#and happy to answer any follow up questions!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The scalloped collar of your cardigan sticks out like a sore thumb among the tube tops and spaghetti straps. You don’t know how anyone can stand to wear skirts that short with winter looming around the next corner. Even as the dorm is filled with the heat of bodies, an open window lets in a frigid gust that has you shivering. 

It might help if you detach yourself from the wall. That would mean wading into the bodies and god forbid, talking to strangers. You cross your arms and sway as you search the crowded kitchen. There’s more in the front room and the bedrooms. The place is filled to the brim with tipsy co-eds. 

You stand on your toes as you try to spot your host. You haven’t seen Peter since you got there. He disappeared to help with a spill and just never came back. You figured that’s how it would go. You’re boring and it is his party. He can’t just be hanging out with you all night. 

As the voices grow to a furor and your head begins to spin with the wall of bodies, your chest tightens. You sidle along the wall, ducking and dodging away from drunken guests, and find your way to the door. You let yourself into the hall as you shake up your puffer. 

You take a deep inhale and let it out slow. It’s already better. The music and buzz of chatter courses through the wall but it isn’t deafening. You’ll stay out there for a while then find Peter and tell him you’re too tired. 

You pull out your phone to distract yourself. You could try texting. No, he deserves a real goodbye. He invited your after all. 

The door opens again and a couple bursts out, leaving it open in their stead as they hit the wall not a foot away from you. They don’t notice you as they tangle each other up in a sloppy make out sessions. You make a face at them and quickly flit away. You have no other choice but to go back to the party. 

As you weave around the other guests, your mind detaches and wanders back to that dark night on campus. You didn’t really believe Bucky at first but then again, how well do you know Peter? It’s completely likely that he’s brought other girls around. But would it matter? 

Like you told Bucky, you’re just doing a project. 

You hit the wall suddenly as someone collides with you from the side. You let out and oomf and grip your phone tighter. You turn as a splash of cold liquid leaks down your sleeve. The drunken girl doesn’t even apologise as she laughs and follows her friend down to the kitchen. 

You shrink down even further. It’s overcrowded and too loud and too much. Not only that but you plainly don’t belong here. You live in an off-campus property with a shady landlord and questionable roommates; this place is a premium all-inclusive dorm. The type legacies and trust funders live in. 

You manage to squeeze past a group of boys in varsity jackets arguing loudly. You dip into Peter’s room and take a breath. It’s not as bad as the rest of the house but there’s some girls on the bed giggling and talking about things that make you want to blush. 

You search around. Not necessarily for an escape, you’re not desperate enough to hop out the window, but just for anywhere to hide and catch your breath. Literally. You switch your phone for your puffer and put it to your lips. 

You cross to the bathroom and knock. You turn your ear to it and listen for an answer. Nothing. You turn the handle and push inside. 

You stop short. Inside, Peter’s against the wall of the shower, pinned by MJ as she nibbles on his lower lip. You gasp in surprise and gape. Oh gosh. 

You stand dumbly in the door. Move, you idiot. Before you can flee, Peter’s eyes open and he sees you. He winces and grabs MJ’s shoulders, moving her away from him. 

“Hey,” he tries to move past her but she tugs him back. 

You back out, cheeks burning, and spin away without closing the door. It’s not like it’s any of your business, you shouldn’t care, but it’s awkward. You shouldn’t have seen that.  

It’s just like you suspected. You’re crashing Peter’s party. He didn’t actually want to invite you, he was just being nice. Like always. He’s always so nice and patient and you’re so pathetic. 

Maybe Bucky is right. Maybe you’re just another girl. Well, so what? You’re just friends. Just lab partners. You don’t care, do you? 

You barely avoid the elbow of one of the frats slurping on a red cup and another group of girls blindly force their way by without making room. You press against the wall as you try to get free of the bustling space.  

God, why did you even come? You knew this was a bad idea. This is the last time you do anything just to be polite. What good has that ever got you? 

You finally get to the door and stumble out into the hall. You catch yourself against the wall and look over at the couple still grossly sucking down each other’s tongues. You grimace and shake your puffer. You suck on it as you head down the hallway. 

“Hey, wait,” Peter calls your name as the door once more lets out the cacophony of voice, “look, what you saw--” 

“It’s fine, Peter,” you rasp, “really. Parties aren’t really my thing.” 

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to think I just ditched you. It’s just MJ, she was all over me. Really, I was trying to get away--” 

“Peter,” you gulp, “we’re just friends,” you turn to face him and he nearly trips as he skids to a halt. “I don’t care.” 

You smile, or try to. You might be lying. You’re not really sure yourself. 

“You... don’t?” He frowns. 

You stare at him. “Well, should I?” You laugh nervously. 

He deflates and his brows furrow, “I mean... I do. I really care about you and... I was telling MJ and she just jumped on me. She has this thing for taken guys. Kinda why we didn’t work out. But uh, I guess I messed it all up. I invited you because I... well, yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter now.” His shoulders slump and his eyes glisten, “so, just go. I messed it all up. Not like you could ever like me back, right?” 

You stare at him. You open your mouth then shut it. Like him? Like really like him? If that’s what he means... do you? 

💜💜💜

From this point, there will be two paths; both Bucky and Peter will appear in both but each will favour one or the other as end goal. 

[rosinkreutz]

How do you think Asuka's and Aria's friendship was like when she was alive?

