#I don't owe you my personal history

[teaboot]

you have some really evil, selfish and toxic ideas irt whos allowed to have friends, you know? i see pop psy people like you all the time making lists of things that are clear and obvious trauma induced behaviour, and then immediately flip to how if you have a friend who ever behaves like this they are evil and need to be cut off, theyre not allowed to have support systems to get better! you really hate bad victims, huh? if someone isn't demure and cowering and self effacing in their symptoms they don't deserve anyone? i got assaulted and when my friend group threw me out on my ass and called me too fucked up for acting erratic and strange in the aftermath and being unable to communicate why they used your posts to justify it. its sick that people like you will look at someone uncontrollably acting out their ptsd and go wow you aren't doing this nice enough to be tolerated! people like you talk so much about compassion but when it comes to people in actual crisis you don't give a shit. no, theyre acting too problematic. just cut them off! no one should help their friends!

original post

Please allow me to take this opportunity to make some things clear.

First, you do not know me. You do not know anything about me. You do not know where I've been, where I'm going, or where I am. All that you believe that you know is extrapolated from information I have volunteered to share. Information that is, by clear and honest choice, edited for both safety and personal security. Remember this.

Second, and I say this in the kindest of ways, because I have had to learn this lesson myself:

Nobody Owes You Shit.

Have you ever saved someone from drowning?

I have.

Do you know that a drowning person struggling to get air will instinctively drag you under them?

It's hard to save people in the water. It takes specific skills and knowledge that not everybody has. Not everyone can save a drowning person without drowning in the process.

The lifeguard needs energy, and strength, and expertise, and persistence.

The swimmer needs self-restraint, and composure, and the desire to be helped, and the ability to do what they can to facilitate their own rescue.

I believe in kindness, and generosity, and compassion. I believe in trying persistently, and in giving the benefit of the doubt wherever possible. I believe that people are good, and small, and trying. And I believe that I can give all the energy I have inside of me to help someone and still come up short.

So you're drowning? I'm sorry. That must be terrifying. That must be miserable. You must be experiencing the worst moments of your life. I hope someone nearby knows how to help you. I hope they have a raft you can climb into, or a rope for you to grab, or a float you can cling to. I hope things get better. I'll call for help, and give you what I can to get you to shore.

But don't you dare drag me under water and curse me for saving myself.

Now get out of my fucking inbox.

[creepiefarm]

i hate u ppl who took everything jay ever said about tim as Fact

[flatstarcarcosa]

this doesn’t really go here but im putting it here bc The Paranoia is telling me too but anyway regarding that post going around about ‘if your disabled friend says they can’t do something believe them’ i wanna posit that even if you don’t know if someone’s disabled or the extent of their disability, you should believe them.

it’s ok to be annoyed or even think maybe they’re just being lazy, as long as you’re not treating them negatively. if someone says they can’t do something ask how you can help them or fucking find someone else.

[eloise-t-g]

i think for me, the watcher situation comes down to this:

it's absolutely respectable that the watcher team wants to grow and produce better quality content. it's respectable that they don't want to stagnate and end up pushing the same content out over and over again. that's not satisfying for them creatively, i get that.

however, if higher quality, more heavily produced content is not what your fans are asking for, then you can't ask them to fund it.

this all-or-nothing method they've gone for is frankly bizarre. it feels like they leap-frogged all other alternatives to improving their finances and ended up here, alienating and frustrating the majority of their fanbase (the fanbase they thanked for getting them to where they are).

i think this could have gone a lot better if they:

Hadn't hyped up this video for a week.

Hadn't announced the worth it successor just beforehand.

Hadn't put out a wishy-washy, "boo hoo we're so sad about this", over-produced video.

Hadn't made it $6/month (more in a lot of countries given exchange rates).

Had considered that this means fans in specific countries literally cannot pay for the subscription due to geo/region-locking.

my ideas for improving their funds, aka things they could have tried before blowing their brand up: create their own website with two options - a free version with ads and a paid version without ads, OR make better use of their patreon/make their website extra content, not all their content, for example:

Put the ghost file debriefs on there.

Put shows like survival mode on there (or even shift that show from pre-recorded video to live-stream - live stream access to patrons and VOD access to everyone, maybe).

Put episode commentaries there.

Do reaction videos to their old buzzfeed content, talk about memories and BTS, and put that there.

Put one/two episodes of each show, per season on there (and ONLY there).

Put the episodes up there a few days early.

Make specific, website only content (that's not your main and most popular series aka ghost files and puppet history).

Record the live, in-person shows and put those VODs up there.

EDIT (thought of something else lmao): put extended or even uncut versions of ghost files on there. Paranormal Detour on Detune's twitch channel has shown that people will willingly sit through 6+ hours of a ghost investigation.

EDIT: idk, do livestreams once a week where you watch scary movies with fans on discord or twitch.

(side note: the fact that they're not taking down their patreon and instead shifting all of their podcast content on there, something the patreons who have been loyally giving them money for years didn't ask for, is ridiculous and greedy. add to this the fact that they don't even get a free sub to the new website, instead get 40% off - a measly 10% more than anyone else who subs before the official launch).

the thing for me is that they're claiming they want to make "television" and "television-grade content". that's completely fine. what's not completely fine is acting like your four episodes a month is equal to netflix's entire catalogue.

this really felt like it should have been something they told us they were progressing towards, not something they revealed to be on the imminent horizon. idk, it just feels out of nowhere. no, they don't owe us all of the info about their company. but something had to be better than this.

final thought - it's okay and valid to be upset at the team for this. for a lot of people, it's a complete betrayal (especially the comment that $6 a month is something "anyone and everyone can afford", i mean yikes). i do think some people's anger got the best of them, and some of the comments i've seen across youtube, twitter, and tumblr are plain bullying, racism, and harassment. until we have the whole story, we can't decide that one founder (aka steven in a lot of people's minds) is solely responsible. i know a lot of these awful things are only coming from a small minority of the fandom, but they still get seen.

at the end of the day, all three of them got up in front of a camera and made this video, together. that can only lead us to the conclusion that they made this decision together. acting like these men in their 30s couldn't stand up against it if they truly wanted to, is so strange and parasocial lmao.

tl;dr there were much better ways of going about this announcement, if it even needed to be made at all. however, that doesn't excuse the hateful shit being spewed at the team. for now, all we know is the three founders decided they were done with youtube, and done with their loyal youtube audience.

(i have so many more thoughts on this but i need to stop lmao. however i do wonder how different things could have been if 1. they had hired someone with actual business experience as their CEO from the jump, and 2. this video was more of a "hey we're broke! this is a last-ditch effort to save our company!". guess those questions will remain ... well ... you know ...).

[lazycats-stuff]

Batkids x male reader, were the reader was Bruce's best friend but due to some bad blood they kinda hate each other, but still look out for each other. Now what about Bruce having to go on a mission with the justice league, and lets just say Alfred is on vacation and Bruce just takes the extra step and let's the kids stay at the reader's place, because he knows they're safe with him. While the reader hates Bruce, he loves his nephews and he takes great care of them. Bruce eventually returns and the kid's are obs with their uncle, so now Bruce has to visit the reader more often and maybe they repair their friendship??

Why did I imagine (Y/N) as the uncle who always has a wine glass in his hands? And as an uncle who has the dirt on their father? And as an uncle who travelled the world and has so many stories to tell? Okay, I have to stop.

Summary: Bruce and (Y/N) don't like one another, but they trust one another. Bruce is forced to drop of his boys at his house.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst with Dick, but nothing too serious, the reason for the hatred is not specified, wine uncle, (Y/N) is the funny uncle?, author has no clue...

Bruce didn't know how he ended up in this situation. He rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. He had a very important mission with the Justice League, one mission that could really damage the League of Light. The boys weren't going, only the Justice League members due to the importance of the mission. Alfred was going on a well deserved vacation.

The only person that he trusted was (Y/N), but they... They had a complicated history with one another. They had some bad blood, well, they still do and they have a hatred/trusting relationship. Bruce trusted him enough to tell him his secret identity and (Y/N) was going to take it to the grave. (Y/N) also knew some people in the Gotham crime scene so he helped Bruce out with some cases.

Bruce blinked a few times before looking at his phone. If he was going to ask (Y/N) to do this, he needed to do this in person. Was this a good idea? (Y/N) loved his nephews, there was no doubt about that. (Y/N) would never direct the hate at the people that didn't have anything to do with it.

And more importantly, their safety was (Y/N)'s priority. Bruce sighed, looking for (Y/N)'s contact. He pressed the button and put the phone next to his ear. It was always weird to call him like this.

" Well Bruce, to what do I owe the pleasure to? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce could hear rock music in the background.

" We need to meet tomorrow in our bar. " Bruce started. They picked a nice bar, a neutral zone for them to meet up whenever they needed to talk. It also meant that the meetings were urgent.

" What's wrong? Did something happened to the boys? " (Y/N) asked, the relaxed and unbothered mood gone, worry and anxiety coming through.

" Nothing happened to them, but I have to ask you something about them. And trust me, I can't ask that over the phone. " Bruce said, looking at the time. He was going to have to go down for dinner.

" Alright, around this time then? " (Y/N) proposed and Bruce confirmed. " Alright Bruce, see you then. " (Y/N) hanged up and put the phone down. He sighed once more as he made his way downstairs. This was going to be a fun meeting.

Bruce waited for (Y/N) in the bar. He sat down at a booth, ordering himself some whiskey and some wine for (Y/N). Cabernet Sauvignon was (Y/N)'s favorite wine. He tapped his fingers against his glass, looking at the bar doors.

He relaxed when he saw (Y/N) entering. He was wearing his long black coat, with a scarf around his neck. Bruce leaned back when (Y/N) sat down across from his, taking his coat and scarf off and put it next to him.

" Alright, what is going on? " (Y/N) asked, taking his glass of wine. He took a sip, smirking at Bruce. " Something big if you ordered my favorite wine. " (Y/N) added, twirling the wine in the glass.

" It is. I have to go on a mission with the League. It's important and I will be gone for a while. And Alfred is going on vacation. " Bruce started, watching (Y/N)'s reaction. So far so good.

" And I was wondering if they could stay with you. " Bruce finished, watching as (Y/N) face turned into pure confusion.

" Wait. You want them to stay with me? " (Y/N) asked, watching as Bruce's face fell a little bit, " Don't get me wrong, I love those four, but are you sure? "

" (Y/N), I know we hate each other, but I know you love the boys. And they will be safe with you. " Bruce explained, taking another sip of his whiskey.

" Wow. I'm not sure whether or not to feel honored. " (Y/N) joked, taking a sip of his wine.

" Despite the bad blood, we do look out for one another. " Bruce said, raising his glass. (Y/N) raised his and they silently toasted to one another.

" Now, I need to talk to you about their schedules. " Bruce said, making (Y/N) groan. " Did you really think it was going to be easy? " Bruce teased.

" Just tell me. " (Y/N) said and Bruce started to explain everything.

The boys were rather confused as to why they had to stay with (Y/N). They didn't mind it per say, but they couldn't understand how they couldn't stay home alone. They were driving to (Y/N)'s building, boys packed up.

" Okay, don't break anything and be nice to (Y/N). I don't want to get back with him not wanting to babysit you. " Bruce threatened, stopping the car at the parking lot.

" B, we are too talented for that. We can be civil. " Jason defended them, making Bruce scoff.

" Please. " Bruce said, helping them take their luggage.

" Father, what does (Y/N) do for a living? " Damian asked, pressing a button to get the elevator to the lobby.

" I don't know. And I don't want to know. " Bruce said, ushering the boys into the elevator.

" Do we have to share the rooms? " Dick asked. Bruce pressed the button for the top floor.

" You can ask (Y/N) when we get up there. " Bruce said, looking at the numbers lighting up.

The boys looked at one another. This was going to get interesting. They stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall to knock, but (Y/N) opened the door before.

" Oh my sweet nephews! Come here! " (Y/N) said, hugging each one and then ushering them inside. " Bruce, help me with the luggage. " (Y/N) said, taking it from Bruce and leading him to the two rooms that he has prepared. After putting them in the rooms, they went to the living room.

Damian was looking at the blades on the wall, Jason looked at the cabinet filled with old guns.

" Okay, guys. Don't break anything, don't touch anything you are not supposed to, listen to your uncle and don't fight. " Bruce said, checking the time on his phone.

" Bruce, the boys are going to be fine. You don't have to worry about them. " (Y/N) waived him off, ushering him out.

" Alright then, see you soon. " Bruce said to his boys before leaving the apartment.

Once Bruce was out the door, (Y/N) turned to the four boys. " Alright you four, I have 2 rules. First one is, don't touch my weapons, both guns and blades. They are my babies. Second one is don't touch my wine bar. Other than that, you four are free to roam. " (Y/N) finished, but a moment later he snapped his fingers as he remembered something. " Oh yeah, you will have to share rooms. So, that will be it." (Y/N) said, moving to the kitchen. It was time for dinner and tonight was pizza.

" I hope you like pizza because I was too lazy to cook something more sophisticated today. " (Y/N) finished, opening the oven to check the state of the pizza.

They all liked pizza of course. They all sat down at the table where all the plates were laid out.

" Just a minute more and the pizza will be perfect. " (Y/N) announced to the four boys.

(Y/N) never had to wake up this early. It was something he wasn't used to, but he promised to Bruce that he would have to take care of the boys. He was making some pancakes and some bacon. After 10 minutes the boys shuffled out of the room. Well, only 3 out of 4.

" Guys, where is Damian? " (Y/N) asked, knowing that he was always on time and that he never overslept.

" I tried to wake him up, but he just wouldn't get up. " Dick said, rubbing his eyes to wake up.

" I will check on him. " (Y/N) said, walking to Dick's and Damian's room. He opened the door to see Damian in a fetal position, eyes closed. (Y/N) walked to the bed, shaking Damian's shoulder.

" Dames? You need to wake up. " (Y/N) said, making Damian wince. That confused (Y/N) and he opted to put the back of his hand on Damian's forehead. Damian was burning.

" Oh shit, Dames. Let me get you some tea. " (Y/N) whispered, going to the closet to add another blanket on Damian. After, he quickly walked back to the living room/ kitchen.

" Damian has a fever. " (Y/N) announced to the boys, who were shocked to hear it. He was fine last night. (Y/N) rummaged through the cabinets for Damian's favorite green tea.

" So what is the plan? " Jason asked, putting some bacon in his mouth.

" I will drop you 3 off. Then, I have to make sure that Damian is hydrated. " (Y/N) said. That's what he did when he was sick. You have to drink tea and fluids.

Everyone nodded and continued eating. After finding the tea, he put a kettle filled with water on the stove.

" Eat up, we are going in 15 minutes. " (Y/N) said, going back to his room to change. After a quick change, he was back in the kitchen, pouring some coffee from his coffee machine to his mug. He chugged the coffee quickly.

" I don't even think that Tim chugs coffee like that. " Jason noted, making Tim roll his eyes.

" Well Jay, I never have to wake up this early. " (Y/N) explained to Jason who just raised his hands up in surrender. (Y/N) turned to look at the kettle who started screaming as (Y/N) would say.

