#behaviour analysis

[bisexual-biohazard5]

I was thinking about how Percy as a character would react when it comes to giving empathy to others.

Like if it was a practical problem, this man is finding you a solution one way or another. But if it's like a personal problem, he feels awkward and he doesn't know how to deal with it but he's definitely be there for the person. Because he was isolated from childhood, family didn't pay much attention to him because he's quiet which also leads to him being really independent because he's used to having to do things for himself. And he'll feel bad if anyone had to do anything for him and will want to repay them. It could be a result of his mother who made to keep the house in order, put food on the table, take care of 7 kids and also educate them before they go to Hogwarts.

Percy is shown as a nerd, someone who likes books and there are actual scientific articles saying that people who read more have more empathy because they allow themselves to see things from other people's perspective.

Percy would see the stress his mother is dealing with, the stress his father is dealing with to try keep a roof over their head and would step foward to help if needed so they have a little break.

So when it comes to personal problems, he doesn't ask for help because he doesn't want to worry anyone. This in turn means that he never learned how to actually offer empathy or comfort someone and ends up being awkward. He's better at finding practical solutions not emotional because he's always been emotionally reserved.

This could be why Percy is always making sure his siblings aren't getting into trouble. Its because he doesn't want his parents to be worried but also if his siblings ever got hurt, he knows he doesn't have the ability to offer proper empathy. So he prevents any problems from happening in the first place.

Below is a scenario to summarise.

Percy when his family goes to hin for emotional support: Umm- So like I'm not qualified enough to deal with this but I could book you a therapy session?

Percy when his family asks him on how to find a body (It was a prank but Percy thought they were serious): Don't touch anything without gloves. Don't leave any hair or DNA behind. Leave the blood to me. Cut off the hands and feet first and then bury the body in a forest but do it in dry weather so you don't leave footprints-

[sophie-zadeh]

Behaviour Analysis: What is Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS)?

This year I gained certifications in Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS™) and Facial Action Coding System (FACS), two scientific systems that can be useful in analysing human behaviour. This article focuses on explaining SCAnS™, while a separate article focuses on FACS.

What is the Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS™)?

Developed by the Emotional Intelligence Academy (EIA), SCAnS™ is a behaviour analysis methodology used to code human behaviour. The Six Channel Analysis System helps to discern potential deception by identifying clusters of behavioural points of interest across multiple communication channels. The six channels are:

Face

Body

Voice

Linguistic Content

Interactional Style

Psychophysiology

Academically peer-reviewed and tested in counter-terrorism contexts, SCAnS™ is considered the gold standard in behaviour analysis. It’s used in the security sector for screening by airports, national intelligence and global diplomacy. It’s also used by law enforcement, military, recruitment and negotiation, and by behaviour analysts, such as myself, for deception detection on private or criminal cases.

Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS) Development 

Body Language Myths

Six Channel Analysis System development began in 2008 to combat widespread myths surrounding lie detection and credibility assessment. Unfortunately, these body language myths are still common among body language ‘experts’ and law enforcement professionals. Part of my work involves dispelling these myths, which have filtered down to the general public. When believed, these myths can be damaging within all types of relationships. Common myths include eye direction, nose and ear touching and gaze avoidance.

Since 2008, SCAnS™ has been reviewed, tested and implemented in various settings. This year (2023), the SCAnS™ training programme was rolled out as a pilot programme for behaviour analysts to gain certification. I completed the pilot programme and can share my experience about the process, in case you’re interested in gaining the certification too.

How Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS) Works

The Six Channel Analysis System utilises 27 behavioural indicators, known as Points of Interest (PIns), that fall into one of the six communication channels (face, body, voice, linguistic content, interactional style and psychophysiology). EIA claims the 27 PIns are evidence-based, with five or more peer-reviewed research papers connecting the behaviours to deception.

SCAnS™ coders observe behaviour, usually from video, identifying PIns. Clusters of three or more PIns, from two or more communication channels that occur within a seven-second timeframe are documented as potential indicators of deception. Coders hypothesise and document meaning and areas to dig deeper, concluding the report with potential areas of deception and suggestions for further lines of inquiry. 

Contrary to popular belief, this kind of behaviour analysis is not typically used in courts as evidence of deception, and, in many countries, it isn’t permitted in court. Instead, such analyses are most useful for criminal investigations, pre-trail, as they help guide investigations to uncover the truth.