This is a really hard question. I keep sitting down to write this and deleting everything because I'm not satisfied with the answer I can provide. The problem is me because I've realized I'm not sure how to describe any friendship, let alone one so vaguely developed in the source material... However. I will try. This is all kind of speculation based on what I've interpreted from the characters. - First, I think when you analyze Asuka's actions it seems that he feels a certain sense of ownership toward the world. Not in an entitled sense, but moreso a guardian. Which makes sense, really, as a disciple of the Original, savior of humanity. Especially considering the other disciples were explicitly uninterested in humanity's advancement, so he's the only one interesting in following in their teacher's footsteps. The problem is that he completely defines himself by it (which is kinda why I think Asuka was very young when he was taken in to be a disciple, because it's like it's all he knows). - So with that in mind, and knowing that before Aria met the other two, she was extremely isolated from her family and other people in general, I think the power dynamic in the relationship would end up being rather skewed. Literally, yes, since he's a sorcerer, but also psychologically. Aria's someone whose not used to having any support, and that's all Asuka wants to do. He never thinks of himself first, and the only sense of self he has is this self-appointed guardian role. He would go so far out of the way to make her happy, because he loves her very much. But he also thinks that he knows what's right for her and may have been controlling at times- which I think is why Frederick works so well in this dynamic because he's so anti-authority and free-thinking. His influence and just overall presence would keep the two of them from being too overly dependent on each other. After all, they love him as much as they love each other, as best friend, boyfriend, whatever. Obviously there's more to him in the dynamic but this is about the other two. - (As kind of a side-note, keeping Aria happy is one of the few ways he himself can feel fulfilled in his role as a guardian. The Original kind of had it easy, as world-saving goes, because he knew exactly what was going to burst (black tech) and had the exact solution to the problem (magic). The world Asuka's "inherited" has a million different facets and problems all piled together in one big powderkeg with an invisible fuse. He really can't just go out and fix everything alone as a socially inept 20-something, good at magic as he is. Which he understands, as an objective thinker, but given that guardianship is the only thing he defines himself with as a person, he's inevitably going to feel worthless and hate himself for not being able to do anything. Hence, why when the Gear Project gets picked up by the military, he goes crazy trying to fix it because just imagine what it would feel like that the whole world could be destroyed by something you made while trying to fix it.... But... If he could get what people need for advancement (gear cells) safe and unweaponized and if he could have someone else powerful to help and support him (Justice, maybe Sol?), he could use that to REALLY save the world AND Aria in the process. Win-win, right?)

[nondelphic]

thank you so much for 700 followers!! this is so insane to me and i'm so happy people are enjoying my posts.

i know most of you are here for my ""relatable writing posts"" but i also know some of you are interested in who i am, and specifically my writing, so to celebrate hitting 700 followers i thought i'd give you a taste of my writing !! i know i was supposed to tag some ppl but i forgot to write your names down and i can't remember who wanted to be tagged and who didn't 😭😭😭

these are all drafts and i def don't consider myself a great writer, but i think i'm okay at storytelling. regardless, enjoy it for what it is!

this excerpt is from my first completed draft of "the midnight chase." for context, marley is aroace.

-

They sat in silence for a while before Marley shifted towards Lucas. She bit her lip, uncertain of how honest to be. “Lucas?”

He looked at her. “Yeah?”

“You know the party last month? Remember how Elvis kissed me?”

Lucas nodded. Marley averted her gaze, focusing on a path beyond the pond that led to a cliff overlooking the ocean.

“Do you think it’s possible to want that sort of closeness, without wanting it all?” Marley could feel Lucas gaze on her.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Marley sighed and let her gaze drop to her feet. Her shoelaces had come undone.

“I mean, I don’t like Elvis like that, but when he kissed me, I felt… warm inside. Like, it’s not something I crave, but it felt nice regardless.”

Lucas remained silent for a moment. Marley looked up to see his gaze thoughtful as he processed her words. The gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird were the only sounds filling the silence between them. Marley could feel her heartbeat quicken, wondering if she had said too much, or if Lucas might misunderstand her.

Finally, Lucas sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I get what you’re saying, Marley. I think… it’s natural to want closeness, to feel connected to someone, even if it’s not necessarily about romance. It’s human, you know? We all crave that warmth, that feeling of being wanted or cared for, even if it’s just for a moment.”

Marley nodded, relieved that he understood, but still, there was something else she needed to express. She glanced between Lucas and her shoelaces, her senses searching for any sign of judgement or discomfort, but all she saw was patience and a gentle curiosity.

“I guess it just made me question something that’s been nagging me for a long time,” Marley continued, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Like, what if I don’t ever want that kind of connection with someone, but I still want to feel close to people? Is that okay?”

Lucas’s expression softened even more, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on Marley’s shoulder. “Marley, there’s no right or wrong way to feel about these things. You’re allowed to want whatever it is you want—or don’t want. It doesn’t make you any less valid or any less… you.”

Marley let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Thanks, Lucas. I guess I just needed to hear that.”

and here's another excerpt that shows a bit more of the story...... kinda.

-

As Lucas excused himself to go to the bathroom, Marley looked for Chio. Instead, she ran into Silas.

“Hey,” he said, holding his arm out. “Let’s dance.”

Initially, Marley wanted to say no, but something in Silas’ expression made her do the opposite. She took his arm and he led her to a more secluded part of the dance floor. Marley noticed people staring at them as they walked, not unsurprisingly, considering her and Silas' history.

Silas put a cautious hand on Marley’s back as the song transitioned to a sentimental and slow piano arrangement. 

“You know the map I gave you?” Silas asked. Marley smiled. Yes, the one she and her friends had managed to figure out completely. “Did you solve it?” 

Something in Silas’ expression told Marley he already knew the answer. Did he want help? Had he solved it?

“Yes,” Marley said. Silas nodded, and a smile crept up on his face.

“Me too. Which means… the winner will be determined by who gets to the middle first.”

Marley nodded. “You’re doing it alone?” 

“Yes. I work best alone. I know you’re doing it with your friends.” Something in Marley churned at his answer. It was a typical Silas answer, a simple phrase etched with an edge of passive aggressiveness. Marley had solved it with the help of her friends. He had solved it alone, using only his brains.

