfect

#antigone!!!!!

*Cracks knuckles* Team Antigone is back and ready to do some damage. #antigone sweep year 2

#YEAR TWOOO

#Antigone sweep #!!!!

#thrilled to participate as always

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

VOTE FOR ANTIGONE!!!

What on earth could possibly be sexier than being presumed dead by the village she lives in at large. She genuinely cares about funerals as an art form, she puts so much care into her work. Possibly bisexual if that helps. Ghost wrote a wildly popular erotic novel with the help of village’s reverend. Come on just please vote for Antigone I’m so very sleepy and I can’t think of more reasons but I promise they’re there

[growling]

*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

[evilminji]

OKAY, FIRST? Like the Picture Says...

So!

Here I was, sittin', thinkin', pondering my thoughts. Thing to myself? "How could one? Presumably female, much like myself, Jedi repopul-" and THAT is when my brain, worn and weary, from years of The Internet? SLAMMED its fucking pint down on the bar counter, turned to me with an ugly scowl and sneered?

"You KNOW fucking how. Don't be coy."

( O.O) w-well alright then, brain. Little aggressive. Kinda wondering where you got the knife. I... I'ma just... go... *pint glass is thrown after me, shattering on the door as it just barely misses*

So! Yeah. Birth, probably. But STILL! That's like? Still ONE(1) fuckin Jedi right? And even IF Mr. "I am literally half midi-chlorians by blood" sired two Force Sensitives on his first go? That's no guarantee EVERYONE does?

Unless..... >.> we are taking into account a Force Sensitive RACE. THEN? Oh, THEN? It's not a matter of IF, but HOW MUCH. Enough to hit that arbitrary cut off point? What if you don't care? What if you say "everybody can be a Jedi"? Want to TRUELY spread the Light. Not just to those who are STRONG enough... but to EVERYONE.

There are a few races like that! But! That STILL? Doesn't solve the Puzzle! The Problem! Of how could One(1) VERY determined Jedi lady, who? Presumably is pretty cool with motherhood. Rebuild The Jedi Order, by NOPING™ out before Order 66.

Again, presumably AFTER taking on the role of Creche Master. And AFTER taking all the youngling on a Super Fun Unplanned Don't Tell The Other Grown Ups Suprise Feild Trip~☆ (yaaaaay!)(who wants snacks! Everybody got their travel bags and buddies? Let's gooooo~☆!)

Cause like? Still need a stable population. And enough Jedi to *obscene gestures multiculturally* at the Sith.

My? Proposal? We turn to the Wisdom of the Monster Fuckers. (Wait wait WAIT! Don't leave! HEAR ME OUT!) I KNOW this sounds like a sex thing! Not a sex thing! It's a "Who said Humanoid Meant Live Birth? Were fucking Aliens, Bro" thing! Just because? Our SI-OC? Was reborn AS a vaguely human shaped sentient?

DOESNT MEAN SHE'S A MAMMAL.

That weird hair color could mark her as some WEIRD, man! Fuck, for all we know she could be a fungus! It's vaguely body horror! You get over it! Adapt to new biology!

Learn?? You lay CLUTCHS. Fuckin EGGS. All baby making is external after the first bit. Something, something, easier to defend against predators. SI-OC doesn't remember that part. There was this high pitched ringing in her head then a thump. She was on the floor. May have fainted. What're you, a cop?

They offer her weird alien birth control.

She takes the birth control.

Learns she is a Rare and Near Extinct Species, a la Master Mundi. Learns it's VERY detrimental to her health to lay clutches. Takes a lot of resources, she can't LEAVE it, so with out a partner or community (or sufficient hoard of food) she WILL starve to death. It HAS happened.

No, seriously, look Mafame Che in the eyes. It HAS happened. And no you CAN'T "push your impulses into the Force". It's a biological imperative. Your body physically won't LET you.

Exactly three options. Babies born, they die, or YOU DIE.

......little intense. Got it. Yes she would like that birth control. She will continue to be both average and forgettable. Pay no attention to the Jedi Creche Master In Training! Oh look! It's kenobi! *yeets fellow jedi under the speeder*

Take some.... research trips >.> <.< >.> which is of course totally not scouting out new Temple locations! To the Wild Zone. Mmmmm, no one for WEEKS by hyperdrive! It's so calm out here!

Only took, like, 278 different planets scouted! To find the right one.

*starts building dwellings.* *starts directing "too old" Force Sensitives or Families that want to stay together and are willing to move, towards the location.*

New secret Jedi planet? Whaaaaat? Nooooooo. That would be illegal. Jedi can't break RULES! Don't be silly. Oh? Is that Skywalker? *same Speeder, new jedi. YEET!*

But WAIT! The War Approachth! D:> upsetting. Better get ready to give that "we totally need to Hide The Babies For War Reasons" presentation she has prepared. But FIRST?

A clutch. Got a transport pod ready to go. Got food stockpiled. Got the birth control out. Now? Just need a male! Too uh... contribute.

.......look, she wants her legion of tiny jedi babies okay? They glow like STARS. Everything is BETTER with them around. And she's kinda come around to this whole... disgusting slime... goo... Thing™. Cause I mean? At LEAST it's not pushing one OUT! ( o7 Padme, you have her respect. But also you are a madwoman.)

The Healers, are of course, FROTHING at the mouth.

YOU DUMB MOTHER FUCKER. They hiss, like healing and very concerned paragons of needle weilding fury. Where the FUCK are you going to just? GET?? A male of you INCREDIBLY RARE AS FUCK Species? You damn near dead and no longer existent species??!? You have DELIBERATELY put yourself in EXTREME medical distress! For WHAT?! Did you HAVE a plan!?

Yeah. :3 I call it Pulling a Yoda's Linage *Yoda ears move from Concern, to Intrigued*

*click*

..........what was that. Jedi SI-OC, What Was That?? *comms start blowing up* What did you just DO?

Oh :3c simple. She asked. It's the only polite thing to DO after all. She DOES need assistance. Surely someone would be willing to offer. If they can. How? You may ask?? Why look so CONCERNED Councilors! She simply assumed, that? Since there is no way of KNOWING where in the Galaxy surviving members of her Race are? And time IS of the essence? She SHOULD reach as wide an audience as she can, as FAST as she can... RIGHT?

>:3c so, of course, she posted her request to the Holonet.

Video and all.

"Grettings, I am Jedi SI-OC. I am an [race] and currently a Creche Master here at the Jedi Temple of Coruscant. I require the assistance of a healthy, willing Male of my species, as I have laid a clutch. And wish to have it fertilized. I would like to have children. We would, of course, discuss co parenting the children before beginning. I have, attached, further details. Thank you for your time. May the Force be with you"

Sexiest shit a LOT of people for egg laying races have seen in years. Well... those with Very Specific Jedi Kinks. Of course, no one ADMITS to jedi kinks. But like... you've thought about it. Don't lie. Everyone's thought about it. It's them and the Mandalorians.*commiserating noises*

But like? The NEWS CYCLE.

Holy SHIT.

Yeah, yeah, tensions and possible succession from the Republic. Sith plots in the background. But? *new casters violently clear their planned segments for THIS* JEDI? Horny on main!? Is THIS ALLOWED? IS this horny? What race is that? C-can other people volunteer? And if so, who? We take to the streets! Sir, what's your opinion on-?

OUTTA MY WAY, I'MMA BANG A JEDI! *frenzied mob like behavior*

*temple guards, unnamused.* back! BACK! Horny jail! For ALL OF YOU!

Just?? It's? So, SO? Important to me? That their are Mandalorian [race] that show up. Because the need to repopulate their people is more important then *scrunch nose* Jedi(ew). That it becomes the Galaxy's hottest Bachelorette show. WHO? Amongst these Fine And Acomplished Men? Will the Jedi CHOOSE? To have babies with! They ask.

And, presumably, marry and learn the power of family and friendship and emotions and be HEALED by LOVE etc etc.

There are shipping charts. It's horrifying. The talk shows LOVE it.

Council? Day drinking. Except for Mundi. He's just like "....but did you HAVE to you they Holonet? It's so MESSY >:/ everyone's in our BUSINESS now." Cause he's not a hypocrite. Grumpy asshole? Absolutely. But not a hypocrite.

Just? The single most "....who?" Jedi ever. Causing the BIGGEST fuss. Right at the worst possible moment, for Sidious. Causing an explosion of glee and hope and laughter etc, all across the Galaxy. Good feeling towards the Jedi. EVERYBODY talking about them. There's gonna be HUNDREDS more!

If she does this AGAIN (in a decade. Madame Che was NOT joking on the stress it puts on the body) there could be thousands new Jedi over the coming years! (Probably why the Sith fuckin wiped them OUT, not that she thinks about it. Fuckers. Who's laughing NOW?! Huh? WHO LAUGHING NOW?!)

Again! Very, unspeakably Ace. Not a sex thing. I just think I'd be funny? That the Forces answer to The Evil Sith plan was... Babies™.

What are we? Fuckin YODA?

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @hypewinter @mayfay

[embrosegraves]

𝕊𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕔𝕖 𝔸𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥

(request) Kimi Räikkönen x Fem!Reader Kimi only allowed one person to truly know him. You.

Warnings: a bit of cussing, poorly google translated Finnish, and extremely brief research of cities in Finland. Briefly edited.

Kimi famously never allowed his emotions to be on open display for the people around him. He never let people see behind his frosty facade. He never let people get close enough for them to figure him out. He always kept everyone at a distance so there was no possible way for anyone to truly know the type of man he was. Excluding his parents, there was only one exception to all of it.  

