#a silent voice analysis

[the-genius-az]

Deaf Azula.

He meets Mai and Ty Lee because Ursa wanted him to have friends, the problem? He still doesn't know sign language very well and doesn't even know how to read lips.

So it's kind of a tug of war between the three of them.

Then Mai and Ty Lee establish another form of communication; Writing.

[rolaplayor101]

So I've just read your post "A Silent Voice Aspec Analysis" and I am so happy but I wanted to ask is...how exactly is Shoya from OAA rep? Could you direct me to all instances which made you think that he is? Thank you in advance!

9/13/22

So it’s been a year and a half since I got this ask and I’m only now answering it— I think about this ask a lot, and it’s not that I don’t want to answer it, it’s that I was waiting for the right time. I wanted to answer it during either asexual awareness week or Arospec awareness week last year or even the year before, but either because I forgot or because I procrastinated it, I never got to it. Now it's ASAW 2024, and I have finally decided to lay down and write this essay, so here we go:

There’s a few points I want to discuss, but in respect for the reader’s time, I will lay them all out right here as a tl;dr before I write them all out thoroughly.

Shoya shows himself to be both repulsed by romance and sexuality as soon as it is pointed towards him. This presents itself in his dialogue, his facial expressions, and his thoughts throughout A Silent Voice.

Shoya often is seen blushing in most instances, whether he’s with Shoko or not, of if he’s embarrassed or upset or  neutral. With this point, I think it’s poignant to say he has rosacea. 

Shoya himself says multiple times that he is not interested in Shoko, who is his main concern for all of the manga. 

The way other characters in A Silent Voice show attraction is completely different from anything Shoya ever does. 

The movie changes certain aspects of the manga to get the overall point across and stick to the most important plot lines. One of the things that it changes is literally all the scenes where the other characters assume Shoya likes Shoko romantically, unless it specifically pertains to Shoko’s side of the story, the character who DOES have romantic feelings in this pair for the other. 

Shoya shows his immense dislike for romance and sex a variety of times, as aforementioned, but does seem to enjoy physical, sensual touch, including holding hands, and, secondly, the only time he feels jealousy in reference to other people's relationships is not when he thinks Shoko is dating someone, but when he sees her getting closer platonically with other people(Sahara).

The entire story is about Shoya trying to redeem himself for past deeds, and learning what friendship is. Romance only ever ties in when it’s related to other people that aren’t him. 

This might have to be split into multiple posts because I have a lot of manga panels to use as reference. First, let’s start at the beginning. On the very first page of chapter one, we are immediately met by Shoya experiencing allonormativity and looking extremely annoyed. As soon as he hears the word “boyfriend” he is amiss, as is implied by the boldness of the word boyfriend. He immediately informs them that he’s not her boyfriend, with a sweating face, and balling in on himself, a thing he does multiple times to show he’s uncomfortable and anxious, while also always having the four little blush marks under his eyes as a character design choice, not a proof of attraction.

In fact, one of the first things we learn about Shoya is that he doesn’t like girls, next to the fact that he’s not supposed to jump into the River, he doesn’t like his mom’s nickname for him, and that he has a sister whose boyfriend sucks, because he can’t “play with them”. Crushing on one doesn’t even cross his mind, but it does for everyone else he interacts with in his class:  

“isn’t that great, Ishida?” Naoka asks in response to learning that the new transfer student is a girl.

“Huh? I don’t give a crap!!” He replies, his expression one of genuine confusion and annoyance, with his eyebrows furrowed downwards and his pupils small, mouth low on his face without a hint of a smile or blush.

Shortly after we have a montage of him bullying Shoko along with his friends, we are met with his first instance of romance repulsion at a young age:

Amongst being touched— holding hands with a girl— he does not blush or smile, neither does flowers appear around him in thematic fashion of romantic attraction; instead, he looks angry, his brows furrowing, even the lines of rosacea on his face  disappearing to show him paling in disgust. The next panel with his face shows him grimacing, a shadow falling over his eyes and bags appearing under his eyes with sweat pouring down his face. He is not enjoying the physical touch from her. Finally, as he whips his arm away, a blush appears on his face, but only as he hears his friends behind him laughing at him. He’s embarrassed and angry. We get the second bout of amatonormativity from his friends:

He’s blushing, but not from attraction, like his friends joke, but in embarrassment. The next scene shows Ishida saying a word that appears over and over from here on, and the dialogue is, “she’s creepin’ me out” as he walks away with Kazu and Hirose. We will get back to that. 

This is only the beginning of Shoya’s journey through navigating allonormativity and deconstructing what friendship means to him. His “friends” aren’t good ones, for sure, and this comes up as a theme throughout. In fact, the allonormativity keeps on even til the end, but I’ll expand on that later, as well. Skip only a 20 pages later, and you’ll see this little scene:

Here, Shoya actively reveals his repulsion towards romance once again by even just being around a place where people go on dates often, and gets angry and upset. Now, it is a common trope for children in tv to hate romance and be seen to grow out of it, as if it’s childish to see it as disgusting and unlikeable, but, in Shoya’s case, even as time passes, he continues to share these feelings, although more quietly, with his elementary school self. Even here, when he’s all scratched up, you can see the blush on his face when he notices Shoko seeing him, but again, this blush, in context, doesn’t seem to be one of attraction, but of embarrassment. In context, he’d just been pushed around by his ex-friends, and chastised by his mom, and has now been seen kicking a wall. There’s no romantic tension or reasoning to this scene for it to be a blush of romantic attraction on his face. 

Time skip to him in his teen years, senior year, in chapter 5:

He’s being a bit dramatic by the end, but even so, in the beginning, it’s obvious that his thoughts are his own. In the ten year anniversary edition, his dialogue is, “And you butt-ugly bastards, stop talking about dating. It makes me sick.” This change in dialogue leaves out the “it doesn’t suit you” which can change the connotation a little bit. It changes the meaning from, “You acting like you can date the way you are is creepy” to “just talking about romance at all is gross to me”. And then, sexually, it’s also the same. It’s not only romance, but sex that also creeps him out. “That goes for you too.” (These are also taken out of the movie, because it’s once again not relevant, and also makes Shoya more palpable as a character you can be sorry for. His comments here do sound a lot like endorsing rape culture in a victim blaming kind of way). Then there’s this little nugget a few pages after:

“Apparently, there are some things in this world you just can’t attain. The moment I realized that, my future became clear.” 

One of the noticeable things he “can’t attain” is a girl or boy to be in a relationship with in high school. That, or if you look at it in things he can’t be a part of, like, say, being in the class photo, or getting into college, or being In a group of friends, or having a full head of hair, etc., it’s also possible to view the scene of him walking past the couple as him not being able to  avoid seeing couples, as all the other things he is actively working towards or interacting with/looking at. As in, “I won’t be able to be in the class photo, I won’t be able to avoid couples, I won’t be able to go to college, I won’t be able to make friends”, or, “I won’t be able to be in a relationship” whether that being because no one wants him or because he himself doesn’t want to be in one despite everyone else in school wanting it so badly, due to the allonormativity he’s experienced convincing him that’s the case. 

After this scene, we are back in media rez, where he just denied being her boyfriend. In that context, he just the other day thought about romance being something he either can’t attain because he doesn’t want it, or can’t get it, and when these aunties call him Shoko’s boyfriend, he shows a rather plain disgust and discomfort with it, implying that it’s something he doesn’t want, instead of can’t get. 

Then we get this legendary scene: ”Nishimiya…could you…and me..be friends?”

He has a blush here that is unlike the usual four lines we see on his cheeks under his eyes; this one is further into his cheekbones, and it's not from anger or embarrassment, but rather from a shyness. And this shyness doesn’t come from romantic feelings, but for platonic feelings. His words inform the expression, that he wants a friendship with her. And then this happens:

His expression changes instantly. It’s not necessarily one of disgust, but of panic, of discomfort. He’s still blushing, but he’s sweating now, just like before, in elementary school, and he can also hear the ladies in the back making comments just like his friends from before. He’s not angry, as his brows are raised instead of furrowed, but he’s deeply unsettled. 

In this next set of panels, Shoko notices the ladies and pulls away, and Shoya’s face is a bit different and more comical. He’s still sweating and blushing, but his mouth is open wider as if to say something, and his hand is limp. When she pulls back. There’s a spark that’s closer to her than it is to him, which I think symbolizes a sudden awareness on her part rather than his. He also looks a bit happier that she let go, with only one sweat drop on his face instead of multiple. His brows are also more relaxed, and his mouth jaw is closing slightly. This is presumably how Shoko is seeing him in this moment.

 And when someone interrupts, presumably one of the women who were laughing at him, he gets all stiff again and his blush mostly disappears. Then the panels start being viewed from either Shoya’s side or from his perspective again. Fast forward to when they’re feeding bread to fish a few minutes later. 

He blushes at the thought that he’s having a normal friendly conversation with Shoko, the girl he used to hate, not just “a girl” or “a person my age that’s a girl for the first time since I hit puberty”. He’s not blushing at a romantic encounter or moment, but that he’s making a friend, he’s nervous that he has zits in his face, not because he thinks she’s pretty or something like that, that doesn’t even cross his mind, but that he can have a positive relationship with someone who isn't in his family or someone he works with. And someone he ruthlessly bullied five or six years ago.

Another example of his Asexuality comes right after this, when they both jump into the water under the bridge to rescue Shoko’s old notebook. He accidentally looks up and sees her skirt lifted, but he immediately closes his eye and looks down again without a blush on his face, and immediately focuses back in on finding the notebook without even a moment to get his bearings. It doesn’t bother him at all.

sorry about the bad quality, i had to take this picture for the sake of time instead of finding it online. 

The next chapter features the biggest theme of the entire manga and anime besides redemption:

This is brought up again once Shoya meets Yuzuru, who wants to keep him away from Shoko. Yuzuru asks, “Are you really her friend?” And it brings about this entire thought process for Shoya, again and again, in the series. And then he meets Nagatsuka: 

This is an example of my second point: Shoya’s blushing. A lot of “evidence” people give for Shoya liking Shoko is that he blushes around her a lot. This is a false equivalence, for Shoya blushes all the time and for anyone and any reason. Here, Nagatsuka does something extraordinarily nice to him for no reason, and he blushes, his confusion evident in the furrow of his brow and him asking, “Why’d you do all that for me?” In the 10th anniversary edition. Nagatsuka’s friendship from here on causes him to blush just as much as Shoko, and it doesn’t stop there. Later in the series when he befriends Miki, he’s also seen blushing around her, and not only that, but there are symbols seen around characters all the time to forward the notion of different points of view within a panel.

Image 1: Blush blush blush~ all of this at the notion of friendship, a complete turn around from whenever anyone mentions romance or sex around him. He’s forming connections with people for the first time since middle school, or even elementary school, to further Point 7. His need for platonic relationships greatly overshadows any hint of romance that is ever brought up, especially with Shoko. 

Image 2: Miki sees herself as cute, which is why the bubbles appear around her, signaling a slight pov change. Shoya himself never shows any interest in Miki, nor Miki for him, and it especially shows in this scene with his expression and his thoughts not at all aiming towards her. And when Miki says Mashiba is handsome, a particularly aesthetic,  romantic, or sexual form of attraction, this is something Shoya doesn’t even notice; yet, when she says Mashiba wants to be his friend, his eyes go wide with sudden interest. His disinterest towards romance and sex also take into account men, as well. 