Studying Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS)

Bear in mind that I completed the SCAnS™ training pilot programme, so changes may have been made since. I had also completed an MSc in Communication, Behaviour and Credibility Analysis, with EIA and Manchester Metropolitan University, so had (somewhat) learned the basics of SCAnS™.

Since I had completed the MSc, my training included a one-day virtual group training refresher and an hour of private virtual coaching. It appears the general training now available from EIA includes a two-day virtual group training and a passive online element that sets the foundations before the live training. 

I’m assuming the two-day training is more robust because I felt that the one-day ‘refresher’ training didn’t go far enough. It was a pilot programme, so knowing EIA, I trust our feedback was considered to improve training. 

There were, without doubt, many elements that I hadn’t learned on the MSc programme, that were assumed we would know. I believe this was also the experience of my peers. Even though I’ve been working in the field for years, and am more knowledgeable about behavioural indicators than some others on the MSc, there were knowledge gaps. It was challenging, and I did wonder how others with less knowledge could pass when I wasn’t sure whether I would pass. I did, I passed at 86%, but I’m very pedantic and put a tonne of effort into it.

I searched for answers to fill my understanding via books and research papers, finding no explanations in some cases. This was somewhat concerning for me, given the behavioural indicators are science-based. I’m not saying they aren’t, but I did struggle to find evidence in some cases. I was particularly looking for information on the shoulder shrug and eye closures. 

The Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS) Assessment

To gain certification, trainees code four videos of individuals using SCAnS™ methodology. These are real-life investigations and you’ll probably recognise the individuals or may have memories of the cases from news reports.

Like with Facial Action Coding System (FACS), and CatFACS, there’s a requirement to gain 70% accuracy with coding. EIA assesses your coding against certified coders' results. Unlike the FACS test, where results are automatically calculated with instant grading, SCAnS™ is marked manually. Therefore, an additional remarking fee is charged if you fail to reach 70% accuracy the first time round. You can resubmit as many times as you need to. 

Key Benefit of Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS)

Where SCAnS™ excels, is in its cross-channel analysis. Most behaviour analysis systems focus on just one communication channel, for example, statement analysis, body language or facial expression. My primary area of investigation was initially body language and facial expression. However, around 2016, I studied and gained certification in statement analysis, adding this to the mix.

I wanted to see how much information statement analysis could glean in comparison to body language and facial expression. What I found interesting, were the claims purporting that statement analysis was the only way to detect deception and other means did not work. I found that statement analysis did not glean more information than other means, it simply added information. It makes common sense that more channels will provide more information. Views that a single channel is the way to go are close-minded, a mentality that doesn’t bode well for behaviour analysis, where open-mindedness is key to not going down a rabbit hole of false belief.

Wrapping Up Six Channel Analysis System (SCAnS)

Like FACS, SCAnS™ is viewed as a gold standard in behaviour analysis, each used for different purposes, with science-based methodology. Both offer a comprehensive, unobtrusive and more objective methodology, and both can be difficult to master with time-intensive training and coding. I’m okay with this though, because it takes effort to be good at anything. I hate to think about behaviour analysts practising without rigorous training–and yet, unfortunately, they are out there.

All methodologies such as FACS and SCAnS™ are open to subjectivity and bias; however, The rigorous assessment with its 70% agreement pass mark mitigates reliability issues.

Like with my FACS article, I hope I haven’t discouraged you with my honest experience. I’m thrilled I’m certified as a SCAnS™ coder and would do it all again if I needed to. I encourage you to persist in attaining certification too. Let me know how you go and whether you need any help.

[girllblogging777]

LET IT HAPPEN 𝜗𝜚

spencer reid x bau!worker reader (angst, comfort)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 2.3k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : spencer was always in control, until you. but when you walk away, he realises it might be too late to learn how to love you right.

spencer reid has a history of being in control.

of himself. of his emotions. of the way he exists in the world : quiet, precise, never asking for too much.

love, real love, has always been a theory to him. a concept. a case study. something he observes in others, like an astronomer watching stars he’d never reach.

and then there was you.

he didn’t know when it started. maybe the first time you called him spence like it was second nature, or when you leaned into his shoulder on the plane, barely awake. maybe when you took a bullet for a civilian without flinching, or when you cried in the elevator after losing a victim, and reached for his hand without thinking to find comfort.

all he knew was that one day, you’d become part of his routine and turned it all upside down. his rhythm. his sense of self.

and that scared the hell out of him.

so, he did what he always did. he kept it safe. kept you close, but not close enough. he memorized everything about you from a distance : favorite books, late-night snack choices, the exact cadence of your laugh, while never saying a word about the way his chest ached when you touched his arm.

until you walked away.

and now you weren’t beside him. and it was too quiet.

spencer sat alone in the BAU bullpen at 11:47 p.m., his tie loose around his neck and hair messy from running his hands through it too many times today. he felt numb, staring at the text you’d sent him four hours ago.