You. 

Kimi never intended to bump into anyone on his break between seasons. He had chosen Pori specifically because he knew that no one he worked with knew enough about Finland to know where Pori was. None of his colleagues knew that Pori was roughly a 3 hour drive north west of his home town. With a population of 83 thousand compared to Espoo’s 310 thousand, it wasn’t an extremely well known place. 

Kimi supposed he shouldn’t’ve been so surprised when he bumped into you, causing your coffee to spill everywhere. But he couldn’t help it. He never would’ve expected to literally bump into someone he worked with. 

“Katsu se!” You exclaimed. Too busy trying to wipe off the spilt coffee before it could stain your coat too badly. [Watch it!]

“L/n?” 

Of course you knew who it was, how could you not? It wasn’t like you spent a majority of the year around him, battling it out every weekend for top spot on the podium. 

“What Räikkönen? Didn’t expect to see me over break?” You finally looked up and made eye contact with the Finn. 

“Why are you in Finland?” 

“Am I not allowed to go home during winter break?” This had stunned Kimi more than bumping into you. 

“Home?” 

Your annoyance had disappeared a while ago, the whole situation was too amusing for you to be truly annoyed. “Räikkönen, just because I race under a different flag doesn’t mean I’m not associated with another country. I was born in Pori, spent 14 years here before moving overseas.” 

After that the rest was history. You ended up spending more and more of your winter break around Kimi. So much time that the Finn found himself opening up more and more around you. At first he had been the same cold, closed off Kimi that you were used to, but soon enough his metaphorical ice walls began to melt around you. He learnt that your mother had been born in Finland and had met your father while on holiday. You told him that your father had moved to Finland to be with your mother and that you always spent winter break in Pori. You travelled so much for the rest of the year you found there was no point travelling between seasons. 

Throughout your time together, Kimi found himself telling you things he had only ever told his parents. He told you how he had wanted to eventually settle down and start a family. He told you that he truly did believe that Formula 1 was a hobby, that it wasn’t just something he said for the cameras. He told you that sometimes, in the privacy of his own home, he often thought about his imaginary daughters running around and filling his house with giggles and bright smiles. 

Eventually, the winter break would come to an end, and you would both have to go back to the rush of racing every weekend. About a week before preseason testing, you had been hanging out with Kimi in your living room. Talking about everything you had done so far in your careers. Kimi had smiled when you started to laugh at the story he had just finished telling. 

Watching you laugh at something he said had him feeling almost giddy with nerves. He had never felt this way with a woman before. Not one to let an opportunity slip by, he spoke up softly. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes Kimi?” You responded, trying your best to calm down from laughing.

“Let me take you on a date.” 

“Kimi- what?” 

“I want to take you on a date. These last months have let me understand that everything I want in life, I want them to be with you.” He said. Taking your hand in his, he spoke with a sincerity you had never seen or heard in a man before. “Let me take you on a date and show you.” 

Your free hand had covered your mouth as he spoke. A month ago, when you realised what your own feelings for him were, you had become determined to never mention them. There was no way The Iceman of all people would feel the same about you. Yet here he was. Sitting on your couch and asking you to go on a date with him. 

“Yes.” 

Kimi gave you a smile that had become less and less rare the more you spent time with him. 

“Thank you.” 

It had been three years since then. In that time you had gone on dates in every country you had travelled to. You both celebrated every win and comforted every loss. Two years into dating, Kimi had asked you to move in and marry him and during the mid-year break, surrounded by both your immediate families, you had become Y/n Räikkönen. Kimi hadn’t cared about telling the other drivers or the media, and you had agreed saying that it would be far funnier if they found out on their own. So nothing had changed in your public routines. In your head you thought the funniest part of it all would be that no one on the grid knew you had even started dating each other. 

Neither of you had gone out of your way to avoid the other, in fact the other drivers often saw you both hanging around each other. Nobody had any inkling that You and Kimi were together as more than friends. Many gossip sources chalked it up to the two “outcasts” of the grid hanging out and left it at that. So it was a surprise to everyone when some fans had pointed out on social media that your signature had changed from your race number and maiden name to Räikkönen. 

Jensen and Fernando, being constantly online, had dragged Sebastian to immediately start searching for the Finn. What they had found was more surprising than your change of signature. Opening the door to Kimi’s drivers room, the three of them saw you sitting on the couch with Kimi lounging on your lap, asleep. You had one hand running through his hair as he slept while the other was scrolling on your phone. Looking up as the door opened, you smiled when you saw who it was. 

“Hello boys. Anything I can help you with?” You asked. Fernando was too shocked to say anything and Jensen had just started stuttering out incoherent sounds, so it was up to Sebastian. 

“There are fans saying that your signature has changed.” 

You huffed a gentle laugh, trying not to disturb your husband from his rest. “That’s because it has.” 

“But why?” Jensen had managed to get his English under control enough to start actually speaking. 

“Why’d you think it would change Jense?” You were having too much fun with this. 

“But you have never shown any interest in Kimi. And Kimi doesn’t show interest in anything, so when?” It was Fernando’s turn to get over his shock. “How long have you been married? Why did we not know?” 

By now Kimi was definitely awake, though he made no show of it. You could feel Kimi’s hand that was resting between you and the couch back start to gently stroke your thigh. You knew he was also amused. 

“I wasn’t aware I needed to tell you who I was interested in. If I’d known I would’ve told you three years ago.” 

“Three years!?” The three of them cried. 

Eyes still closed, Kimi mumbled to you. “Käske heitä naimaan. Nukun.” [Tell them to fuck off. I’m sleeping.]

“Luulen, että olet levännyt tarpeeksi, rakkaani.” You replied laughing. All Kimi did was groan. [I think you’ve rested enough, my love.] 

“If you wake up properly, I’ll give you a kiss.” 

Opening his eyes, Kimi briefly glanced at the three flabbergasted men still in his driver's room, before looking directly at you. “Teet kovaa kauppaa, vaimo.” [You drive a hard bargain, wife.] 

He sat up nonetheless and moved so you could place your legs over his lap. He looked at the others and spoke. “What else did you want to blubber about?” 

 Kimi was aware that he had a resting bitch face, and most times he didn’t mean to glare at people, but the three men in front of you had clearly been terrified of what Kimi might do if they stayed, so they quickly made their way out of the room. 

“I told you they would find out from the fans.” You laughed. A smile broke out on Kimi’s face. 

“I really thought they were smart enough to figure it out themselves.” 

“Sebastian I could understand, but we’re talking about Jensen and Fernando here, my love. They were never going to figure it out on their own.” 

“That’s true.” Kimi shifted you closer to him, so that you were sitting on his lap facing him. “I believe I was promised a kiss, Wife.” 

“How could I ever deny you, Husband?” You whispered, leaning in close and gently placing your lips to his. His hand moved to the back of your neck to pull you closer and deepen the kiss. Both of you aware of the three drivers that had yet to move from the other side of Kimi’s door. 

It wasn’t your fault if they saw something they shouldn’t’ve.

Okay, time got away from me for a bit but here it is!

I hope you all enjoyed!

Likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[dippedinmelancholy]

Something so like, underhandedly toxic and incredibly insane to me is Feyre’s view on how family is supposed to work, even after she has escaped poverty, is the richest woman in the Night Court, literally the top 1% in all of the world.

She’s begins ACOTAR in the traditional male/father role for her family because her father is literally a piece of shit who can’t be bothered to care for his children at all. She believes she’s the only one doing any real work because she is doing the bulk of labor that brings in any money, determines how much money anyone in her family gets, and makes the choices of who her sisters are allowed to marry, despite them all being adults at the beginning of ACOTAR. While objectively annoying, you can understand how she is in this role and why she feels the way she does. When you’re in poverty and that run down, it can feel like you’re doing everything by yourself.

Yet, she goes through the entire series, supposedly grows (I don’t see it but I will let that go for now) and heals. Flash forward to ACOSF.

Among the many stupid reasons Feyre is upset about Nesta, she’s upset that Nesta doesn’t want to LIVE WITH HER. That Nesta didn’t choose to help decorate the room Feyre has plucked out in her new shiny mansion for Nesta. Upset that Nesta doesn’t want to be deeply involved with the Inner Circle. Upset that Nesta wants to celebrate Feyre’s birthday away from the IC for a small dinner with just her sisters.

Feyre firmly expects her sisters to keep living with her because, ope, she’s still in charge and gets to say what they can or cannot do with their lives. She puts the stamp of approval on Elain gardening, so Elain gets to do it. Elain stays close to the wraiths and lives with Feyre, so Elain is safe. But anything Feyre doesn’t approve of as a life choice, her sisters daring to live apart from her? That is insulting and cruel in the eyes of Feyre, and therefore Rhysand.

The only way Feyre lets them/is happy with them living apart from her is when they marry someone of her approval. And even then, Rhysand and Co show up in the House of Wind whenever the fuck they want. All of the security in place is directly under Rhysand’s control. It still gets used whenever the IC uses it. An entire population of abused, broken, and deeply religious women live in the library under the house. There is absolutely no privacy.