“Teamwork is an underappreciated tool,” Marley said, finding herself distancing herself slightly from Silas’ hold on her as they danced.

“Of course. It’s important to be able to work with others. At the end of the day, though, you'll be alone.”

Marley looked into Silas’s eyes, trying to decipher his expression. There was something behind his words, a hint of loneliness perhaps, or maybe a sense of inevitability. She decided to keep the conversation light, not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening.

“Maybe so, but having friends by your side can make a huge difference,” Marley replied, her tone gentle but firm.

Silas nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just... sometimes it feels like relying on others is a weakness.”

Marley shook her head. “It’s not a weakness, Silas. It’s a strength. Knowing when to ask for help, and knowing you can trust those around you, that’s powerful.”

They continued to dance in silence for a few moments, the slow melody wrapping around them. Marley felt a strange mix of empathy and rivalry towards Silas. She understood his drive and his determination, but she also saw the value in the support system she had with her friends.

As the song came to an end, Silas offered her a small smile. “Thank you for the dance, Marley. And for the perspective.”

Marley returned the smile. “Anytime, Silas. Good luck with the challenge.”

“Good luck to you too,” Silas replied, giving her a polite nod before walking away.

Marley watched him go, feeling a mixture of emotions. She was grateful for her friends and the support they provided, but she also understood the weight Silas carried. She hoped that one day he would realize the value of camaraderie.

Lucas returned from the bathroom, a curious look on his face. “Did I miss something?”

Marley laughed, shaking off the remnants of her conversation with Silas. “Just a dance with Silas. Nothing major.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Shall we continue dancing?”

“Absolutely,” Marley said, feeling lighter and more determined than ever.

They returned to the dance floor, joining their friends in the celebration. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and shared moments that Marley knew she would treasure for a long time.

As the night wound down, Marley found herself sitting with Chio and Maya on a bench outside the hall, the cool air in the stone-cladden corridor a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the dance floor.

Maya pulled out her phone from under her dress. Marley watched her. “Where did you keep that?”

“Oh, I have all my dressed sewn to include hidden pockets. I hate not being able to carry stuff.”

Chio rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ah, yes, custom sewn gowns with pockets, what a normal and humble thing!”

“It’s not my fault that default dresses don’t come with pockets already,” Maya countered.

“Calling normal dresses ‘default dresses’ is crazy,” Marley snorted. She looked at Chio’s dress. It was a beautifully simple dress with long, wide arms and a simple fabric belt around the waist, in a bright orange colour, contrasting Chio’s blue hair in a seamlessly effortless way.

“To be fair, my dress is also customised,” Chio sighed, smoothing out her skirt, before smirking. “I took it in two centimetres at the waist.”

The three girls burst out into laughter. Maya looked at her phone.

“What time is it?” Chio asked.

“10:45.”

“We should get ready.” Marley said. The Midnight Chase started at midnight, just as the name suggested. And she was not running down the maze in a long dress. Well, she could, she knew multiple people participating who were going directly from the dance to the maze. But they weren’t in it to win it. Marley and her friends were.

Hopefully, Silas would find that working alone is actually the greatest weakness.

Marley had a gnawing feeling that her stance would be proven right.

HELP i'm so scared y'all are gonna think my writing is trash because LET'S BE FR THIS IS JUST FROM MY FIRST DRAFT!!!! i haven't yet edited these scenes so they're kinda cringe but i wanted to show my main project. i do have different writing styles depending on genre though, and i'm tempted to show some of my comedy writing. it's pretty hilarious, if i may say so myself.

anyway, thank you again for 700 followers. thank you so much. each like, reblog, reply, message, or ask brings me so much happiness. you have no clue how much your interest warms my heart (or maybe you do because you know how social media manipulates our brains and their reward system)

[yatagarasuhonyaku]

Yukiya's Birth Mother (Novel Translation)

Blog Version

Context: At the end of the book, the equivalent of Episode 11, Natsuka and Sumio reveal they have not only known all along Yukiya’s real lineage, but they approached him with their intention to make the most of said status for Wakamiya’s sake.

“Brother!” Wakamiya’s sharp voice resounded through the room once again. Natsuka fell completely silent.

Sumio, who had been happily prattling on without a care until a moment ago, looked in Yukiya’s direction. His face suddenly twisted in discomfort.

“… Yukiya? What’s wrong?” He asked, yet Yukiya had no words in him to answer.

“Hah, so it’s as I thought, you are from the Northern House!” Rokon exclaimed, paying no mind to the dark mood in the room. “Well, there is no mistaking the Northern bloodline with a face of yours. Was that whole tale about having a different mother just some lie?”

No comment was made on Rokon’s insensitive question. Instead, his tone subdued, Wakamiya started to explain.

“It’s not a lie. Out of the three Taruhi brothers, the Northern Princess only gave birth to Yukiya. The eldest and the youngest have a different mother.”

“Huh, how come the concubine’s son is the heir of the family? Weird things sure do happen sometimes.”

“She’s not a concubine. Both are legal wives.” Yukiya answered this time, his voice cold as ice.

“Both are legal wives? What does that even mean?”

As Yukiya spoke on, he made a point of ignoring Natsuka and Sumio. They only stood there, perplexed by the boy’s sudden change in attitude.

“It’s normal you didn’t know, Sir Rokon,” Yukiya said, “Both Taruhi and the Northern House treat my birth mother, the first legal wife of the Lord of Taruhi, as if she hadn’t ever existed. But she was the Lord of the North’s second daughter.”

Yukiya kept explaining, emotionless. “She was frail from birth, or so I’ve been told. Everyone thought she couldn’t have children, and that she wouldn’t live for much longer anyway.”