“i can’t do this anymore. not like this.”

“if you ever decide to let me in—“

“you know where to find me.”

he’d read it twenty two times, precisely. he couldn’t delete it. he couldn’t answer it either.

because the truth was that you were right. you’d waited long enough, more than anyone ever had for him.

spencer had spent so long pretending he didn’t feel what he felt. trying to fit your friendship into neat, manageable boxes. something he could file away like a solved case.

but love doesn’t work like that. you’d told him that once.

and now you were gone.

the elevator dinged behind him. he didn’t turn around. he didn’t have to.

because he knew it was you.

he knew it the way he knew the laws of physics. undeniable. inarguable. your presence had always rearranged the air around you.

“you didn’t answer,” you said quietly, observing him like you’d done too many times before.

your voice cracked something open in him. his hands clenched around his coffee cup. it had gone cold hours ago.

“I didn’t know what to say.”

you gave a small, sad laugh. “that’s the thing, spence. you know everything, but that you never do.”

he finally looked up at you.

you looked tired. beautiful. guarded.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said. “but you did.”

he nodded once. swallowed hard. “I’m not good at this.”

spencer stood slowly, like his body was remembering how to do it. his chair scraped back.

and then, finally “you know what hurts the most?”

he shook his head.

“that I’m not asking you to be perfect. I never want you to be anything other than exactly who you are. but you won’t even let me see you.”

he flinched.

“you let me get so close,” you said, softer now, like it hurt you to say it. “close enough to feel everything… and then you shut the door. like I’m something dangerous.”

“you’re not dangerous,” he whispered.

“then what am I?” your mouth was set, but your eyes… your eyes looked so goddamn sad. your arms folded across her chest. a defense mechanism. not angry. just tired. like you were bracing for more disappointment.

“real.”

you froze, spencer stepped around the desk slowly, like if he moved too fast, you’d vanish.

“you’re real,” he repeated carefully. “and that terrifies me.”

he didn’t even know how to stand. his arms hung awkwardly by his sides, fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for you and couldn’t figure out how.

“all my life, I’ve been able to explain things,” he says. “I can tell you the chemical composition of love. I can list every poem ever written about heartbreak. I can quote studies on attachment and trauma and how people leave.”

there’s a beat, before he continues “I thought if I understood it, I wouldn’t feel it.”

you couldn’t do anything but blink, eyes stinging.

“but then I met you,” he said. “and you’re soft, and stubborn, and brilliant, and so alive. you walked right past every defense I had like they weren’t even there.”

his voice cracks then. he presses a fist to his mouth, trying to ground himself. you just watch him, still frozen. breathing shallow.

“I thought I could keep it under control,” he admits, each word making him feel more stupid. “this… whatever this is. I thought if I could just… hold it in, keep it neat, I wouldn’t lose you. but all I did was push you away.”

silence. he forces himself to meet your eyes, something that usually pains him to do.

“I miss you. all the time. even when you’re right in front of me.”

and you don’t know what to say. so he keeps going like he always does, because if he stops now, he’d never say any of it again.

“I couldn’t tell you how I felt because I didn’t know what it was, it didn’t feel safe. and if it wasn’t safe, it wasn’t real. that’s what I told myself. that’s what I had to believe. because… everyone I’ve ever loved has either died or left me.”

your mouth opened, but he held up a hand, begging. please let me finish.

“but you didn’t leave,” he said, “not until you absolutely had to. you gave me every chance. I wasted them. because I didn’t know how to be vulnerable and still survive.”

and the tears came before he could stop them. silent, stunned things sliding down his cheeks.

you stare at him like you don’t know whether to cry or reach for him or both. he looks so beautiful, so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to keep hurting you just because I never learned how to let myself be loved.”

that breaks something in you. you take a step forward. and another. he stands before you, arms loose at his sides, face wet, chest heaving… looking every bit the baby deer in headlights you always say he is.