Image 3: once again, Miki has bubbles around her, but this is not Shoya’s pov until the next panel. This is a good example of background and environmental symbolism not necessarily reflecting on Shoya’s own thoughts and feelings, but those around him. 

If we go to the movie, in image 1, this scene is shown with Shoya and Nagatsuka doing a secret handshake, which has a lingering touch between them that doesn’t make Shoya uncomfortable like Shoko’s attempt at handshakes/handholding does, and it’s in the midst of a conversation about friendship, in contrast to how the ladies from sign class assumed it to be a romantic thing with Shoko and Shoya. And speaking of, shortly after image 1, we run into them again: 

Once again, the blush appears, but his brows furrow and he has a frown on his face that shows his discomfort, along with the sweat. He runs away because he’s embarrassed, not because there’s any truth to what they’re saying. This bring us again to point 3: Shoya points out multiple times that he does not like Shoko romantically. For the sake of convenience, I’ll add the rest of the times that he does this, and the chapters, to show that he doesn’t change his mind even by the end of the manga. 

chapter 15

Chapter 20 (genuine confusion, doesn’t see it as romantic in the slightest, regular rosacea blush on his face. Pure amatonormativity and relationship hierarchy)

chapter 21

chapter 40 (this one needs further explaining but I’ll do it in the next post)

chapter 41

chapter 61 (til the very end, the literal second to last chapter, his friend is being allonormative while he’s perfectly happy and blushing at his friendship with Shoko. His expression holds a seriousness that implies it’s not a joke on his part, as well as the excited look he has as he gets an answer to the question)

Since I can only post 30 picture at a time on tumblr, I’ll stop the post right here and finish on a reblog some day. Yes, I know about the interviews with the author, and yes, I’ll supply those in due time as well. 

[rhejac]

a silent voice (2016)

The beauty of A Silent Voice has to be it's characters. Every single character had flaws and dimension, and it shows through the smallest of details. Everyone feels real and human, and that's what makes this movie spectacular. What really brought me to this conclusion was the scene at the bridge where Ishida is consumed with guilt from his past and he picks off everyone from the group by targeting exactly what will make them hurt. One by one, you are introduced to their ugly sides. Even the characters you barely met show so much depth, and it makes the scene so impactful because you realize how observant Ishida is.

I feel like in most media, bullying is pretty black and white. Usually, we don't see the kind of complexity that the film brings. Usually, the bullying seems to magically stop as soon as the main character puts their foot down, or retaliates in some way. And sure, sometimes we do explore the bullies and their home lives, and realize that they may struggle with issues too. Hurt people hurt people and whatnot.

A Silent Voice takes everything a step further. We are shown past the ending, where the bully - SINGULAR - seems to get what he deserves. He's outed and punished. But wait, there's like the rest of the movie left? That's when I was hooked. We see that Ishida was not the only one that should have been blamed. While Nishimiya was getting harassed, it was the people that watched and said nothing that were just as culpable. Heck, even the teacher was just as bad, and only spoke up when Ishida presented himself as a scapegoat. The real conclusion is that bullying is a failure of everyone around the victim. A collective failure of the community was allowing Nishimiya to tolerate abuse after abuse.

I really enjoyed the visual of how Ishida views people, with X's over their faces. His point of view where he avoids people's eyes and tends to look off to the side was unsettling, because you realize this is how he lives, cutting everyone off in order to stew in the guilt he's been feeling for all these years. He lives denying himself any self respect or acceptance, and prefers to blame himself for what happened in the past. Nishimiya already forgave him in the beginning, but it was time for Ishida to forgive himself; a powerful message in this anime. It was only when he could forgive himself that the X's of those around him fell, which I think is really beautiful. Self acceptance didn't come externally, but internally.

There is so much more to this movie, but overall it is so fantastic with it's character work and stunning animation.

[rosiebee-18]

A Silent Voice

Directed by: Naoko Yamada

A silent voice shows important themes that are relevant to people in Japan and around the world, like bullying, communication difficulties, and personal redemption. At the beginning of the movie, Shoya Ishida plays a little boy who teases Shoko Nishimiya, a new pupil who is deaf. Shoko transfers schools as a result of Shoya's activities, which are motivated by ignorance and peer pressure. This portrayal closely resembles Japan's battle with bullying in schools, where harassment of people who are thought to be different is frequently made worse by peer hierarchy and conformity. Shoko's exclusion from society brings to light the widespread systemic obstacles that people with disabilities have when trying to integrate into society and obtain education. We observe exclusion as a distinct kind of bullying. Another student by the name of Ueno pretends to be kind to Nishimiya. Ueno keeps Nishimiya away from her and her friends and talks about her behind her back with the other of her friends. I feel like this is the worst kind of bullying that could be done to a child. I’ve had experience with this kind of bullying where it made me uncomfortable with myself and others. Being talked about negatively from your “friends” behind your back is not a great feeling especially when you don’t know what you did wrong for them to act that way. Bullying is an issue that can affect an individual’s mental health seriously. For example, in South Korea there has been many suicides committed by teens because of bullying through peer pressure and their cutthroat academics. We can also see how Shoya and Shoko wanted to end it all on the bridge but the fireworks reminded them of their desperation for life. 

 The combination of Shoya's transformation from an adversary to an ally and Shoko's fortitude in the face of hardship. For example, Shoya's attempts to converse with Shoko using sign language represent a bridge being constructed over the communication gap that once divided them. Globally, the film can reflect on the details of interpersonal relationships and the value of empathy in comprehending the perspectives of others by their developing friendship. "A Silent Voice" illustrates through their exchanges how prejudice can be gradually dismantled and how real regret and forgiveness can be healing.

[animezin-ph]

A Silent Voice: Why You Deserve to Live No Matter What

TRIGGER WARNING

This post may contain triggering words. Please read with caution. If you are feeling uneasy, you may choose to stop reading this post.

SPOILER ALERT

This post may include some spoilers from “A Silent Voice” (anime film)

“So?”

Miyako Ishida smiles as she faces her son, Shoya Ishida.

“Why’d you want to kill yourself?”

Read more on Medium:

(Note: below is a friend link, it's a link from the author that allows you to bypass the paywall so you can read it without having to be a member on Medium :)

But being a member would greatly support us!)

[analyzing-people-like-hell]

ANALYSIS #2: 03/07/24

A second specimen to add to my collection. A very silly one as well. I hope my research is up to your silly standards as well, #2. :3

Let's take a look at the list you've provided.

Ahh, the classic tragedy of a main character. A hero without a hero's journey. Yours was rather complicated to figure out, but I think I've been able to get a solid enough grasp on you. We'll just have to see if my findings are truly correct. Why don't we take a look at your background first?

"LORE":

A starving artist. You were forced to reach for standards that you never wanted, for you're yearning to follow dreams that may never come true. Yet you strive for them despite this, ignoring the (honestly outdated) standards that people like your family have set for you. Abandoning these kind of harmful traditions would normally be beneficial, if it weren't for the fact that your family looked down on you for it. You try to ignore it to the best of your ability, but it's hard to disregard them when everyone's opinions are so evident at every second of the day. Don't you deserve to live life the way you want to? Is all this cost worth it?

People have left your life without ever giving an explanation as to why. You've gotten used to it, it doesn't seem to bother you as much as it used to, but part of you will always wonder why. There's a child that is still searching for answers. Answers you still cannot give.

Generational trauma. Just generational trauma in general. Your parents were never reliable. The fact that they expected you to be reliable to them probably just made you hate them even more. It feels fucked up. You know it could be worse, but it feels so fucked up that they couldn't even fulfill basic parental responsibilities. Is it so much to ask for them to be dependable for just one moment? For them to be on your side just once? You look at kids with better parental relationships and you hate it. You hate how it makes you want to tear your insides apart. Why couldn't they give you that same kind of love? Why were they never there? It's not fair. It never was, and I'm sorry that you've only gotten half-assed apologies from them.

I'm not here to fix the mistakes of horrid parenting though. (If I could do that I would have been telling people that condoms were a cure-all for life's problems.) What I can do is pinpoint what issues these events might have given you. So why don't we continue onward.

THE TRUTH:

You have strong values because of what you've gone through, but your identity is less developed. You have dreams, but it's almost as if they're not fully fleshed out. Tell me, where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10? It seems like you're always just following along with the world. Things come at you, you don't seek for them. You honestly don't know what you should be seeking for exactly. You know what to avoid, you know what to do, you know the rules; you just don't know what game you're even playing. But you keep throwing your dice. Eventually one of those rolls has to get you what you want, right?

You don't deal with your issues either. Maybe you just don't know how to deal with them. Problems come to you and you sit with them because it's all you were taught. Taught to sit with them and wait until they go away. You can only sit with a caged beast for so long before it breaks its bounds. That thing has already managed to cut you while caged; you are praying it does not kill you when it is free.

I think that same beast has taught you anger. It pisses you off the same way the world pisses you off. Everything does in a way. It's all unfair. It never was fair. Why didn't you deserve better? Why do you get dealt a monstrosity like this? When is it your turn to feel whole again?

You're also one of those people with that weird self esteem issue: the one where you feel completely worthless to the world yet also feel like you're better than everyone else. You're probably a little narcissistic and have heavy swings between hating yourself and being full of yourself. How're those depressive episodes going for you, by the way? Are you still sure you don't need to talk about those with anyone? Actually, why do you rarely tell anyone about these things? Is it the fear of being a burden? Are you scared that the people you tell will start seeing you differently, maybe they'll know too much about you? Or maybe it's the fear that no matter what you do, you'll never be the person you want to be, so you might as well keep going as you are? All valid fears, but none should be valid excuses.

Those aren't the only things holding you back though. Another is your focus. It's hard for you to focus on anything because it all feels so meaningless to you, especially when it feels like you would fit so well in any other universe. You were meant to be saving worlds, not working a 9 to 5. You don't know what you'll do if you end up stuck being ordinary. You want to live. You want to have fun. You want to make life worth it. You need to. 

I'm afraid I can't promise that you'll be able to get all your wishes, but I can promise that one day you will find a way to make life your own. And I have all the proof I need to show you exactly that.

YOUR BEST TRAITS:

You truly are an artist at heart. You're creative and innovative, which helps you make solutions to problems that most might not even think about. Your insight on situations is valuable because of the fact that you're willing to follow your gut. Without your perspective, the world would be losing a vital mark in the pages of its history, so keep using it as your canvas.

You really are a true friend. When you care about people, you make sure to keep their needs in mind. You look out for people when nobody else is. You make sure to keep their best interests in mind while still keeping your own values. You might not be very vocal about it (especially since words might not be your strong suit), but you certainly put in all the effort you can through your actions. You won't ever need words if you continue showing your honesty and loyalty. Those will always be a thousand times more valuable than any word you could find in an age-old dictionary.

You are the heart of your story. When people talk about determination and strength, you are the best example in the room. You lead with your intuition and it makes you powerful because of it. Not all natural leaders have a good heart, so the fact that you are willing to fight for your values no matter the cost really does say something. Once you have your heart truly set on something, it's almost impossible to get you to waver. You might not exactly know what you're fighting for yet, but you'll be unstoppable when that time comes. In the meantime, you must keep trusting in your gut. It's hard to find people who hold themselves in such a way. Don't lose hold of that.