Is it objectively decent that there is a place for abused women (priestesses alone though) to be safe and heal and find companionship? Yes. Does Nesta support this? Yes. Should NESTA HAVE HER OWN HOME WITH PRIVACY WHERE SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT PEOPLE LIVING UNDER HER????? YES. SHOULD NESTA BE ABLE TO LOCK HER DOORS AND TELL RHYSAND TO FUCK OFF BECAUSE SHE JUST NEEDS A MINUTE TO BREATHE, SHOULD SHE HAVE THE SPACE TO SAY WHO SHE WILL AND WILL NOT ALLOW IN HER HOUSE AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT REGARDLESS OF THE FUCKING REASON????? YES. SHOULD SHE BE ABLE TO LEAVE/ENTER HER OWN HOUSE WITHOUT EXTREME PHYSICAL LABOR OR RELYING ON PEOPLE THAT COULD MAKE HER HOMELESS WITH A SIMLE PETTY THOUGHT? YESYESYESYESYES.

This is literally insane on Feyre’s part. This is not how adults work. Your sisters are not children and you are not their parent. They absolutely have the right to live wherever they like. Adults, especially adults who come from extreme poverty and abusive backgrounds, need their own space, a home of their own that they can control and be safe in, not a single fucking room like some divorced dad who only sees his kids twice a month gives. I don’t care how you treat your family, if you’re the cuntiest, more horrible person that ever existed, you still deserve a home of your own where you are safe and can control who you see and when. Why are you designating rooms for them in your house and expecting them to live there? Why can you not let go of this need to control their lives? There’s this weird idea in ACOTAR that because the IC is so close, they all need rooms in Feysand’s house(s). There’s mention of secret houses or manors that the IC uses/possesses, but why the hell don’t they have normal homes of their own???? Where they live??????

I’m sorry but this is insane, abusive, controlling behavior from Feyre, I don’t care how sweetly you paint it. It’s giving Mother Gothel. Your sisters are adults, let them live their own lives, stop expecting them to live with you until they need privacy to fuck the person you approve of them fucking. Rhysand and Feyre are the same in their need to control the lives of the people they claim to care about, wanting personal freedom while stripping it away from others, all the while presenting them “choices” that are all just fucked up loses of self and control.

It is very telling that cutting Nesta off from their personal funds was never an option. There was never an attempt to let her find her own way, to find a job that brought her joy or a life she controlled. In truth, neither Feyre or Rhysand care about the money. 500 gold pieces isn’t anything to the man who doesn’t care about a budget, who buys endless jewels for a tiny monster. It was always, live where we can control you, access you, and watch you at all given times. Oh thanks for saving our lives, here, you can stay in the prison where we can do all of those things forever! It’s a gift. From us. To us. Aren’t you happy and healed?

Please. Someone teach Feyre how adult relationships work.

No matter how far Feyre has come, she has yet to understand that sometimes people make choices you do not like at all, but that you, as a person who claims to care about them, need to accept and understand they’re working their way through life, even if you do not understand or agree with it. Controlling every aspect of someone’s life will NEVER be good for them.

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 2: Needles

Criminal Minds : Multishot

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 7522

Warnings: set around season 3/4 {aka 2008}, slow burn, friends to lovers, pining on Reid’s part, phobia of needles, PTSD, usual criminal minds level of violence and creepy unsubs, blood and torture, mentions of serial killers and the sick things they do, panic attacks, statistics and quotes I can provide references for

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I'm DYING... writing reader and Spencer's relationship flourish is literally bringing me so much joy

Part 1: Sugared Coffee

Part 2: Needles {You Are Here}

~~~

The sun was blistering hot. It beat down on you like a heat lamp on a kernel of corn. It felt like a few degrees more and you’d explode into a piece of popcorn.

You were in the desert – you weren’t sure where. Maybe you were still in Arizona, maybe you were moved to somewhere in Nevada, or southern Utah. It could even be New Mexico, you thought.

Somewhere hot and dry.

It hurt to breathe.

Water and exposure would’ve been your first priority if it weren’t for the stabbing pains all over your body.

You were so thirsty. Sandpaper in your mouth – cracked lips and burned skin.

But the blood trickling down your sides.

You shake your head, trying to clear it. The blood… the blood was more important.

The dry earth sizzled the bottoms of your bare feet. You stood still, cooking under the sun.

You had grabbed a shirt from a pile of clothes just inside the bunker where you were being held. It must’ve belonged to a different girl before you, it was two sizes too big.

And now you were bleeding through.

You couldn’t take deep breaths. You were gasping for air.

Beneath the sweatshirt you still had your underwear. But where your bare skin was exposed you saw dozens of pinpricks. Two wounds are much larger than the others.

 Some little red dots were fresh and weeping. Others were irritated and scabbed over. Each an annoying bee sting in comparison to the larger ones given to inflict pain, but not death.

Where acupuncture and sewing needles pricked everywhere, thick surgical needles were used in nonthreatening places along your body. The soft skin of your arms and legs. The skin of your cheek. Those were the wounds still blossoming drops of blood.

You ran a few fingers across the quickly coagulating and drying dots of blood. You didn’t need to worry about those.

The one to your abdomen, the one punctured using a large knitting needle, might’ve been deep enough to hit a major organ. You tried to remember your FBI medical training.

Eyes closed, finger covering the dime sized hole to your stomach, you press on the area to test if it was rigid.

Your hand sunk down as you pushed. Good. It meant blood wasn’t filling up your abdomen.

No internal bleeding there. It was just leaking out and down your legs.

A little further up was the second more concerning wound. Made by a sharpened icepick and stuck between your ribs, drilling past cartilage and near your lungs.

That’s why it was so hard to breathe.

Later you would find out it was a pleural hemorrhage. Blood and fluid was gathering between your chest cavity and your lungs, causing your left lung to collapse.

You gasp for another breath and cover your wounds with the sweatshirt. You plug the holes with the fabric, applying what pressure you can with your fingers.

Moderating your breathing, you scope out your surroundings. It was all dry, crumbling rock mounds with brittle sagebrush and skittish lizards. You had lost track of time being held by the serial killer.

You had no idea where you were. But by where the sun was setting you knew where to head north. That was your best bet.

You had traveled to popular Arizona trails and hikes for your designated vacation from the FBI. You had only been in the field a year.

If you were still in northern Arizona, then if you kept heading that way you’d hit the nearest well-populated area in southern Utah.

And staunching your blood with the too big shirt of a girl murdered before you, you made your way north, using the sun as your guide. A few hours later you ran into some hikers and tourists, collapsing as soon as you saw them.

They called 911. You were life flighted to the nearest major hospital in St. George, Utah.

It was a day later that you awoke, rehydrated with fluids and larger wounds stitched. You were sunburned, face peeling and the soles of your feet wrapped with healing salves. The soreness of your chest told you of a reinflated lung and the itching all over your body spoke of the healing pinpricks.

Your eyes were immediately wet with tears, and you cursed them. You licked your lips, and they tasted like vaseline.

Under your breath, in a weak, graveled voice you say, “I beat you – you son of a bitch.”

“You did,” a voice responded.

You jumped, hyperaware of the fight or flight response quick in your limbs. There in the doorway was a professionally dressed man that you recognized.

Retired agent David Rossi.

He was one of your biggest supporters. After meeting you at a few of his lectures, he became an important recommendation in your mission to enter the FBI academy at the young age of 21. A prerequisite to applying was to be at least 23 years old – Rossi saw to bypass that for you.

And he never regretted it, seeing you take the field at 22 and lead by example. Frequent pasta nights at Papa Rossi’s house found the pair of you drunken with giggle inducing wine and sharing stories of your careers.

It was where you decided you wanted to join the BAU.

Rossi helped you fill your resume with preferred experience. And told you to take a break before officially submitting your application, telling you to go home to Arizona for some reprieve.

You knew he was going to be blaming himself now, “Hello.”

He walked over to your bed, “You survived.”

“Did you catch him?” you ask weakly.

He looked at you with sorrowful eyes, “No.”

You swallow, pursing your lips, “I’ll get him.”

“(Y/N)…”

“He won’t be able to stop. His profile… he’s the type that needs to finish what he started. He won’t be able to move on until he finishes it. He’s patient.” A tear falls from the corner of your eye, running down and into your hair. “He’ll wait. And when he’s ready… I will be too.”

Rossi knelt down and took your hand, tracing a thumb around the healing needle stabs between your hand bones. “We’re not going to worry about that now.” He placed a kiss to the back of your hand, “We’re going to focus on you getting better.”

“I’m going to catch him,” you say, “The bastard is going to pay for those eight girls.”

~~~

Reid paced outside the offices of Hotch and Rossi. He kept his newfound information about (Y/N) to himself until the latest case was over.

It didn’t stop him from getting scolded for how attentive and needy he was around her.

The door to Rossi’s office opened and Hotch stood there with his stern, assertive face. “Come inside.”

Reid averted his gaze and walked in quickly, “You both know.”

Rossi was at his desk, hand resting against his brow, “Why have you been digging into your coworkers personal life?”

“I was worried…” he started.

Hotch folded his arms, “That is not an appropriate enough excuse for going behind your team’s back.”

“You should’ve come to us first,” Rossi said.

“But I did!” Reid retorted quickly, “And you turned me away.”

“I told you to wait for when (Y/N) was ready to tell you.”

Hotch gestured for him to sit down, “Reid, this has been a delicate situation from the beginning and it’s something we’ve been finagling with the FBI directors. The fact is that (Y/N)’s an unpopular choice for a profiler – she’s a liability.”

There was a pause before Rossi continued, “We argued that her experiences would give her an insight the BAU could use while profiling. But the truth is, (Y/N)’s trauma and PTSD might make her unreliable in a high stress situation.”

“Meaning…” Hotch said, “You cannot be going around talking about her past. Authorities will more than likely distrust us working on cases because we have a profiler that might have a mental breakdown while working.”

“(Y/N)’s a good agent,” Reid defended, “You wouldn’t have hired her otherwise.”