“I’m not asking you not to be afraid, spence…” you finally admit. “I’m asking you to let me be scared with you. that’s all I ever wanted.”

his lips tremble. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“then let’s figure it out.”

you reach up slowly, wiping a stray tear gently with your thumb. he simply leans into your touch like it’s the first time anyone has ever touched him softly and meant it.

“don’t go,” he whispers.

“I’m not trying to leave,” you whisper back. “I’m asking if you’d fight for me.”

he closes his eyes. “I let it happen,” he said. “I let myself fall in love with you. and I’m not going to pretend anymore.”

you step into him fully then, arms sliding around his neck, and Spencer folds like paper, wrapping himself around you like he’d been holding his breath for a year and just now remembered how to exhale.

and in the quiet of that almost-empty room, with his forehead pressed to yours and your hands in his hair, Spencer Reid finally gives up control.

and lets it happen.

a/n : inspired by the gracie abrams song !!first time writing something about my baby, i kinda hate this but a girl has got to start somewhere. give me requests if you’d like, and reblogs/comments are always appreciated <3

@xbluereid @gf2bellamy @iamgonnagetyouback

[sublimati0ns]

daily koss #13: hot mess aka they’re bad at this aka I can’t even label this “low-effort” or “shitpost” anymore 🥲 … bsky

I imagine they both like and yearn for physical intimacy, but are insanely neurotic about it… I love them and I had fun colouring this/// (also I know I forgor KO’s arm decal I just got too lazy to draw it… I’m sorry for taking your drip king…)

[minibuntinnyoffi]

Gaze upon my Matthew, Kevin and Jack doodles!!!

I headcanon Kevin loves strawberry ice-cream

Aandd Jack is an optimistic child but also easy to cry because.. that's the mentality of a child! They're unpredictable, and most of the children are honest so they always stay in their true selves...

[cowboy1ikereid]

pov - you’re a member of the fbi’s behavioural analysis unit

[magewritesstories]

[ SPENCER REID ] WHIPPED

cw. derek uses a little experiment to prove that the reader's whipped for spencer (fluff.) wc. 542

"YOU ARE SO WHIPPED," Derek says as the two of you stand in the tiny kichenette next to the bullpen.

You turn towards him and raise a brow, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh? So you weren't making heart eyes at pretty boy just now?" he counters, "Or when he was going on about Doctor Who this morning, or yesterday when he told you that dumb fact about the Mayans and their sun calander?"

"Again, I have no idea what you're talking about," you deny, reverting your eyes back to the drink in your hand.

Derek looks between you and Spencer before smirking. "Yeah? Let me give you a little explanation then."

He drags you over to Spencer's desk.

"Hey, pretty boy, Y/N and I were just talking about how horrible the coffee from the new coffee machine is," he said as the boy genius turned to them, "So she's going to that coffee shop down the street, you want anything?"

Spencer thought about it for a second, "Uh, no, I'm good actually."

"You sure, it's Y/N's treat?" Derek added in a sing-song.

"Uhm, I guess a glazed donut would be nice?"

You turn to Derek with a confused look on your face, which Spencer the Amazing Profiler somehow managed to miss.

Derek turns to you with a knowing smirk, "Give it a second—"

And just as those words leave his mouth Emily pipes up from next to JJ. "Oh, if you're going, get me a coffee?"

"I'd love a chocolate cookie," Penelope, who had come out of her batcave to hand over some reports to Hotch, adds excitedly, "You're going to that new coffee shop right? I could smell the deliciousness from a mile away."

Slowly but surely everyone in the bullpen piles onto it—all of them clearly not a fan of the new coffee machine either—and your teammate looks at you with a smirk.

"You want a notepad or?"

"Shut up."

The man lets out a bark of a laugh. "You'd have to dissapoint boy genius over there," he offered, before looking pointedly at Spencer who was now excitedly talking about the new café with Penelope, "But you could just not go."

You let out an annoyed huff as you looked at him too.

A full twenty minutes later you stood in front of Spencer's desk with a crumbled bag containing his favourite flavour of glazed donut (because of course I know what it is, Derek, I'm a good colleague), completely and utterly out of breath.

You'd just spent 15 minutes of your break running to and from the new café—in your brand new heels too— and then giving everybody their coffee and/or cookie.