If it weren't for people like you, there would be a lot less hope in the world. You are what makes humanity so beautiful. You are flawed but you never let those flaws stop you. You've made mistakes, you know that, and you are doing everything you can to make up for those mistakes. What makes all of this so much more meaningful is the fact that you stay true throughout all of it. To be truthful and flawed is one of the most admirable traits you can find in any human. You shouldn't be perfect, because perfection is fake, and at least in my opinion, it is much more honorable to fall in authenticity than to rise through forgery. You are a hero. Heroes will always fail. That does not mean it is the end of their story.

Also you're very goober-core :3

And with that, I think I'll leave my thoughts here and take my bow.

With utmost gratitude (and hopefully utmost accuracy),

Dr. WZ

[nickslays05]

A Silent Voice

Lastly, for tonight, hello again Tumblr! It's late but I wanted to finish all three anime and write my analysis for them all at once! I may not do this again...however, I will say that A Silent Voice hurt me the most. The story brought me sadness, anger, and pure shock. From what I gathered, based on the module being about discrimination, I was capable of putting together the fact that Shoko, a deaf girl, was facing discrimination from her classmates for being different. She was left in situations that even teachers couldn't help her in. This is similar to Wolf Children in the sense that we are presented with the idea that society is incapable of changing for the better. In a way that is more helpful toward people, rather than it being negative where a child must face discrimination in a school classroom. 

Now, in Japan, the film highlights the prevalent issue of bullying and the long-lasting impact it can have on individuals. It reflects societal pressures to conform and the ostracism faced by those who are different. The anime dives into the psychological effects of bullying, emphasizing the need for empathy and understanding.

Globally, the film resonates with themes of redemption and personal growth. Shoya's journey towards forgiveness is a universal story of confronting past mistakes and seeking reconciliation. It underscores the importance of accountability and the courage required to change one's behavior and perceptions.

As I've stated in a blog post before this one, I was bullied as a child due to the color of my skin from both sides. I was either too dark or too light, so I have an understanding of being ostracized. I will say though, being deaf in a school that provides no support for bullying or even just sign language is beyond awful. The sadness and anger I felt was mainly toward that. Why isn't there a single person capable of helping her or saving her from the bullying?

Ultimately, "A Silent Voice" offers a moving narrative that addresses both specific cultural issues and universal human experiences, making it a compelling subject for reflection and discussion.

[chad-chungus]

This is how films work for me:

My favourite film of all time is Shrek 2. It’s absolutely perfect from start to finish, so witty and humorous, the pacing is immaculate and the soundtrack is THE best in any film I have seen. It has aged like fine wine! Like the fairy godmother singing “I need a hero” and Shrek is going back to Fiona to save their love is one of the best climaxes to a film I have ever and possibly will ever see in my life! It does not compare whatsoever!

The most beautifully directed and well written film is and will always be A Silent Voice. Naoko Yamada has such an incredible vision on how to portray human emotions and thoughts through the visual medium, it’s incredible. And the theme on redemption and accepting oneself will always be so powerful. This film made me fall in love with writing stories and analysing them. Same can be said for Liz and the Blue Bird, another film of Yamada’s. 

The most unique film is Portrait of a Lady on Fire. The directing is phenomenal, how it uses barely any soundtrack to create ambience and isolation, the frame work of the shots to evoke emotion and tension is impeccable, and the writing for the sapphic storyline is just so grounded and perfect. Every aspect of this film is just absolutely perfect.

But the best and most ambitious film I have seen is Everything Everywhere All At Once. The dedication from everyone involved in this film is incredible. From the writing to the directing, costume design, editing, acting and just every single aspect is absolutely perfect. And the message of the film and how it delivers its theme about the meaning of life just hits me every single time. 

[whisperingwisterias]

A Silent Voice and Subtle Discrimination

A Silent Voice is about forgiveness, it’s about realizing your past doesn’t have to define you, but it’s also about the cruelty of discrimination and how many forms it can exist in. Whether it’s upfront like Shouya’s bullying was, or more subtle as we saw in some of the other classmates, it all does just as much harm to people’s perceptions of themselves.

Although Shouya’s bullying of Shouko was the most noticeable and also the most blamed, Shouko faced discrimination from almost everyone. To begin with, although the school implemented some accommodations, like beginning to teach the students sign language, a lot of the time no changes were made to help Shouko at all. On her very first day the teacher taught and gave the students instructions without writing any of them down for Shouko to understand; it took another student noticing her struggling and offering to take notes for her for Shouko to get the help she needed. There was also an issue in a music class where Shouko was not given any helpful cues to tell her when to sing, which caused her to make a fool of herself.

Besides the school not offering many accommodations, there were also several classmates who simply refused to accommodate for her disability. Although many of the girls seemed nice to Shouko at first, they were quick to distance her because they didn’t want to bother with the extra difficulties her lack of hearing posed. When Shouko tried to join in on their conversation, offering her notebook, the girls turned her down and went back to talking together. Naoka also resented having to learn sign language to make things easier for Shouko, wanting instead to just keep writing in her notebook because that was easier for herself.

In addition to lack of accommodations, the film also shows how many people discriminate against both Shouko and Shouya by shifting blame and justifying their own behavior. When they were younger, Shouya blamed Shouko for the way that everyone was treating her, saying that everyone was sick and tired of having to write in her notebook all the time. He also writes a mean message on the blackboard, saying that it was Shouko’s fault that Miyoko left, even though it was really Naoka’s fault for making hurtful comments to her. The other kids and even the teacher are also quick to justify their own behavior and blame everything on Shouya when Shouko eventually transfers schools. The teacher has no hesitation in calling out Shouya for being a bully, despite seeing it all happen and doing nothing to intervene, at most calmly threatening a detention for disturbing class. The other students also have no hesitation in calling him out, even though they also did nothing to stop the bullying they saw and often laughed at it themselves, in some cases even joining in themselves. When given a scapegoat to take all the blame, the kids are quick to give him the same treatment that they all gave Shouko, justifying their bullying under the explanation that he deserved it.

When they all meet again several years later, Naoka and Miki continue to shift the blame onto others. Naoka is quick to wave away all of her behavior towards Shouko by claiming to her that it “wasn’t that big of a deal.” She also blames the bullying Shouya received and the way their friend group fell apart on Shouko’s presence, saying that none of that would have happened if she hadn’t been there. She also is quick to blame Shouya’s hospitalization on Shouko’s suicide attempt rather than trying to be sympathetic. Miki also refuses to take responsibility for her inaction, insisting that she never made any mean comments like the others did and exposing Shouya for being a bully in the past to make herself look better.

We see just how damaging this treatment is for both Shouko and Shouya throughout the film. Both of them consistently make it clear that they have both internalized the comments that others have made—Shouya, despite taking several steps to change and genuinely become a better person, still hates himself and thinks that he’s an awful person, to the point that he thought the world would genuinely be better without him in it; and Shouko, despite being the most blameless person in the entire film, truly believes that everything Naoka and the other students blamed her for really is her fault. She blames herself for the way her own disability affected others, for how her leaving caused the other kids to bully Shouya, and for how her suicide attempt caused Shouya to get into a serious accident; even though none of these were actually her fault.

Even though the film projects an overall message of hope and forgiveness and redemption, it also really points out just how awful and cruel of a thing the student’s discrimination towards both Shouya and especially Shouko was. Even though most of the students didn’t think they actually bullied anyone, their actions left permanent marks on Shouko and Shouya that marred both the way they interacted with others and the way they viewed themselves. This is why it is important for us to recognize and make an effort to stand against discrimination,no matter what form it takes.

[rumplereids]

wonderstruck.

part one. tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. tech analyst!reader. early-s1!spencer. a/n: tech analyst!reader won’t leave my little brain. i hope u like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

You were 21 when you got recruited into the bureau. Barely a graduate, and already on a FBI watchlist. Honestly, the only reason you’re under their watchful eyes is because of a lapse in judgment.

To celebrate the semester ending, your roommate decided that you both needed to get drunk. Being a psychology major with a pre-med roommate leads to tequila shots in your own dorm room. It’s the convenience and comfort of your own space that got you so drunk. This situation led to this: you admitting to your roommate, with heavy eyes, that you can “hack, you know. I learned when I was 15.”

She sat up from her place on the floor.

“Really? I don’t believe you!” she giggles, and then hiccups.

“I so can!” there’s indignation and a want to prove yourself in the tone of your voice.

“Okay, show me!”

Shuffling on heavy feet, you plop down in front of your laptop. A few clicks and the comforting clacks of your keyboard, and then a window pops open. You look at the wide-gaped mouth of your roommate. “What are you hacking?”

You hum, “I don’t know.”

And then you remember the talk from a few days ago. Two agents from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit came over to your college to talk about criminal profiling to psychology majors and anyone else interested.

Completely inebriated, you manage to hack into their database. Your hazy mind doesn’t forget to compliment the beauty and intricacy of the codes and firewalls you broke down.

At Quantico, Virginia, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia rushes into her unit chief’s office.

“Sir, somebody is attempting to get into my system. I think they’re trying to communicate?”

Hotch follows Garcia into her office, the quickness of their steps catching the attention of Dr. Spencer Reid who was seated at his desk, skimming over a case report.

When Hotch gets into Penelope’s ‘lair’, his eyes squint, adjusting to the dimmed lights and bright screens. On the main monitor, a window displaying the barebones of a text chat is open.

<ATHEN411> ????

<ATHEN411> hiiiiidfgsd

<YOU> Who is this?

<ATHEN411> ohymgofd i didnt think anyonewould alsnwer

<ATHEN411> wh o it sthis?

<YOU> BAU Section Chief Aaron Hotchner.

<ATHEN411> omfdg i know uuu !! jason mentoined u

<YOU> Jason?

<ATHEN411> yhuhh jason digeon or sumn omg i cant tpoye

<ATHEN411> sorry

<YOU> Jason Gideon? How do you know him?

<ATHEN411 disconnected.>

You’ve completely forgotten about the conversation. Until, a few days later. You’re turning the corner of the hallway to get into your dorm. Backpack slung on a shoulder, arms full of your laptop, binders and a soft-bound copy of your final paper. You stop in your tracks when you see two men stationed outside your room’s door.

One man was in a shirt, jeans, and combat boots. He also had sunglasses on. The other had a permanent furrow to his brows, dressed formally in a suit and tie.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask, hand reaching into your hoodie pocket for your keys and pepper spray.

The one in sunglasses holds up a badge and ID.

“FBI. I’m Agent Morgan, this is Agent Hotchner. Are you Y/N L/N?”

You gulp, wondering why they knew your name.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

Your bring out your keys, and you notice how Agent Hotchner eyes the pepper spray keychained to it.

“Um, yeah. We can talk inside? My roommate’s still out.”

You unlock your door and walk in, the agents following in after you. Dropping your bag on your desk chair, you turn to ask the agents, “How can I help you?”

Agent Hotchner asks, “Are you familiar with the name athen-four-one-one?”

You look up at them guilty.

“It’s athena-eleven.”

“So, it’s you?” Agent Morgan clarifies.

“Yes. How did you find me?”

The two men share a glance. A silent conversation passing with you unknowing.

“Two nights ago, you hacked into the BAU’s database.”

You look at them in suprise, “I did?”

“Yes,” Agent Hotchner says, passing a folder to you. Inside are images and a transcript of messages shared between a ‘P.GARCIA’ and ‘ATHEN411’.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, realizing what’s happening.

“I was drunk off my ass two nights ago! I’m so sorry,” that catches Agent Morgan’s attention.

“You were drunk?”

“Yeah, my roommate and I were celebrating our exams. I didn’t… Am I in trouble?”