“You’re right,” Hotch said, “She’s shown her capabilities in the field, combating her trauma when she feels a spiral coming on. She’s been impressive.”

Rossi clasped his hands together, leaning against his desk, “We’re giving (Y/N) a chance to put her talents and passions to use. Let’s not jeopardize that by resurfacing her serial killer to the public.”

“I knew her name sounded familiar,” Reid whispered, “I remember seeing one of your lectures where The Pincushion Killer was referenced.”

“It was a tough case,” Rossi muttered, “I couldn’t have known by insulting the killer on air he would target someone dear to me.”

Hotch cut in, “Dave, you don’t need to explain.”

“The unsub targets educated and powerful women. He gets off on overpowering them and making them submissive to him. He’s incredibly organized – spends months stalking his victims before kidnapping them and moving them to a secondary location.” Rossi rubbed hard at his face, showing his age, “He holds them for a week, pricking them with needles like a pincushion, increasing the needle size until it kills them.”

“He was in control until (Y/N),” Hotch added, “That’s when he devolved. She was his only survivor. And it’s been over a year, and he hasn’t sought out another victim.”

Reid scrunched his brow, “So you think he’s stuck on (Y/N)?”

“It will be the stalker in him,” Rossi said, “He’s obsessed with her. He won’t be able to move on until he’s finished his ritual with her.”

“She has shown she can overpower him, and it makes him feel belittled and emasculated,” Hotch confirmed, “He won’t tolerate it. He has to show he’s bigger than her.”

Reid licked his lips, “And he believes the only way to do that is by killing her?”

“I think the usage of the needles is a metaphor for the jabs women have made against him over the years,” Rossi mused, “Each needle prick is symbolic of hurtful pricks that have stung him. He wants to inflict that inner turmoil on these women as payback.”

“But (Y/N)’s safer with us, isn’t she? That’s why you recommended her to be on the team – to keep an eye on her?”

Rossi shared a look with Hotch, “I recommended her because she’s good at her job. Me coming out of retirement was more to keep an eye on her.”

“Reid,” Hotch said sternly, “You will keep this to yourself. It is an incredibly personal and traumatic part of (Y/N)’s life that doesn’t need to be openly discussed among the team.”

Reid nodded, “I understand.”

“I suggest you tell her,” Rossi said.

“She’ll be upset,” Reid said a little ashamedly.

That pulled a chuckle out of Rossi, “She’ll be more upset if she finds out you’re keeping a secret from her.”

“And she’s bound to already be suspicious,” Hotch said, pulling out his phone and scrolling through incoming messages.

Reid stood from his chair, “What do you mean?”

There might have been a hint of a smile on Hotch’s face, “After this last case with you glued to her side the whole time, antagonizing her with your constant questions of concern…”

Rossi smiled, “I’d be surprised if she doesn’t confront you today about your strange behavior.”

~~~

You were making popcorn in the kitchen – the old fashioned way. An old metal kettle sat on the stove, full of kernels and buttered oil, your hand cranking the lever to stir the pot.

The sun was blistering hot. It beat down on you like a heat lamp on a kernel of corn. It felt like a few degrees more and you’d explode into a piece of popcorn.

*pop*

You jump, the sound of the popping kernels sending you into temporary shivers.

Reid was putting the movie in the DVD player and switching the channels, “You know Silence of the Lambs is the third film to win the big five Oscars.”

You turn the stove off, “What are the big five?”

“Best picture, screenplay, director, actor, and actress.” Reid left the movie on the title screen, “The other two movies are It Happened One Night in 1934 and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in 1975.”

It might’ve been late summer, but the pair of you enjoyed scary movies even outside the Halloween season. It had been years since you’d watched The Silence of the Lambs, seeing as it was a movie about serial killers and reflecting more than one aspect of your life.

“You know, you would think we’d watch something that wouldn’t remind us of our job,” you say with a smile, salting the bowl of popcorn. “We should be taking a break and watching like Princess Bride or something.”

“Princess Bride?” Reid asked, watching you take a spot on your side of the couch. He grabbed your favorite blanket, choosing to sit closer to you then he normally would.

You stared at him with a gasp, “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen The Princess Bride?”

Reid shrugged his shoulders, shaking out the blanket and draping it over your lap, “I grew up reading textbooks and having classical literature read aloud to me. I didn’t realize it was so popular.”

“What are we doing watching a serial killer movie?” you laugh, sitting crisscross and putting the popcorn bowl in your lap, “You haven’t seen the best fantasy romance movie of all time!”

Reid couldn’t respond right away. When you bowed your legs to sit crisscross, you rested your knee against his leg.

You took it as him disagreeing with your statement, “Okay, how about we watch Silence of the Lambs tonight and then next week we watch Princess Bride?”

He was trying to hold back a smile, “We might as well make it a weekly tradition.” He was staring at your knee, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“Alright,” you said, eating a handful of popcorn. “Weekly movie nights.”

His eyes flew to meet yours, sudden excitement bubbling up, “We could watch all the old Doctor Who series.”

You laugh, tossing a piece of popcorn at his nose, “That’s a tv show – we just agreed to watch movies.”

“Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure?”

“I haven’t seen that,” you say smiling.

He squirmed, animated like he always got when sharing fun facts, “It has a similar time traveling device like in Doctor Who. Although the Doctor uses a blue police box while Bill and Ted use a phone booth, which means you could make the argument that Bill and Ted is a rip-off since it stole a time traveling concept from over 25 years before its making.”

“Alright, lets add it to the list,” you say, putting on your thinking face.

A little line appeared between your eyebrows when you did that. Reid stared at it with sudden fondness.

“We should watch When Harry Met Sally.”

Reid raised his eyebrows, “Another romance movie?”

You shrug, “You pick the sci-fi, I’ll pick what I like.”

God, he wanted to touch you. It was so strange coming from a man who isn’t a fan of physical contact. He would rather wave than shake hands. He would rather awkwardly nod at someone than give them a hug.

But with you? You were inches away from him and it was putting an ache deep in his center. The warmth of your leg pressed against his was enough to make his chest feel tight. He just wanted to hold you. To grab your hand and urge your head onto his shoulder.

He had never felt that way about a girl.

“What?”

He blinked a few times, realizing that you were looking at him with confusion.

“Sorry?” he said, brushing his hair back.

You giggled – music to his ears, “You were staring at me.”

“Was I?” he said quietly. “Sorry, I must’ve been daydreaming.”

You set the popcorn bowl aside, “You know I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.”

His ears started to feel hot, “What is it?”

You turned to face him, taking your leg away from his. It was cold where you left. “You’ve been acting strange the last couple weeks.”

“Strange?” He tried to sound inconspicuous, “What do you mean?”

There was a suspicious look in your eye, but you were smiling. Reid told himself that meant you weren’t upset with him.

“You’ve been a little… I don’t know, close.” You seemed at a loss on how to word yourself, “Like you’ve been hovering around me a little closer than usual.”

“I thought we were friends,” he scoffed, “Aren’t friends usually closer than acquaintances?”

“Yeah, but Spence, you’ve been stepping on eggshells around me during cases, always asking if I’m okay. You call dibs on being my partner when we go investigate, even convince Hotch to change his mind if he pairs me with anyone else. There has been more than one occasion when you’ve come to my hotel room after hours to see if I’m upset over the case.”

Reid was starting to shrink in on himself, bowing his head and rubbing his hands along his thighs.

“We hang out almost every weekend, but sometimes I feel like you’re just sitting there waiting for something to happen. Like just now with you staring at me. And I can’t help but think… there’s something you’re not telling me.”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing, “I guess there is… there is something.”

You lean your elbow against the back of the couch, settling in to listen.

He looked terrified. “Ever since meeting you, I’ve felt like I’ve known you from somewhere. I tried talking to Rossi about it, but he refused to say anything.”

The smile on your face started to dip.

“So I tried looking you up instead,” he flickered his gaze to you for a second, eyes wide and fearful. “And I found the newspaper articles.”

You stood up, walking behind the couch, hands on your hips. It was such a sudden movement that Spencer was startled. Then he started panicking, “(Y/N)…”

“Of course,” you whispered, “You found out. I’m so stupid.”

“I… what are you talking about?” he turned in his seat, watching you pace.

“I thought that you…” you looked at him with reddening eyes, “But, no – this explains it too.” You folded your arms, “What did you find?”

Spencer frowned, looking at you with his puppy-dog eyes, “You’re the only survivor of The Pincushion Killer. You got away and he disappeared.”

You covered your face with your hands, “God, Reid. What the hell? What are you doing looking me up?”

He stood and fumbled with the bottom of his sweater vest, “I was worried.”

“And you didn’t think to just ask me?”

“You never seemed to want to talk about it. Whenever we talk about your past you keep it simple and deflect.”

“I wonder why?” you say, running your fingers through your hair, “If everyone knew I was kidnapped, tortured, and nearly murdered by a notorious serial killer that got away – I have a feeling people would treat me differently. Kind of like how you’ve been acting strange the last few weeks.”

Reid swallowed again, it felt like his throat was closing up, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But it’s information that profiles me to be a victim. One that could lose it at any minute because of my intense traumatic experiences. It paints me to be unreliable and constantly on the edge of a nervous breakdown.”

“That hasn’t happened yet.”

“Yet,” you say bitterly, “It was the reason Hotch didn’t want me on the team.”

Reid attempted to diffuse the anger building within you, “But you’ve proved him wrong.” He spoke calmly, “There’s nothing wrong with you, (Y/N).”

You suck in a tight breath, staring at him with your glassy eyes, “You’re so sure of that?”

He nodded quickly, finding relief in how your tone was more cooled. “The fact that you’ve developed these trauma responses and phobias proves that you are normal. Very normal. If you didn’t become scared of needles or didn’t react to similar young girls being murdered or have parents that became overprotective of their only daughter’s survival, then I would say something is wrong.” He took a chance in rising from his seat, keeping eye contact with you, “These things don’t profile you as a victim. They profile you as a survivor.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you say softly. Your arms started to wrap around your middle.

“But being a survivor gives you an unparalleled experience as a profiler. People should take your opinion more seriously because you’ve been in the shoes of someone enduring and escaping an impossible situation.” He slowly traveled to behind the couch where he watched the tears fill your eyes. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep it a secret.”

You give a wet laugh, deflecting in the way you turn your head to avoid his deep seeded concern, “I was so terrified that you would connect the dots. The day at the hospital, I could tell you were so suspicious.”

“I was just worried about you.”

You look back at him, willing the tears to continue swimming in your eyeline and not down your cheeks. “You’re not going to treat me any differently, are you?”

He gave a familiar close lipped smile, “What do you mean? You’re just my friend that is scared of getting shots and has the stubborn habit of not sharing personal things.”

A grateful smile creeps onto your face and you finally step forward and lean into him. Face pressed against his chest, arms still tucked tight around yourself, you sniffle.

Reid reacts instantly, taking you gently into his embrace, warmly rubbing up and down your back. He bows his head to rest his cheek against your hair, it smells of your coconut and lime conditioner.

“I knew you would find out eventually, when we became friends,” you sniffle again, “And I thought I’d hate it. But I’m kind of relieved.”

“Good,” he said firmly, holding you tighter because he thought your words meant the end of the hug.

“But if you tell any of the team, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed, suddenly aware of the wet patches he felt through his vest. You would not allow him to see you cry, but you still did as he held you. You continue to talk as if distracting the pair of you from the emotional moment.

“We should trade off whose apartment we watch movies at every week.”

“Okay.”

“And the person who visits has to bring the treat for the night.”

“Sure,” he says, smiling at your rambling. Maybe he smiled more because you were still locked in his embrace.

“And… I’m not sure I want to watch…”

“We can watch The Princess Bride tonight,” he said, wanting to take the serial killer title screen off your tv before you saw it.

You pull back, eyes now dry, “Thank you.”

He shrugged, awkwardly snapping his arms back to his sides, heat threading up his neck at the way you were looking at him. “Of course.”

You walk to the DVD player, “Hey, will you grab the movie – it’s on the third shelf.”

“As you wish,” he says with a playful smile.

You gasp dramatically, “I thought you said you’ve never seen Princess Bride!”

“Garcia tried to give me a lesson on pop culture once.”