"Thank you," the boy genius replied with a bright smile on his face, looking in the bag, "Oh, and you got my favourite flavour too, you're amazing!"

You just offer him a small, tired smile. "Of course, Spence, no problem."

On your way back to your desk, you walk into Derek, who's already leaning against his.

"Just couldn't stand dissapointing your pretty boy, huh?"

"I swear to all that is holy, Morgan, I will throw this scalding hot coffee on you."

"Yeah, yeah, you're so whipped."

"I hate you."

"W-H-I-P-P-E-D, whipped."

[bennetsbonnet]

Much has been made of Mr Darcy's "confession" to Elizabeth that he does not converse easily with strangers. It is repeatedly used to support neurodivergent interpretations of his character. And I suppose that when taken at face value, a character confessing that they do not easily converse with strangers and struggle to catch their tone or appear interested in conversation can absolutely scream AUTISM! (I say as an autistic person myself)

But this line is often taken in isolation. When considered in terms of the passage in which it appears in Chapter 31, it appears far less of a smoking gun than may initially be suspected. After some discussion about Elizabeth and Darcy's prior acquaintance in Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam asks Elizabeth for information about Darcy's behaviour there. She readily supplies it:

'Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,' cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. 'I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.' 'You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.' 'I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.'

What Darcy leaves out here is that it was he himself who chose not to be introduced to anybody. As we learn from the description of his behaviour at the Meryton assembly in Chapter 3:

Mr Darcy danced only once with Mrs Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.

Anyway, Elizabeth correctly does not buy his excuses. Not only does she respond with a cutting sarcastic remark, but she tries to bring the discussion with an end by speaking to Colonel Fitzwilliam:

'True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.'

But Darcy does not get the hint and continues conversing with Elizabeth rather than quitting while he's ahead. However, I don't believe him to be missing a social cue here. Rather, this is an exceedingly conceited man who cannot conceive that anyone would not want to speak to such a Superior Being as he and more-so, is determined to defend himself from a perceived slight against his impeccable character.

Then we come to the passage containing the oft-cited line which allegedly contains proof of his neurodivergency:

'Perhaps,' said Darcy, 'I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.' 'Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?' said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. 'Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?' 'I can answer your question,' said Fitzwilliam, 'without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.'

Once again, Elizabeth does not buy his excuse for even a single second. She's fully aware of all the advantages a man such as he will have received in society (opportunities not open to women, might I add!) and draws attention to that fact. It's a brilliant, cutting line from her and she really set that one up for Colonel Fitzwilliam to deliver the knockout blow.

Not only do we have the testimony of Mr Darcy's cousin, that 'he will not give himself the trouble,' to appear cordial to strangers, but we have evidence from Wickham too. Although after this statement, Wickham quickly goes onto misrepresent Darcy's kindness to the poor, which contradicts Mrs Reynold's later testimony, I do believe Wickham to be telling the truth (for once!) here, when he tells Elizabeth in Chapter 16:

'Mr Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while.'

Which, again, demonstrates that Darcy is capable when he wants to be. That is the crucial point. Autistic people fundamentally lack the ability to understand social cues, they cannot turn it on and off as they please because they are snobs.

So, now we come to the infamous line about Darcy's supposed social struggles, and I hope that I've provided enough context to the line to make you see that it should not be taken at face value:

'I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,' said Darcy, 'of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.' 'My fingers,' said Elizabeth, 'do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault—because I will not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.'

Again, Elizabeth is not buying his excuses for even a single second and tells him if he feels like that, maybe he should put the effort in. She has seen him in numerous social settings and been thoroughly unimpressed with his behaviour which, when you consider his rudeness to her at the Meryton assembly, she has every right to be.

So, what do I make of the line?

Well, I think it's abundantly clear that Darcy absolutely can speak to people when he wants to. Perhaps, in his mind, he struggles to make that deeper connection and make friends easily. But making friends is not always easy, it's a process you must invest time and effort into. If you do not do that, it stands to reason that you will struggle. Plus, if you hold others to ridiculous standards (as Darcy does) without recognising and fixing the flaws within yourself, you're not going to have deep, lasting friendships.

While this quote may appear to be a moment of vulnerability where he does confess a fault of his, which is astounding given his pride, personally I do not think it was not a soul-searching exercise. It was to make Elizabeth stop grilling him. It was self-serving. Although, I don't think he's entirely lying. Darcy is veeeery careful with his words and though this statement is not considered and perhaps comes out rather abruptly, it doesn't necessarily follow that it isn't true. I can imagine that it is probably something he's felt for a while, yet it is a rather desperate attempt to defend himself from a woman who sees right through him.