Agent Hotchner raises a hand in a placating gesture, “You were drunk when you hacked into the bureau’s database?” Confusion and slight amusement evident in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you confess, “It was just a dare! I don’t even remember much of it.”

Agent Morgan looks as if he doesn’t know what to think about the situation. You feel the same. Agent Hotchner extends a hand to get the file back from you, and you give it to him easily.

“Would you go with us back to the station?”

“What? For what? Am I being sued?”

“The opposite. I would like to conduct a proper interview.” Agent Hotchner explains.

“An interview? For what?”

“A job as a technical analyst at Quantico.”

You look at them, eyes furrowing in confusion and disbelief, “What? I can’t!”

“Why not?”

You gesture toward your desk, “I still have a paper to pass!”

Meeting Penelope Garcia was like a dream come true.

“I should have realized! The triple-stacked firewall should’ve been so obvious! The Black Queen signature!”

The blonde’s eyes sparkle, happy to meet a match.

“Athena-Eleven! I didn’t even notice you were in my systems until you sent your first message.”

You feel your chest puff up at the indirect praise.

“You were one of my idols,” you admit, “Your exposé on Griffith Industries was just… stunning! Absolutely flawless. You had a section in your code that I used to build my private server—” Agent Hotchner interrupts your spiel.

He gestures to the rest of the room, where agents were seated at a round table.

“This is Y/N L/N, the unit’s newest technical analyst. ” he says, and you give a shy wave. You get a wave back from the agent wearing glasses. He’s cute. Have you seen him before?

“This is Jennifer Jareau, our communications liaison,” you shake her outstretched hand. She’s so pretty, you start to think, gorgeous blue eyes too.

“You’ve met Derek Morgan,” Agent Hotchner says, and Agent Morgan gives a two finger salute, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup.

“Agent Jason Gideon,” you return his handshake, mumbling a shy; “Hello, sir. Nice to see you again.”

And then, “This is Dr. Spencer Reid—”

“Oh! You were with Agent Gideon at the seminar! You talked a bit about geoprofiling, and how an unsub’s subconscious can’t help but stick close to home, which helps you triangulate the—” Agent Hotchner lets out another soft cough.

“Um, yeah. I did. Nice to meet you,” he gives another small wave, smile close-lipped and awkward. Endearing. He’s really cute. “I don’t really shake hands.”

You nod, “I get that, germs and stuff. It’s actually, weirdly, safer to kiss.”

You don’t see the way JJ and Derek look at each other, nor do you notice when Penelope whispered, “Oh my God, there’s two of them.”

“Your code name, it’s for the Athena, right? The Greek goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft?” Dr. Reid asks you, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yeah. I love greek mythology.”

He gives you a smile, “I do, as well. I’m wondering about the eleven though. Does it mean anything?”

You tsk’d through your teeth, “The angel number 1111’s often seen as a spiritual wake-up call and awakening. I thought it was fitting, and I was 15 when I chose the name, okay? Excuse little old me.”

“That’s cool,” Dr. Reid admits. If he remembers your file right, you were barely 17 when you became a trademark and known name in underground hacking circles. He can’t properly meet your eyes, struck in awe. Athena. It’s perfect for you.

“Y/N formally starts her job with us in three days,” Hotch informs the team, “Be kind.”

With a final word, Gideon and Hotch start to return to their offices.

Derek straightens from his position on the office chair. “I am very kind!”

“He didn’t say anything about you,” Penelope teases.

“Ooh, that says a lot, Morgan. It says so much,” JJ teases back.

You smile at them, your new co-workers, taking the seat JJ was gesturing at for you. The three continue bickering, you start to tune them out as you make eye contact with Dr. Reid. The apple of his cheeks blush red, and you can’t stop the grin on your lips from getting wider. He’s downright enchanting.

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 1

summary - an undercover mission creates distance between you and spencer, but his hands on your waist closes it.

genre - fem!shyish!reader x spencer, forced proximity, fake relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, general cm violence and gore, spencer and reader are both awkwardly in love with each other and don’t know it yet, mentions of trafficking

w/c - 3.5k

a/n - was writing this in one part and realised i just couldn’t. *jennifer coolidge aoughhe* sorry that its a bit inconsistent with writing style, and its not my best. trying to get back into writing fics longer than 1k.

part two

A familiar scene, an unfamiliar circumstance. The breath mint you swirled around your mouth had now disintegrated in your surprised stillness, your boss Aaron Hotchner passed you a thick case file with an attentive glance. Spencer cleared his throat, “At parties?” 

“Yes,” your boss’ hard voice returned, “The girls are swapped at banquets and ballroom dances, disguised as simple partner swapping.” Aaron turned towards the large panel screen and motioned towards an ID photo of a balding man. “This is Quinn Webley, he controls all transactions and coordinates the parties and most importantly, security.” 

“That’s why Reid and Y/L/n will be undercover. No offence but you two aren’t very noticeable,” Rossi added onto Hotch’s explanation, earning a small snort from Morgan.

There was no doubt more reasons to be chosen than that. Morgan was too impulsive, Emily could get hot-headed, JJ wasn’t trained for it, and Rossi and Hotch simply had to make sure everything went well from the outside. You and Spencer were the best options for this type of case, not only because of your skill, because of the obvious chemistry that you and Spencer shared. “Now, you’re not to make contact with Webley, all you have to do is watch him and everyone else. Pay close attention to couples, older men in small groups, and to the dances that might take place.” Hotch was not giving you or Spencer a chance to object, or to deject the idea. This was set, no negotiation. Not that you would want to be replaced in this case, it was just the fact that you were: 1. A terrible dancer, and 2. Not the most extroverted person. You nodded along, opening the case to create a personal profile of the women who were trafficked, before the discussion had come to a close, and everyone left the room to start collecting their things. 

Spencer cleared his throat, bringing you out of your analysis to meet his warm eyes. Suddenly, the easy-going banter you and Spencer shared had evaporated, replaced by suffocating silence. He didn’t meet your gaze back, only muttering in the silence, “Can I assume you want me to take the lead on this one?” 

“Oh, yes please.” You smile smally, trying to melt the ice that had somehow solidified between you two. Spencer was awkward, introverted, preferred alone time, but you were shy, quiet, and verbally uncoordinated (and physically). 

He nodded and exited the room, sighing off nerves that had piled themselves onto his shoulders since finding out he’d have to go undercover with the one girl he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with. He didn’t think the case would ruin your friendship, but it could make it harder for him to keep it that way.

Spencer stood straight with Derek peering over his shoulder and into the mirror. Derek picked at some dust on Spencer’s suit jacket as the nervous boy attempted to loop his tie neatly. 

Derek chuckles under his breath and turns the boy by his shoulders to face him, lifting his strong hands to help Spencer with the dark crimson red tie. Spencer silently thanked him with a nod.

“What are you so nervous about, Spencer?” He asked, half joking half serious, “It’s just an undercover mission. You’ve done this plenty of times.” 

“Not like this,” Spencer quickly replied, “Not with…” Her. You. 

Derek opened his mouth slightly and nodded, finally understanding the true reason for Spencer’s bouncing leg and sweaty hands. 

“Don’t freak out too much okay? You need to act like you love her, which won’t be too hard- But you need to do it without looking like you’re afraid of her.” Derek finished tying Reid’s tie and patted him on the chest as a hype up, smiling at him brotherly like. He knew Spencer’s feelings for you, that he liked you. A lot. 

He didn’t know Spencer wouldn’t have to act like he loves you. Spencer bit the inside of his lip nervously and turned to the mirror again, taking his eyes over his slightly unfamiliar reflection. 

The suit is tailored perfectly to his body, making him look trim, lean, and tall. Derek handed him a black bottle of cologne and headed for the door, before a sudden question stopped him.

“Do you… do you think she’s too good for me?” Spencer looked at Derek with big eyes, blinking rapidly. The man stood in slight shock before laughing away the silence, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew Spencer wasn’t accusing him of anything, it was a genuine question. Spencer thought he was lesser, less than what you deserved - even if it was just for a night. 

“Pretty boy, I think she’s happier to be doing this than you know. I think she likes you- I know she likes you-“

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Uh uh uh. No. Trust me, Reid,” Derek opened the hotel door and gestured for Spencer to follow him, “If you don’t trust me, ask her yourself.”

The girls whistled loudly at you like a bunch of old men when you emerged from the bathroom. You spun on your heel (which was way too tall for your liking) to entertain the ladies, JJ clapping her hands together and Garcia smiling so hard you felt your own cheeks burn. 

“Why do fake couples always have to be straight, huh?” Emily joked, and you giggled back at her. You crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to face a standing mirror in the corner of the fancy hotel. 

Your body was wrapped in a silky red, floor length dress, with wide and long sleeves draping over your covered arms like a cloud surrounds a mountain. It cinched at your waist, and stopped at just the right length to expose your 4 inch, black heels. You couldn’t deny that you looked incredible, although your nerves were playing with your head. 

“You look stunning,” Garcia repeated what she said when she was doing your makeup - simple and accentuating - when she noticed your slight anxiety.

Dressing up like this and wearing makeup and styling hair? Not your thing. It’s not that you didn’t like it - you loved being girly. It was just your own insecurities and personal preferences that caused you to wear sweaters and sneakers (anything that wouldn’t bring attention to yourself). 

The girls knew this, and dressed you simply and modestly so as to not add to your nerves that an undercover mission usually invites, and you appreciated it greatly. Although the heels were really high.

You were especially nervous to present yourself like this in front of him.

That’s why you fiddled your hands together, why you looked yourself over in the mirror three times before leaving, why you let the girls completely take over your look. 

You walked out into the hallway, pushing some hair behind your shoulder and letting the other side drape, still getting used to walking in those heels, when you were met with more whistles and compliments. Aaron nodded at you, knowing how abrasive you were to the idea at first, and Rossi and Morgan both asked you to give them a spin - and you did. 

The encouragement lifted your spirits slightly, a smile exploding from your face as a soft blush covered it. This is probably the best you’ve looked in front of them. 

“Where’s her date?” JJ asked, she mentioned that Morgan had the job of matching Spencer’s tie but she didn’t trust him.

“Don’t worry, he’s got on the best dark red tie that we could find. He’s downstairs in the foyer.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows together before Hotch added, “You have to leave together just in case. Precautions, okay?” 

Spencer swapped the position of his hands at least five times in a minute, glancing at the elevator in the all too fancy hotel every time someone emerged from it. He adjusted his tie, and sniffed his wrists to make sure he smelt good for you. He always made sure of it, after you offhandedly mentioned to Emily how smells could either make or break your day. 

You had a lot in common with Spencer, other than the obvious career choice. You were both… weird. Talkative around each other, silent around others. Shy, but confident in your abilities. You both had your things - your’s is smell, his is germs.

And luckily, whenever you went to Spencer’s apartment to drop off or pick up a book, his place always smelt like cleaning products and cologne.

Though now, he smelt like cedar wood and smoke. You tapped him on the back, nerves rushing through you like a teenager on her first date. He jumps slightly, not hearing the last elevator ding in his own worries, and turns on his heels - nearly bumping into you. 

“Woah.” He let that simple word slip before he could even bite his tongue, and a red wash painted his cheeks and ears.

You looked stunning, and Spencer was simply awestruck. 

You pushed a straightened piece of hair behind your ears and smiled shyly down at your feet, not letting yourself look at him for too long in fear that you’d melt into a puddle. Spencer cleared his throat to contain himself, and held out his arm for you to thread your own through. 