He took a mug from the cabinet and poured the water in it then putting a tea bag in the hot water. He watched the green fill the water. He took the mug and went to Damian's room. He put it on the Damian's nightstand.

" Dames, I know you can hear me. I put your favorite tea on the nightstand. I will drop your brothers off at school and then come back. Try to drink some. " (Y/N) whispered to Damian who blinked a few times before nodding. (Y/N) made sure that Damian was tucked in before leaving the room once more.

" Alright kiddos. Get ready because we are going to be late. " (Y/N) said, poking his head in.

" How much are you going to walk? " Jason joked and (Y/N) sighed.

" I have nothing to do after dropping you three off. Then I have to make sure that Damian is okay when Bruce comes back. " (Y/N) said.

(Y/N) watched as Damian slept peacefully. After giving him some pills to help him with the fever and steaming the room so that he could breathe normally, he went back to the living room where Jason was looking at the firearms he had.

" This Winchester is gorgeous. " Jason said, pointing at the original from the 1860s.

" Oh trust me, I know. I had to battle a Texan for it. " (Y/N) said, pouring himself the wine.

" I beg you pardon? " Jason asked, letting out a breathy chuckle.

" Since when are you so posh? " (Y/N) retorted, moving to sit at the couch.

" Since now. I want to know the story. " Jason stated, plopping down next to (Y/N) on the couch.

" Alright. I was looking for this particular Winchester. I traced the owner and asked what he was going to sell it for. He said no price since it's one of the earlier models. But however, he challenged me to bull riding. " (Y/N) paused, taking a sip. Jason's mouth dropped a little bit.

" And then? "

" I would like to say that I have never rode a bull. But I really wanted to get the rifle. So I accepted. I rode a lot of mechanical bulls though, but it's not the same as the real thing. How I held on, I don't know. But it was worth it. " (Y/N) noted, smiling at the memory. Texans are cool.

" Holy shit. " Jason said, eyes looking at the gun case.

" I know. All the pain was worth it. "

Damian got better after a day by some miracle. He observed the blades that were on display. He could note that they were very well cared for.

" Uncle, can you tell me where you got them? " Damian asked, turning his head a little. (Y/N) was in the kitchen, making some dinner.

" Back when I finished college, I travelled a lot. I ended up in the Middle East. There was this man who wanted to sell me some awful version of the blades. So, I managed to trick him and got him give me the real ones. Then he tried to kill me. " (Y/N) finished, tasting the sauce. He smacked his lips, tasting the sauce.

Damian nodded, not saying anything. It doesn't phase him when it comes to (Y/N).

" I can see that you take good care of them. " Damian noted, making (Y/N) smile.

" When you say that Dames, that is the biggest praise in the world. " (Y/N) said. " Are feeling okay? " (Y/N) asked.

" I feel okay. "

" Let me know if you start feeling like you are going get sick. "

Damian nodded, turning his head back to observe the beautiful blades.

" (Y/N), I need help. " Tim said, walking to the kitchen island with a laptop in his hands. (Y/N) was working on his own laptop in the kitchen. He looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose.

" What's up kiddo? " (Y/N) asked, looking up from his own laptop.

" I need to find this man. But I can't. " Tim said, showing him the screen. (Y/N) recognized the man instantly. He is also looking for him, alongside a few Gotham rouges.

" Bruce told me you aren't allowed to go on patrol. " (Y/N) remembered.

" I won't go, I was going to call it in to GCPD. Anonymously, of course." Tim added the last part.

" Hmm. Let me call in a few favors. Did you do your homework? " (Y/N) asked, reaching for his phone.

" A few favors? " Tim asked, tilting his head.

" Yes. I have a few friends who control the information. And my God, though they owe. " (Y/N) joked, taking his his glasses off and putting them next to the laptop.

" And Bruce knows about that? " Tim asked, clearly shocked. He knew that his uncle was sketchy, but this is something else.

" He does. When he says we have a lead, there is a 70% chance that the lead came from me. " (Y/N) said, dialing the number for the burner phone of his friend.

" Okay... I'm going to go back to my room. " Tim said, taking his laptop back, shaking his head. (Y/N) chuckled quietly, waiting for his friends to pick up.

Dick sighed as he went through the channel on the TV. He was getting bored from not going on patrol. It was so weird how they slept at normal times. It is the weirdest thing ever.

But that isn't the only reason why he was so bored. There is a lot on his mind about Bruce. Is he okay? Did the mission go well? Why didn't they go? They could have said that they went on vacation, on a longer one.

Did Bruce think that they weren't good enough?

" Alright Dick. You have been moping around all day. I can see that your head is full. And before you say anything, I won't tell anything to Bruce. And also, I won't judge. This is a no judgement zone. " (Y/N) said to Dick, offering Dick some hot chocolate.

Dick took the mug with a sad smile, taking a sip of the warm beverage.

" I just think that Bruce doesn't think we are good enough. Like, he takes on a lot when he has us, ready to go, ready to help him. We could have helped him with the mission. " Dick opened up, tapping his finger against the mug.

(Y/N) smiled softly, moving closer to Dick. He put his arm around his shoulders to bring him closer.

" Dick, let me tell you something. You four are the most important people to Bruce. He loves you four more than anything else in the world. And whenever we meet, he always talks about the achievements you guys have. And there is this gleam and proud look in his eyes. " (Y/N) said, hugging Dick from the side.

" Really? "

" Trust me, he is always proud of you guys and none of our meetings go without mentioning you guys. And he is also protective of you guys. When you guys got injured, he blamed himself. " (Y/N) answered the question.

" That's nice to hear. Thanks. " Dick thanked, leaning back on (Y/N).

" No problem. " (Y/N) said, rubbing his hand up and down his arm.

Bruce was finally back home, in his city. He missed it a lot, but he missed his sons more. He was walking down the familiar hallway, knocking on the door. The door was opened by (Y/N). He nodded at Bruce in greeting and Bruce nodded back.

Before could Bruce say hello, his sons jumped, excited out of their minds. They were all talking at the same time and Bruce couldn't understand anything.

" One at the time. " Bruce said after they paused for breath.

" (Y/N) is so cool Bruce! He needs to come over more and vice versa! " Dick said, buzzing with excitement.

Bruce didn't know what to say to that. He didn't really want to spend more time with (Y/N). Did he miss (Y/N) as a friend? Yes. But did he think that they could repair their friendship? No.

" Wait for me in the hall guys. " Bruce said, looking at (Y/N). The boys shuffled out of the living room into the building hall.

" Thank you. " Bruce said to (Y/N) who gave him a tight smile in return.

" No problem. When it comes to them, I will drop everything. " (Y/N) said, looking at the apartment door.

" Do you think that our relationship is repairable? " Bruce asked, crossing his arms.

" I think so. We are much alike. We don't really like emotions that much. "

" So... How about you come to the manor this weekend? We are having a celebration for this mission. " Bruce proposed.

" Only if you have wine. "

" Cabernet Sauvignon, I know. I have some that are sleeping in my wine cellar. " Bruce joked. (Y/N) chucked quietly in return.

" So there is a chance? " Bruce hoped. (Y/N) also missed Bruce as a friend. But bad blood was holding them both back.

" I think there is. "

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader)

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) Word Count: 14,842 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of murder, crime scenes, guns, near-death experiences, slow-burn romance, drug addiction, death, and some MAJOR FLUFF! Spoilers: none, as Criminal Minds has been out for literal decades so don't get mad.

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer, and one time he says it back in the same fashion.

This man has been eating my brain alive for the past few weeks and I know I'm late but damn he deserves all the appreciation he gets. This was just a silly little idea I had because I'm the kind of person to get obsessed quickly and can't move on until I write it out of my system. Seeing how long this turned out, I have split each moment into six smaller, digestible chapters as linked below. Enjoy xx

Full Story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'

'I don't understand why we had to in the first place,' Derek said as he grumpily turned around.

'A magician never tells his secrets,' Spencer said, rubbing his hands gleefully. To him, showing off his intellect never got boring.

Well, show off wasn't the proper term. He understood that he could be a lot for some people, knowing so much for a man in his early twenties that looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone with three Bachelors and PHDs under his belt already. Spouting little known facts or remembering minute details about cases that went back thirty to forty years was just his way of expressing himself. It was his way of contributing to the team. And while his team was getting used to his ramblings and intellect, even demonstrated admiration for it, others would call him a freak.

'If you ask me,' JJ said, 'I wouldn't want to know how he does some things.'

'Fair,' Derek replied, all their eyes on the film canister.

Spencer watched it in anticipation, how the bubbles slipped out between the lid and the canister slowly at first, then started bubbling faster and bigger and-

POP!

The canister rocketed up towards the roof, and all three of them watched with wide eyes as it arced over the bullpen and then down to meet the-

'Ow!'

Spencer ducked into his chair as he watched a young lady in a loose button up shirt, dress pants and boots pat her head. He heard JJ and Derek scurry away, but Spencer remained staring at the woman. Who is she? he thought, his eyes scanning over her.

Your (h/c) hair caught the sunlight, giving it a glow that had Spencer mesmerised. Your (s/c) skin shone with it, making your (e/c) eyes stand out most beautifully. And when you stood back up and made eye contact with him, canister in hand, he found himself frozen, unable to avoid the conclusion that he was the culprit.

'What is this, Reid?' Hotch said, walking up to his desk not looking the least bit impressed. 'Actually, don't answer that. Just don't do it again.'

'Sorry,' Spencer murmured out, a guilty smile stretching his lips slightly.

Hotch blew out a sigh. 'Never mind that now. I would like to introduce you to our new team member. Agent (Y/n) (L/n), a transfer from LA.'

Spencer finally realised that you had walked up with Hotch, and now that you were so close (literally standing a desk apart from one another), he was lost for words at how bright your smile was, and how beautiful you looked that way.

'So you're the one that thought my head was a good landing place for your little... rocket,' you said offering the film canister back, laughter dancing in your words.

It took Spencer a moment for him to realise you wanted him to take the canister back, so he scrambled to his feet, fingers fumbling for the canister. 'No, I-I was just showing how a-an antacid reacts with water, and how, put into a small, confined place, that can cause a chemical, gas-like reaction and cause it to exploded.'

'And launch it like a rocket?' you asked.

He paused as he watched your smile slip a little. Oh no. He'd done it again - made someone feel dumber than him. And while technically that was true, he never meant to make anyone feel like that.

'Y-Yeah?' he answered, awkwardness rising up in his throat, freezing his limbs, his brain.

But then suddenly your smile returned, melting his fear and doubt as you said, 'Cool! I've always loved chemistry. I actually did a Bachelor of Science with a major in archaeological science and a minor in chemistry before I started my BA in Criminology.'

'And now you're here,' he said, a soft smile of his own tugging at his lips.

You nodded, looking around what would now be your new home. 'And now I'm here.'

'Fascinating,' Spencer breathed out. He didn't mean to, but it made you smile more so he didn't mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself. He struck out his arm, rigid as a board, and offered his hand. 'Sorry, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'Pleasure to meet you, doctor,' you said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. You skin was as soft as it looked, Spencer noted. 'I very much look forward to working with you and the rest of the team as we go forward.'

'We've got a briefing in five minutes, Reid,' Hotch interrupted, moving to step away from the conversation. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the team then, (L/n). And if I find you firing another film canister through the sky, Reid-'

'Yes, yes, sorry, no more rockets. Airspace Reid is officially grounded,' Spencer quickly replied, not wanting to get lectured like a twelve-year-old like he usually did.

Your tinkling laughter drew his attention back to you, and he was baffled by the wonderment dancing in your eyes as you looked at him. 'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'T-Thanks?' he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if you were making fun of him or not. Most people did if they didn't straight up tell him he was annoying.

Hotch walked away, but you remained for a moment, leaning in close to whisper, 'That's a good thing, by the way.'

'Oh. Right.'

You flashed him one last smile before following your new unit chief, falling back into easy conversation with him as you gracefully floated through the chaotic goings of the office. Spencer couldn't take his eyes off you as you did, in awe of your grace and poise, and how you didn't even stumble when you spoke with him. You were genuine, upfront and honest. You couldn't be much older than himself, he noted, perhaps even younger. He was used to being the baby of the team, but it looked like that would be changing.

The prospect of being able to connect with someone his own age sent an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter through his heart.

'Oh, you've got it bad.'

Spencer spun in his chair to see JJ and Derek standing behind him once more, watching him with knowing grins.

'What? What have I got?' he asked. 'I'm not sick... I don't think.'

JJ rolled her eyes and giggled as she walked away, Spencer just catching a quiet, 'This'll be fun,' as she did. But Derek walked closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and that knowing grin stretched wider, more feline and cheeky.

'Don't worry, pretty boy,' he said. 'You'll figure it out soon. You're smart, right?'

'Well, smart isn't really the quite term for someone with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187-'

'And pep talk is over,' Derek interrupted, abruptly walking away back to his desk and leaving Spencer in a disarray of emotions.

So he looked back to where you had gone, and found you speaking with Penelope, nodding enthusiastically to whatever she was talking to you about. But you weren't just being polite, you appeared genuinely interested in the conversation, even though Spencer noted you barely contributed to it.

'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

All his life, Spencer had been told he was a genius - gifted, different. It had just become an effortless part of who he is. It was almost expected at this point to see weirded-out or overly-amazed expressions from people he didn't know. So why then, when you said that to him, did he feel happy about it?

He checked his watch. Almost briefing time. He got up from his seat and made his way to the briefing room where only a place beside you was available. Maybe he would find out soon enough.

~

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations.

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them.

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once the team joined the case.

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain.

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind your back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to.

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own.

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office.

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?'

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed.

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like.

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked.

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'

~

The next time you dumbfounded him, he almost kissed you.

Ever since you had joined the BAU, you and Spencer had alway had a sweet partnership. But after that night in the office, you had become inseparable. Best friends, to put simply. You stayed late at the office to keep each other company, brought each other coffee and treats, spent free days checking out the new films playing in the cinema.

You had inside jokes, and fought like an old, married couple - a fact the team loved to bring up whenever possible. But you liked it like that. Spencer was your person, and you were his.

And as much as he wowed you everyday, you managed to surprise him on occasions, too.

You were both paired up to interrogate a suspect. You personally didn't believe she was the killer, but Spencer didn't like to base anything from solely his gut. In other words, he was skeptical.

'I didn't kill those women,' your suspect said. 'And even if wanted to kill them, it would be for something more worthwhile than a stupid role.'

'Jealously isn't as far-fetched a reason to kill as you may believe,' Spencer stated to her. 'Particularly in women, the feeling of being threatened or in danger of losing something important to them brings out almost a maternal instinct to protect what they believe to be is theirs.'

'You think all actresses are that low? That shallow?' The young woman was pretty, but her face scrunched up in an ugly manner at the insinuation.

'He doesn't think that at all,' you interjected. 'In fact, he quite likes actresses, don't you buddy?'

Spencer gave you a side eye to which you smiled sickly-sweetly at in return. You were never going to let the Lila fling down any time soon.

You looked back at the young woman, your face returning to empathetic, concerned. She had a wall up, she was wearing a mask. If you wanted answers out of her, you needed to connect with her.