The Lord of the North once pitied his daughter, saddled as she was by a short lifespan, and wanted nothing but to give her a chance to experience a happy simple life. And so, he sought to marry her to a man of her own choice, one she loved. The man she chose for herself was the then eldest son of Taruhi: Yukiya’s father, Yukimasa. She had fallen in love at first sight, apparently, and it was not a bad deal for Yukimasa either.

At the time, Yukiya’s grandfather held the position of Lord of Taruhi Village. He was suffering from sickness and wanted nothing but to retire, but Yukimasa was too young back then, which, among other concerns, led his relatives to ask him to please consider giving the position to another person.

To take up a princess of the Northern House as his legal wife was an extremely effective way to shut those voices up. The princess soon moved in, and Yukimasa took up his position as Lord.

During the following years, Yukiya’s mother led a happy life despite being bedbound. Everyone had thought she would live another year at best when she married, but soon that year turned to two, then three. It should have been happy news, yet a problem started to appear as her life kept prolonging. 

Soon, the Lord of the North started to worry about the lack of heirs.

Her health had indeed stabilized, but he knew her body was still in no condition to bear any children. The idea had been to have Yukimasa remarry once the princess passed away, yet she lived on. Had this situation continued on, the Lord of Taruhi Village would have found himself incapable of having any children. If what came after was a suggestion born out of gratitude towards the man who had accepted to look after his daughter until her death, nobody can say.

It had been the sixth Spring after the princess’s marriage. 

The Lord of the North went to visit the man who married his own daughter and asked him: ‘how about taking a concubine?’ Whether Yukimasa found himself in no position to reject his own lord, or he freely accepted, nobody can say. In the end, he still ended up taking a concubine: the woman who would later raise Yukiya as her own child, Azusa.

The Lord of the North chose Azusa personally, so both her lineage and personality were impeccable. She was truly a wonderful woman. Azusa came from a family of the Central Nobility that had long served the Northern Clan, so the Lord and his Consort had pampered her from childhood as if she were another one of their daughters. 

Yukima, the eldest son, was soon born to Yukimasa and Azusa. It’s said that when the Northern Lord got the news of his birth, he rejoiced as if he were his own grandson.

However, it came as a complete surprise for the Northern Princess. As it turns out, she had not been told anything on the matter before her husband took a concubine and, of all the possible timings, she was only informed of it after Yukima’s birth. To make matters worse, the mother was Azusa, with whom she had grown up as sisters.

The princess, who had lived happily bedbound until then, was enraged. Or perhaps indignation would be a more suitable way to describe it. Whatever it was, the result was the same: she pushed herself to her very limits, gave birth to a son, Yukiya, and then—died, just as expected.

She knew what would happen to her from the start.

Yet Yukiya’s mother ignored everyone’s vehement opposition to the idea, and eventually met her end without ever holding her son in her arms. And so Yukiya, who had lost his mother, was raised by Azusa.

“It’s truly quite the similar story to Wakamiya’s,” Yukiya affirmed, still impassive, “I’m the second son, but there was a time when everyone in the Northern Region thought I would become the heir in my brother’s place.” 

Azusa became Yukimasa’s consort immediately after the Princess died, yet it proved to be pointless. It all happened around the time Yukiya was five years old.

He had simply managed to read a difficult poem before his older brother once, yet that’s all it took. Soon after, both the Northern Court Ravens and their relatives in Taruhi came over all together just to feel out their father’s opinion about disinheriting the older brother.

Thinking back, it was preposterous; but apparently Yukimasa truly found himself at a loss back then. His relatives didn’t hesitate to blame him for the death of the Princess, all because he took a concubine. People would come just to badmouth Azusa to her face, asking her if she didn’t pity the poor dead princess. Her son’s position in the family was in question, and she couldn’t even rely on her own husband; so she suffered alone. 

Despite all of that, Yukimasa kept focusing on staying on good graces with the Northern Lord, and did nothing publicly to protect either Yukima or his still living wife.

“I thought to myself. ‘I won’t tolerate this for yet another second.’”

Natsuka swallowed. Yukiya’s entire self was filled to the brim with utter contempt. “So that’s why… That’s why you always pretended to be a fool”

“Well… There was no other way to save my family, wasn’t it? Despite it all, I do love my family.” Yukiya replied. He was fully aware of his own overflowing rage, and the fact it was plain for all to see. “If my father is not going to protect us, then the only option that’s left is for me to do so. Me, as the second son, to my family.”

And so Yukiya wouldn’t—couldn’t—look past what he had just learnt.

[hertwood]

so.... how does one get into racing

hi!!!! SO many different ways, there's no 100% right way but here are some suggestions for some entry points!

there are a few docuseries on racing, for formula 1 there is drive to survive on netflix--this does have some criticism from fans, as it is dramatized somewhat and doesn't always paint a complete picture, but i DO still think its a great starting point to get a feel for the structure, the drivers, etc etc.

for indycar there is also a mini docuseries called road to 500 which is for free on youtube. this is much shorter and in my opinion not as well made as drive to survive, but if you'd prefer to get into indycar and are looking for something free to watch, i definitely recommend it!! i would also go to @champagnepodiums for more indycar questions, she knows way more than me :)

for formula 1, a free option i recommend is inside story, a series on youtube (and f1tv) that goes over particularly dramatic or interesting races! my favorties are: sakhir 2020 (sergio perez), hungary 2021 (esteban ocon), & monza 2020 (pierre gasly). there are more inside story episodes on f1tv for free as well~

i know this isn't the best ~get into racing~ list because i only seriously watch 2 series and i can only speak to what was great for me to get into the sport! there are a lot of good f1 for beginners videos on youtube if you need more help with the basics, and i'm totally willing to answer more specific questions! if anyone would like to add more suggestions in replies/reblogs please do!!