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking.” You ask timidly - very unlike how you normally were around him. You avoided taking his arm, scared he’d feel uncomfortable with the contact before he straightened his back and reluctantly pulled your elbow through his. 

“Just nervous, you look-“ He coughed, “Nice.” 

A smile slipped from you as you thanked him quietly, the two of you heading out the large foyer doors and towards a black limousine.

The ride was mostly silent other than the quiet music playing from the radio. And despite the large amount of room in the back, the two of you stayed conjoined at the hips. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both nervous, maybe it’s the job.

Maybe it’s because you’re both going into a place you’d never purposefully enter. 

“You smell good.” You broke the silence, your knee tapping his. He brought his attention from the window to your face, now noticing the small amount of makeup that accentuated your already beautiful features.

“Thanks. You too.” 

Suddenly, Morgan’s playful voice cut through the weirdly comfortable silence, through to both of your earpieces. “Alright you two. Now, you both know you’ll have to be all lovey-dovey, no acting needed, but don’t over do it. We’re not trying to make contact with Webley, just to get close enough to watch him. If you lose sight of him, hit the dance floor, he and his wife enjoy moving around.” Spencer’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stare at the black floor in concentration. His hands start getting a bit sweaty and he has to clear his throat to coax himself into listening to Morgan. 

“And if he heads for the kitchen, let us know, we’ve got an officer that’s acting as a bodyguard at the back door that can tell us when he’s left.”

Spencer thanks him over the ear piece, holding down a small microphone under his cufflinks. Your hands fiddled with each other, threatening to chip off the nail polish Emily so carefully painted. Spencer felt his heart pump in his chest, but ignored it and took a small mint tin from the inside of his jacket, holding a small white pellet out to you. “Y/n,” he caught your attention and smiled at you sweetly, easing your nerves almost immediately. You took the mint from his palm, your fingertips tracing the lines on his palm softly before you popped it into your mouth. You didn’t have to ask how he knew you needed that, you had grown comfortable with knowing Spencer knew more about you than anyone else in the team. 

The venue was a mansion mixed with a theatre. There were expansive columns lining the outside, countless balconies looking out onto the cityscape, and gardens paired with ponds that were home to some unexpectedly calm swans. You and Spencer both stood there for a few seconds, taking in the architecture, as well as the amount of people entering and exiting the main doors. For a second, you felt giddy and childish. You weaved your arm under his and he let his other hand land over yours to squeeze it gently - he must feel just out of place but weirdly excited as you are. 

Don’t lose sight of the real priority here, Y/n. 

But it’s hard to do that when you’re entering the conjuring of your childhood dreams. 

When you start walking up the large stairs, your heels click and Spencer tightens his arm slightly, your stepping becoming a little uneven. These damn heels. 

“You okay?” He asked, one eyebrow raised slightly. His hair was combed back, his long locks more tamed than usual, but one curly strand just escaped and covered the left side of his forehead. It looked effortless, handsome.

“Um- Yeah, sorry. I’m not used to shoes like this.” You laughed like it's funny and Spencer continued to basically lift you up the stairs with no complaining.

When you stepped foot into the main foyer of the building, there were multiple chandeliers that swayed safely in the bustling movement of the quartz floor. There were multiple vases of red and white flowers, almost matching your dress, and multiple suited guards at every entrance and staircase. They smile at guests, and offer them menus and directions, and smartly conceal their weapons in case of intruders. Intruders being you and Spencer.

When Spencer leads you up to them, his hands finally still and confident, the guards smile at you both - offering you an extra look over that has Spencer angling himself to cover you. 

“Names?” One of them asked, pulling out a checklist from behind his back (you almost thought they were pulling out their small guns - you really were not confident in how to act… well… confident.) 

“Mr and Mrs Conner.” 

“First names?” 

First names? You weren’t given first names. Garcia had made sure that nobody else on the guestlist was by the last name of Conner. You could practically see the cogs churning in Spencer’s head - creativity wasn’t really his strong point. 

“Did you just ask for our first names?” You scoff, your voice becoming a bit whinier than usual, “You obviously live under a rock, there are no other Coopers.” 

The guard widened his eyes, scanning the list again and stuttering, “I’m sorry ma’am. You’re obviously- Have a good night.” The guard lifted an arm as an invitation inside, and you gave him a glare. Spencer smiled once you were both out of sight and squeezed your hand with his own. But there are no words, as you’re too taken aback by the sheer size and beauty of the room, if you could even call it that, to focus on the contact. Even larger chandeliers, expansive marble floors and painted ceilings with naked bodies. The warm lighting nearly convinced you that this was just some rich party that people get drunk at and talk about nonsense, but Hotch suddenly talking in your earpieces brought you out of the spell that the pure aesthetics had lured you with. “In the back left of the dance floor, you’ll see Webley dancing with his wife, talking to a pair of aristocrats. Try to get closer, don’t be obvious.”

You released a breath and Spencer adjusted his arms to intertwine his fingers with yours, causing you to meet his gaze in surprise. “We’re in love, remember?” His eyes creased with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in comforting patterns you couldn’t decipher. Oh, you couldn’t forget that. “Right,” you respond, straightening your back and walking with him towards the dance floor. 

His hands carefully rested on your waist, his fingers gripping slightly against the silky fabric of your dress. The contact made your skin burn, a permanent pink painting your cheeks and increasing whenever you made eye contact with the tall and undeniably good looking man you were dancing with. Spencer didn’t look anywhere other than you and the back left of the dance floor. You had almost grown bored of the nerves in your heart before you noticed something you didn’t see before. 

“Hey, your tie matches my dress.” You said softly, barely audible over the music that echoed around the hall. Spencer glanced down at his tie (thankfully still properly tied) and then at your dress. That was a mistake, because now his breathing is deeper and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

Spencer nodded and sent you a small smile, “Morgan made sure of it.” 

“Didn’t that spoil it for you?” You asked, finally meeting his gaze. It looked deep, it looked… heavy. 

His swirling brown eyes shot electricity at you when he replied, “Why would it be spoiled?” 

You lowered your head away as you smiled sheepishly, “This is probably the nicest I’ve ever been in front of you. Probably wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be.” 

“You wanted it to be special?” You felt his fingers twitch on your waist as your own fingers twiddled with each other behind his neck. You lifted your face and found him clearing his throat, “I mean, it was still special. Although, I disagree with it being the nicest you’ve ever look.” 

You laughed, and it caused Spencer to crack a smile. 

“I show up to work bare-faced, in second-hand pants and sweaters two times my size. I feel like this is pretty good.” 

“You always look good.” 

You almost stopped your soft swaying with him in shock, and Spencer’s cheek reddened as if he was also shocked he said it. Spencer cleared his throat again, and bit the inside of his lip. 

The others couldn’t hear them right now. The music was soft, people chattered and to be honest, the whole mission had been erased from his mind. Spencer took a long, deep breath.

“I think you look beautiful right now, of course. But you’re still beautiful when you’re dressed like how you like to. I know what it feels like to not want to bring attention to yourself, and how sometimes your clothes can hide you. But…” Spencer stopped your movements with his hands lowering to your hips, he had been instinctively pulling you closer throughout the dance. “There’s nothing you could do, or wear, that could possibly take my attention off of you.” 

You felt your world stand still, although the blur of people didn’t seize, and fluttered your eyelashes at him unsure of how to respond. It was the most he’s spoken to you in one time - excluding random facts and the babbling you accept everyday.

“Spencer…” 

The tall man raised his hands to your waist again, the motion leaving waves of nerves to tumble over you, before he cleared his throat and started darting his eyes from yours to someone’s in the background. 

“Y/n. I think I saw Webley.” His grip only slightly tightened on your silk dress, his fingers curling slightly to move you across the dance floor slowly. You were definitely the more uncoordinated of you two. 

He moved skilfully across the dance floor, avoiding bodies and feet like it was rehearsed. 

“Not too close.” You muttered, Spencer’s attention flickering to you for only a second to nod in agreement. You need to watch him, not make contact with him. 

You grimace slightly, your ankle wobbling at an awkward angle for a second before you recover and-

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You meet his eyes again, his own already burning a hole through you and your heels. 

“I’m fine, again it’s just the heels.” 

“They seem to be causing you a lot of harm,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. Maybe he can distract you. “Did you know that heeled shoes were originally designed for Medieval Soldiers? They were made to make rising horses easier, putting a heel in the stirrups instead of your armoured shoe. And in the 16th century they weren’t supposed to be… to be seen…” He rambled and stopped abruptly.

He didn’t stop because you told him to, or you looked annoyed, or you lost interest. He stopped because you looked… too good to say anything. It made him nervous like a school boy seeing his crush in her prom dress - although he never got to experience that. It felt pretty close.

You tilted your head, a piece of straightened, silky hair falling over your shoulder. Spencer gulped, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand and twirled the piece in his pointer finger. 

It was like an optical illusion, something you know can’t be real, but intrigued you anyways. That’s what you felt, because whatever was happening right now could not be real. 

Spencer Reid looked entranced, hypnotised without knowing. And you looked red. 

“Th-they weren’t supposed to be seen?” 

Spencer snapped out of his trance but didn’t continue, only pulling you forward by the waist and moving that strand behind your ear. Your heart pumped, your ears matching the colour of your dress. 

He didn’t try to kiss you, even if he wanted to so badly. Instead, he lowered his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered, “Let’s go. Webley opened the kitchen door.” 

And your heart dropped.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna

[harrysfolklore]

Imagine max x driver!reader with the whole fia and swearing situation they’d be such a power couple. Manifesting more max fics!! I love all your work esp little bitch and honorary wag💓

okay this is teeeny tiny piece but i just had tooo. max is too iconic

You're sitting beside Max, your boyfriend and teammate, in the press conference room after the qualifying session in Singapore. The air feels thick with humidity and tension, though most of the tension is radiating off Max.

His latest penalty from the FIA—a fine and community service for swearing —has him fuming. He made it very clear on the way in that he wasn’t going to play nice. Today was going to be a day of vague, shady responses, and you were more than happy to back him up.

The moderator starts with the usual question for Max about how he felt securing P2.

“It was fine,” Max replies, voice completely flat. No elaboration, no typical analysis. Just that.

The reporter stares at him, clearly expecting more, but Max leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as if daring anyone to push him further.

To your right, Lando is barely holding it together, his mouth twitching as he watches the whole scene unfold. You catch his eye and he shoots you a look like, Is this real?

The next question is directed at you. Something predictable about how you’re feeling being P3, your thoughts on tomorrow’s race strategy.

“Well,” you start, raising an eyebrow, “I guess the plan is… to go fast and not crash.”

There’s an awkward silence in the room, the journalist blinking at you as if he didn’t hear you correctly. Lando makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, struggling to contain himself as you sit there, completely straight-faced.

“And the tire strategy?” the moderator presses, trying to steer things back into something vaguely professional.

“Use them until they wear out, I suppose.” You lean back in your chair, mimicking Max’s posture, crossing your legs casually as if you’ve just given a perfectly reasonable answer. Max looks at you with a cocky and proud smile, you discretely wink at him.

"Max, can you elaborate on your car's performance today?" another reporter tries.

Max tilts his head, considering for a moment. "It went forward when I pushed the pedal, and stopped when I hit the brakes. Very efficient, really."

You can't help but smirk at his response, and you notice Lando has given up on maintaining composure, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

The moderator, looking increasingly uncomfortable, turns to you again. "YN, how do you feel about potentially challenging your teammate for position tomorrow?"