~~~

Reid thought he filled the role of best friend rather nicely.

He had started stocking his kitchen full of your favorite snacks and fizzy drinks, ensuring you were happy during your weekly movie nights. You had the annoyingly adorable habit of warming your toes under his leg on some of these occasions.

He’d sit there, arms folded to keep himself from touching you – beckoning you closer. And then you’d slide your feet over just to bury them beneath his leg. It never failed to make him jump.

He’d eye you down with raised eyebrows and you’d shrug all innocently.

“My feet are cold.”

“I can get you a pair of socks.”

“But you’re warmer.”

He would roll his eyes until you started wiggling your toes, effectively tickling him. He’d yelp, “That’s it,” and grab your ankles.

You’d squeal with laughter as he pulled your legs over his lap and pin you there. He expected you to tug your legs away, heaving a sigh of, “Fine.” But instead… you settled into him.

You got comfy again, resting your legs across his lap.

And Reid became very aware of your bare legs under his warm hands. He slid a few fingers down your shin, holding back the desire to rub up and down. When he lightly reached your ankle again, he continued to lean over the side of the couch and grab an extra blanket from the floor.

He draped the blanket over your torso and by proxy your legs, and his lap. He let your legs remain on him, but now he had the barrier of a blanket to keep his touch from your soft skin. He could only imagine the silky feel as he awkwardly laid his hands atop your blanketed legs.

It quickly became routine after that night.

When they didn’t have to work the next morning, sometimes they would fall asleep on the couch and wake up to the other cooking breakfast.

It was just something best friends did.

Reid had started bringing you daily cups of tea. Sometimes you’d meet him with a similar cup of sugared coffee.

Some days you’d find that your piles of case reports were smaller. Your paperwork on profiles were completed.

When you would yell at Reid for wasting his time helping you out, he’d feign confusion and say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You only had that many case reports to begin with.”

And the team would go along with the banter because they were excited that their boy genius had found a companion. Someone he connected with and enjoyed spending time with.

They watched as he jumped upon seeing you leave, insistent on making sure you got to your car safely.

They watched as he let the team leave while he waited for you because he wanted to walk with you.

They watched as he bombarded you with fun facts and silly explanations about things you both liked.

He wanted to spend every possible second with you.

It was just something best friends did.

He endured the second hand talk you provided from girls night. Your words recalling Emily’s unfortunate date with the bartender; the details of how J.J. and Will were planning a sexcapade that coming Friday. The recounter of Garcia pushing you to ask the sexy waiter out for drinks.

Reid would grimace and say, “You don’t even like getting drinks.”

“That’s what I said,” you smile, waving your hand around until he gave you another peanut butter cup.

He would regret continuing the conversation, “Did you go through with it?”

“I gave him my number,” you unwrapped the candy, “And he spent the night. But he ghosted me after that.”

The chocolate was crushed between Reid’s fingers, “Oh.”

He listened to the gossip even though it was torturous to his heart. Because…

It was just something best friends did.

One day Spencer was delivering a profile with a few of the team members while the rest continued the investigation. The after party included many local officers coming up to discuss the details of the case.

An arrogant officer that really wanted to insert himself came up to shake hands. Spencer dodged the contact with an awkward wave.

The officer judged him with a lowered brow, “I wanted to introduce you to the latest victim’s mother. She came in for some questioning.” He gestured for a frail, simpering woman to come forward, “She wants to help in any way she can.”

She looked like she was on a verge of tears, “Agents…”

Hotch and Morgan introduced what of the team was there, “You may have some information crucial to catching this guy.”

She sniffed, “I’ll do what I can – tell you all that I remember.”

Reid felt inclined to say something, perhaps words of comfort for the woman that just lost her child. “You honor your daughter by being her voice. She is heard through you…”

And in a sudden bout of hysterics, the woman cried, falling forward to hug Reid. He was quick to react, cringing as he directed the woman away.

Morgan grabbed her, “Don’t mind him, ma’am. He has something against being touched.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, wiping her nose, “I’m sorry.”

Reid, awkward as ever, choked out a clumsy explanation, “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. During a simple greeting, shaking hands provides the greatest surface area in contact, and with a part of your body that easily picks up any surrounding bacteria. Hugs could be worse if one of the participants is carrying infected droplets from the nose and throat. You could start an infection just by being…”

“He doesn’t like touch,” Morgan cut in, consoling the crying woman. He gave Reid a look that clearly said, “Come on, man.”

Reid fumbled with his fingers, “It’s actually safer to kiss.”

“We talking about kissing?” you appeared from the other side of the station. You laugh at the sudden look of alarm on his face, “I just wanted to say goodbye before heading to the hotel.”

And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He reacted as he always did… by holding you tighter.

He squeezed you to him, soaking it in like it was going to be his last.

“See you later,” he mumbled, a familiar ache building in his chest.

You pulled away, “Stop by for a drink, I’ve got a mini bar in my room.”

He chuckled as you walked away. But the smile was quickly wiped from his face when he turned around to see Morgan and Hotch staring at him with wide eyes and raised brows.

“What?” he questioned.

Morgan gapped his mouth, “You’re a filthy hypocrite.”

Hotch cleared his throat, commanding his stunned reaction into his classic sternness. “We’ll reconvene after Dave and Emily get back.” He left Morgan to continue teasing Spencer.

“What are you talking about?” Reid asked quietly.

A smirk started growing on Morgan’s face, “You just told a grieving woman why you refuse to give her a hug because of the small probability that you’ll get sick…” he pointed a finger at the young genius, “And then you turn around and hold (Y/N) like that?”

“Like what?” Reid spluttered, growing hot around the ears, “(Y/N) and I are friends and sometimes friends hug.”

“You don’t hug me,” Morgan deadpanned, “Are we not friends?”

“I can hug you,” Reid said in a small voice.

Morgan bit his lip, “But you don’t want to hug me. I think we all know who you want to hug.”

Reid’s heart was slowly rising into his throat, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Damn, kid – she must be something special,” Morgan laughed, “The guy that’s reluctant to touch has ended up touch starved for someone specific.”

“Alright,” Reid said, fed up and warm around the collar, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gathered what files he needed and stuffed them into his satchel.

“Spencer and (Y/N) sitting in a tree…”

“Shut up,” Reid said, charging out of the police station.