[lady-harrowhark]

Would you mind. Explaining what the heck the locked tomb (is this the name?) is about. You post a lot of it and I know ✨ nothing ✨ but it sounds kinda interesting??? Into dumping is ok if you feel like lol

I would LOVE to explain what The Locked Tomb is and you DID get the name right and it IS interesting!

So, it's a book series written by Tamsyn Muir and three of the anticipated four books have been released so far. I say "anticipated four books" because it was originally a trilogy but then the last book was split up. I don't think any of us would mind if that happened again and it turned into a five book series. But I digress.

These books are notoriously hard to describe because they sort of encompass or transcend genres. It's a sci-fi fantasty horror murder mystery romcom situation. Plus, there's a LOT going on - I've often described them as an "intellectual escape room." There's so much happening that you don't realize is happening until it all comes together. Going back to the beginning after you've finished them is an entirely different experience than your first read because you can see how it was all laid out from the start - sometimes even in plain sight - and things take on completely different meanings. Also, each book is very different from the others. I adore all of these qualities.

So here's the gist of the premise for the first book:

Gideon Nav, orphan of mysterious origins, has been raised on the Ninth House as an indentured servant and trained as a swordswoman. The Ninth House has become isolated from the rest of the empire and its very existence is threatened by the dwindling population and lack of resources. Gideon is one of only two survivors of her generation, the other children having succumbed to a lethal illness when she was an infant. The other survivor is Harrowhark Nonagesimus, the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, and the two have been at each other's throats their entire lives. Harrow's parents' deaths have been hidden from the rest of the Ninth (save for Gideon and a few of the Reverend Family's attendants) and Harrow has been secretly ruling in their stead for the past seven years, doing her best to keep the Ninth from falling into ruin. Harrow is a prodigious necromancer, specializing in working with bones. The Ninth receives a message from the Emperor requesting that each House send their heir and cavalier primary (a.k.a swordsman/bodyguard) to his home at the First House, where they are to attempt to piece together the process to becoming a Lyctor, one of his immortal Saints. Unfortunately, Harrow's cavalier has skipped town. Gideon begrudgingly accepts a deal meaning that she will pose as Harrow's cavalier in exchange for freedom from servitude. Upon arriving at the First House, the two meet the other Houses' heirs and their cavaliers and are informed that they will have to figure out the secret to Lyctorhood on their own, and that there will absolutely no communication with the outside empire. It's not long before someone turns up dead... and then another...

What immediately hooked me on the first book was the voice and tone; Gideon is a delightfully snarky narrator. Despite the humor, these books do not pull any punches with regard to emotional depth. Love and grief are at the center of everything these books do, circled by sacrifice and duty and gender and colonialism and religion.

This review is actually one of my favorite things to send to people to pitch them the books. It does a fantastic job of conveying both the premise and the tone of Gideon the Ninth. I also wrote a "pitch your fandom" piece that @wilfriede recorded and recently released. You can find both the audio and the transcript at this link.

I hope that gives you a sense of the series, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to ramble about the series that permanently altered my brain chemistry! If you ever get around to reading them, I would love to hear your thoughts :)

[sovereignsystem]

Hello, I've seen your post about wanting pro-endos to listen and I'm willing to listen (this might change depending on who's fronting).

We are a fairly new discovered quoigenic system (meaning we don't know and don't care about our origin) and of course are pro-endo.

I won't pretend I'm doing this out of sheer curiosity (although there's a lot of that), but the only other system we met irl and that we considered a friend flipped out when they discovered we are pro-endo and we'd like to mend that relationship.

I find it absurd that anti-endos and pro-endos cannot coexist. Separately online (curated experience etc etc) and bonding over shared struggles irl (since there are so very few of us)

Hello. Firstly, I'd like to express appreciation for speaking to us in a non-hostile manner, that is a first for us regarding endos.

Secondly; there are a lot of reasons why I think that it is impossible for anti-endos and pro-endos to coexist, at least without some very major changes. Something that seems to consistently be misunderstood by endos (and I'm mainly addressing those who say they are nontraumagenic, as pro endo traumatized systems are a different topic for me), is exactly why we do not want them in our spaces or interacting with us.

Now, I'm not going to speak for everyone, because I am not everyone, but I will say the reason why I am personally uncomfortable with endos being in our safe spaces and interacting with us, is because they continuously try to say that our experiences are the same, that they should be allowed to use the same terms, same resources, same safe spaces as us, but claim they do not have the disorder that those terms, resources, and safe spaces were made for.

I hate comparing the experience of CDDs to anything other than themselves because it's incredibly difficult to do so, but for the sake of understanding; it's like if someone went to a support group for war veterans, despite having never been in any war, but continued to call themselves one, and refused to leave because they dislike fireworks (or something of the like. Again, hard to compare).

I believe in peace above all else, and the constant fighting has put a weight on us, as I'm sure it's put a weight on everyone, and I would love nothing more than for everyone to be able to exist, separately, yet peacefully together, but the problem still stands that endos invade, take over, and appropriate things that were made for trauma survivors. And as long as that is still happening, we cannot stop fighting.

The reason why we dislike pro-endos in a similar way to endos themselves, is because from our perspective, pro-endos are people who have chosen to protect harmful individuals, people who have chosen to turn a blind eye to those who are fighting to protect the only spaces they feel safe in. I know that some of us feel betrayed when we see a traumatized system who is pro-endo, like our brethren have taken the side of those who have hurt us, those who have forcibly taken away our sanctuaries. The reason for discomfort is easy to see, to me.

As for you, I really hope you hear me on this. I hope you take to heart what I've said and try to put yourself into the shoes of someone who went through unbearable trauma, someone who just wants a safe space to discuss life experiences, healing, resources, and a place to feel a sense of community, someone who has to put all of that aside to push away and fight people who, in their eyes, wear their trauma as a costume.