You leaned forward on the table, positioning yourself in front of Spencer so all her focus was on you.

'Anna,' you said softly, like you were speaking to a friend. 'I know you didn't do it. You're different than all those other girls right? You've worked hard to get where you are. Small town girl wanting to make a name for herself in an industry that can be ruthless and heartless as the killer that's still out there. You are classically trained, by-the-book, no shortcuts. I bet you started on the stage of your elementary school, landing the lead role.'

The young woman looked at you with skepticism for a moment, then you saw a crack in her mask as she nodded. 'I was Mary in the Christmas production. But it wasn't until high school when we preformed Shakespeare's The Tempest that I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.'

Spencer noticed your smile now, how it lifted in a manner that sung of melancholy and fondness.

'"We are such stuff as dreams are made on.",' you said whimsically, and Spencer noted a familiarity that had the words rolling off your tongue with ease. Like it was muscle memory.

'Such a beautiful line, right?' the young woman asked.

'Yes, but, when translated into our modern English, it is quite sad really.' You make eye contact with the young woman and hoped she saw the understanding and slight desperation in your eyes. 'It means that life is an illusion, and a fleeting one at that. I don't necessarily believe in the first part of that, but it is true that life is fleeting. So before you end up the next aspiring actress in our morgue, you've got to tell us everything you know.'

The rest of the interrogation went smoothly. Honestly, it was the easiest one Spencer had ever sat in before. And all the while he had just sat there in awe of you.

'I didn't know you read Shakespeare,' he said randomly as they drove together in a local police SUV to meet with the rest of the team at the new suspect's house.

You scoffed. 'See that's the biggest misconception of Shakespeare. That it can only be read. In fact, it actually shouldn't be just read. It needs to be performed.'

Amusement danced upon Spencer's lips. 'Are you saying you were in a Shakespearean play? Which one? Actually, let me guess. Romeo and Juliet.'

'That's a cliche.'

'Twelfth Night? How about Taming of the Shrew?'

'Why do you want to know so badly?'

'Because I...' It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't quite know why he wanted to know. Only that he knows everything and you were his best friend and he didn't know something about you.

You spared him a sympathetic smile from the driver's seat before returning your eyes to the road. 'If you must know... it was actually The Tempest. It was my high school's production, too. And as much as he irritates me, I grew fascinated with Shakespeare's work after that. It even prompted me to do a unit or two in Shakespearean literature and performance during my uni days.'

You allowed yourself to slip back in time a little to those days, that melancholy and fondness finding its way back into your smile, Spencer noticed.

'Outside of Shakespeare though, I'll admit... I was a theatre kid.'

'No way!' Spencer exclaimed. 'You?'

'Why is it so unbelievable that I used to dress up and spout lines that no one really understood?' you asked, but you weren't offended. Simply amused that you seemed to have stunned the (until now) un-stunnable Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Because... it's just so left of field from anyone else in the team.'

'And is that a bad thing?'

'...not at all,' he said after a moment, and then proceeded to drop the matter entirely. Spencer Reid never forgets anything, he couldn't forget, not with his eidetic memory. But he made extra special care to file that little fact about you away for now.

A few days after returning home from wrapping that case up, you came into work to find your coffee already made on your desk, and beside it was an envelope. Curious, you swiftly opened the envelope and gasped with pure surprise at what you found.

'I thought you might like them,' Spencer said as he approached you, his own coffee in hand. 'The ticket vendor said they were the best seats in the house.'

'Oh my God, Spencer!' You couldn't help yourself, you leapt onto the gangly man like a frog and held him tighter than you'd ever hugged someone before, avoiding spilling Spencer's coffee. You were so excited you even smacked a fat, grateful kiss on his unsuspecting cheek before letting him go. 'Tickets to ASC's production of The Tempest?! How did you even get these, I was told they were all gone.'

'Believe it or not, I have connections everywhere,' Spencer answered a bit too vaguely but you didn't care. 'Even in areas that aren't of my particular expertise. I figured you and a friend could go enjoy it before it finishes up.'

'You mean you're not coming?'

Spencer tried not to read into it too much, but he swore he heard a little hiccup in your question, like you were upset. 'W-Well, I, I, uh, didn't want to assume anything. I mean, y-you might want to take JJ, or Emily-

'Spencer.' It was ridiculous how easy he listened when you said his name, how he dropped everything to listen to what you had to say whenever you did. And his heart faltered when he made eye contact with you and saw joy and hope lighting up your eyes. 'Would you like to come to the show with me?'

And it wasn't any wonder, then, that he replied without hesitation, 'Y-Yeah! All right, s-sure. Would love to.'

'Amazing!' Spencer once again had to juggle his coffee and you as you squeezed all the air out of him in another bone-crushing hug. 'Spencer Reid, you have just made my day.'

It was a week later and the night of the performance. You drove yourself and Spencer two and a half hours straight from Quantico down to Staunton to the American Shakespeare Centre, reciting and recalling your favourite Shakespearean moments the whole trip.

Spencer made the extreme effort to look presentable, pulling out a nice suit set, even replacing his usual casual sneakers with some shiny boots. His hair was slicked back out of his face, with only the slightest stubble on his chin and upper lip.

When you picked him up, you said he looked handsome. He never cared much for his appearance, but that comment warmed his heart slightly, made him sit more upright in his seat.

Once you pulled up and got out of the car, he finally saw you in all your glory. A navy blue dress clung to your frame beautifully; kitten heels cradled your feet as you walked up the stairs to the theatre's entrance; your jewellery brought out the (e/c) in your eyes, even further accentuated by your simple makeup and hair.

Spencer has met Nobel price winners, attorney generals, even spoken with the most psychotic people humanity has to offer. And yet there you stood - ethereal, angelic, striking him silent with just your presence.

'You coming, Boy Wonder?'

You'd reached the top the stairs without him moving a muscle. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up with a cough as he scrambled to catch up with you. 'Boy Wonder? Where did that come from?'

You shrugged playfully as you hooked your arm through his. 'Just seemed appropriate.'

'I'm twenty-seven, (y/n). I'm hardly a boy.'

'Oh, so would you prefer I call you Batman?'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'I didn't know you liked DC comics.'

'There's a lot you still don't know about me, Spencer Reid,' you answered, handing over your tickets to the ticket vendor at the door. 'Like how I've always preferred Robin over Batman, anyway.'

You quickly found your seats, and Spencer tried not to acknowledge how tight-knit the seats were pressed together. His thigh pressed lightly against your own, and he couldn't tell if he hated or liked the feeling that suddenly sprouted in his gut.

It distracted him so much that instead of watching the performance, he looked at you. How you reacted to each sonnet, to the entrance of new characters, to the costuming and the music and emotion that filled the room with every word spoken. He watched it all, your joy, your love. Your heart was on your face, and it struck something new and unexplored inside him.

You cried at one point, and physical touch wasn't his forte, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them a reassuring squeeze that he was there. You'd turned to him briefly and nodded, showing that you understood and that you were grateful.

You didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the show.

'Wow,' you breathed out as you exited the theatre, the performance finally done. 'That was...'

'Yeah. I feel the same,' Spencer finished, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked down the stairs towards the carpark. His hand still burned from your touch, and that unsure feeling in his gut still remained.

'It was just so... magical.'

'I would say impressive, but magical works too, I guess.'

'Says the guy who still goes trick-or-treating on Halloween and believes in ghosts. Don't tell me you don't believe in the supernatural now.'

'I'm not saying I don't believe. I'm just saying that it's impressive that they were able to make fantastical magic seem slightly realistic.'

You playfully shove him, causing you both to fall into laughter. The two different melodies mixing together made Spencer feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. This was different to when you usually hung out. This time, there was no case, no team, nothing but yourselves to worry about.

'It doesn't matter, anyways,' you said, stopping on the steps suddenly. Spencer went down one more before stopping too. You smiled gratefully at him. It was a cool, autumn night, cool enough that your breath danced like ghosts in front of you as you spoke. 'Thank you, Spence. This was a wonderful night. You didn't have to do this.'

'I know,' he said, and it startled him how quiet and soft his voice was. 'I just... I just wanted you to enjoy the stuff you love. You deserve to enjoy the stuff you love.'

His acute eyes fell to your shoulders and noticed the slight shake in them. 'Here.' He wasted no time pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it tight to capture the warmth.

You gratefully held onto the jacket, the warmth it captured seeping into your eyes. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer,' you said, your words dancing in between you two.

He was only the step down now, making you two eye level with one another. He was so close he could see himself in your eyes. He wondered if you could see yourself in his.

'Am I?' he asked, his breath mixing with yours.

'Yeah...'

He felt your warmth, and he suddenly decided that he liked the feeling in his gut. The one that had been driving him crazy all night. The one that had an iron grip on his mind, his heart. The one that pulled him closer to you, to your lips.

His eyes were almost closed and his lips almost on yours. You didn't back away - you didn't want to back away you realised. No matter how hard your heart pounded in your chest. No matter if he was your best friend.

So you leaned in too, and you could just feel the stars and planets align as you tasted his breath-

The front of your heel slipped on the edge of the step, sending you flying forwards into Spencer's chest. His reflexes had improved immensely since joining the BAU, and so he managed to grab hold of you and hold himself up before your momentum could send you both tumbling down the remaining stairs.

You both breathed in heavy gulps of air, steadying both your hearts from what could've happened.

'Nice catch,' you said after a moment, loosening your grip on Spencer only a little.

'Thanks.' He didn't know where to look. You, the ground, his surroundings. It all just felt muddled, as if his whole world had been tilted on its axis.

In a sense, it had.

But he felt your gaze, and he couldn't deny your eyes so he looked at you also. You eyes were blown wide, and the slight catch in your breath had him second guessing himself. Maybe he'd read you wrong after all. He'd never been wrong before, but there was always a first time for everything, he figured.

'(Y/n), look, I-'

Before he could attempt to salvage himself, the irritating ring of his phone went off, breaking the glass dome of solitude you'd' forged together with nothing but words and air.

This forced you apart, awkwardly so, as Spencer readjusted you on his step before letting you go completely and fishing his phone out of his pant pocket. He checked the ID caller: Hotch.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 'Hotch, what's up?'

'New case,' the unit chief answered without pleasantries. 'I know we're all meant to be off for the weekend but this one is important.'

'Where is it and we'll be there.'

'You're with (Y/n), right? In Staunton?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Head to the local police. We'll meet you there. That's where the case is.'

'Okay. Gotcha.'

Hotch ended the call and then it was just him and you once more. Although instead of the air feeling freeing and warming, Spencer couldn't seem to get enough in his lungs. It was like he was suffocating, having to face you again.

So he slipped into work mode, keeping Hotch's urgency and the new case in the forefront of his mind. 'New case. Here in Staunton. Hotch wants us to head down to the police and meet them there.'

'Right.' You seemed to think the same as him - it's probably why you were best friends to begin with - as the ethereal light in your eyes dimmed with the severity of the new situation. Without another word, you both bee-lined for the car, jumped in, and made your way to the local police station.

But for the rest of the case, Spencer couldn't help but think about that moment with you on the steps. He'd kissed before, of course, even dabbled in flirting despite how little he knew about the craft. He'd never imagined he'd attempt it all on you, however. Not even in his wildest dreams.

~

He didn't hear your heart-stopping compliment again until it was almost too late.

After the Staunton case, you and Spencer had been... odd. Well, mainly Spencer, as he spoke as little as possible to you during cases, and always offered to go with anyone else but you on certain tasks. He even stopped coming over to yours for movie night each Saturday, claiming each time to be busy or unwell. It was Spencer's only way of ensuring nothing like that night ever happened again.

He convinced himself the moment was fleeting, just a mixture of chemicals in his brain combined with the adrenaline of being with a beautiful women he very much admired that made him read the signs wrong. You were friends, that was all you were, and all he would ever allow you to be.

This went on for three months.

And you were miserable.

Emily, JJ and Penelope recognised the change in your demeanour at work first, and when they found out the reason behind it, they slapped Spencer upside the head on their way out of the office one Friday afternoon and took you with them, promising a wonderful night out on the town.

That night, to Spencer's eventual annoyance, you'd met someone. A charming young firefighter named Riley who lived in Washington DC and was just in town to see family.

That night, you hooked up. And the next morning, he asked you on a date. That date led to another, then more. You were on your way to another one tonight when you got a phone call from JJ saying they found the latest unsub's house and were planning a raid on it.

Spencer knew you were on a date when he also got the phone call to come along. Despite his distance (by his own choice, he always had to remind himself), he kept tabs on you, checked in on you via others. And while the girls of the team were awfully mad at him, they always answered him when he asked how you were doing.

'You know, for a genius, you really are quite stupid,' JJ told him when he asked about you.

He quirked his eyebrow, genuinely confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'She's heartbroken,' Penelope added. 'Her best friend just gives her the silent treatment out of nowhere after what sounded like a magical night at the theatre. Who wouldn't be upset by that, Reid?'

'I just,' he paused, rallying his thoughts into words that couldn't quite describe how he felt. 'It's complicated.'

'Love shouldn't be complicated, Reid,' Emily interjected, a soft but sad smile gracing her painted lips.

Spencer swallowed thickly at that. 'W-What do you mean?'

Derek finished making his coffee and took a sip of it before answering. 'We all see it, Reid. You don't have to deny anymore how you feel.'

'I'm not denying anything, Morgan.'

'Maybe not to us,' Derek continued. 'But you are definitely denying it to yourself. All I can say is don't wait until it's too late. She's already slipping away.'

That's when Spencer found out about your dates with Riley, and an ugly, selfish, hurt part of him wanted to scream with anger. Mainly at himself, but the damage was done and he had to get over you.

But when you showed up to the unsub's home, your FBI bullet-proof vest on and mascara slightly smeared under your eyes, he was beyond confused. And concerned.

'You're here,' he stated matter-of-factly.

'You sound surprised,' you answered stiffly, loading your gun without even glancing at him.

'To be honest, yeah. JJ and the rest all said you were out tonight. I figured you-'

'What? That I would ignore the call because I had something personal planned?' You finally looked up at him, and man did your cold stare pierce him like an arrow. 'This is my job, Spence. I knew, same as you and everyone else, that I would have to make some sacrifices to do it. So please, don't think so little of me just because I attempted to have a life outside of it.'

He grew more concerned at your choice of words. 'Attempted?' he asked, but then he looked closely at your smeared mascara, at the redness circling your eyes. Like you'd been crying-

'Don't worry about it,' you muttered, brushing past him to meet up with the team. 'You haven't for about four months now.'

Spencer tried to ignore the sting your words brought with them as he followed you to the rest of the team, forcing himself to put the case in front of you. But he'd done that for the past four months as you had so brightly pointed out, and look where it had landed him.

'Now remember,' Hotch started, bringing the team and some other officers in to brief, 'this unsub may use this place as his base to build his bombs, but don't discredit the idea that he wouldn't blow it up to save himself. Tread carefully but be vigilant, he is in the house somewhere. Now move.'

Spencer followed you into the house through the front door, gun and flashlight at the ready. All that could be heard were the soft but swift patter of footsteps as the FBI and local police ran in. The lights were on, but no unsub.