I think perhaps Darcy does realise that he isn't as naturally gifted as other men he knows (such as Wickham, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Bingley) when it comes to forming acquaintances. However, he looks outwards and turns that bitterness against the world rather than looking inwards, reflecting upon himself and improving his manners which would be the correct thing to do. Thankfully, he later does this, but it took him twenty eight years...

In addition, Darcy appeared to have been under the illusion that he could coast by on Pemberley's reputation... which has always worked... until he met Elizabeth. For perhaps the first time, he encounters a woman who is not awestruck by him and his reputation and delivers the rebuke that he always needed.

So, while personally I'm inclined to believe there is some truth to his statement, as Mr Darcy is many things but he isn't a liar, I think it is said in desperation. His feeling stems from him knowing what he should do, but he can't be bothered to enact it... rather than any inherent social deficiency stemming from being neurodivergent.

Although, even if he does struggle socially, it's still no excuse for the rudeness he displayed to Elizabeth! My main issue with neurodivergent readings of Darcy is when they are deployed to defend his behaviour, when they attribute his rudeness to any potential neurodivergency and when they excuse his laziness. That is an awful message! Autistic people who struggle with social cues often do not, nor should they, go around insulting others. They should and often do put plenty of effort into being considerate and polite. In fact, I think, if anything, a love of rules makes us more likely to have good manners, rather than the reverse.

Ultimately, I'm not sure this line makes Mr Darcy the sympathetic-poor-sweet-innocent-shy-boy-autistic-representation that people want him to be. In fact it makes him look even worse, if anything. On matters such as these, he is every inch the conceited proud man he was widely believed to be at the Meryton assembly. Luckily, Elizabeth is an incredibly smart woman, who doesn't fall for it and immediately calls him out on his behaviour in a way that he has never experienced before. As she should!

[collecting-dustbunnies]

The longer I play Obey Me, the more I feel like Obey Me is a story about how the MC, in their quest to seek acceptance by the people they care about, ends up destroying themselves in the process and losing the very thing that made them so special and loved in the first place.

In the beginning of OG, they started off as just a normal human who got whisked away to a weird ass world where literally nobody respects them. Despite this, they recognised from the beginning that these demons and angels were not so different from humans. MC's ability to see the demons as actual people and not just beings controlled by their sins was what allowed them to form close bonds with them. They had good intentions to reunite the demon brothers who had undergone centuries of misunderstanding, resentment, and pent up grief. Even though they were excessively nosy, MC's unique position as a complete outsider allowed them to see just how much love the demon brothers had for each other, and how they can become closer if everybody would just better communicate with each other. Serving as the bridge to better improve the brothers' relationships was what convinced the demon brothers to also see MC as a member of their family.

But as the MC became more involved in the Devildom's problems, they started to adopt the same toxic traits that had created wedges between the brothers in the first place. From relying heavily on their pacts to subdue the brothers, to allowing a curse to control Barbatos (even though they had the ability to break it), to going along with the brothers' manipulative scheme to trick Satan into reconciling with Lucifer when Satan ran away to the human world -- it's almost like MC has unconsciously picked up on some of their loved ones' behaviour. Gone are the days where MC brings in a new perspective to problems. Now, they just embrace the chaos and their more darker traits, for that is what is expected of them to survive in the Devildom. And since everyone within their circle puts them on a pedestal, this further affirms to the MC that this is how they should be.

Dealing with the affairs of the Devildom had also caused the MC to grow more apathetic. In the beginning, they had been actively taking steps to form pacts with the brothers and were generally very invested in freeing Belphie from the attic. They remained true to themselves and insisted that they form a pact with Satan based on mutual trust and understanding, and not just as a means to smite Lucifer. Despite being in a helpless situation, MC never refused to give up their agency. But the longer MC gets involved with these shenanigans, the more they grew... numb to everything.

Solomon bringing me back to the Devildom unannounced? Oh, sure. Diavolo and Solomon hiding the reasons for my sudden return? Not my problem.

Simeon facing a problem to the point of having a quarter of the cast acting as his bodyguards? Eh, I'll just ignore it until I can't anymore.

Watching and waiting. That's what they have resorted to doing.