You lean forward, adopting a serious expression. "Well, I've been told it's important to keep things clean on track. Wouldn't want to use any… inappropriate maneuvers."

"Absolutely. We're all about clean racing now. Very family-friendly." Max adds

The reporters exchange glances, clearly unsure how to handle this united front of sarcasm and vague responses. Lando, meanwhile, has resorted to covering his face with his hands, his shoulders visibly shaking with suppressed laughter.

As the press conference draws to a close, you and Max stand up together, your body language mirroring each other's. Before leaving, you turn to the room with a final statement:

"Just want to thank everyone for their thoughtful questions today. This has been a very enlightening experience. Almost as enlightening as some recent FIA decisions."

As you exit the room, hand in hand with Max, you can hear the burst of chatter from the journalists behind you, no doubt trying to decipher the subtext of your responses. Lando catches up with you in the hallway, finally letting out the laugh he's been holding in.

"You two are unbelievable," he wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "I thought I was going to lose it in there!"

Max grins, his earlier tension now replaced with a sense of satisfaction. "Well, we aim to entertain," he says, giving your hand a squeeze.

[raekensluver]

a guarded romance (2)

part 1

description: you are a famous billionaire's daughter and your father has hired you a new bodyguard. his name is spencer reid and he used to be a part of the fbi's behavior analysis unit.

pairing: bodyguard!spencer reid x famous!reader

contains: 18+, Minors DNI, talks of parental death, age gap (everyone is 18+), fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v, p in v from behind, sir kink, unprotected sex.

song rec: shameless by camillia cabello- "i need you more than i want to,"

w.c: 4.5k

an: i'm not sure on how i feel about this but i'm confident enough to post it! i appreciate all feedback! please comment on what you thought!!

the drive home was quiet, the only sound the hum of the tires on the asphalt. spencer's eyes never left the road, his focus unwavering as he navigated the winding driveway leading to the mansion. the headlights swept across the lush, manicured lawns, casting eerie shadows on the grand façade.

once the car was parked in the cavernous underground garage, spencer was out before you could blink, his movements swift and precise. he opened your door with a courteous nod, his hand outstretched to help you step out. the cool air was a stark contrast to the stuffy gala, sending goosebumps racing across your skin.

his hand was firm yet gentle as he helped you out, his eyes scanning the garage before nodding towards the elevator. "after you, miss," he said, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

as the elevator whisked you up to the main floor, you leaned against the cool metal wall, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on you. spencer remained silent, his eyes on the numbers as they climbed, his jaw set in a firm line.

you took a deep breath, the sudden need to express your gratitude overwhelming you. "reid," you began, your voice shaky. "i just wanted to thank you. for everything tonight."

his eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your heart flutter. "it's my job, miss," he said, but there was something more in his voice, a warmth that didn't usually accompany his professional demeanor.

you felt the elevator come to a gentle stop, the ding echoing in the quiet space. "it's more than that," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. "you didn't have to… lie for me like that."

spencer's gaze remained on the elevator doors, his expression thoughtful. "i didn't lie," he said, his voice even. "i told you i'd support you, and that's what i did."

you felt a lump form in your throat, his words resonating with something deep inside you. "but what about my father?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "he'll never believe that i'm engaged."

spencer's eyes flicked to yours, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "leave that to me," he said, his voice filled with a surprising warmth. "i've dealt with more stubborn people than your dad."

you couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sudden camaraderie with this man who had been forced into your life. "thank you," you said, the words feeling sincere for the first time.

spencer's eyes searched yours, a silent understanding passing between you. "don't mention it," he said, his voice gentle. "now, let's get you inside and out of those uncomfortable shoes."

you stepped out of the elevator and onto the plush carpet of the mansion, the weight of the evening's events slowly lifting from your shoulders. spencer walked alongside you, his stride matching yours, his eyes still scanning the surroundings despite the late hour.

as you reached the grand staircase leading to your private wing, you paused, unable to shake the feeling that something had changed between you. you turned to face him, his gaze meeting yours. there was a moment of silence, the air thick with unspoken words and unexplored feelings.

"reid," you began, your voice tentative. "i know i've been… difficult. but i do appreciate you being here."

his eyes searched yours, the corners crinkling slightly with the beginnings of a smile. "you're not difficult, miss carter," he said gently. "you're just trying to live your life on your terms."

his words hit you like a soft punch to the gut, the truth in them resonating deep within you. you nodded, feeling a sudden urge to confide in him. "it's just… hard, you know?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "being the daughter of such a powerful man, everyone has expectations of me. i feel like i'm constantly being judged."

spencer's expression softened, his eyes searching yours with a gentle understanding. "i know," he said, his voice low. "but you don't have to carry that burden alone. i'm here for you, not just as your bodyguard, but as someone you can trust."

his words washed over you, filling you with a warmth that had been missing for so long. "i… i think i can do that," you said, your voice shaky. "trust you, i mean."

spencer's smile grew, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. "i'll do my best not to disappoint," he said, his tone earnest. "now, let's get you to your room."

his hand rested on the small of your back as you made your way up the grand staircase, the chandelier above casting a warm glow across the marble steps. your heart raced, not from fear, but from the unfamiliar feeling of having someone truly on your side. the weight of the evening's events seemed to lessen with each step, his presence a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

once you reached your suite, spencer paused, his hand lingering for a moment before dropping away. "goodnight, miss carter," he said, his voice formal yet filled with genuine concern.

you felt a sudden pang of loneliness, the grandeur of the mansion feeling more like a prison than a home. "reid," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "could you… stay for a bit?"

his eyes searched yours, the question hanging in the air between you. "are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle. "i don't want to overstep."

you nodded, your grip on the banister tightening. "i'm sure," you said, the words surprising even you. "i just… i don't want to be alone right now."

spencer's expression softened, the unspoken tension between you dissipating slightly. "of course," he said, his voice gentle. "i'll stay as long as you need."

you walked into the massive walk-in closet, the rows of designer clothes and shoes a stark reminder of the life you'd been born into. the floor-to-ceiling mirror reflected spencer sitting on the armchair by the door, his eyes on the book he'd pulled from his pocket. you felt a strange comfort knowing he was there, his presence a silent reassurance.

the cool air kissed your bare back as you unzipped the dress, the fabric sliding down your body like a whispered goodbye. you stepped out of it, the red fabric pooling around your feet like a lake of regret. you pulled on a pair of comfortable pajamas, the soft fabric wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

sinking onto the edge of the bed, you turned to spencer, his eyes never leaving his book. "it's always been like this," you began, your voice barely above a murmur. "my father, i mean. ever since my mother… passed."

his eyes flicked up to meet yours, the understanding in them making your throat tighten. "i know," he said gently, setting the book aside. "it's not easy losing a parent."

you nodded, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "my father's always been… overprotective," you managed to say. "i've never had a boyfriend who lasted more than a couple of dates because he's always found some reason to not approve."

spencer leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "i understand," he said, his voice gentle. "it's his way of trying to keep you safe."

you scoffed, pulling your knees to your chest. "safe?" you repeated, the bitterness in your voice clear. "i feel like i'm in a cage."

spencer's eyes remained on yours, his expression filled with empathy. "i can imagine it's tough," he said, his voice gentle. "but he's just trying to protect you in the only way he knows how."

you sighed, leaning back against the plush pillows. "i know," you said, your voice weary. "but sometimes i just wish he'd let me live."

spencer's gaze never left yours, his eyes filled with understanding. "i'll talk to him," he said firmly. "i'll make sure he understands that you're an adult who deserves the freedom to make your own choices."

his words hit you like a gust of fresh air, filling you with a hope you hadn't felt in a long time. you felt the knot in your stomach loosen slightly. "you will?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of disbelief and gratitude.

spencer nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "i will," he said, his voice firm. "you're my responsibility, and i won't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel trapped." he finished, looking back down to his book.

his words were like a balm to your soul, and before you knew it, you had sat up and walked over to him, the fabric of your pajamas whispering against the soft carpet. you stopped in front of him, your heart racing in your chest. spencer looked up from his book, his eyes widening slightly as he took in your approach.

slowly, he stood up, his movements fluid and graceful despite his size. you felt the distance between you shrink, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the quiet of the night. "reid," you said, your voice shaky. "i… i don't know what to do."

his eyes searched yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. "you do what you want to do," he said, his voice low and steady. "make choices for yourself, not for your father or anyone else."

you took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. and then, without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. spencer's eyes widened in surprise, his book slipping from his hand, but his arms came around you almost instinctively, pulling you closer. his lips were soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the firmness of his embrace.

the kiss grew deeper, more urgent, the unspoken connection between you two igniting into something more. you felt his heart racing beneath your palm, his breath hitching in his chest. it was as if all the tension and frustration of the evening had coalesced into this single moment, a silent promise of understanding and support.

spencer's arms tightened around you, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the fabric of his suit a stark contrast to the softness of your pajamas. your own heart was racing, the thrill of your sudden boldness mingling with the warmth of his embrace.

his mouth moved against yours, his tongue slipping between your lips, exploring the contours of your mouth with a gentle yet insistent touch. you moaned softly, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. the need to be closer, to feel more of him, overwhelmed you, and you reached down to unbuckle his belt.

his eyes searched yours for a moment, a silent question hanging in the air. when you nodded, he stepped back, allowing you to push his suit pants down. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you felt a thrill of desire shoot through you as you took it in your hand. it was a heady feeling, the power to make this strong, stoic man react so viscerally to your touch.

you dropped down, your eyes never leaving his as you took him into your mouth. spencer's hands tangled in your hair, his breath hitching as you began to move your head, your tongue swirling around the tip. the sound of his quiet gasps filled the room, his hips moving slightly in response to your rhythm.

his taste was new and thrilling, a heady mix of desire and need. you took him deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat, his grip on your hair tightening. you could feel his muscles tensing, his breath coming in ragged pants as you worked him over.

his eyes never left yours, the intensity in them sending shivers down your spine. it was as if you could see every thought, every feeling, every need reflected in the depths of his gaze. you felt powerful, in control, and for the first time in a long time, alive.

his cock was hot and hard in your mouth, and the sound of his quiet moans spurred you on. your hand gripped the base of his shaft, stroking in time with the bob of your head. you felt him swell, his hips jerking slightly with each stroke of your tongue. it was an addictive feeling, knowing you could make this strong man tremble with just your touch.

spencer's pupils dilated with lust, his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, but never pushing. you could see the struggle in his gaze, the desire to let go and just lose himself in the sensation warring with his ingrained need to maintain control. but tonight, in this quiet corner of the mansion, you were the one in charge.

you moaned around his cock, the vibration making him jerk. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips moving slightly to match the rhythm of your mouth. the salty taste of him was intoxicating, making your own desire pool between your legs. you could feel the wetness of your panties, a silent testament to how much his touch affected you.

spencer's breath was coming in harsh pants now, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back. but you weren't going to let him. you wanted him to lose control, to feel as alive as you did in this moment. you took him deeper, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, the muscles in your neck straining.

but before he could reach his peak, you pulled away, your eyes meeting his with a fiery determination. "i want you to fuck me," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. the words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the gentle sounds of the mansion's nighttime ambiance.

spencer's eyes searched yours, the question in them clear. "are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained. you nodded, the need for his touch overwhelming any doubt that may have lingered.

you took his hand, leading him back to the bed, the plush comforter inviting and warm. your heart raced as you sat on the edge, watching him tuck his cock back into his pants, his hands trembling slightly. the sight of his arousal, so potent and undeniable, made your stomach flip.