You were silently directed by Hotch to investigate the back end of the house, to which Spencer and Derek followed. You focussed on maintaining your breathing as you tried not to think about your date, Spencer, your heart thrashing in your ribcage. Only the unsub mattered.

The three of you broke into the last room of the house, the laundry. Upon entry, you spotted him, the unsub, running out the back door into the backyard.

'Hey!' you called out, immediately breaking into a sprint after him. You broke out of the laundry onto a cemented path towards a clothes line, chasing after him towards the fence line. But as you stepped off the path and onto the grass, something gave way beneath your feet, followed by a resounding click that had your freezing with fear.

'(L/n), keep going!' Derek shouted from somewhere behind you.

'Hold up!' you cried, throwing an arm back behind you. 'I think the yard is full of bombs.'

'Well, let's go around the front and get him in the back streets, come on!'

'I can't,' you replied back, slightly breathless from running, but also from the fear constricting now your airways.

'Why?' You didn't have to see him to know it was Spencer, concern dripping from just one word.

'Because I'm standing on one.'

Spencer knew it was physically impossible, but he was sure his stomach just dropped out of him and onto the bomb-littered grass around them. This was bad. Like very very bad.

'Shit,' Derek breathed out before bringing his wrist up to his mouth. 'Hotch, the unsub got away over the back fence, send some men to intercept him two blocks north from here.'

'Got it,' Hotch answered efficiently.

'And send the bomb squad out here. Yard is like a mine field and (L/n) is standing on one.'

After that, it didn't take long for the rest of the team to run outside, making extra careful to stand only on the pavements as they got as close to you as they could. Spencer stood the closest, standing directly in front of you as the bomb squad swept the yard for the rest of them.

'I've got some good news and some bad news,' one member of the bomb squad said as she came up to the team. 'Good news is it's the only bomb in the yard.'

'And I just managed to find it. Super,' you muttered, your tone shaky although the intention was to lighten the mood.

'Bad news is it's a pressure-triggered bomb, meaning that if you move even a fraction it'll go off. Also, by stepping on it, you've set of a timer until it explodes. The only way to disarm it seems to be a code of some kind.'

'How long do we have?' Spencer asked, not bothering to mask his desperation. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people, it had to be you.

'Six hours now,' she said grimly. 'My team and I will do everything we can to dismantle it and shut it off manually, but it's built quite strong so it'll be tough to crack open without setting it off. Your best bet will be to get an answer from your bomber.'

'Uniforms just called in,' Rossi said. 'They're bringing him in now.'

'Good,' Hotch said with a ferocity that would send most people running for the hills. 'He's gonna give us that code one way or another.' He turned to you, determination blazing in his eyes. 'Hang tight, (Y/n). We're gonna get you off that thing.'

'I'll hold you to that,' you joked, and you were grateful to receive a soft smile in return from Hotch and the rest of the team. Except for Spencer, he couldn't find it in himself to smile. He could barely think no thanks to your dangerous position.

'I'll stay with (Y/n),' Spencer said, his voice strained compared to his usual calmness.

'Reid,' Derek started, 'you're our best bet to crack open this guy. If we find something-'

'Then I'll have my phone ready to pick up. I'm not leaving her.'

It surprised you the strength you heard hidden underneath his fear. It was there in his eyes too, blazing like Hotch's, except with more warmth, more determination.

Derek looked to Hotch, and Hotch just nodded. 'Okay fine, but you better pick up on the first ring.'

'Promise.'

'I'll stay to help with the bomb squad,' Emily said while also looking at you.

'No,' you said as Hotch, Derek and JJ left. 'You all should go. In case he somehow remotely sets it off himself.'

'We're not leaving,' Reid said firmly, making eye contact with you. 'Not until you're off that bomb, you hear me?'

You wanted to argue, trying to be selfless and strong. But the truth was you were terrified, and to hear Spencer's strength where you lacked helped you push your pride aside and nod in agreement.

Time had flown by and it was now the last ten minutes. Spencer had received phone call after phone call but nothing had been helpful. They'd tried two potential codes already but they didn't work. The bomb squad quickly realised that they only had three chances to get the code right and so they were down to the last chance.

'You guys should really leave,' you said amidst your chattering teeth. It was now just after midnight and your thin button up and the bulletproof vest were not cutting it anymore. Spencer wished he could give you a blanket, a jacket, his own shirt for God's sake if it would keep you warm slightly.

'That's not going to happen,' he answered without hesitation.

You yawned, eyes threatening to droop close. Your legs had gone numb long ago. You were unsure how you were holding yourself up. It certainly wasn't by adrenaline. Perhaps you were frozen in place.

'I mean it, Spence,' you said, bracing yourself as another shiver threatened to spasm your entire body. 'It's the last ten minutes. You should be clear in case it goes off.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

'Damnit, Spencer. Of all the times to be stubborn, you choose now?'

'I'm not being stubborn,' Spencer argued. Were you purposefully trying to tick him off now? 'I'm trying to save your life!'

'You're right, you're not being stubborn. You're being plain stupid,' you retorted. You weren't sure why you were suddenly so angry, you just didn't like him playing the hero when he didn't have to.

'Yes! I am stupid, I admit that. I'll announce that to the entire neighbourhood right now if you want me to! Because if it weren't for me being an idiot, you wouldn't have had those dates, you wouldn't have had a date tonight, and maybe you wouldn't be stuck standing on a bomb right now!'

You stared incredulously at Spencer. He blamed himself for your situation? For Riley?

Despite the bustling of people around them, everything grew silent as youO stared at one another, Spencer's chest heaving as he sucked in air hard.

'Spence,' you said softly, your anger suddenly dissipating. 'I don't blame you for any of this. I would've ended up on this bomb one way or another. Or even worse, it could've been you standing on it. And as for Riley...' You thought the tears would come up again like before, but your eyes remained dry, and your heart didn't pull harshly.

Not for Riley, anyways.

'Did something happen between you two?' Spencer tentatively asked. His tone bordered on concerned and hopeful, demonstrating his torn mindset to whatever you were about to say.

You nodded. 'I told him I had to go to work, which wasn't unusual, but he just flipped. Said he was sick of me choosing you guys over him and that he was finished.'

He hated himself for feeling the slightest bit happy at the news, but his best friend instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you. 'I'm sorry. You could've said no. We would've understood-'

'Spencer, I will always choose you guys over anyone,' you interjected, and the complete seriousness on your face reflected your sincerity brighter than the full moon above. 'I will always choose you, Spence.'

It was then Spencer saw it: the same feeling he'd had swirling in his stomach for months reflected in your eyes. It scared him, but what scared him more was that it would all be gone soon if he didn't do anything about it.

He would be too late, just like Derek said.

The bomb squad lady and Emily walked up to them both, and Spencer did not like the grim expressions on their faces.

'I'm sorry,' the bomb squad lady said. 'It's the last five minutes. There's nothing else we can do but clear out of the blast zone.'

'What about the code?' Spencer pressed, but Emily shook her head.

'Reid, they've gotten nothing out of him. We've got to go.'

'But we can't just leave her here-'

'Trust me, Spencer, I don't want to either!' Emily cried, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of you dying. 'But we can't do anything for her here. I've got the remote to input the code if they get another one, but until then, we've got to clear from the blast zone.'

'No.' Spencer shook his head vigourously. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept this.

'Spencer,' you tried gently. 'It's okay. I can do the rest alone. I want you to be safe.'

'Well, too bad, because I'm staying.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rushed down your cheeks. 'Damnit, Spencer. Please, just go. Don't make this harder than it already is.'

Spencer took a daring step towards you, the tops of his shoes dangling just over the edge of the pavement. 'I won't abandon you. Not again.'

You were most likely a blubbering mess, your heart hurting so much at the thought that he would get caught up in your mess. 'God, why don't you just leave-'

'Because I love you, (Y/n)!'

The four of you stood dumbfounded as his proclamation echoed through the yard, the house, the street back out the front. Hell, Spencer hoped the whole world heard what he said, because he felt free for the first time in months, weightless, powerful.

And it was all because of you.

'I love you,' he repeated again, softer this time. As the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, tears of his own sprouted in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd finally built up the courage to tell you, and you were minutes away from being blown up.

Through your tears, you find it in yourself to chuckle a little. It's watery and gross-sounding, but Spencer likes it none the less because it's yours, and you haven't lost complete hope. 'Talk about great timing, you big idiot.' And then there it is, that bright smile he saw day one in the office. You wore it with such pride, such strength it pulled at Spencer's heart strings painfully. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.'

'One minute,' the bomb squad lady said, her tone frantic now. 'We've got to move! Now!'

'Reid, come on!' Emily cried, backing up with the bomb squad.

'I won't abandon her,' he replied, never taking his eyes off you.

'Reid please!'

Before he could reply, though, his phone buzzed, and he immediately answered the call. 'Please tell me you go it.'

'HOME! The code word is HOME!'

'Punch in HOME!' Reid called out to Emily, keeping Derek on the line as he stared at you. If you were to die, he was gonna make damn sure the last thing you saw wasn't an unfamiliar face.

'Are you sure?'

'We're out of time! Do it!'

'Spence...' you muttered. But you never finished your sentence, as your breath got caught while watching Emily punch in the code into the device. You closed your eyes. Soon you would be in eternal darkness. You would not fear it, but embrace it.

But when nothing happened, you dared to sneak a peek at what was going on. You saw Spencer first, who looked at Emily, who looked at the device in her hands. The deathly silence was finally broken at the sound of a green light on the device switching on. You then heard a hundred tiny clicks somewhere underfoot and felt yourself being pushed up back onto level ground.

Spencer finally looked back to you, eyes blown wide with hope he dared not realise. That same hope fuelled your frozen, tired legs, to take the tiniest of steps forward, and when nothing happened, you took your other foot off the bomb and collapsed forward into Spencer's arms.

His heart pounded faster than the jet that flew them all over the country every week as he cradled you simultaneously gently and tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your arms circling around his back and pulling him as tight as possible.

Oh, how he had missed your touch, your affection, your love, you.

'It's okay, you're okay,' he soothed, patting your hair down with one hand while he cradled you with the other. 'I'm here. We're all here.' He realised suddenly he'd dropped his phone, and so with one hand, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. 'She's off.'

He barely heard the cheers of excitement and relief on Derek's end before he was hanging up and helping you to your feet. After that, it was a whirlwind of the bomb squad excavating the bomb, paramedics arriving, and CSU investigating the house.

After giving his statement of events to the local police and finishing speaking to other officials, he found you wrapped in a trauma blanket in the open back of an ambulance.

'How are you feeling?' he said as he approached you.

You broke free of your own world to look at Spencer, and a soft smile managed its way onto your lips. 'Well, I can feel my legs again so that's a start. And you?'

'All the better now that you're not standing on a bomb.'

You chuckled, though a red tinge dusted your cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I must admit, it's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before you die.'

'Really? What did you see?' Spencer had read articles about this kind of stuff before, but had never spoken with a person who'd experience it themselves.

You didn't answer straight away, instead standing up to face him fully. Your legs felt like jelly a little but you stood strong. 'I saw you,' you replied easily, as if breathing air. 'Only you.'

Spencer couldn't hold it back, his fear, his relief. It all came bubbling out in an ugly sob as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing his face into your hair, using your scent to calm himself. He felt you sobbing too, how your body shook with your own anxieties.

'I missed you,' you said, your words muffled into his chest.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I missed you, too.' He pulled you back slightly so that he could see your face. He wiped at your tears and forced his best smile just for you. 'But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. That is... if you want me around.'

You heard his silent question, and it made you smile how confident and shy he could be simultaneously.

'Spencer Reid,' you murmured, like what you were about to say next was your biggest secret, 'of course I want you around. I love you.'

He chuckled with relief, tears still pricking at his eyes. But your words sealed your fate, as he used his small amount of confidence to grab the back of your neck gently and pull your lips to his.

You were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, and dare he compare you the most addictive drug he could ever hope to get high on. He couldn't get enough of you, and it was such a relief to finally let it out how much he needed you to breathe.

You were equally breathless, simultaneously feeling all consumed by Spencer's love without also having enough of it. Your fingers danced in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, threading yourself into him as much as possible. The truth was, the past four months were torturous.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

As you both finally broke apart, you pressed your foreheads together, nervous giggles of teenagers bubbling up in you both. This was fresh and new, but the love you had for one another had been there all along. No one was going anywhere.

'Finally!'

You and Spencer looked up to see the rest of the team watching from afar, with Emily and JJ smiling giddily, Derek and Rossi trying to suppress laughter, and Hotch having the simplest of grins on his lips.

'Oh, babygirl is going to have a field day when she hears about this,' Derek said, walking up to clap Spencer on the back and give him a hug. 'Well done, man.'

'It's about time,' Rossi said as the rest of the team joined you both. 'I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.'

'Thank God you didn't,' Emily said, both her and JJ giving you a hug. 'As much as this has been traumatic for all of us, I'm so glad it brought you back together.'

'Say that to my poor legs,' you whined, but you hugged them just as tight. Truthfully, you felt the same. And as Reid held you in his arms that night, having refused to let you out of his sight after your brush with death, you couldn't be more grateful for it, too.

~

Your wedding was the next major point in his life that your words had impact.

The past five years leading up to your engagement had been some of the best and challenging in your life. There'd been many more close calls on both your lives since then - kidnappings, hostage situations, deadly viruses, the works. Even some romantic challenges that came in the form of other men and women.

But your bond ran deeper than superficial, petty spiffs. You always found your way back to one another, no matter how dark the road got. It was even on such a dark case that saw both you and Spencer on death row that he asked you. You'd both been captured and locked in a shipping container filled with no gaps for air and no way out. Before that, you'd copped a beating from your capture, forcing Spencer to watch all the while. Truthfully, it hadn't looked good, and that's why Spencer did it.

'What?' you asked deliriously, barely able to see straight no thanks to the lack of oxygen.

'I was planning on asking you... after this case,' Spencer admitted, his face mere centimetres from yours as he held you in a tight hug. He was breathless, running out of air and time it seemed. He had to do it now. 'Had it all planned out... We would go to that place on the hill we go to... a picnic all set out... and just as the sun would set, I'd ask you... and give you this.'

You would've gasped if you'd had enough air to do so, in utter shock to see Spencer pull out a simple gold band with a diamond embedded in it from in his pant pocket.

'I've had this for months... waiting for the... right time,' he managed to get out. 'It's my mothers. When I told her I wanted to marry you... she didn't even hesitate to give it to me.'

You were both weak, but he softly picked your left hand up and looked you dead in the eye. 'This might be it for us, but it also might not. Either way, I want to be yours for whatever time we have left. So, (Y/n) (L/n)... will you marry me?'

The tears that trekked down your face actually cleared your vision enough to see Spencer's smile clearly as you answered, 'Yes. I will marry you.'

Either some higher being was looking out for you that day, or your team was just really good at their job (Spencer never doubted them for a moment), but the team found you both in time, both unconscious and barely breathing, but hand in hand, with yours suddenly bejewelled.