He smothered that ache in his chest. He shoved that want deep down. He pushed away his feelings because… you know…

It was just something best friends did.

~~~

It was late on a Friday night.

Spencer checked his watch: 1:09am.

The only lights were dusty colors of red, pink, and purple, highlighting the people in flattering shades. The music was so loud the floor was shaking, speakers bouncing with the sensual bass. It was the anthem that the clubers danced too – sweaty, writhing bodies pressed too close together.

In the middle was the birthday boy, Derek Morgan, a flimsy, plastic crown lopsided on his head. He moved with the hips of the nearest partner, a roguish smile on his face when a girl stole his crown and planted it on her hair.

Nearby was J.J. talking smack with Emily. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was evident they were enjoying themselves judging by the flush of their cheeks and tipsy smiles on their faces. Emily had a pointed party hat on, the white elastic digging into her chin.

J.J. blew into a party horn, the paper tube unrolling and smacking Emily in the face.

A small smile crept onto Spencer’s face. He turned to catch the rest of the team. Hotch and Rossi were near the back, sharing a booth and a more quiet drink. Both, though normally grim, were each adorning lighthearted smiles as they shared funny personal stories.

Rossi dug into his pocket for some pricey cigars while Hotch ordered a round of shots.

Spence raised his eyebrows, impressed with his senior agent and unit chief. He was distracted by a peal of laughter near the opposite end of the bar.

He would recognize it anywhere.

You were leaning against the bar as if you couldn’t stand without the support. The sheer look of joy on your face was enough to make Reid smile too.

You were flushed and giggly, shoving Garcia away as the blonde insisted upon something. The techie was wrapped around the arm of a sweet, endearing sort of guy. He looked immensely surprised to be getting the attention of a beautiful woman such as Garcia.

You were reluctant about something, turning your gaze to across the room. Reid followed your eyeline and found a strong type lifting his drink to you in cheers. It made you giggle and blush.

It made Reid get a sour feeling in his stomach.

You held up a finger, wordlessly telling the man to wait one moment. And you did your best to walk towards Spencer without stumbling.

“Oh my god,” you said breathlessly, leaning heavily against the bar. “Thanks for watching my drink.” You grabbed the brightly colored cocktail, downing the rest of it in one gulp.

Reid always kept your drinks close when out with the team – to keep you safe.

“Getting some liquid courage?” he asked, oblivious to the bitterness in his voice.

You were too far gone to notice, wiping at your lip, choosing to reapply your lipstick, “Hottie at six o’ clock,” you say, kissing the back of a cocktail napkin to even the lip color. “I think he’s interested,” you giggle, untangling your hair with your fingers.

“You sure?” he asked, grumbling.

You start fixing your outfit. Oh god, he thought, you were readjusting your bra to make your cleavage more noticeable. He suddenly lost all train of thought, trying desperately to focus on only your face.

“Wish me luck,” you said, somehow keeping your balance in the heels you were wearing as you approached the man.

He was large and broad and tall. He was muscular and classically handsome and by the way he made you laugh, he was probably charming as well.

Cliché bar hookup, Reid thought, taking a sip of his watered down drink. You were going for some hunk while he wilted at the bar. The same awkward, endearing, geek he’s always been.

He couldn’t help but watch you every few minutes, just to make sure you remained safe. But each look sent a new wave of pain through his chest. You were getting closer and closer to the guy, practically sitting in his lap by the time the crowd started to thin. He was letting you drink from his glass.

Derek had left twenty minutes ago with a party of girls, to do what, Spencer didn’t want to know. Hotch and Rossi tapped out after sharing a cigar, and Garcia went home with the lucky guy amazed by her attention. J.J. needed to get home to Henry and Emily checked in on you before heading out herself.

You waved her off, giving her a wink as the guy took hold of your hand.

“How you doing?” Emily asked, passing by Reid on her way out.

He just shrugged, using the tip of his finger to push around the cocktail napkin with your lipstick kiss on it.

“You ready to go? We could grab a cab together.”

He shook his head, “I’d rather be the last one out.”

Emily eyed you and the mystery hunk, “I see.” She put a consoling hand on Reid’s shoulder, “Don’t torture yourself.”

“Been doing that for months now,” he mumbled, clearly sunk in his own kind of drunken sorrow, even if he stopped after two drinks.

“Call if you need anything,” Emily said sadly, clearly feigning off the pity growing in her eyes.

Reid continued to sit there, taking sips of lukewarm water the bartender passed to him, still tormenting himself with sneaking glances your way.

He told himself he stayed to ensure your safety.

He knew it was really because he wanted to pretend it was himself you were sitting on the lap of, running your fingers through his hair, wiping a drop of scotch from his lip.

His jaw flexed – his teeth clenched to the point of squeaking as they ground against one another – as you kissed the stranger.

Sitting in his lap you were a few inches taller than him, using your hands to tilt the man’s face up to your lips. It was sloppy and hungry, your mouth slack with drunkenness and wet with sour liquor.

His hands thread up your back, searching for the warm expanse of your exposed skin. You pressed your chest into him, wanting to be as close as possible. Your kisses fell on every inch of him, no doubt hot and breathy.

Reid finally tore his eyes away, bowing his head so his hair obscured his vision. He stared at the worn wood of the bar, holding his hands tightly together to keep them from shaking.

It felt like he was burning from head to toe. His instinct was to run outside, away from the fire.

But then he wouldn’t have been there when a crash caught his attention.

You had slipped from the man’s lap and fallen to your knees, your empty cocktail glass shattering beside you.

The stranger managed to keep ahold of his old fashioned drink, holding it high as he swayed in his seat. He was too far gone to care about your state, slumped in how he chuckled at the commotion.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, the bartender not far behind.

“Oh,” the tender said, hissing at the blood slicing through your fingers. “She got caught by the glass.”

Spencer crouched beside you, taking care to brush away the tiny shards of glass he could see on your figure. The last dregs of the pink drink and candied sugar had spilled over your party outfit.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly, “Hey…”

You groan, eyes scrunched up against the sudden rush of rhythmic pain in your head. “I don’t feel good.”

Spencer pursed his lips, looking towards the bartender, “I’m going to take her home.”

“Spence,” you say quietly, “What happened?”

The bartender seemed satisfied that you knew him by name, moving to call a cab for the drunken stranger and clean up the shattered glass.

Reid grasped your elbows and dragged you to your feet. The unsteadiness of your steps meant you leaned heavily on him to keep yourself upright.

He gave you words of encouragement all the way home, ignoring how your lipstick was smudged all over the lower half of your face. Instead he focused on how you cuddled into his side as he escorted you home. The pair of you snuggled in the back of a cab.

You groan at any sort of movement, wanting to just lie down with the nearest source of warmth, which just happened to be Reid.

“Where are we going?” you mumble, and Reid freezes in the back of the cab.

He can feel your lips moving against his neck, warm and wet with your words.

“I’m taking you home,” he whispers back, his hands flexing against his legs.

He had held your keys in his pocket when you went dancing, using them as he led you to your little house. He had to continuously remind himself that this was a friend helping a friend. He couldn’t read too much into the way you held onto him.

The way you moaned his name with the pain in your head.

The way you pulled on him to get in the bed with you.

“Stay,” you groan, your grip on his arm weak with drunkenness.

Spencer clenched his jaw, heat blooming in his face at your words. Things he’s always wanted to hear you say… but not while you’re intoxicated.

“You need to sleep,” he responded, moving down to remove your shoes. Gentle hands held your ankle, unclasping the glossy heels.

“I can’t sleep without you,” you mumble, sinking into the pillows beneath your head, hair splayed out on the covers. “I only…” But you lower your voice until it was indiscernible.

Spencer struggled with wanting to prod you further with questions and wanting to just let you sleep. He tucked your bare feet under the covers, pulling up the blanket, “You only what?”

You squirm as the blanket covers you up, “The best sleep… I have…” you yawn dramatically, eyes closed as if they were glued that way and unable to open. “Is whenever… I’m o-on your couch.”

He nestled the edge of your blanket around your shoulders, brow suddenly contorted with concern, “Really?”

You don’t respond for a few seconds, sighing deeply as you sank further into the mattress. Spencer felt a tug on his heart, unable to look away from the smudged makeup on your face – the contentment that he now knew was because he was there with you.

“No nightmares,” you say under your breath. “No needles.”

He sucks in a breath, wanting more than anything to lay with you and keep those nightmares away.

But the first time he shared a bed with you will not be when you’re drunk.

He could imagine how mortified you’d be in the morning.

Instead he lifts your head and brushes your hair up onto the pillow – he knew how much you hated laying on your hair. You sigh under his hands.

“I’m drunk.”

The ache in his chest – which he was now accepting was his love for you – pulsed with delight at your deduction.

“You are,” he held back a chuckle, debating whether searching for some makeup remover was too much.

 “I couldn’t if I wasn’t.” You were getting quieter as sleep overtook you.

Spencer planned to put a glass of water and some aspirin on your nightstand before he left. “Couldn’t do what?”

“Kiss that stranger,” you say, barely audible. “I didn’t really want to.”

He cursed his heart for wanting to pry further, kneeling down beside you to hear your quieting voice, “Then why did you?”

“… need to… get over…”

He leaned closer to your face, “What?”

“He wasn’t…”

But you had drifted off, leaving a burning question within Spencer; his fingertips digging into your comforter as he knelt close enough to smell the alcohol on your skin. He wanted to stay and cook you breakfast in the morning. He wanted to clean the evidence of your unwanted kiss from your face. He wanted to keep the bad dreams away and ask you to continue this conversation.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead instead. And locked the door behind him as he walked home.

~~~

The street was dark and empty save for the dim streetlamps yellowing the sidewalks.

A man sits in his car across the street, calm and still as he watched his desired house.

The front door opened as another man exited and locked it. He then stood on the porch and stared at the house for a few unnecessary seconds.

Another victim, the stranger thought, another victim of her charm. Of her authority.