It's painful. It's painful to have survived what we've survived, only for it to be made trivial by people who show little to no respect to us.

I hope you hear me.

I hope you hear us.

-🧟‍♂️ (He/him)

[unfriendlyneighbourhoodbogwitch]

please tell us more about the dnd group you stole from your ex

Omg I don't know when you asked this and its a long answer but okay so.

I was dating this fuckwit, and would sometimes spend time at his house and very vaguely got to know his housemates, who were all in the same dnd campaign.

Near the end of our relationship they were all being kicked out, he wanted to find his own place but one of his housemates (the DM of the campaign) was looking for someone to share a house with, and I was also looking to move. We met up and started chatting and quickly realised we both hated my boyfriends' new partner (the joys of polyamory). Turns out we get on really well, found a house, I broke up with fuckwit, and there were a few awkward dnd sessions where my ex was apparently very uncomfortable with me hiding upstairs like a ghost in the attic.

This, along with him being a generally terrible person (he had tried to sleep with everyone in the group, was horrible to the people who wouldn't sleep with him, spread rumours about people's partners, actively cheated in dnd games and was incredibly manipulative in general) and helped by me explaining to them exactly why I broke up with him (see above), led to them kicking him out of the campaign.

I (and one of the partners he had been talking shit about) got adopted into the group in his place, and we just recently spent a session getting some cathartic revenge on his character. Think I won the breakup lol.

[rexscanonwife]

you already know exactly what my taste is....assign me a star war....simply because i'm curious....🌌 (@squips-ship)

LAURA MY FRIEND LAURA!! 🫶💖🫶💖🫶 I definitely do know your type, I've got a very strong option and I've also got a 'maybe you'd go for it' option for you!

I know you like guys who are moral, kind, a little sassy but carry a fair amount of sadness and pain with them, and ofc having long hair doesn't hurt either. 😂 That being said I'd definitely assign you to Kanan Jarrus, also known as Caleb Dume from Star Wars: Rebels!

As a padawan he survived Order 66, losing his master in the process and now finds himself the leader and certified dad of his own little found family that form a rebel cell against the Empire about 5 years before the events of A New Hope! He's riddled with survivor's guilt and now must train a padawan of his own, so he learns as much as he teaches during the series! (Which I quite enjoy Rebels haters dni!!!!)

Star Wars Rebels is a 4 season 22-23 minute long episode series and a fairly easy watch imo!! All the characters are lovable and fun to watch, and I actually watched it BEFORE watching Clone Wars so it's a good way to ease in. You don't necessarily need to have a TON of star wars expertise to enjoy it but there's fun easter eggs and such for those who do!

Things to watch out for, in case ur bothered by canon love interests he does have one, though not a lot of focus is really put on it! And she really is a great character too, they function as the mom and dad of the group. And like many characters in Star Wars he is Doomed by the Narrative and I don't want you to be blindsided by that 😅 otherwise I think he's a great match for you if you ever had a mind for checking it out!

Now my other potential assignment to you would be Qui-Gon Jin, primarily for his appearance in The Phantom Menace, but he's mentioned and appeared in other spinoff media like comics and such! He's got long hair, isn't afraid to bend the rules a bit and use the force to do things like win a bet, and he loves plants!

[starlightsaphron]

THOSE AUS LOOK SO DELICIOUS UHMM.....

this one!! How have their personalities/gear changed from the difference in raising?

I’m so glad that your interested in my ideas! I got two asks about this idea, but I actually have two different ideas for it. I’ll share the one that has more extreme differences in personalities and weapons/outfits here.

Basically Raven is a lone survivor from an attack by salem that took out the rest of team STRQ. Summers last wish was for raven to keep the kids safe, which raven knows will never happen if either salem finds them or the kids grow up close enough to oz to get sucked up into the war that killed her family. So Raven takes the girls and goes off grid in the wilds of anima.

Ruby and yang have grow up in a nomadic life style away from society. They are both highly insular people, yang in especially doesn’t doesn’t trust anyone outside of her sister and mother, while ruby has developed a curiosity for society as a whole. They don’t live as complete luddites but what little tech they do have is stolen from rare night executions into villages and used well past the point where others would have discarded it. Ruby has a small collection of curios that she is highly protective of and tinkers with constantly.

Yang is actually quite quiet in this au. She can get pretty animated when talking to ruby but even to raven she’s pretty reserved. Yang had to grow up even faster here, in part from how young she was when she learned to hunt animals and kill grim and in part because she was basically constantly in danger and never learned how to self express. I feel like she’s a little paranoid cause Raven’s told yang more about the threat of salem then ruby. She’s still do or die for any of her family though. Badmouth or attack them then you in for a world of hurt.

Ruby I think has a long bow, dagger and a scythe she trains with in secret. A chose made of rubys own volitions because of ravens struggle when reminded of her lost family. Another neat idea could be that instead of a long bow she’s got a beat up old long rifle that she maintains obsessively. I like the idea of full forest ranger Ruby and doing something a little different from cannon. I think that there would be a be moment in the fic when she eventually constructs a mechashift weapon.

For Yangs weapons I’m still a little in the air. As much as it pains me personally I have a hard time seeing a yang raised by raven becoming a brawler. I feel like Raven just got Yang a mechashift weapon for her birthday (give that’s normally when she’d become a huntress). Im kinda thinking a glaive/short sword/crossbow combo. Maybe with Japanese influences to tie it to omen? I feel like it would be built with the ability to modify more dust integration later

Gear is harder. I struggle with visualization with outfits as a general rule. I feel like she’s got a mask like her Ravens, smaller and less ostentatious but still a grim mask. She dresses in darker colors to help her stay hidden, with small yellow highlights or marks though. I feel like as the store progresses yangs outfit would change and include more color as she explores herself.