Since then it had been a flurry of work and wedding arrangements and stress over the next seven months. Many speculated you were pregnant and that's why you and Spencer rushed the wedding. The truth was you just didn't want to wait any longer than you had to, not being in your line of work. Any day could be your last, so why waste it.

Spencer messed with the tie of his navy blue suit for the hundredth time as he stood waiting under the arch of flowers in the backyard of Rossi's mansion for you. He wasn't nervous, just... ansty, like he had ants in his pants and wanted to get out of them as soon as possible. But he couldn't deny he was just as excited for this day as you were. All of your friends and family dressed up, no case, no killer, nothing but what dessert they were going to have at the reception to worry about.

'Hey pretty boy,' Derek said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 'Stop messing with it. You look fine.'

'I know, I just...' Spencer couldn't put into words what he was feeling, not as he stared at his good friend - his best man. Even though Derek had left the BAU, Spencer and him still spoke regularly, and he was more than happy to be there for his best bud at arguably the most important day of his life.

Derek smiled knowingly, straightening Spencer's tie because that's what the best man did for the groom. 'She loves you, Spencer. You've got nothing to worry about.'

'I'm not worried. I just...' He felt the tears already coming on and he hadn't even seen you yet. You were probably even more gorgeous than you already were. God he couldn't wait to marry you.

'I get it, man,' Derek said, and then the piano started playing a soft, whimsical tune that was so you and he stepped back into place. 'Show time, pretty boy.'

Spencer straightened himself up, told himself to hold the tears back. This was not a sad day, but a joyous one. But his breath was stolen the moment the doors of Rossi's mansion opened, after Emily, JJ and Penelope walked through, and you walked out into the backyard on your father's arm.

Your gown was simple, accentuating your body like the goddess you were. Your (h/c) locks were styled to perfection, hidden barely by the thin veil that fell like morning mist over your face. You held your favourite flowers in your hands, the glint of your engagement ring shining as bright as the sun that shone upon the whole ceremony.

By the time you reached him, Spencer was about ready to rip your veil off, kiss the living daylights out of you and runaway. But he resisted, instead waiting patiently for your dad to flip your veil up, and for you to hand over your bouquet to JJ, your maid of honour. When you finally turned to face him, he could've cried. You were so beautiful. And we was marrying you today.

You reached out to him, and he was more than glad to clasp your hands at last.

'Hi,' you whispered, a nervous but excited smile twitching your lips.

'Hi,' he whispered back, the threat of tears burning the back of his eyes again. 'You are gorgeous.'

'Thanks. You look handsome.'

'It's a wonder what a whole eight hours sleep and showering more than once a week can do.'

He was so glad to hear your laugh. It calmed his nerves, and apparently yours calmed too, as your hands no longer shook in his.

'All right, everyone,' Rossi started, stepping up to minister the ceremony. 'Let's get this started.'

The boring, ceremonious stuff went by quickly and soon you were reciting your vows. You'd both wanted to write your own vows for each other - agreeing that the usual script was not enough to express your love for one another, and what you would do to protect that love.

Reid went first.

'(Y/n),' he began, staring you straight in your eyes. He'd written his speech over and over again, but once he found the right words, it only took him a matter of seconds to memorise them. Forever. 'I've always been told I was different. Gifted, special. Being different helped me get this job, this family-' he turned to his friends, who watched them with bright smiles and teary eyes. 'But it also got me in trouble, held me back from experiencing... normal things like friendship, even love. So much so, that I started to believe... I was unworthy of love.'

You squeezed his hands, hearing the stutter in his words, the built up emotion that threatened to consume him. He gratefully squeezed back, grateful to know he was not alone, that he would never be alone from this day forth.

'But from the day I met you, you've shown me that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Theoretically, we shouldn't work. Despite popular opinion, studies have shown that people from different backgrounds, with different interests and completely different personality traits are less likely to feel attracted to one another than people with similar backgrounds, interests and personalities.'

'Come on, Reid. You really want people to sleep through your wedding?' Derek asked, prompting you and the rest of the guests to burst into laughter.

'I have a point,' he countered, and waited for the laughter to die down before resuming his vows. 'And while I usually rely on statistics and facts to make informed decisions about my life, from the day that I met you, you turned my entire world upside, inside out... and I didn't care. Because despite knowing almost everything there is to know about, well, everything, you are the one thing that has and always will make sense to me.'

He saw you trying to hold back tears, so he let go of one of your hands to caress your cheek where some tears rolled down. He swiped them away gently with his thumb without ruining your makeup, the most handsome, beautiful smile you'd ever seen on his lips.

'I love you, (Y/n) (L/n). I have loved you since we first met, at every case, at every movie night, every time you made me coffee. I love how you find the light amidst the darkness, how you give yourself completely to everyone you meet. I love the crinkle in your forehead every time you get mad at me. I love all of you, and I don't have to promise you that I will stay by your side through it all for the rest of our lives. You have had me since day one, and that will never change, even in death. But before that final day comes, I look forward to making the most of what time we have left loving you.'

The guests clapped so loudly that he almost didn't hear your soft sobs. But he did, and he pulled you into a quick hug before you pulled yourself away.

'Oh my goodness, I just want to kiss you,' you admitted quietly to him, bringing laughter out of him. But you quickly pulled your self away, using your free hand to grab an A4-sized piece of paper from JJ and return to face Spencer.

'Unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory so I will be using some assistance for this next bit,' you joked, stopping your flow of tears briefly as everyone chuckled, appreciative for the break in overwhelming emotions. Spencer breathed in deeply, steadying his heartbeat as much as possible. His part was done, but he knew this next part would be the hardest to retain composure.

'Spencer,' you began, one hand shakily holding your vows, while the other gripped onto Spencer like your life depended on it. In a sense, after today, it would. 'From the moment I first met you, I knew you were special. That you would leave a mark on my life in one form or another. Some sad part of me sometimes thought it would be when you inevitably shot yourself because you couldn't pass your marksman test after three goes-' Cue Spencer looking to Hotch apologetically while the rest of the guests laughed. '-or because, in our line of work, any day could be our last, and I wouldn't rule out any psychopaths intervening with that. However, despite it all, you're still here, and I couldn't be more thankful that you are. You amaze me everyday, Spencer - with your knowledge of the world, your intellectual insight, how you are almost incapable of growing any substantial amount of facial hair.'

You were glad people were laughing now, because what you were about to say next was going to take all your composure not to fall apart.

'But it is your heart and your ability to connect with people that has captured me completely. Our story has been... unconventional, to put it plainly. We were colleagues first, then friends, then you became my best friend, and I thought I couldn't be happier than that. But maybe it has something to do with some chemicals in the brain that are stimulated when you hang around someone you admire and adore long enough - you know, science stuff - or fate. I don't necessarily believe in either, but I do believe in us, Spencer. I believe that we are two souls choosing to become one for the rest of our lives; I believe you are my person, and the one I choose to face each and everyday with; I believe we haven't overcome all that we have for nothing; and I am not the least bit surprised it took nearly getting blown up to admit how I truly feel about you.'

Spencer couldn't care that what you said about brain chemicals was technically incorrect, it was so you, and there was not a dry eye in the backyard as you looked up at him finally, sheet long forgotten, and (e/c) eyes shining bright with tears and love.

'I love you, Spencer Reid,' you said breathlessly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 'You have experienced the worst of humanity over and over again, and yet here you stand with me, smiling, happy, choosing to believe in happy endings. You are a wonder - my wonder - and I can't wait to spend everyday from now loving you, and being wowed by you. From now... until I cannot breathe, and even then beyond.'

You gave the paper back to JJ, then returned your full attention to Spencer. It was like it was only you two, the clapping from your guests dulled as well as Rossi's final words. But Spencer didn't miss a beat when he heard him say, 'By the power vested in me and my online-approved minister credentials, I pronounce you husband and wife. Go on kids, you've earned it.'

Spencer swooped you into the sweetest, loving kiss he could muster, gently cradling your neck and cheeks as your lips met in a soft collision. It wasn't lustful (that would certainly come later), but it was consuming, like two forces being pulled together by a magnet. You were separate entities choosing to become one, and it made you smile through your kiss and for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.

You both partied with your family and friends, but you always managed to find your way back to one another despite the chaos. He now cradled you gently as you swayed together on the dance floor, fatigue settling in. You held each other up as you did, content to just be with each other in the final moments of your special day. Emily, your new section chief, had ordered you both take two weeks off to celebrate your honey moon. Because God knew when the next time you'd be able to relax would be when you both came back to work.

You shifted in his arms, manoeuvring yourself to look up at him, a delirious, tired and happy smile adorning your pretty lips. 'I love you, Spencer Reid.'

He leaned in for a brief but loving kiss before saying, 'I love you, (Y/n) Reid.'

Something about how his last named paired with your first name sounded that warmed him inside. The same feeling lit up in your eyes, but maybe that was just the happy tears that formed there, too.

'We're the Reids now,' you whispered in disbelief, probably due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed throughout the day. 'You're my husband!'

'Yes I am,' he murmured, pulling you back to his chest to lay your head. 'Forever and always.'

~

The last time he heard you say those special words was the day you said goodbye.

It wasn't until you fell pregnant with your first child that you found a proper house to live in. You'd been content with the studio apartment you'd found and moved into one year into your relationship, but when you fell pregnant, Spencer knew you would need a bigger space. One that you could call your own and make a home out of.

Your forever home.

Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long to find something: a nice rustic, two-storey house on the outskirts of DC. It was in a nice neighbourhood , far enough out of the city to be quiet, but close enough you could both get to work quick enough in case of an emergency. The moment you'd laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it, and Spencer knew without question this would be where you brought your family up.

He traipsed through the house with two cups of tea. Coffee had started to disagree with him after he quit the BAU, as if that were the only place he needed it. Teaching and guest lecturing at all the local universities was nowhere near the stress level of the BAU, and so he'd switched to tea. Somehow, in his (as he called it) pre-retirement, it tasted sweeter.

You had stepped down from being a profiler at the BAU after your third child was born, realising that with a four and two year old waiting outside the birth suite to meet their baby brother, you couldn't risk leaving your three babies without a mother. And while leaving the BAU, your home of close to twenty years, wrought a grief out of you that was close to unbearable, you knew it was the right decision and right time.

And you soon found a love for writing - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, it didn't matter. What you'd experienced in your career as a profiler had changed you, and sometimes writing it out made it less haunting, it gave you closure. You went on book tours, consulted on scholarly and literary journals, you even were brought into Spencer's classrooms to guest lecture from time to time.

All the while building and loving the family both of you had always dreamed of.

Spencer smiled at the dusty pictures that lined the walls, of the faces of his children and grandchildren smiling back him. Of the faces of friends old and new, of ghosts he used to know from a time long gone. Sometimes he hardly recognised himself in those pictures. He wasn't the vain type, but when he looked at himself in his 20's and 30's, he couldn't help the yearning that pulled at his heart when he did.

He compared those youthful pictures against his present day, laughing at the barely existent grey stubble he now sported, of the white hair that curled and stood up in any and all directions, of the glasses he now permanently had to wear. You always said he looked sexier with glasses, anyways, so he didn't mind.

Those pictures were his memory, his legacy, his life. When he felt his brain burning, when his memory became a bit too fuzzy, he could always look at the pictures and find solace in how those moments would live on in the people he loved.

'Spence?'

Your voice prompted him to keep moving, to let go of the past and remain in the present. He wandered through the rest of the house to the backyard, where two garden chairs sat either side of a coffee table, looking over the yard. The gardens were filled with flowers of all shapes and colours. He wasn't a nature guy by any means, but Spencer wanted you to have something to look after other than him or the children, something you could be proud of when you were much older. So he'd planted it himself (okay, he needed help from Derek), filling it with flowers that expressed all the wonderful qualities he loved about you.

There was a small gardening shed in the back, a quaint barbecue/entertainment area to one side, and a build-your-own playground just sitting on the lawn. He found you sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, staring out at the yard contently. He placed both cups of tea on the table before taking his own seat in the other chair.

'Do you remember how Jason used to carry Diana on his back up the slide?' you asked gently, a fond smile cracking your dry lips at the memory of your children playing on the very same playground their children now played on when they visited. 'You always got so scared they would fall and hurt themselves.'

'Isn't that our job?' he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 'To worry for our children?'

'You didn't have to be a helicopter parent, though,' you jibed playfully. 'You got better when Aaron was old enough to climb himself, so I can't berate you for that.'

'Speaking of which, Aaron just called, said him, Rachel and the kids want to invites us to dinner on Friday.'

You turned and smiled at him, but he saw how tired you were. It was in the slight droop in your lips when you smiled, it was in the slouch of your shoulders, it was the way you held out your hand for him to grasp and you could barely squeeze him back. You'd been like this for days, and it broke Spencer's heart to see the love of his life slowly fade away right beside him. He knew it was a natural way of life - considering their previous occupations, he was grateful to be even given the chance to grow old with you.

But despite natural law and despite his many blessings, it didn't dull the ache that grew more painful everyday.

'You don't have to be here, Spence,' you said, voice barely above a whisper, like it was just a secret only you two shared. 'You've seen enough death already.'

Spencer placed his cup on the table before getting out of his chair (a feat he struggled withe everyday now, his BAU days finally catching up to him) and walking around to your side, bringing both his hands to clasp yours as he knelt beside you.

'I'm not going anywhere,' he said, willing every ounce of sincerity and love into his words, into his hands as he held your frail ones. 'Forever and always, remember?'

Spencer almost broke down when your eyes locked with his, those shining (e/c) orbs sparkling with life and mischief and wonder. Despite what time had done to you, you were still his (Y/n), his best friend, his partner, his lover and saviour.

You nodded as if to say yes, I do remember. I always will. You pull one hand free of his grip, and use it to cradle his wrinkled cheeks. 'We've lived a good life, haven't we, Spence?'

He pulled one hand away to caress your hand on his cheek, holding it there for as long as he could. 'Yes. Yes we have.'

Your eyes scanned over him, suddenly seeing your life in rewind.

You saw him as he was now, white, Einstein hair, wrinkled skin and glasses. Then with only little streaks of white in his hair, more sleek. That's how he was with the kids. You kept going back, to your wedding, to your engagement, to the first time you kissed. Every movie night, every case, every late night in the office. Until you were seeing him as if for the first time. Kind of dorky, kind of sweet, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed to explain to you how his "physics magic" worked that very first day in the office.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time as well, as you smiled your bright smile like you did on that first day. The smile you had smiled for him every day since. The smile he saw in your children, and then your grandchildren.

'You are a true wonder, Spence,' you whispered softly, using what little strength you had left to squeeze the hand that still clasped yours as if to say thank you. 'My wonder.'

He waited for the lump in his throat to form, for the words to get stuck in his throat like they always did before. But the lump never formed, and so the words flowed like water out of him, finally feeling right.

'And you are mine,' he whispered back, smiling as bright as he could for you as he held you. 'You always have been my wonder.'

You bring his lips to yours one last time before dropping your hand from his face and sitting back in your seat, looking more tired than you'd ever been. But your other hand still held his, and he certainly wasn't going to let you go. Not yet.

'Spence,' you wheezed, eyes struggling to stay open on him.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, using his now free hand to stroke your grey hair in soothing motions. 'It's okay. You can rest now. I'll join you soon enough.'