spencer followed, his eyes never leaving yours as he approached. his gaze was filled with a mix of desire and hesitation, the weight of his duty to protect you clear in his expression. but as you took his face in your hands and pulled him down for a kiss, the doubt in his eyes faded away, replaced by a fierce need that matched your own.

his lips were soft and gentle, the kiss a silent promise of passion and comfort. your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart syncing with yours. the warmth of his body was like a brand against your skin, setting every nerve ending alight.

spencer broke the kiss, his eyes searching yours for permission. when you nodded eagerly, he began to kiss his way down your neck, his tongue tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. he reached the top of your pajama shirt, his fingers deftly unbuttoning it, the fabric parting to reveal the soft swells of your breasts.

his mouth moved lower, kissing each inch of exposed skin as he went. the sensation of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, making you arch into his touch. his mouth reached your stomach, kissing the soft flesh with a tenderness that belied his firm grip. his hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in just your panties.

his eyes took in the sight of you, his breath catching in his throat. "you're beautiful," he murmured, the words a barely-there whisper. you felt your cheeks flush, the heat of his gaze warming you from the inside out. his hands trailed up your body, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. you gasped, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

spencer's eyes searched yours, the question in them unspoken. when you nodded, he leaned down, his mouth capturing one of your nipples, suckling gently. you moaned, the pleasure of his touch sending waves of heat through you. your hands found his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer, urging him to give you more.

his mouth moved to the other breast, his tongue teasing the sensitive peak before moving lower. his hands slid down your body, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties. you lifted your hips, helping him as he slid them down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed before him.

spencer's eyes took in every inch of you, his pupils dilated with desire. you felt a thrill of power at his reaction, the knowledge that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. you spread your legs wider, inviting him closer, the wetness between your thighs a silent plea.

his hand slid down your stomach, his thumb brushing over your clit, making you gasp. the touch was feather-light, a promise of what was to come. you watched as he took a deep breath, his control slipping away. "spencer," you whispered, your voice needy. "please."

his eyes met yours, the hunger in them unmistakable. without a word, he leaned in, his mouth replacing his thumb. the sensation was exquisite, his tongue circling your clit, sending bolts of pleasure through your body. your hands tightened in his hair, your hips rocking against his face.

his touch grew more insistent, his tongue moving faster, his fingers sliding into your wetness. you moaned, the pressure building, your body arching off the bed. the sound of your pleasure filled the room, the tension between you two unbearable.

spencer's eyes remained on yours, watching your every reaction, learning what made you gasp, what made you moan. his other hand found your hip, holding you in place as he feasted on you, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to push you closer to the edge.

the pressure grew, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter. your breath came in short, panting gasps, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensation built. and then, with a final flick of his tongue, you shattered. your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

spencer's eyes never left yours as you came, his gaze filled with a fierce possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. as the last tremor of your climax subsided, he leaned back, his own need clear in the dark hunger of his eyes. without a word, he undid his tie and shrugged off his jacket, his shirt following suit.

his body was a sculpted masterpiece of muscle and strength, a stark contrast to the suave exterior he presented to the world. you felt your heart race as he stepped closer, his cock hard and ready. "are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.

you nodded, your desire for him overwhelming any remaining doubt. "yes," you whispered, your voice breathy with need. "i want you."

spencer's eyes searched yours for a moment longer before he reached down and untucked his cock from his pants. the fabric fell away, revealing his hard length once again. you couldn't help but stare, the memory of his taste still lingering on your lips. he stepped out of the fabric, leaving them in a pool at his feet.

his eyes never left yours as he climbed onto the bed, his body moving with a predatory grace. the mattress dipped slightly with his weight, and you felt your heart racing in anticipation. your legs spread wider, inviting him closer, the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

his hand reached out, his fingertips brushing against the wetness of your pussy, making you gasp. "so wet for me," he murmured, the awe in his voice sending a thrill through you. you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he positioned himself at your entrance.

his cock was hot and heavy, the tip nudging against you. you felt a moment of apprehension, but it was quickly replaced by a desperate need to feel him inside you. "please," you begged, your voice a whimper.

spencer's eyes searched yours, his own need reflected in the depths of his gaze. with a groan, he pushed forward, filling you inch by inch. you gasped as he stretched you, the feeling of fullness unlike anything you'd ever experienced. his pace was slow and deliberate, his body moving in perfect harmony with yours.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. spencer's eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, his movements powerful yet gentle. the friction was exquisite, the feel of his cock inside you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

his hands held onto your hips, guiding you, as he began to move with a rhythm that had you moaning his name. your fingers dug into the sheets, your body moving in time with his. the room was filled with the sounds of your lovemaking, the heady scent of desire hanging in the air.

spencer leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered words of encouragement. "you're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with passion. "so responsive."

you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, your body already anticipating his next move. with surprising strength, he flipped you over, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself behind you. your cheek pressed into the pillow, muffling your gasps as he entered you again, his cock sliding into your wetness from behind.

his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing and spreading your cheeks as he began to thrust. the angle was new, sending sensations through you that you'd never felt before. your eyes squeezed shut, your breath coming in ragged pants as he filled you completely. the feel of his body pressing into you, his hands holding you firmly in place, was both overwhelming and incredibly arousing.

his hips slapped against your ass with each movement, the sound echoing through the quiet room. your cheeks were flushed, your body trembling with the effort to hold still. but spencer was relentless, his movements growing more intense, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. "you like that?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise of more pleasure to come.

you nodded, unable to form words, your body already on the edge of another orgasm. "yes, sir," you managed to gasp out, the honorific slipping from your lips unbidden. something about the power dynamic, about being with a man who could both protect and pleasure you, sent a thrill through your veins.

spencer's grip tightened on your hips, his thrusts growing more urgent. "you're so good," he murmured, his voice low and gruff. "so fucking good." the way he said it, with such raw, unbridled passion, had you feeling like you were melting from the inside out.

his hand reached around, his thumb finding your clit, the touch making your eyes fly open. you arched your back, pushing back into him, the sensation too much to handle. "sir," you moaned, the word slipping from your lips like a prayer.

spencer's grip tightened, his strokes becoming more erratic as he neared his own climax. "you're going to come for me, aren't you?" he growled, his teeth grazing your ear. the pleasure was building, a pressure that threatened to consume you. "yes," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

his thumb worked in time with his thrusts, the dual sensations pushing you closer and closer to the edge. you could feel his cock swelling inside you, his hips moving with a desperation that mirrored your own. "now," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "come for me now."

you did, your body convulsing around him as you came, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. spencer's own release followed, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his seed. the feeling of him coming inside you was like nothing you'd ever experienced, a claiming that went beyond the physical.

his body collapsed onto yours, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. your heart raced in your chest, the sound of your combined panting filling the room. for a moment, you just lay there, basking in the afterglow, the weight of him comforting rather than suffocating.

but reality soon intruded, the sound of a car pulling up outside jolting you both to attention. "your father," spencer murmured, his voice still thick with desire. "i should go."

you nodded, the spell of the moment broken. with a final, lingering kiss, he pulled away, his body sliding out of yours with a reluctance that mirrored your own. the cold air rushed in to fill the space he'd occupied, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. spencer quickly pulled his clothes back on, his movements efficient despite the tremble in his hands.

before he could turn away, you reached out, grabbing his wrist. "spencer," you said, your voice urgent. "before you go… promise me you'll talk to my father." you took a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush. "about how i need more freedom. about how i'm not a child anymore. about how i need to live my own life." the vulnerability in your voice was stark, a stark contrast to the powerful woman you'd been moments ago.

spencer's eyes searched yours, the understanding in them clear. he nodded, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. "i promise," he said, his voice firm. "i'll talk to him. i'll make him understand."

you felt a weight lift from your chest, the hope of change fluttering in your stomach. "thank you," you whispered, the words filled with a sincerity that went beyond simple gratitude. you knew he would keep his word, that he would stand by you in this fight for your independence.

spencer leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, his eyes filled with a gentle concern. "you don't have to thank me," he said, his voice low and earnest. "i'm here to protect you, but that includes fighting for what you want, even if it's against your father's wishes."

his words resonated within you, filling you with a warmth that had nothing to do with the passion you'd just shared. you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "i know," you murmured. "that's why i trust you."

spencer's expression softened, his eyes holding yours for a long moment before he gently disentangled his hand from yours. "i won't let you down," he promised, the gravity of his words a silent pledge. with one last lingering look, he turned and slipped out of the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

edited 8.21.24

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act I, Scene I: The Silent Agreement)

Ever since that night, you and Spencer have always been at odds, but there is one thing you both agree on.

Part warning: just two idiots bickering nonstop Words: 1,6k A/n: so nervous about starting this but welcome to the first part! It's a short introduction though I'm trying to make longer chapters in the future

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Hate was too strong of a word, too intense and dramatic for the subtler, more nuanced disdain you felt toward him. It was more like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe, or a fly that wouldn’t leave you alone.

You didn’t hate him. You didn’t even dislike him all the time. But there were moments when you wanted to shake him, or yank his tie hard enough to shut his smart mouth. Because every time he started throwing around statistics and facts, he made it sound like you couldn’t possibly understand, as if you weren’t on the same intellectual level as him.

And right now was one of those times you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

“You’re wrong,” you argued, not breaking eye contact as you leaned across the cluttered map with pins and photos of various crime scenes. “The Unsub doesn’t fit the profile of someone who strikes randomly. Look at the pattern, the meticulous planning in each location—it’s obvious they selected victims based on specific criteria, not opportunity.”

Spencer scoffed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The victims have nothing in common. Different ages, different backgrounds, different cities. How do you explain the randomness of the victims if it was planned?”

“It’s the chaos that’s planned, the seeming randomness, each victim is at a pivotal point. The Unsub is not just killing; they’re sending a message through the timing.”

“A message? Or is that just what you want to see?”

You frowned, not liking the condescending tone in his voice. “Reid, not everything has to fit into your neat little boxes of logic. Sometimes, you have to look beyond the obvious.”

“You mean baseless assumptions?”

“How about intuition?” you snapped back. “How about pattern recognition that isn’t immediately visible but becomes clear when you consider the psychological aspects?”

“You mean your hunches?

You gritted your teeth. “It’s not about my hunches. It’s about understanding the Unsub’s mind. They’re choosing victims who are at turning points in their lives for a reason. Maybe it’s symbolic, maybe it’s personal."

“Or maybe you’re just reading too much into this.”

Your frustration bubbled over. You knew if he weren’t talking to you, he might actually agree—No, he would definitely agree. You had enough experience working with him to understand his analytical style and to know that he valued well-reasoned arguments. Yet now it felt like he was purposely dismissing your perspective.

He wasn’t being fair.

“You know what? Sometimes I think you’d argue with a freaking wall if it meant you could prove a point.” To me at least. "Not everything is a textbook case, and not every answer is in your precious statistics.”

You saw him raise an eyebrow. “And you’d dismiss all logical analysis if it meant you could rely solely on intuition. How is that any more valid?”

“It’s not about relying solely on intuition,” you defended. “It’s about seeing the connections, the human behavior that your statistics can’t always explain.”

“But you’re assigning meaning where there might be none.” He gave you a pointed look. “Not only is that dangerous, you’re being reckless.”

Red. You were seeing red. Your retort was on the tip of your tongue when a sharp clearing of a throat suddenly interrupted. You both turned to see Hotch standing at the corner of the room.