Ruby’s palette is some combination of green, black and red. I can’t completely work it out in my head but I know I want those colors. Her outfit would be some combination of her v4 outfit and woodland ranger. Maybe with a few different cloaks for different environments. She carries many different knifes on her but each one has a unique function and place.

[iguessitsjustme]

work rant feel free to ignore i just need to get this out of my brain before i esplode:

My job not having any social media presence actually drives me insane...I'm going to try to rant without giving away where I work but my god. I work for an extremely well known (at least in the USA) organization and there's a lot of misinformation flying around out there and we do have a website, but just a website. That no one goes to or looks at unless they call and we direct them to exactly what they're looking for because they ask if we have it written down anywhere.

And I think it's incredibly...obtuse...to not have any presence at all. I'm not saying we need to have an extremely loud and huge presence. But even just like an official reddit or an official tiktok (we do have a twitter kind of but it is never used and I honest to god don't think anyone has access to it anymore) and even if those pages just have the most basic information on it, I think that would help. Just like "here's a link to our website. Here's our phone number. Here's which department handles what if you want to be asked for that specific department." I spend so much of my day on the phone with people that have questions that are so easily answered by just going on our website but no one does. Also don't even get me started on what they did to the website it looks like it got hacked now but it didn't.

This is a strange work rant for a Sunday night but I find myself annoyed. My coworkers and I send each other reddit posts of people misunderstanding things. I mean, they are willfully misunderstanding things they were previously informed of. In writing. But if we really want to make it better and more accessible for people, I think having the information presented in multiple ways would be best. Especially when we're dealing with children. These kids are on reddit and on tiktok and on twitter and they have questions and they are more likely going to go searching in those places to find information. And there are people that claim themselves as experts on all of those platforms but none of them work for or have previously worked for my organization. So they don't know. So these kids are getting incorrect information and then I get angry parents and children on the phone because they listened to the wrong person or organization and I'm standing by our policy and our rules and they don't like that.

Also sometimes they aren't angry on the phone because they were misinformed about something saying that they can't do this this or that and it turns out they can. And if they hadn't called they would have entirely missed the opportunity because they're going to the wrong sources because we, as an organization, refuse to be the source on a different platform other than our own.

And I get it. They don't want to hire someone to be the social media person because we are small and don't have the budget for that. But it's 2024. There are many people. Many staff. That have a lot of downtime (not my department unless it's the summer) and this could be the perfect task to give them. Even if it's just coming up with ideas to present. Not even necessarily filming anything. And videos don't need to show anyone's face or voice. We could literally do the most basic shit and it would be beneficial. It would count down on the number of calls we get and my coworkers and I would have time to do our jobs instead of spending half our time on the phone (do not ask how behind we are because it is sad).

There's something else I want to say about a different organization that I think this would help with but I cannot say without giving away where I work and also I can't bitch about our partner without causing problems. But if you live in the USA, you know about our partner, and I guarantee you hate them. But not as much as me. Never as much as me.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Thursdays are your least favourite. You have two classes and a large chunk of nothing followed by a late lab. In the time in-between, you don’t bother making the venture back to your dorm, instead opting for the library after a quick stop at the cafe. After sitting around and trying to focus on the dense texts, you’re almost too exhausted for your lab. 

Still, you get through it without a complete disaster and another dose of homework to add to your pile. As you follow the tide of students down the halls, spread out in pairs, trios, and larger groups, you yawn. You peek out the windows in dread. It’s already dark. With the autumn well in-effect, the nights aren’t only earlier, but blacker. 

You’re the last out, hanging back as you’re too nervous to get caught underfoot. You come down the front steps of the century-old building as your classmates disperse in fading ripples of chatter. As they fade into the evening, you’re left alone. 

You keep your hand around your phone, tucked just inside your jacket pocket, and head down the path. There’s a shortcut behind the English hall but you only take that in the daytime. So, you’re left with the long-winding route. 

As you pass by one of those poles with the siren at the top and a button labeled, press for assistance, you’re reminded of those cautionary talks during orientation. Try not to walk alone after dark, it’s always best to practice the buddy system. Well, your only buddy isn’t answering your texts. Besides, it’s not Peter’s responsibility and he has a morning lab. 

Your soles scuff and echo, sending a child up your spine that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s almost as if there’s another set of steps. You slow and peer over your shoulder. It’s only your shadow limned by the lamp post that lights the benches and hedges that trim the walkway. 

You turn back and gurgle around a yipe. You stagger away from the figure as they catch you by your upper arm. You pull out your phone and flick on the flashlight, shining it in your accoster’s face. 

“Please--” you begin as the man lets you go and shies away, shielding himself with his hand. His fingers gleam in the glow and the leather glove cut above his knuckles darkens his palm. “Huh?” 

Bucky taps the frame of your phone and you lower it. You gape at him in shock, casting the light at the pavement instead. He blinks as he clears his vision. 

“Great to see your reflexes are on point,” he rubs his eyes.  

“What---” you look around as you bounce on your toes. 

“Stalking around a college isn’t exactly my idea of a good night either,” he says as your question hangs unfinished. “On a call. Details are confidential.” 

“Uh, oh? Around here?” You peer around, heart thumping against your ribs as your throat tightens. 

“Ha, I know, right? I should ask you why you’re out so late. Wandering around in the dark?” 

You blanch and rest your hand on your messenger bag, itching to take out your puffer as the pressure builds in your chest. 

“I... just walking home, sir. I swear--” 

“Relax,” his eyes catch the movement of your hand. “You’re no villain, I know. I only meant...” he pauses and glances around deliberately, “not very safe to be out.” 

You gulp and pull up the flap of your bag. You cough and bury your hand into the small pocket sewn into the lining. You take out your puffer and bring it to your mouth. You suck in the air as his posture softens. 