The slight dip of your chin let him know you understood, and soon after you closed your eyes, your hand grew slack in his hold and your chest ceased rising.

You were gone.

And he was still here.

It was only then did Spencer allow the tears to fall, to acknowledge that despite both of your acceptances, he was sad. You'd lived good, long lives, and even then Spencer believed it was not enough time to love all of you. He knew it was selfish, but he figured after all he'd been through he would be allowed this one wish.

He held you for another hour before he called your children to notify them of your passing.

He held on for another year before he joined you. Cause of death: a broken heart.

He was buried beside you in the family lot, and on your joint headstone, it wrote:

Here lies Dr. Spencer Reid and Mrs. (Y/n) Reid. Loving Husband and Wife and Parents. "You truly are a wonder."

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

Can you do a Wednesday x Gn!reader but it’s the “if I can’t have you *proceeds to stab r* no one can” trend but Wednesday doesn’t know that r is not human and that a simple knife can’t hurt them so they open their eyes saying “aww so you do feel something for me and people say my charm is fake.” So Wednesday begins to question how they are not bleeding to death right now and they explain what they are and how they’ve shown many signs that they weren’t human but Wednesday just never noticed. In the end they end up confessing and a heated session begins but is interrupted when their parents walk in on them.

Also there’s a bit of history between r and Wednesday seeing as their parents are good friends and both secretly harbors feelings for the other. Though they say nothing of the feelings so what leads up to the point on Wednesday stabbing r is because Wednesday saw r and other girl flirting and became jealous and proceeds to kidnap r and ya :)

Also you can make r whatever type of creature you want!

A/N: This took longer than necessary cuz I couldn't decide on a creature for R to be lol

Wednesday x GN!Reader

Darkness greets you when you wake up. You blink a few times before realizing that it's because there's a bag over your head.

Kidnapped. You've been kidnapped.

This was interesting. There were very few people who could manage this. You tested your limbs as you thought about who could and would be capable of stealing you away. Legs were tied to the chair. Arms tied behind you. Both were tight and didn't leave you room to wriggle out and escape. So this was someone who was proficient in the art. That narrowed it down considerably. In fact, there could only be one person you knew of.

The bag gets pulled from your head and you're greeted by your captor. Wednesday Addams. You knew it.

"Wednesday! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Your charming greeting was cut short by a knife suddenly poking at your throat. One swallow and you would be cut. "Hm... Not pleasure then."

"Correct, Y/N. You are to be punished by my hands."

"Punished?"

While you had your moments, you didn't have a clue to what you could've done to Wednesday to warrant this treatment. Eyebrows furrowed while you tried to think of the past few days.

"What did I do? I've no clue."

Your prosecutor just scoffs as she slowly drags the top of her blade down your torso.

"You truly don't understand? For as long as we've known each other, Y/N? I'm disappointed." You can feel the blade push a little deeper right under your sternum. "Perhaps you can get someone to help you? Maybe that one siren you've been getting close to."

"Siren? Wait, you mean Adriana? I mean, yeah we were flirting, but why are you upset abou-HRK!" The blade sheathes into your core, taking your breath away. Your eyes widen as you stare at the girl before you.

"You were supposed to be mine and mine only. But your eyes have strayed. So if I can't have you, no one shall."

You slump over. There's silence for some time before your shoulders start to shake. Wednesday's eyebrows furrow as she watches. Eventually, a soft laughter filled her ears. She reaches over and grabs your hair to pull your head back, revealing your laughing face.

"Hahahaha! So you do feel something for me. And people say my charm is fake. Hahaha oh, it's weird laughing with something in my diaphragm. Hehehe... Hey, take it out, will ya?" Out of sheer shock and confusion, Wednesday pulls her blade out and you let out a soft groan of relief.

"Thank the gods. Whew..." You look at the girl, smirk on your face.

"You..." Wednesday starts, still in disbelief. "You're unaffected. Aren't you human?" You could only blink.

"You... Don't know? Wednesday how long have we known each other and you don't know?" She just shrugs nonchalantly. You let out a sigh and slump over slightly.

"I'm a hannya oni. A demon born from jealousy and anger. Ironic, no?" A little chuckle punctuates the words. "There's not a lot that can be done to hurt me."

The goth narrows her eyes at you and asks, "How is it that you've never mentioned this?"

A shrug. "Didn't seem that important. Plus, I thought you knew. I didn't really keep it a secret."

"There's no outward indication that you're of demon blood."

In lieu of being able to use your hands, you tilt your head from side to side to mimic an 'eeehhh' motion.

"The horns are annoying so they're hidden. Hold on." You take a deep breath and suddenly, horns begin to grow just under your hairline. When you exhale, a small burst of fire comes out. Your eyes become slitted and your tongue forked.

"There. Not full demon form, but enough to prove my point."

Wednesday walks around you, inspecting your new-to-her features. Now that she sees them, your eyes and tongue do seem familiar. You were also always a warm body, no matter the weather. She pokes at your horns, forcing your head to nod slightly.

"Hm. I suppose you've been around so often that I never bothered to know or question your origins."

"Fair..." You nodded a bit before cocking your head to look at your companion. "Well, I have a question. You're jealous of Adriana?" Your mouth spreads into a wide grin. Wednesday responds with a swift smack on the back of your head.

"You've been by my side for years. To have someone take that away was... Troubling." You shuffled slightly in the seat you were still tied to.

"You didn't really have anything to worry about," you replied. "You know how I am. I just flirt for fun. No real intent there." Wednesday eyes you with suspicion. "Honest! Have you seen me be serious with anyone?" She considers the question before shaking her head.

"Besides, you're the only one I actually want."

Suddenly Wednesday's eyes burn into you. You look at her to see a surprised stare. "And you never made any indication..."

You open your mouth to retort, but without an actual reply, you slowly close it. While you have strong feelings for your friend, you didn't think it would go anywhere. So to ease the feelings bubbling in you, you began to flirt all over, letting bits of those feelings out with each pick-up line.

"Well," you start after a moment. "We have feelings for each other..."

"Indeed..."

Wednesday steps towards you and straddles your lap. When you inhale, her scent fills your nose. You struggle in your bindings, having almost forgotten that they were there. Your love was so close and yet you couldn't touch her the way you wanted. A cold hand rakes through your hair before yanking it back.

"What do you think we should do about it, Y/N?" She watches as your eyes dilate with want. You take the time to collect yourself before answering.

"Whatever you want..."

With a wicked grin, Wednesday dives in and suddenly you're drowning in her. Her lips sear onto yours with a soft moan. All you could do was return it with fervor. You curse your restraints, wanting them off so you could ravish the girl on top of you with your hands. Sensing your frustrations, Wednesday takes a hold of her knife again.

"Can't have you distracted while I'm right here, hm?" With a swift cut, your hands are free and they immediately take hold of her body. Your lips are together once more, more heated than ever now that you can stimulate the goth even further.

Your hands run up and down the girl's body. Slim muscle tense with each pass. You can't get enough. You grip tightly, pulling the goth even closer to you. Years of pent up feelings erupt from both of you and it consumes you both.

You feel teeth along your lower lips as Wednesday pulls at it. With one final kiss, she moves on and trails a path of burning kisses down to your neck. A low moan escapes your lips and you cling tighter onto your girl. However, there's something now that feels slightly off.

Eyes open to see both of your parents in the doorway, all with wide eyes.

Your shift in emotions causes Wednesday to stop and follow your eyes. Parents stare at their children. Children stare at their parents. You finally register the fact that you've been in Wednesday's room this whole time.

Silence reigns until there's an exchange of money between the patriarchs of both your families.

"About time you two did something." Your father says.

"We'll leave you be." Morticia allows, pushing her husband away.

When the door closes again, you let your head fall with a laugh. Wednesday just groans in embarrassment and burrows into your neck.

"How long do you think the bet went on for?" You asked, mood thoroughly ruined.

"I don't care, but I'll make sure we get our share."

[ash-n-dynamite]

To whom it may concern,

You do not owe anyone your personal information or history.

While finding people who share your daily or medical struggles is a blessing, listing off every single thing like they are girl scout badges is more likely to get you hurt.

Strangers online are not your friends. You may tell close friends important information about yourself, but you would not tell some random person who happens to cross your path. Carelessly listing personal information is never alright.

Younger plural folk, *stop* listing every single detail about trauma, triggers, medical diagnosis, and member details. You are welcome to discuss these things and explore as needed, but don't advertise yourself or pin these kind of sensitive topics in an easy to access location. Be sparse, only list what is necessary if you feel the need to share.

I'm pinning this to my blog because I honestly worry about so many of you and just in case some of you may need a reminder or validation that it's okay to be anonymous or tell people 'no' when they ask for private information.

You want to be seen? Bring back persona/fursonas. Online aliases and cringe names will *always* be an acceptable form of self representation online that helps keep you just a little safer. Mascots and aliases are cool, oversharing information people can use to manipulate or hurt you is not.

Signed, two very concerned adults.

[Came back and added triggers to the list. It is just not a good idea, guys. Don't give people an entire cartridge of ammunition to use against you.]

[decolonize-the-left]

Reminder that liberals aren't leftists and are in fact closer to being centrists and conservatives. Leftists are people like socialists.

Leftists want everyone's needs met. Healthcare, housing, food, etc and within the USA where the GDP is 23 trillion those things should be provided by the government. Workers should equally own the businesses they run and distribute profit equally as well.

Being a leftist can look like a lot of things- like calling for the straight up destruction of a government- but most can agree that until that happens then everyone's human rights and basic needs should be provided at the very least. Lots of leftists work towards this.

Remember that when leftists ask you to vote for 3rd parties with platforms that include universal healthcare, housing, and police reform.

Because liberals who stopped their political growth in 7th grade will try to make leftists out to be "Russian psyops" or white supremacists because we vote with principles and values and that don't allow us to vote for people who commit genocide, let single moms and their kids starve, and/or call environmental protests terrorists.

They'll reduce all this nuance to us "being immature and splitting the vote"

Quite frankly, I refuse to fall for this narrative in 2024.

We are ALL exercising our right to vote for the person who represents us. No, my beliefs don't line up with Democrats so I don't vote for Democrats ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm not "splitting a vote" because I can't split my own fucking vote and I'm not a member of your party. I don't owe your shitty genocidal party any of my loyalty, quite frankly idk why You even vote for them since you say you care about human lives but I digress.

If your guy loses that means your views aren't the majority.

It does NOT mean I'm a Russian Psyop. And because I've already seen a post floating around about how The-Russian-Tumblr-Bots-Were-Real-And-Pretending-To-Be-Black I'm asking y'all to use your brains and critical thinking skills this election.

There's a REASON why they specifically wanted to undermine your trust in BIPOC. So let's think about this for a second.

Why would anyone want to undermine your trust in BIPOC? What kind of things do BIPOC say about the government and it's history? What are the political leanings of BIPOC? What would happen if everyone started to agree with those politics? Which party would those views harm most?

It's crazy to me y'all think those bots were there to help Trump when it's obvious as fuck to me that the Real concern is that BIPOC would make y'all more left which would only be trouble for Biden/Clinton. The only people that would lose votes if y'all voted more left like BIPOC bots told you to would be Democrats. We want Republicans to vote more left, remember? That would be a good thing.

They were on the site to keep liberals from going left and voting for someone like Sanders or Claudia de La Cruz instead of Clinton/Biden. They weren't helping Trump. They were helping Democrats. Republicans aren't the people listening to BIPOC Tumblr bloggers, are they?

And that psyop is STILL working cuz now liberal goons put in overtime to accuse anyone who criticizes the 2 party system of being a Russian bot 🥴🥴

Yeah. I'm sure the two parties who rely on that system definitely didn't expect or want that outcome at all. And I bet they really didn't want you to refuse to vote for anyone outside those 2 parties either. I'm sure they hate how this psyop ended with you having more trust in a corrupted 2 party system and less trust in 3rd parties that challenge the corruption of the system. How awful it must be for them, that the Russian Bots Ordeal ended with MORE trust in the current government and people being less willing to change it :(

[yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere]

National Coming Out Day-October 11th! *this* part of Alex's speech is so important-the whole speech is-both versions-in the movie, and in the book.

"The truth is every queer person has the right to come out on their own terms, and on their own timeline. They also have the right to choose not to come out at all. The forced conformity of the closet can not be answered with the forced conformity in coming out of it.

This isn’t about shame. This is about privacy and the fundamental right of self-determination which are exactly the principles on which the struggle for queer liberation has always been fought."

this is history being made-this speech-in a movie that is so famous worldwide? and i believe there are quite many people who left the room when this speech was on, or some people who were too distracted by his eyelashes to actually hear what he was saying and it shows. damn, it shows.

so many public figures have been put through it-what Alex and Henry have been put through both in the movie+ the book-UNACCEPTABLE. and so often it's done by queer people, our lgbtq+ community doing this shit to others? THIS CAN'T KEEP HAPPENING.

Becky Albertalli, Kit Connor (just to name a few), and so, so many others. What makes you even think you have a right to know this about ANYONE?

This National Coming Out Day, if you're queer and scared and not "out" yet, I want you to listen to this. Alex's speech. (later on I will post pictures of both FULL SPEECHES(movie +book), it's okay if you don't want to come out, whatever you feel is alright. You don't owe anything to anyone, not your friends, family or co-workers, or schoolmates, no matter what the world around you makes you feel.

you matter, you're important, you're loved, and whatever you decide it's okay.

MOVIE VERSION SPEECH:

BOOK VERSION SPEECH:

♥

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by GAY TIMES (@gaytimes)

+

+we need MORE bisexuality in media!!

+ THIS:

bi ig highlight : https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18280848235083086/

[interstellarsystem]

Endogenic Systems and Experiences in the Neurodivergent Community

We tend to stay mostly on the fringes of syscourse nowadays without directly interacting with it too often but I'm going to post this more broadly and less focused on our specific instance of this because community-wise I think it's important to talk about.

Endogenic and other non-traumagenic systems are so commonly excluded from so many neurodivergent-safe spaces where they would otherwise be able to gain knowledge about the disorders they might have, share experiences and coping strategies with peers, or at least have a sense of community that is so commonly valuable to disabled and/or neurodivergent people. In a lot of cases, even people who only support non-traumagenic systems get shoved out.

[Continued under the readmore as it's long.]

This obviously harms non-traumagenic systems, but I have to point out that when people sit there and say "we care about REAL disabled people!", I have to say.... Do you? Because if you did care about those with mental illness, physical disability or neurodivergence, you in my mind wouldn't exclude them based on something unrelated to the topic itself which might even be something as small as holding an opinion that other people get to be the judge of their own experiences. You can say that you care about "real" disabled people, but what about when a traumagenic DID system also has a tulpa that they consider just as valid and real as their alters? What about when a system labels themselves as quoigenic because in reality, you owe no one the knowledge that you are vulnerable and traumatised? What about when a system starts out as endogenic but gains so much trauma later on that they develop dissociative symptoms?