"Let's redirect this energy towards something productive," Hotch interrupted, you could almost feel the weight of his stare. "Both of your insights are pointless if you keep arguing like this.”

“I wasn’t arguing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you weren’t.”

Your boss sighed, the kind of deep, exasperated sigh that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. “Just... work together. Please.”

The plea was simple, filled with the tiredness of having had this conversation more times than anyone cared to count. He then turned to leave and the room suddenly felt too big, the silence too loud.

You glanced over at Spencer the same time his eyes fell on you. But before either of you could say anthing, the door jerked open, and you watched as Derek sauntered into the room.

“Did you two fight again? Because Hotch asked me to babysit you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Those were his exact words?”

“Of course not, he asked me you needed supervision because you can’t stop sniping at each other.”

“Supervision,” you muttered under your breath, the word sounding ridiculous because it was the last thing you needed. “We don’t need supervision.”

“Exactly. What you both need is a babysitter.”

“We’re also not kids.”

Derek chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Could’ve fooled me. Given how loud you were, I half-expected someone to start throwing toys.”

Spencer was quick to defend himself. “We were having a professional disagreement.”

“A professional disagreement?” Derek mocked, pretending to be deep in thought. “That’s what they’re calling it these days?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Yes, Morgan, some of us prefer to call it that instead of ‘arguing like toddlers’.”

The grin spreading across his face was so annoying that you wondered whether you should’ve put your frustration on him instead. Derek pushed himself off the doorframe and walkes over to Spencer, casually draping an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, let’s hear your side of this professional disagreement.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably under his arm but managed to maintain his composure. “We were discussing the Unsub’s choice of victims. I believe the randomness is genuine, while someone,” he glanced pointedly at you, “Thinks there’s a pattern.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “What pattern?”

You stepped forward, determined to explain. “Look at the victims’ timelines. They were all at critical junctures—new jobs, big moves, major life changes. The Unsub isn’t picking them randomly; they’re choosing people going through something significant.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully, removing his arm from Spencer’s shoulders. “Alright, I see where you’re coming from. And you, Reid, think it’s just a coincidence?”

“I think the Unsub might be targeting randomly to avoid detection. Patterns can be dangerous for them.”

You sighed. “Can we at least agree to look at both possibilities? If we cross-reference the victims’ life changes with significant dates in the Unsub’s background, we might find a connection.”

You held his gaze as he studied you. You were right, you both knew you were, but you could tell admitting he was wrong was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a tense silence as he considered your suggestion, his eyes flicking between the evidence board and you.

Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. We can analyze both angles and see if there’s any overlap.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Derek chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, you could’ve gotten more work done if you two still got along.”

Derek’s words hit harder than you expected, a bittersweet reminder of a time when things were simpler. He was right, of course. There was a time when you and Spencer were more than just colleagues locked in constant debate. You were friends—good friends, even. You could almost hear the echoes of shared laughter that had once come so easily.

You remembered late nights at the office, the two of you working over case files and tossing ideas back and forth. Back then, your debates had been lively, yes, but never tinged with the frustration and competition that seemed to color your interactions now.

And to make matters worse, Derek suddenly voiced out the question neither of you dared to ask out loud.

“You guys used to be inseparable,” he mused, glancing at the two of you with an amused smile. “Wonder where it went wrong.”

You knew he was joking, but his words carried an uncomfortable truth that you couldn’t ignore. You could also tell it affected Spencer because his eyes met yours silently.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were sure of it, because everything had changed after that night, that one night you wished to forget. That one night when you thought your friendship would change for the better, but instead, it turned into a moment of clarity, a freaking slap to the face.

The change was immediate, like the abrupt silence that follows a sudden, jarring noise. What had once been effortless and natural now felt forced and awkward. The distance between you grew. The ease with which you once communicated had been replaced by a strained formality, as if both of you were trying too hard to pretend that nothing had changed.

It was as if you had made a silent pact to never speak of that night, an unspoken agreement to bury it deep and carry on as best you could. Both of you were too proud, too scared to address the elephant in the room.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest, and sure, it seemed childish to harbor such disdain at your big age, but you couldn’t help it. It wasn't just the loss of a friendship that stung; it was the betrayal of knowing someone so close could cause you such pain.

Because Spencer Reid had hurt you deeply that night, so much so that a small, spiteful part of you wanted to hurt him too.

[animezin-ph]

A Silent Voice: A World Suic*de Prevention Day Post

TRIGGER WARNING

This post may contain triggering words. Please read with caution. If you are feeling uneasy, you may choose to stop reading this post.

SPOILER ALERT

This post may include some spoilers from "A Silent Voice" (anime film)

"Why'd you want to kill yourself?" The mother of Shoya asked him.

A Silent Voice

During sixth grade, Shoya bullied Shoko because she was deaf.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience for Shoko, but soon after, the sins of Shoya came and bit him back, and then it wasn’t a pleasant experience for Shoya either.

Shoya was bullied because he was a bully. He became an outcast, and everyone left him alone.

After maturing, Shoya couldn’t get Shoko out of his head. His guilt tore himself apart and the ostracism haunted him.

Trauma

As a result of all the negative experiences that happened to Shoya, he closed himself off to everyone. He also became very afraid.

He started to become hyper vigilant about others around him. This led him to be careful and cautious with his actions.

He felt like he was always on guard even if good things were happening to him.

It's as if he couldn't allow good things to happen to him.

The Unthinkable

All these emotions: guilt, regret, sadness, hurt, and trauma, made Shoya want to die.

He hated everything he has done at this point.

He hated himself. 

The Start of Empathy

Shoya felt guilty and regret as soon as he experienced similar things that he did to Shoko.

Being pushed around, being left out, being hurt, being traumatized.

Maybe he thought deep inside, “This must’ve been what Shoko felt.”

And this has been buried deep down in him.

As soon as Shoya saw Shoko again years later, he wanted to reach out. Not just to meet her, but to let voices be heard. He now wanted to form a new connection with her. A connection filled with love and empathy.

The Guilt

However, it wasn’t only Shoya who felt guilty.

Shoko felt guilty as well.

She felt like if Shoya stayed with her, it would only make his life worse.

Shoya became a very important person to Shoko at this point because of how he now treated her (with love and understanding.)

And when she thought and felt she may have been the reason why Shoya experienced being left out, she tried taking her life.

This was because she hated herself. She always apologized. This shows she felt like a burden to everyone. 

“Help me live”

Both Shoko and Shoya apologized to each other. 

Shoya told Shoko “I want you to help me live.”

All the burden that Shoko felt reached Shoya, and all the burden Shoya felt reached Shoko.

Both of their voices were finally heard.

Conclusion

First, I realized that sometimes, we have difficulty in understanding what another person is going through, not unless we go through something similar. But this doesn’t absolve us of our responsibility to try to understand what another person is going through.

Second, nobody deserves to be bullied.

Third, nobody deserves to feel like a burden.

Fourth, everyone deserves a second chance at life. Nobody deserves a painful life that they try to take their own lives.

Last, we should always strive to become better people.

We should strive to help each other heal.

We should love one another and care for one another.

Let’s form empathy and understanding and learn and raise awareness.

Let’s make the world a better place.

Final Thought

Did you relate to any part of the post? Or did you have any realizations about the movie?  If so, don’t be afraid to reblog or leave a comment below so we can discuss! I’m open to asks as well if you want to ask anything about anime or mental health!

If you are having suicidal thoughts or you know anyone who is having suicidal thoughts, please don’t be afraid to reach out to a friend, a family member, or a professional. (Below also is a list of phone numbers that you can call) 

Remember, you are loved, you are not a burden, and you are not alone!

World Suic*de Prevention Day

Today, September 10, is World Suic*de Prevention Day. It’s an awareness day for us to remember how important a life is. 

But, even if today passes, let’s always remember to reach out to other people for help, or to reach out to people who are in distress.

Let’s raise awareness to prevent suic*des and prioritize mental health.

Let’s heal together. You are not alone.

If you need someone to talk to, you can also send me a private message here on tumblr, or call the following phone/landline numbers to reach out to professionals who can provide a listening ear:

In Touch: Crisis Line

(02) 893-7603 (Landline) 0919-056-0709 (Smart) 0917-800-1123 (Globe) 0922-893-8944 (Smart)

In Touch: Crisis Line is a 24/7 free confidential support over the phone. It’s open to everyone in the Philippines who are in need of a listening ear for issues related to anxiety, depression, relationships, self-harm, or suicide.

Hopeline

(02) 804-4673 (Landline) 0917-558-4673 (Globe) 0918-873-4673 (Smart)

Hopeline is a 24/7 suicide prevention and crisis support helpline by the Philippine Red Cross, which is among the first to launch in the country.

Suicide and Crisis Lifeline 988

[ddarker-dreams]

play wrestling — blade.

Embarrassment doesn’t find you easily.

To experience embarrassment implies a degree of self-awareness. While you possess some, it’s decreased significantly compared to your earlier years. Such is the natural progression of life. This is why you felt free to act on a little impulse, initially uncaring of how it’d reflect on you.

However, faced with two eyes as crimson as freshly spilled blood, you can’t help but do some reassessing.

“… What are you doing?” Blade asks, dryly. You feel the low rumble of his baritone voice against your palms, which you’ve splayed against his chest. His neutral countenance doesn’t give much away. According to your peer-reviewed scientific analysis, he alternates between three expressions — apathy, irritation, and wrath. There is an additional secret one for when it’s just the two of you and he doesn’t think you’re looking.

From what you can tell, you’ve landed yourself on the apathetic side of the spectrum. You can work with that. You’ll commit to the bit.

“Besting an intergalactic criminal in combat, obviously,” you scoff, faking a bravado you don’t have.

“Hm.”

“…”

“…”

Is he not going to do anything to free himself from this position?!

Blade had silently slid himself next to where you sat on the floor, playing with your phone. This unique opportunity activated a primal part of your brain that probably should’ve stayed in the vault. You wrangled him down. Now, he’s lying flat on his back, with you sitting victorious atop his lower abdomen. Long strands of his black hair fall along his side, painting a pretty picture. You suppress the urge to run your hands through his silky locks. That can come later, you have an objective to achieve.

“Are you finished?”

“Wh— well, no,” you frown. And here you thought he might indulge you. “You have to, y’know, fight back…?”

He raises an eyebrow and you want to groan.

“But I’d win.”

The declaration is made like it’s a foregone conclusion. Which, if you’re being honest, isn’t wrong. Still, he should give you some credit. You can hold your own in a fight! Maybe you’re not waving-around-a-three-thousand-pound-ancient-sword good, but you’re decent enough. He’s no fun. Kafka would’ve played around with you.

“How can you be so sure— eek!”

He grabs you by the shoulders and flips you around, reversing your position. Despite the immense speed he used, your head doesn’t hit the ground hard like it should’ve. He cushioned the impact by essentially cradling the back of your head with his hand. This is why you never believe him when he denies being a ‘secret softie.’ You know the truth.

“This is how,” he says.

You pout. “Did I at least put up a good fight?”

His silence speaks volumes.

After getting his fill of how nice you look beneath him, he climbs off you. The second you’re no longer restrained, you begin your counterattack. You lunge at him, intending to pin him down, only to feel the cool leather of his gloves against your wrists. You struggle valiantly to regain your freedom. All this does is amuse him further.

“We’re pretty evenly matched, right?” You ask, beginning to grow breathless from the energy you’re exerting.

The corners of his lips twitch upward.

“Mhm. Right.”