“Hey, woah, I’m not tryna scare ya. You okay?” He asks. 

You nod and swallow, lowering the inhaler. “Sorry, I... I’m tired and the air is cold,” you explain. “I’m just going back to my dorm. My lab was late.” 

“Right,” he accepts easily. “Why don’t you let me walk you?” 

“I... I’m alright. What about... whoever you’re looking for?” 

“Am I looking for someone?” He challenges. “Just a walk through, doll.” 

“Oh, erm, but uh, I don’t wanna... distract you,” you clutch your puffer so tight you accidentally push down the canister. “Oh, uh, sorry.” 

“Not distracting me. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I let a young lady walk home alone in the dark, would I?” 

“Maybe, but... you don’t have to,” you squeak. 

He takes a breath and lets it out slow. He clicks his tongue, “you don’t like me.” 

“N-no,” you sputter. “No, it’s not, erm, sorry. Sorry.” 

“Don’t listen to the kid, he’s full of it,” he says. 

“Peter? He didn’t--” 

“Sweetheart, I’m kidding with ya,” he pats your arm, “really, I’m just looking out for you. Young girl like you, so quiet. Sweet. I saw the way that guy almost walked right through ya. And what did you do? You apologised to him. That ain’t right. Not how you treat a lady where I’m from.” 

You fidget and peek around. You can’t see much more than shadows beyond the wooden slats of benches and barren bushes. “But... I was in his way.” 

“Now, doll, how could you be in anyone’s way? Hope it’s not Pete putting that in your head,” he intones. 

“Peter? No, he’s nice. He’s a good friend. He’s... he helps me,” you say. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Bucky says, “point me in the right direction, doll? You stay out here any longer and you’re gonna chatter your teeth out of your head.” 

You hesitate before you get what he means. You don’t think he’s going to let you go alone and you really just want to go home. It is really cold out. You point behind him, “just down there and around.” 

“Right,” he turns and waves you along with him. You fall into step, too afraid to protest any further. You do feel a bit better not being alone. “Strange, you don’t strike me as Peter’s type.” 

“What? His type? Oh no, we’re friends,” you chirp. 

He hums. “Sure, just like all the others he brings to the Tower.” 

You frown and put your chin down, hiding your confusion, “others?” 

“Sure, bubbly ones. They talk a lot. Not like you though.” 

“Oh... well, we’re just doing a project,” you shrug. 

“I’m sure. Just a project,” he says. “Sorry, I misunderstood.” 

The air grows even more frigid as you walk on in silence. As you think of his implication, you feel your throat locking up again. You take another puff and cough. You turn and he follows you around the bend. 

“He isn’t worth your time anyway,” his deep timbre rolls through the tension. “I mean, if he was, he’d be the one walking you home right now, wouldn’t he?” 

[valiantarcher]

Year So Far Book asks: 4

Thanks for asking!

4. Most anticipated book release of the second half of the year Unfortunately, this is the one question I do not have an answer for. :"> I have completely lost track of new books coming out and am not quite even sure where to look for that info (I did try looking up a few authors just now to see if any of them had upcoming releases, but no success). I'm sorry! :(

[theriverbeyond]

Are you in med school and if so would you recommend it to a friend?

hi!!

NO i am not in med school. i am pursuing a clinical degree in the health sciences field but i am not in medical school!

I know a lot of people who are pre-med or current med students. it is not for everyone but i recommend student doctor net as a really helpful forum overall if you want to read more about the med school or pre-med experience. I also recommend reaching out to local pre-med clubs at your school/university, academic/ career advisors, or similar resources

[vir-dirthara]

Can I ask what you do at your wfh job? I’m trying to look for one so I do not have to spend so much time on travel anymore :| would you recommend a wfh job?

For sure! I'm a technical 3D artist in games! I have a lot of mixed feelings about it in general, but they do swing on the more positive side for me, so it has been worth it.

My main concern coming out of uni with my game art degree was that I was unsure whether I had the personal discipline to be working on my computer all day and not get distracted. It does happen, but fortunately my goals and tasks are on a monthly basis rather than daily so I can have all the good days and bad days and it doesn't affect my ability to complete my work.

It's been eating away at me a little bit that I'm in my office on my computer all day for work, and then when I'm done for the day I'm still sitting at the same desk to play video games and chill. It's a relatively minor thing, but I still miss the separation of work space/personal time space. I'm also as introverted and shy as the next person, but also there's a bit of a feeling of isolation that I can't really do anything about - especially since I work in a whole other timezone from my coworkers and I feel I miss out a bit bc of it. I've been feeling a bit listless and reclusive but there's a lot I can do to make an effort to fix that.

All that being said; I feel I got very lucky. I don't think I could work for a better company; they treat me well, the vibes are super positive, because of the timezone difference I can choose what time I start work without it really mattering. I can make lunch in my own kitchen, have netflix on in the background, work in my pyjamas, and I don't have to worry about looking like a person unless I have a zoom meeting later in the day. I also really love what we do.

To offer an alternate viewpoint, my partner on the also had a wfh job in insurance and it just didn't work for him; he was working on a daily tasklist so couldn't have an off-day without being asked about the dip in his productivity; he said he really struggled with focus, and also having to answer the phones constantly was just stressful to have to do at home. Not having a manager or even coworkers you can turn to when you need to ask a question and instead having to make it an email was irritating, he said.

He's now working hybrid 3 days in the office/2 days at home and he says it's working pretty well for him bc he can kinda get the best of both worlds.

So yeah! I do recommend trying it if you can - especially for the difference it makes when you're not spending hours commuting each week - and see if it works for you. I'd say it just about works for me; I used to work in a factory producing props and boy. I was so thankful to get a wfh job after everything I dealt with there so I'm definitely like. thankful for it still

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”