We're quoigenic because while yes we are diagnosed with DID:

DID does not have trauma in the diagnostic criteria so our diagnosis doesn't mean anything by way of origin. Nontraumagenic is not the same as nondisordered the same way that traumagenic isn't the same as disordered.

We cannot remember a time before we were plural so we cannot say with accuracy what our actual origin was.

We have headmates we consider to be from both traumagenic and endogenic origins and it feels unfair to pick one.

We don't owe anyone a quick little "hey, we have trauma!" flag on our pinned post which can easily paint us as a target. This is the exact reason we don't share our triggers online--it's not safe.

You don't owe anyone personal medical information including your diagnostic history, your trauma history or lack thereof, your current medications or how many times you've been in a hospital. That is your business and yours alone to decide who you share it with. It's downright dangerous to share some of it, especially so publically. So who is anyone online that clearly isn't your specific medical practitioner to decide whether your experiences are real enough to allow you into spaces meant for a usually completely unrelated thing? Why would someone holding the opinion that endogenic systems get to decide what labels they use be denied access to spaces just because they support people with differing beliefs and/or experiences?

If we as a system with multiple disabilities want to go into a space for people who are schizoaffective because we need others who won't immediately jump on the ableism train when discussing something we're diagnosed with that has so much stigma, should we be denied that just because we don't label our origin with a clear-cut "we are traumatized!!" label? Should we be denied access to spaces because we don't want to sit around and smile while parts of our system and other members of our community are called fake and evil and whatever else they come up with? It's so common in spaces for people with disabilities to be exclusive to traumagenic systems and people with an anti-endogenic mindset that people don't realise they're not only hurting the endogenic community, but literal chunks of their own community itself.

I can't even begin to understand the reason why.

Endogenic systems by just existing do not cause harm. They're not like a transphobe you would not be safe around by default of having a label. Not every nontraumagenic system is a saint but if you took any communtiy and called everyone in it the equivalent of an unproblematic holy angel, you'd be lying. People are bad in every community, some worse than others, but the nontraumagenic system community literally just wants to exist--and yes, sometimes a nontraumagenic system (or supporter of such) does have dissociative symptoms, or maybe they have autism, or maybe they're physically disabled. Should they be not allowed access just because of the way they chose to label their system, or their opinion of people picking their own labels for their personal identity?

What exactly is the reason they're so excluded everywhere? I'd try to assume that this level of exclusion (to the point of endos being on DNIs next to transphobes and racists) would mean there's some real harm being done on a community-wide scale, but even when looking for it there isn't any explanation we've been able to find. "They're fake" is all we seem to see which has no actual backing whatsoever. "They're harmful" is another but.. How? We might be looking in the wrong places, but we have never seen an actual explanation for how nontraumagenic systems cause harm as a community just by being themselves.

At this point, I have to wonder how many people who say "we care about real disabled people!" are just covering up their "we care about socially acceptable disabled people who I understand and/or do not find cringey" sentiment instead. Being neurodivergent should never be about fitting into tight little boxes--it's part of the whole point of having a community like this. You're not the majority, and that's okay. So why are we dividing the disabled community into boxes too?

Of course, this doesn't only apply to ND spaces. LGBT+ spaces are similar and even more divided from the concept of being a system that it makes even less sense to block nontraumagenic systems from entering the space. How does their system origin relate to their LGBT+ identity? Sometimes it can, but should a trans person be excluded from a trans space because they have a friend who is an endogenic system and they support them fully?

Overall, the main point is that it makes no sense whatsoever to be anti-endo in general, let alone so violently anti-endogenic system to the point where you hurt members of your own community due to it. Sometimes from something as simple as them supporting endogenics alone. Your safe spaces aren't actually safe if you exclude a nonharmful group who also belong in that space due to having a personal identity or opinion different to yours. If you want somewhere to be a safe, inclusive space, it should include everyone as long as letting those people in won't cause harm. People who are seeking to cause harm (racists, transphobes, etc) obviously do not belong in a safe space because they seek to harm others, thus making the space unsafe. But people who just want to be themselves without harming anyone should be included in your space if they fall under whatever it may be topic-wise. Even the "cringey" ones. Even the ones who don't quite make sense to you or have "contradicting" labels. Even the ones who use labels completely differently to the way you do. And even the ones who are uninformed or misinformed but trying their best to learn. Your safe space is not safe if it excludes those who do not follow your every single mindset and thought without any deviation.

[smytherines]

I often wonder if I would feel differently about The Staircase Scene if I had seen SAF when it first came out in 2016. The first time I saw it was probably around October or November of 2023, and like... the context is different now.

Whatever we want to say about the personal story arcs of these characters (and I know I'm in a tiny minority because, for me, killing Owen does not constitute a satisfying close to Curt's arc, that's totally fine), there is the very real issue of the sociopolitical context that this scene takes place within- both in their time (1961) and in ours.

One very cool thing about SAF is that, in order to understand these characters better, a lot of younger queer folks end up learning about the Lavender Scare, about Executive Order 10450- which officially prohibited gay people from working for the US government- for the first time. That's an incredible, precious thing to me. Yay queer history! It's important!

The show itself never addresses the fact that both the US and UK governments had very public, very brutal campaigns equating homosexuality with communism with being a traitor to your country. But if you want to understand these characters, and especially write fanfiction, you're really incentivized to teach yourself some fundamentally important aspects of queer history.

In the 54 Below concert, before singing Not So Bad, Brian Rosenthal talks about how when they were developing the show they thought N@zis were more or less a thing of the past, that they're fully aware of how differently that song might be taken now after an escalation into a more open embrace of fascism in the US. And they're absolutely right about that.

But I think that's also perhaps an issue with the staircase scene, or at least it is for me. Obviously homophobia and transphobia were not "fixed" in 2016, they were still massive problems resulting in violence and discrimination and brutality. But institutionally, at least, you could look at the situation and point to some things that were gradually getting better.

In 2016 trans youth in my state were legally allowed to receive gender affirming care. In 2024, they are not. It's not that homophobia and transphobia went away and then came back, but there was a very real resurgence of the use of the media and of governmental power to inflict pain on queer & trans people and chase them out of public life- bathroom bans, gender affirming care bans, Don't Say Gay laws, trying to make drag illegal, equating queer and trans people with pedophilia. There has been a big cultural shift back towards the same kind of violent governmental moral panic that our beloved Curt & Owen would have lived under.

Whatever we want to say about these characters and this story (and there's tons of fascinating debate there), there is still the base of a gay man killing his ex-lover ostensibly to protect US foreign policy objectives. Killing the man he loves- or loved, at least- to protect the secret that he is gay. And that hits different for me now.

I watch that scene and it is heartbreaking on a personal level, but its also heartbreaking as a queer person who just wants to scream "your government will destroy you for being gay, you don't owe them shit!"

Owen tries to explain that the surveillance network is happening, that the future won't wait for Curt to catch up. Barb has been saying she's working on the same thing for the US government the entire show, but Curt just kept ignoring her. And I just want to say "Curt, honey, what do you think your government is going to do to you with that surveillance system? Do you think you're useful enough to keep around even though you have sex with men? Because I promise you they will not care."

It feels tragic to me because on some level it seems like Curt would actually be safer with another gay man having control of all the world's secrets than he will be if the government he has dedicated his life to gets their hands on that same technology.

And the thing is, having a tragic ending doesn't make the show bad. This show is great. This scene is spectacular. It makes you think, it makes you feel things, it does all the stuff that great art is supposed to do. Absolutely none of what I'm saying here is meant to denigrate the show as a musical or a story or even a queer story. I hope it doesn't come off as me saying "actually this show is bad," because I don't feel that way at all.

Clearly I live and breathe this show. That's why I spend all my time on here analyzing every scene, every frame, every facial expression. I love this show so much that I can't help but deconstruct it and look at all its component parts- including the sociopolitical context both now and in 1961. Because that context, despite never being explicitly mentioned, is important to our understanding of these characters.

I love these characters so much that it's actually pretty difficult for me to watch A2P7 anymore, because the staircase scene is so emotionally devastating to me that it's hard to try to swing back into that more comedic tone (even though Spy Dance is a certified bop).

I'm not even sure what my point is with all of this, other than to say that Spies Are Forever is a show that is great and fun and funny as written/performed, and becomes gradually more emotionally devastating when you rewatch it or when you understand the subtext of it. When you can engage with the themes of gender and sexuality, surveillance and technology, trauma and trust, and tease out even more satisfying theories around this show.

So yeah. It's a musical. It's about spies.

[itsclydebitches]

IT'S BEEN A DOOZY OF A DAY, FOLKS

Yeah I've got a couple asks about it lol. (Always a terrifying experience when you log onto tumblr and immediately wonder why your inbox blew up...)

Man, I don't even know how I'm feeling right now. We've spent so many months working on the semi-confident assumption that RWBY would be cancelled that on the one hand I can't feel very shocked about this. On the other hand there's definitely a wide-eyed part of my brain going, "Holy shit the 'RT is failing' theories finally came true O_O" I'm kinda devastated that a company that's been a part of my life for almost a decade (and for other fans far longer) is just up and gone, but simultaneously I don't care because what I loved about RT hasn't existed for some time now. We've already been dealing with that nostlgia for years, we just got a hell of a concentrated dose of it today. There's admittedly some level of vindication regarding those who've been pulling shit in the company for so long and empathy for those who were just getting by and are now suddenly out of a job. There's regret that (despite my tendency to fall VERY behind on projects. RIP I owe everyone in this fandom a massive apology) I'll probably never have an official end to my RWBY Recaps. And there's worry about how this will impact the fandom...

Yeah, not to jump on the pessimism train, but I feel like this is going to catapult some fans' misreadings into new territory. RWBY is now forever the show that was canonically unfinished and thus its perfection is assured. Think there are major issues in Volume 9 and earlier? Nah, that's setup for Volumes we just never got. Catch a contradition or other mistake? They would have explained that if they could. Any possible issues with the show if it gets picked up by someone else? Well, of course there are issues, RT isn't writing it! This was already a fandom where having accurate, nuanced discussions about the text was hard as hell... but it just got so much worse.

Honestly, I say let it go. If they're going to do anything I'd prefer a complete reboot/reworking so that this story might stand a chance. Airing new RWBY Volumes was already beating a dead horse. Resurrecting the horse to start beating it anew just feels ridiculous. Yes, I'm sad for those fans who wanted an official ending, but we've spent so much time waiting on RWBY, being worried about RWBY's future, and I personally have encounted so many shows lately whose finales soured my enjoyment that there's something reassuring in the combination of definitive ambuguity here: you know you're not getting an ending by RT, so just have fun imagining your own.

Overall, I feel like I've got to sit with this for a while, you know? I totally get why so many fans (partiuclarly RWDE fans) are celebrating and/or releasing a sigh of relief right now. I'm honestly surprised I haven't seen any crabs yet lol. But maybe it's just because I'm "old" my tumblr's standards, but there's something undeniably sad about losing that part of your fandom life. Or at least, losing what led to/represents that life. Getting introduced to RWBY by a friend, binging it for the first time, pulling new people in, finding like-minded friends here on tumblr, analyzing it for thousands of words, tracing its history and watching how radically it has changed... that's gone now. Not actually because RWBY still exists, as do my friends, and there's nothing stopping me from writing as much fic/meta as I want, but it still feels like someone closed a door on that part of my life. That's not wholly a bad thing given what RT has been lately, but I do think it'll take more than one post for me to unpack it all.

[cloudcountry]

the pursuit of beauty

Genre/Tropes: Enemies to lovers vibes except they're barely friends at the end? Implied unrequited love (Rook to Reader.)

Summary: Rook thinks you're beautiful! ...And you think he's creepy.