The stranger watched the other man begin his walk home. He knew who this other man was.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

The young agent put his hands in his pockets and followed the sidewalk down the street. The stranger knew Dr. Reid lived just two streets over – not a long walk.

The stranger remained.

He continued to watch the house, playing with something in his hands.

Looking down with an expressionless face, he straightened the paper napkin.

On the upper edge was a lipstick kiss. It made his blood thrum with anticipation.

He turned and laid his new present with the others resting on the passenger seat.

A cocktail napkin with a lipstick kiss. A ticket to Much Ado About Nothing at the Blackfriars Playhouse. A disk with the title The Princess Bride printed on the front.

~~~

Taglist: @caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree @thatdummy-girl @chiefqueef22 @nicole-survivor @murder-swan​ @nomajdetective​ @mxacegrey​ @cynbx @popeheywardssecretgf @futuremrsspencerreid @dilflover10 @mrskatpotter @holly-the-trash-writer​ @noakroontje @kore-of-the-underworld

[fataldrum]

So I was looking into the Magnus Protocol Episode Hard Reset, and I am losing my shit for so many reasons.

1. The statement giver is Robert Hooke, one of the first people to publish research on microscopy. He was the person who coined the word "cell" in biology, because he thought they looked like the cells where monks lived.

2. The statement takes place in 1694. Hook references using the Protocol on London to stop a plague. Between 1665 and 1666, the Great Plague killed about 20% of the British population. In 1666, the Great Fire of London destroyed 60% of the city.

3. You know who made a ton of money from the fire? Robert Hooke. He made his fortune as a surveyor and architect in the aftermath of the fire, performing over half the property surveys. How fortunate for him.

4. Incidentally, there are no confirmed surviving portraits of Robert Hooke, only ones that may be him. This is rumored to be Isaac Newton's fault, because after Newton took over the Royal Society, they moved to a new location, and Hooke's portrait was "lost." No other portraits went missing.

5. The statement is addressed to Robert Boyle, who you may recognize for Boyle's Law in chemistry. There's a sculpture in Dublin of a young boy who is thought to be Boyle, and it's horrific.

6. This time period is significant for Isaac Newton, because between 1692 and 1693, he suffered "a breakdown of nervous functioning," with insomnia, poor digestion, and "signs of irrationality" in his letters. Incidentally, hair samples from Newton's body later contained high levels of mercury, lead, arsenic, and antimony. Probably because he was literally tasting mercury samples as part of his research.

7. During the statement, I was picturing a scrappy little terrier. It occurred to me that we probably know what kind of dog Isaac Newton had. His favorite dog was a pomeranian. A fucking. Pomeranian. Just picture this little guy developing sentience and sprouting branches.

8. The dog's name was Diamond, and he has his own Wikipedia page. Why? Because (likely apocryphal) stories claim Diamond knocked over a candle and burned over a year's worth of Newton's notes. The fire appears to be real, but blaming Diamond is unfair. Here's an engraving of the alleged incident.

9. After the fire, Newton was said to have exclaimed, "O Diamond, Diamond, thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done." But Diamond would know if he ate from the Tree of Knowledge.

10. Remember Flamsteed from the Maxwell Raynor statement? He and Newton were bitter enemies.

[gorygirllovesart]

I read Fahrenheit 451(there will be spoilers if you haven’t read it) for English a little while back, I’ll literally never forget the Socratic thingy we did for it bc it was the most I’d ever spoken in that class. So my class had read the book and watched the (terrible)movie, and we had to talk about both during the Socratic. The amount of people saying they liked the movie better than the book had me FLABBERGASTED, it was mainly the boys in my class.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is a dystopian story where books are banned, technology is the only thing that matters, and firemen set places on fire instead of putting them out.

I also remember everyone hating on the main characters wife AS IF HER INTRODUCTION WASN’T HER OVERDOSING??? I am that woman’s number 1 defender, Mildred Montag is introduced when her husband Guy Montag finds her almost lifeless body after she overdoses on sleeping pills, throughout the story the reader is meant to learn that she’s a very selfish woman.

So what? Am I meant to believe that in a world where it’s normal for these characters send their own children off so they don’t have to raise them, where it’s normal to kill people, that a majority of the population WOULDN’T BE SELFISH?? No, I’m not gonna believe that. Not everybody is a Guy Montag who will “stand against the social norm” even though it’s something that will get him killed.

A LOT of people would be Mildred in this situation.

Mildred is a woman who lives in fear, she follows the rules because she knows it keeps her safe and alive.

A character we’re introduced to early in the story is Clarisse McClellan, she’s a TEENAGE GIRL(important) who actually enjoys being outside, Clarisse and her family were genuinely happy with each other, and people thought she was crazy. She dies btw(I was so upset about that bc I love Clarisse)

Clarisse is 17, Montag is 30.

SO EXPLAIN TO BE WHY THEY’RE A COUPLE IN THE MOVIE?? What had me shocked was that my classmates said they liked the relationship in the movie, sure in the movie they’re both adults. But then they wondered why it wasn’t in the book, and I had to explain to them that it would be a thirty year old man with a high schooler. Did they even read the damn book??

I could say so much more but I won’t for now.

[leavingsunsets]

alsgakdgaksh sorry I know you just answered my request but, but, but what about dcst characters reacting to a reader who has a problem with daydreaming (maladaptive daydreaming)

basically they get so lost in their mind that they start acting out or quoting(? their thoughts, from the outside it just kinda looks like they're talking to themselves but they've got a whole movie in their mind 😭 (i legitimately subconsciously tripped myself because i imagined a character falling to the floor)

take care and don't rush <333

whooo this was a doozy. had to do a little research for this one, so i get to give yall some good rep or atleast make it feel a little more accurate tehee. anyways with this population sampling liberty ive decided to get 5 characters, 4 guys and 1 girl. enjoy 😋.

"𝔇𝔞𝔶𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔯?"

[𝖣𝖢𝖲𝖳 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐/ 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋.]

𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙠𝙪 𝙄𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙞

Might be a little confused at first. Like, especially if it's at random times. Maybe he's busy tinkering with something, and you're in the same room. You do or say something and he automatically goes "huh?" because he thinks you're talking to him and you go "huh."

It takes some adjusting for him, but he learns much faster than the others. Though it's kinda funny during the beginning stages because whenever you said something aloud he'd pause whatever he was doing to stare at you blankly, and if you didn't look his way after a few seconds he'd take it as you weren't talking to him and resume his business.

He's a curious bugger tho so he obviously glances over at you sometimes to see what you were doing, whether you were both alone or not.

Seeing as your attention is a little harder to grab, he's got a custom habit of either patting or holding your shoulder. Like "yo [name]," and a little shoulder tap.

But with this development, it seems you've also learned to do the same. Now that he's used to you talking to yourself, to show that you're speaking to him, you have to either tap him or say his name.

Overall, pretty chill about it, even talks to you a lot just to pull you out sometimes.

𝙏𝙖𝙞𝙟𝙪 𝙊𝙠𝙞

Our sweet, underrated, heart of gold who I couldn't find nice aesthetic manga banners for (sorry for the jumpscare). Bet you didn't expect to see him on the list, huh?

Just a little longer in terms of adjusting. Like Senku, is a little confused and goes "?" when you do things randomly. Sometimes, you are interrupted because whenever he is in vicinity he's just bombarding you with questions.

"Hi! What are you doing?" "Were you talking to me?" "What's that mean?" "Were you saying something?" "What is that gesture?"

You either give him a very detailed description about the scenario in your head or just BS it.

"I was communicating with the trees." "Wow! Really? You can do that?" Accepts whatever choice you pick anyway. He will listen intently and he will take it literally. An open chance to tell him whatever you want and he would not suspect you at all. He is very intrigued at this new type of acorns called "Deez" that you found in the forest. Apparently it's part of the "Ligma" family of trees? Wow!

Easily snaps you out of your daydreams because his voice is just loud enough to do so.

You get to enthuse with him sometimes, and he will happily listen.

𝙏𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙨𝙖 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙤

Also a little underrated, I swear.

Problem with Tsukasa is that he's a little nonverbal so when you do or say something, he just stares at you. Hulk of a man watches in confusion as you play out a whole soap opera or something.

But hey, what is Tsukasa if not a kind and gracious man?

Tries to understand you, and is a good listener if you ever need a guy to ramble to about this. And hey, gives him more insight on your mind in general.

Keeps a slightly closer eye on you, or is just more aware of your predicament in general.

This Tarzan would genuinely be gentle about it like he'd check up on you and stuff. Talk to you, or even sit down with you, maybe a little chitchat.

I imagine you as a duo would be him sipping nice tea and enjoying the garden meanwhile you accidentally drop your cookie in the milk so you borrow his teaspoon just to scoop it out and he lets you. Very weird analogy but he is just kind??

An enigma, overall doesn't change his usual equitable treatment towards you.

𝙆𝙤𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙪

I already had a vision of her reaction to this. Like, as an inquisitive type, she'd most likely ask you questions all about it as soon as she notices it. More answers lead to more questions. Forgive her, she's only curious.

Similar to Tsukasa, she wants to be aware and informed. Wants to know about what you're thinking about sometimes. "Hmmm..." and just watches you from the branches.

Of course, watchful, and vigilant. Observer type. If ever you're too out of it to notice something potentially harmful coming your way (or vice versa), she'd be there to tug you back to reality.

She's most likely less patient than Tsukasa, not the type for a sit down kind of conversation, but would still let you ramble while you both pick apples or smthn.

Overall a nice gal who wouldn't mind it at all.

I feel like she's the complete opposite of a daydreamer, so it's hard for her to understand what it's like. Still, she tries to be considerate and talks with you whenever she can as a way to learn about it.

[nikkalick]