Author's Comments: Wrote this for a friend but also because one of my writing goals for January was "write a trope you don't write for often" and I chose enemies to lovers because I've written for it like twice. I took some liberties for how the brooms work in TWST because I don't think they ever talked about it when I wrote this? It doesn't affect the plot that much, but meh. It's there and it doesn't matter anyway. Uhhhh the ending is rushed because I got bored by the end but I hope ygys enjoy this one anyway because I liked writing it!

~~~~~

“Oh, mon coeur! Isn’t it a lovely-”

“Nope, no it isn’t. Please go away.”

This morning started just like any other, which meant it was going very badly for you.

Rook Hunt, the Vice Housewarden of Pomfiore and the recent thorn in your side. He seemed intent on observing every moment of your day, monitoring what you ate and how much weight you gained and even your sleeping patterns. It was a huge breach of boundaries and he chose to excuse his behavior by saying it was “for the pursuit of beauty.”

Creep.

“How beautiful! Your scorn is as lovely as your smile.” he beamed, trailing behind you as Grim yanked on your pant leg.

No, you refused to walk faster. You did not want to give Rook the satisfaction of running away from him—you knew all too well it would only lead to a chase (like with those poor Savanaclaw students.)

“You should get going, you know. I don’t like having you around and I know you have places to be.” you whipped around and glared at him, “So why are you still here? Go away.”

He chuckled, gazing at you adoringly.

“Is it such a crime to be mesmerized by beauty?” he hummed.

“Yes. Now leave. Go to class.” you rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and walking away.

“Geez what a weirdo!” Grim huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I coulda taken him if he tried anything funny! Don’t worry, hench human, I got him!”

“I know you do, Grim.” you smiled, patting him on the head affectionately, “Now come on! We’ve got to catch up to Ace and Deuce.”

The two boys in question were already waiting outside the classroom for you, a hot beverage and a breakfast sandwich in Deuce’s hands.

“See? I told you, they always sleep in a bit too late on Fridays.” Ace rolled his eyes.

Deuce handed over the snacks as you accepted them gratefully, touched by the gesture.

“Thank you two so much. I really appreciate it.” you beamed, subtly holding the breakfast sandwich out of reach of Grim’s grabby paws.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever. You owe us, though.” Ace waved it off as he headed inside.

“A chocolate croissant sounds good.” Deuce snickered, following Ace inside.

You rolled your eyes, tearing off half of the breakfast sandwich and giving it to Grim.

“Eat quietly and neatly, okay?” you murmured, taking a seat next to Ace.

“Yeah, yeah! I know.” Grim grumbled, ripping into the breakfast sandwich like he hadn’t had four pancakes fifteen minutes before.

Meh, he was cute. You’d let it pass.

The history lesson moved as slow as ever, Trein’s droning voice making Ace almost drift off twice (both times you ended up elbowing him hard in the side, but it was unavoidable! You’d be a bad friend if you didn’t wake him up.) The second time he grumbled something about how he shouldn’t have gotten you that drink, but after you promised him a slice of cherry pie from the cafeteria he shut up.

The cafeteria, unfortunately, had the one person you wanted to avoid.

You could see him staring at you from all the way across the room, without even an apple on the table in front of him. Could he be any more obvious?

You elected to ignore him once again, trying to forget the creepy feeling of being watched as Ace and Deuce snacked on the food you bought them. Grim didn’t seem to notice him either, or maybe the food in front of him was too good for him to care. Either way, you wanted to wrap up this lunch period and get to your next class as soon as possible.

Now, the only problem with that was that your next period was a study hall. Because the brooms used for your classmate’s flight practices flew entirely on one’s own magic and how they controlled it, you were exempt from using them. Crowley had dumped you on Crewel’s schedule, making up some excuse about how you could grade papers with him and contribute to the school (as if you hadn’t saved the school from destruction multiple times from the sheer amount of Overblots that had taken place over the year you’ve been here.) Besides, Grim had magical abilities so he could use the brooms just fine for the both of you.

You know, you hated Crowley a little more than Rook. At least you didn’t have to deal with the Headmage today.

Your lunch officially spoiled by thoughts of the people you hated, you tucked the wrapped items away for later. You knew Grim would probably eat them (as he was already snatching bits and pieces off your plate) but you both needed to be fed somehow. All three of your tablemates looked up at you as you stood, sliding your tray over to Grim.

“I’m going to head to Crewel’s a little earlier than usual. Grim, you can have my extras.” you said, patting the cat monster on the head affectionately.

“Are you sure?” Deuce asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just remembered Crowley and it spoiled my appetite.” you joked, knowing full well that all of them would catch on.

Ace cackled, waving you off with a loud “good luck!” You waved them goodbye, forcing a smile as you stepped into the quiet hallways. It really was so much nicer at NRC when you walked the halls alone. No offense to Grim of course, but it was hard to get alone time when you were constantly being followed around by a strange cat that never quite stopped talking.

The walk to the classroom was as uneventful as it always was. For a moment, you expected the Terror of Rook Hunt to pop out from behind a corner and make some weird comment, but he didn’t.

Weird.

Shaking off the thought, you made it to the classroom without so much as a disturbance. You envied the rest of your classmates for spending time outside and getting to stretch out their legs, but the thought of going through Vargas’s training regiment made the envy vanish immediately. Grading papers wasn’t so bad when you got used to it anyway.

The second the bell rang, you sprang up from your seat and passed the graded papers to Crewel’s waiting arms. He thanked you with a smile, gesturing to the cauldron right in front of his desk. The joy from your hard work was dampened by the knowledge that the teachers still kept an eye on you during magical lessons—especially Crewel—even though you had proven proficient at everything they’d thrown at you so far.

Well, except the magic part. Obviously. That’s why you always had to work with someone else, even if Grim was with you.

You stood by the cauldron and watched as the students from flight lessons filed in, Grim lighting up as he rushed to your side.

“Hench human! Ace almost fell off his broom today!” he cackled.

Ace followed close behind him with a sour look on his face, gently nudging Grim out of the way with his foot.

“Yeah yeah, fur ball. It’s because Kalim ran into me.” he huffed, shaking his head.

“Silence, pups!” Crewel smacked his whip against his hand, and the class went quiet, “Good. Today we will be creating a sleeping potion. I have outlined the ingredients and instructions on the chalkboard. You are welcome to use any of the resources in the classroom to complete your assignment. However, if you fail, you will be responsible for making up the ingredients you used. Do I make myself clear?”

The students all nodded, a mixture of fear and excitement in their expressions.

“Good! Now, for this assignment, I have decided to split up your normal groups. You will not be working with the same people you have been. To get all of your pups more comfortable with each other, you will partner with someone you don’t yap with often!” he announced, eyes flickering to you and your trio of friends.

No way was he pulling this shit right now. Was he serious?

“And I will be choosing said groups!”

Oh great, even better! Now you couldn’t pretend to not know Trey or someone who was friendly enough to you!

“Grim, I want you to partner with Azul. He’ll keep you in line.” Crewel smacked his whip against his hand again.

Grim looked taken aback, but said nothing as he rushed over to Azul.

Yeah, being a cat and being threatened with a whip probably wasn’t a good combination.

“Ramshackle Prefect, you’re with Rook. He is proficient in potion making and can help you along if you find yourself stuck.”

No fucking way.

“Huh?” you piped up, mouth open in shock, “Wait, Rook Hunt?”

“That is what I said, yes.” Crewel replied, stern eyes offering no mercy.

You decided not to test your luck even more than you already had, and began the slow and painful walk to Rook’s desk. He watched you with smug, narrowed eyes as you approached, his gaze like a hunter. He was so creepy. You were never doing this again. Education be damned.

“Don’t say anything.” you grumbled, crossing your arms as you took your place next to him.

Rook shrugged and smirked, keeping his mouth shut. That somehow made you more irritated. You rolled your eyes and turned away, taking note of the ingredients on the board.

Weirdly enough, Rook said nothing during the entire class. He kept staring at you though. You could tell Ace was keeping an eye on you from across the room as he stirred the contents of the cauldron meticulously, lest he risk Sebek yelling at him. The concern made your chest swell with warmth and appreciation for the most irritating of your friends.

The time dragged on for far longer than usual for you. The fact that Rook wasn’t bothering you the whole class period made you more uneasy than it should have, but it made the hour easier to bear. The second the bell rang, you cursed as the potion released a puff of smoke.

Something had gone wrong with the final step.

If the look on Rook’s face was any indication, he didn’t know what had gone wrong either. Crewel approached the two of you with narrowed eyes, inspecting your potion thoroughly.

“You stirred it too hard.” he said, finally meeting your eyes, “You will be required to procure the materials you wasted and create the potion again.”

“Yes sir.” you grumbled, not too thrilled about having to spend more time with Rook.

“Of course.” Rook smiled, and you knew he was enjoying this.

When classes let out for the day, you dragged your feet to the botanical gardens. Your friends weren’t even laughing at your misfortune as they promised to wait for you at Ramshackle. They didn't listen to your reminder that they had a curfew, and that Riddle would surely have their heads if they broke it.

Oh well. Nothing you could do about your idiots.

Rook was already waiting in front of the botanical gardens by the time you got there. You made sure to match his smug smirk with an angry glare, entering the greenhouse without saying a single word.

“Come on, mon coeur! You hurt me so!” he cried out, dramatically throwing his arms open, “How are we supposed to work together if you won’t even talk to me?”

“I cannot tell you that I hate you enough.” you hissed, walking faster into the greenhouse, “Your mere presence makes me so uncomfortable and I hate how often you follow me around. You have no respect for boundaries and every time I see you I want to punch you. Anything to get you to leave me alone!”

“My pursuit of beauty has left you uncomfortable?” he questioned, tilting his head, “I wasn’t aware you harbored such disdain for me.”

“Are you serious?!” you gritted your teeth, shaking with rage, “You never leave me alone! I always tell you to go away and yet you think I enjoy having you around?”

“I simply thought you were an angry person.” he shrugged, seemingly unaffected by your outburst, “That is, until I saw how you acted around your friends. You were always so kind to them, so casual…I wanted that with you. I want to see every side of you.”

“You’re…you’re unbelievable. I can’t understand how Vil deals with you.” you shook your head.

“You should be flattered! It’s rare that someone catches my interest.” he offered, shaking his head from side to side.

“Well, I’m not. So stop it.” you stormed off, intent on finding the plants you needed as quickly as possible so you could leave. You’d need to talk to Crewel about this so you’d never have to partner up with Rook again. You’d never allow yourself to be in this position ever again.

Going through the mental list of plants, you tried your best to ignore the possibility that Rook was lurking around every corner. No matter how often he talked to you, you could never understand him or anything he did.

Snatching up the first plant on your list, you winced as its thorn pricked your palm. The pain only made you angrier as you ripped out the thorn and continued on your way. The rage bubbling inside you served to make you more productive, and before you knew it you had gathered all of the plants.

Now you were angry that Rook hadn’t done any of the work.

You sighed as you started your walk back to the front of the botanical gardens, slowly speeding up when you saw no sign of Rook. You needed to get out of here before you ran into him again and he ruined your afternoon even further.

“You’re done gathering, mon coeur?” Rook asked, popping out from behind a bush.

Speak of the devil.

“Yeah.” you refused to meet his eyes as he stalked closer, a bundle of plants in his arms.

“It seemed we gathered double what we needed!” he chuckled, following you out the door.

“Sure. Now get away from me.” you shuffled away from him, taking your phone out of your back pocket to text Ace and Deuce that you were on your way back.

Surprisingly, Rook didn’t push it. You paid him no mind as you walked back to the classroom, trying to move through the halls as fast as you could without running.

Rook tilted his head as you went, examining every move you made. You really were fascinating to him. He yearned to know more about you, but that knowledge was out of his reach. Perhaps he should listen to what you told him earlier if he truly wanted to see every side of you. Perhaps he had to give you space for a while, and form a new space for himself in your life.

Rook Hunt was nothing if not adaptable.

🏹

The next morning, there was no Rook at your front door. You were immediately suspicious as to where he was, but a quick sweep of Ramshackle’s front lawn confirmed that he was nowhere near you. Brow furrowed, you slowly left with Grim, meeting Ace and Deuce on your way to first period.

Rook didn’t show up once until alchemy, where he made no weird comments about beauty. You made sure to stir the potion slowly and carefully, hoping another greenhouse trip was not in your future.

When Crewel gave the nod of approval, you nearly jumped for joy.

“Good job, Prefect.” Rook smiled as the two of you washed the beakers you’d used.

You shot him a weird look and said nothing.

Rook didn’t show up at your dorm the next day either, or the next. He started making small talk with you at alchemy, questions that were not at all invasive or weird. You asked him what had gotten into him multiple times, but he always just laughed. While you had no idea where the sudden change had come from, you definitely preferred this side of Rook Hunt to who he was before.

You weren’t stupid, though. You knew he was only acting like this to take you off guard.

One day, you opened the front door to a white rose on your doorstep. By then, you’d gotten relatively used to having Rook not show up and bother you. It’s not that you were beginning to like him or anything, far from it. You just didn’t hate him as much anymore.

The white rose was kept in a glass of water on your nightstand.

“Your calmer side is just as beautiful as your angry side.” he said one day, watching as you cut up an herb for the poison you were creating.

Instead of telling him to go away, you stuck your tongue out at him and ignored him.

That was progress.

To observe your beauty properly, Rook bided his time before making more friendly advances on you. He invited you to the Pomfiore dorm for a self care night. You asked if Vil and Epel would be there, and he said the entire dorm would be attending. The fact that you still didn’t like the idea of hanging out alone with him was discouraging, but he was persistent.

You spent most of the night talking with Vil and Epel, laughing and smiling as Epel struggled to open the container the face mask came in. Rook watched you like always, taking notice of how relaxed you seemed and comparing it to how you looked around him.

He determined that he was getting close to having you comfortable with him.

“Rook!” you called out, waving your arms in the air, “Are you just going to stare or are you going to come over here too? You look like a creep!”

“Prefect! Don’t yell!” Vil scolded, fussing over your mask like a mother would.

“Rook!” Epel screamed at the top of his lungs, for no particular reason other than wanting to yell.

“Epel!” Vil shushed him, shooting him a glare.

Rook laughed, getting up from his seat on the nearby couch and walking over to the three of you.

He’d get you to warm up to him sooner or later.

All for the pursuit of beauty.

[albywritesfiction]

…Is it okay if I say no… ;-;

-holds your face gently-

Listen, LISTEN it's your story, your characters that you share with us for FREE. You don't owe us anything please just write what you want

I saw so many if creators being downright bullied and pressured so anons could live their self-insert stories. Don't go down that road, madness lies there

-nuzzles you with a relieved smile-

Thanks for the reassurance, Anon :> This has actually been on my mind since I got the asks last October, hence the very, very late reply 😓

'Cause it's a really good idea for people who would want to romance/support Ædric without the drive for revenge, but the whole point of Ædric's offer (which you guys will get to read in the next update) is to give MC the opportunity to take back what (in Ædric's eyes) was rightfully theirs: one of the thrones of the Aurelian Kingdom.

Ædric has both noble and personal intentions behind his offer of an alliance:

His main noble intentions are that a) he believes that Ædan and Helene are not and will likely never be capable of properly leading the kingdom, and b) he believes that not only is MC well-suited to take on the role of consort and all the responsibilities it entails, but MC is the consort that the people deserve to have. MC spent 2/3 of their life preparing to be the best consort in history; the only other person who is as suited to lead the kingdom as MC is Ædric himself.

Meanwhile, his main personal intention is that he is boiling with rage at the shit that Ædan and Helene pulled over MC, so much so that if MC wants to bring them to their knees, he will help them with a smile. And the best way that he could think of to screw them over and return the favor is to take the thrones for MC and him.

So for Ædric, his offer isn't only about gaining MC's support for his claim to the throne, it's also about getting MC's ass on the other throne so that they didn't waste 15 years of their life for some dickhead who only cared about his own happiness, as well as to fuck with said dickhead for what he did.

Does...does that make sense?

[germiyahu]

I would like to politely request that if you find yourself not understanding the point of my posts, don't engage with them. Don't embarrass yourself.

Because I certainly don't want to have to point out the irony of a person reacting to my (long winded) wry post about how uninformed uninterested Americans project and misinterpret the motivations, on a societal level, of Israelis and Palestinians... in a way that completely confirms that. You don't understand Zionism, point blank. You have not done your research, you do not understand why Jews for their entire history have yearned to return to Eretz Yisrael, and so you lie about that history, or you uncritically regurgitate other people's lies that you've heard about it.

You don't expect better of Muslims either, and there's a reason I only mentioned how people like you interpret this conflict to be about Jews vs Muslims, so do not pretend you care about the maybe 10% of Palestinians who are Christians. I note that the antizionist crowd routinely erases Bedouins, Druze, Samaritans, Circassians, Christian and Muslim Arabs who choose an Israeli identity over a Palestinian one. Not a single antizionist can mention the actual diversity of Israeli society without acting like their teeth are being pulled. So spare me.

My post was a (long winded and wry) assessment of what I have seen and what I think the general slacktivist Left conceive of Israel and Palestine. That it's a conflict between enlightened secular Christian-Lite white people who should know better, who should be over things like wanting a return to Zion... and what you see as noble savage barbaric Muslims who at least live a good honest non capitalist life, and we as the West owe them whatever they want because the War on Terror was horrific, yes.

But in the process you 1) erase the Jewish heritage and connection to their indigenous homeland, and replaces every single motivation for Zionism as racist imperialist bloodthirsty greed. Have fun gaslighting all of us as to how that's not blood libel. And you 2) excuse suicide bombing, targeting civilians, stabbing and driving over random people, mass shootings, war rape, hostage taking, torture, making fun little games out of torture... you'll excuse everything Hamas and their allied groups do in the name of "resistance," not just because you dehumanize Jews, but because I believe you really don't think Muslims are capable of being better than that. And because yeah, they're attacking Jews, who you view as privileged and annoying and the root of all problems in the world, so that's another reason not to expect better of them.

It ignores that there are tens of millions of Muslims who care about democracy, human rights, coexistence, peace... a lot of them are Palestinians. But you don't listen to them, you don't let them take the lead in their own liberation movement. You cheer on fascists because that's what a Muslim is in your head. Hezbollah, Al-Qaeda, ISIS, Hamas, now the Houthis: masked insurgents who have no regard for the sanctity of human life, no regard for their own people, sadistic manchildren who are only interested in enriching themselves and causing pain in the world, thinly scaffolded with the most cruel interpretations of a religion that a billion people follow. The only difference between you and your conservative racist parents is that you think the terrorists are the good guys now.

But thanks for stopping by :)