Veilguard Spoilers below the cut. About the Blight, the current state of Southern Thedas, and the Veil…I’ve never made a rant like this so bear with my ramblings, please

I’ve seen so many people say, “We should’ve been able to tear down the Veil” and I feel like I’m going insane every time I see that take like…

MAMA A BLIGHT IS BEHIND IT??!

You think what happened to Southern Thedas was bad this game? You have no idea what’s in store for you if you open up the fucking Veil and let that trickle of Blight become a flood.

Point of Order just to set the scene with how bad the literal Blight is

“They (the writers/devs/Bioware/EA) nuked Southern Thedas so they don’t have to deal with the lore the past content set up there going forward”

Maybe. But also the only other Blight we’ve seen in game was the Fifth Blight. By all accounts a statistical anomaly in how it acted when compared to Blights 1-4. I don’t wanna delve too deep into this because it is so not the point I’m trying to make with this post, but the Architect very much had a hand in waking up Blight numero 5 and very likely impacted it in a way that made it less volatile. Past Blights saw Darkspawn hitting big populations hard and fast. The 5th started slow, in the wilds, at Ostagar. Away from large amounts of people. It is mentioned in DA:O that this Blight “feels different”.

The Blight we see in Veilguard is more in line with the Blights that came before the 5th. Something something the Inquisitor writing “worse than we have seen in living memory” because the only living memory anyone has of a Blight was the one from 20 years ago. Which was bad, but not as bad as they usually are. Veilguard’s is bad the way Blights are meant to be (if not worse because, ya know, the Gods), and it was still ONLY A TRICKLE OF WHAT THE BLIGHT IS BEHIND THE VEIL. If the full force of the Blight escapes the prison/the Fade that’s it. Goodnight to everyone in this world both within and without all of Thedas.

Moving on.

“Solas can move the Blight into the new prison that was meant for the Gods and then tear down the Veil. That was his plan.”

Sorry, did we play the same game? We know what the Blight is now. It’s the last remnants of the Titans. Twisted, broken, angry, nightmarish. It’s all that’s left. All that’s left are the plagued dreams of ancient beings that are so devastated because of what Mythal, Solas, and the rest of the Evanuris did to them with the very dagger we now hold.

I want to take a moment to address that what I’m about to say is said as someone who’s been trapped in Solavellen hell for years. I love Solas and his character, and I believe that yes, he had a plan that would have both moved (or killed) the remaining Evanuris and the Blight to a new prison while simultaneously tearing down the Fade. But if you, like me, wanted to redeem this idiot despite everything, then pray tell how does Solas locking up the Blight offer him said redemption?

How does locking away the only thing that remains of the Titans into a prison and throwing away the key redeem him? The Evanuris fucked up when using the Titan’s, idk…life blood? To take form. Solas fucked up when he, upon Mythal’s behest, created a weapon that sundered the Titan’s (and the Dwarves as whole) from their magic, from their dreams, from their very being. And they did it because they thought they had a right to. They put themselves above the dwarves and as a result they caused the Blight. And then they hid the Blight away. Yes, they hid it away to keep people safe, and yes, locking it and the Evanuris away when they tried to use what was essentially a bio weapon to maintain their position of power was a call that kept people safe for a long time. But the Veil was a consequence of that call. And while the Blight was trapped in its prison, behind the Veil, it got angrier and angrier with every passing generation.

Removing the Veil and shoving it into yet another prison will not only piss it off even more, but it doesn’t allow for Solas to actually atone for the part he played in its creation and the part he played in destroying what the dwarves used to have. He has to uphold the current prison. He has to go to it to try to soothe it. To heal it as best he can. Locking it away elsewhere, and then trying to offer it salvation after the fact? It’s not gonna cut it.

He has to go to the Black City, he has to face what he did, and he has to put aside his favorable bias towards giving the Elves “back what they lost” (a world current day Elves don’t remember and have never known) to instead put the safety and wellbeing of every being in the current world at a higher priority. That’s part of his redemption arc by the way; learning to value the lives of the people that walk this new world he had a hand in creating. Because when he wakes up before the start of DA:I he doesn’t value anyone. Shit, when Felassan declines to help him destroy the Veil and suggests he learns to appreciate the world that has been in place for centuries, Solas kills him for it.

All that said, he can’t fully put things right. He can’t reconnect the Blight with the dormant remains of the Titans. Because, as the game tells us, we’d then be faced with a bunch of Titans the size of mountains rampaging, rightfully so, because of the wrongs that were committed against them. But Solas can put in the work to find a way to ease its agony. And maybe, if given the time and the patience, one day the Veil could come down because the Blight will have had the opportunity and been given the help it needed to actually heal from the trauma that created it. And maybe taking the time to do that will have, in some small way, allowed him to make up for the shitty hand he played in destroying the Dwarves. A race he (finally) sees as his equal. Because that’s a big part of his fucking redemption arc.

[mothzi]

COE33 made me think a little bit about the concept of agency [spoilers below]

and I'm not smart enough to set this out properly so I apologise in advance, but it's made me wonder if agency is actually relative (instead of a black and white boolean thing, like it's a universal fact that you have it or not). I don't want to touch on free will vs determinism but I thought it's really interesting how Act 1 is this heroic underdog story of asserting whatever agency you have against a god that can literally wipe a chunk of your population in a blink of an eye and is curtailing your future (Act 1 story made me push this game to other friends saying it's a ridiculously resonant story about living in a dying world like we are right now), but at the end of Act 3 and especially if we choose Maelle's ending, there's a feeling of how characters who are not real Dessendres have very little agency, as exemplified by p.Verso who has been aware for 67 long years that his existence and his world and loves ones are at the mercy of capricious gods, and who has been struggling fiercely over the basic agency of his life and fate (like choosing to die) to the point that the he keeps scars and paints his hair (badly) to assert whatever little agency he has over his immortal un-aging and undying body.

The other species like the Gestrals and Grandis don't seem to be aware of the Painter Dessendres, and are examples of living their best lives no matter what's thrown at them. Once the resurrected Lumerians know about who Maelle is, can they really continue to live as if it's a happy ending and nothing's happened, can they treat Maelle/Alicia as the old Maelle again? Everyone in the opera theatre had similar uncanny-looking smiles, with the exception of Verso: the star of the night, who looked hurt, betrayed, angry, defiant over performing what was supposed to be his passion. Could it be that only he knew what was going on and therefore the only one who felt a lack of agency over the night?

(and this is me clumsily avoiding getting into debates on whether Alicia/Maelle had control over the resurrected Lumerians)

If we don't know the limits of our agency, we probably don't feel like we are denied them, which is why many authoritarian governments are so protective over the boundaries of their citizens' knowledge of what other realities and lives could be like, and which is why our knowledge of science brings us to question whether we truly make our own choices or if we are the cumulation of atomic interactions within us and before us.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

i literally love your theory of johnny not being able to survive if ponyboy died instead, but how do you think johnny would die? i’m soo curious so know what you’d think! would johnny end up dying like dally?

CW: Suicide

Hi anon! Oooooof this is a tough one lmao, because even though it's canon to me that Johnny doesn't really have a reason to live without Ponyboy I've never really though about how Johnny might end it. I definitely don't think it would be like Dallas' which was heat of the moment and dramatic, because Dally wanted to die but he still wanted to die as he lived. Dally couldn't go out any other way, but Johnny isn't like that. He doesn't seek out attention the way Dallas does, and I think to him dying in front of the gang's very eyes would be unfathomable because he knows it would hurt them, and Johnny would never want to hurt any of the gang, especially not in his last moments. There's also the fact that I'm not completely convinced he'd be actively suicidal, but passively so. I think he wouldn't be planning to end his life the way Dallas did, but he'd start eating less, going to rougher places without backup, or walking alone to places he and Pony used to go to together. Maybe he'd get jumped again because the socs still recognize him as the guy who killed Bob, and maybe Johnny wouldn't get medical treatment soon enough or bother to seek it out at all. Johnny is very noble, and we know he used to go to church with Ponyboy so I could see him seeing it as a sort of penance, especially if his survivor's guilt became intertwined with any sort of religious guilt. Maybe he get jumped, and something gets infected, and he goes septic and dies, or maybe a head trauma was too much, or a cracked rib punctured a lung. The possibilites are endless. I could also see him going to sleep in the lot one night when its cold out, cold enough he should be inside, but unable to get up, to go to the Curtis where Pony would have dragged him on a night like that, or even to Dally's place or the couch and Two-bit's and just going to sleep and never waking up. Freezing to death is unfortunately an incredibly common fate among homeless populations, and Johnny- who is functionally homeless- would be no exception.

Now, there IS a possibility Johnny's death could come from more active suicidality. It is canonical that Johnny has thought about it before 1. so he may have already had a plan, or previously had one. I still maintain that I don't think it would be as violent or theatrical as Dallas' death, nor do I think it would take place in front of or in close proximity to the gang. I think it would probably be an overdose, and I could see him writing letters to the gang beforehand, though I don't think any of them would be particularly long, as Johnny doesn't see himself as smart or imaginative like Ponyboy. I imagine they'd be simple thank yous and goodbyes for the most part, and probably would contain some details like wanting to buried near Ponyboy if possible and for his parents to not be allowed to attend his funeral.

Thanks for the ask even though it crushed my soul a little bit xx

"I can't take much more." Johnny spoke my own feelings. "I'll kill myself or something." (The Outsiders, 1967)