And that mindset of kicking problems down the line until it lands on MC's doorstep and they have no choice but to act -- that's exactly how they have been acting when they were stuck in NB, hasn't it? MC didn't bother forming pacts with the past version of the brothers until they were given an ultimatum, and even then, they simply relied on the convenient timing of each brother struggling with an inner crisis to swoop in, resolve the situation and tick them off their checklist.

MC in NB seems like an unfortunate culmination of everything they faced so far. They're too apathetic to care about getting sent to an unfamiliar place once again, too desensitised to life in the Devildom to reclaim their agency, and too desperate to earn the love of their former family to even think about anything else. They became so co-dependent to the demon brothers that they seem to think they cannot live without them or their affection, even if the ones they are living with in the past are different people from the ones they grew to love in the present.

The phrase "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" fits way too perfectly for the Obey Me MC. After all, MC keeps getting rewarded every time they try to get themselves killed (or even when they actually got killed). Maybe that's the only way they know how to resolve problems.

So if they can't die as the hero, they'll just learn to live as the villain.

[district3autism-moved]

did anyone else get the impression that wellie from sotr was a victim of child abuse? of course, the behaviour of a child facing imminent death and suffering would probably be pretty similar to the behaviour of a child who had been abused, but a few things made me think that suzanne wrote her that way on purpose.

first of all, wellie "recoils" as haymitch approaches her to give her his lunchbox after hers was taken by the careers. again, very normal for any child in her circumstances, but more indicative of something deeper when read with other evidence.

she immediately apologizes for the district 6 chariot hurting louella, which was obviously not their fault. she also thanks haymitch for not blaming them. apologizing needlessly and assuming that they will be blamed are both noted behaviours in child abuse victims, especially the latter.

before haymitch goes on for his interview, he promises wellie despite what he might say in the interview, he would never betray the newcomers. he specifically says, "i will never hurt you, okay?" this phrasing is very deliberate, especially since during his interview he never even implies that he would attack or betray the newcomers. wellie claims that she knows, and her eyes are "full of trust". through the lens of my interpretation, this can be taken as wellie clinging to a kind protector that she's never had before.

while her behaviour in the arena can't be taken as any indicator of how she is outside the arena, because she's literally starving to death, her extreme insistence that haymitch doesn't leave her could line up with the rest of my evidence. has she been abandoned, neglected, or left alone before? her immediate assumption is that maysilee abandoned the newcomers, not that she got separated from them by accident. wellie is smart enough to realize this and seems to be a good judge of character; perhaps her assumption was influenced by past neglect.

finally, a couple comparisons can be drawn between wellie and lou lou, who we know was tortured and abused at the hands of the capitol. they are both very thin, prone to intensity, and quiet. while none of these things actually indicate that wellie was abused, the comparison itself matters. it reinforces the idea that these little girls share similarities, and have potentially suffered in similar ways.

also: wellie comes from district 6, which is implied to be suffering from a morphling/opiate epidemic. it is not a far reach to say that her guardian could have been an addict, and consequently an unstable, neglectful, or abusive caregiver.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

can i request a hotch x two-years-old-daughter!reader? i could totally see her begging her dad to let her wear her pink, poofy princess dress when hotch has to take her to work with him. but while hotch is busy, she manages to wander off. she then meets spencer (i imagine this takes place when spencer’s just starting with the bau) & immediately clings to him lol. she’s just very giggly, bubbly, cuddly, & LOVES to play with his hair. & poor spencer is just so confused but is endeared by her nevertheless. & then hotch finally finds her & is relieved. <3

sorry it’s so long! love your works!

Aaron Hotchner X Young Daughter reader

Request: can i request a hotch x two-years-old-daughter!reader? i could totally see her begging her dad to let her wear her pink, poofy princess dress when hotch has to take her to work with him. but while hotch is busy, she manages to wander off. she then meets spencer (i imagine this takes place when spencer’s just starting with the bau) & immediately clings to him lol. she’s just very giggly, bubbly, cuddly, & LOVES to play with his hair. & poor spencer is just so confused but is endeared by her nevertheless. & then hotch finally finds her & is relieved. <3

I do love young Hotch daughter who is completely opposite to her dad. Around season 1, Hailey is alive and just had Jack.

Third person pov...

Hailey smiles as her Husband runs around after their hyperactive 2 year old, little Y/N Hotchner was a ball of sunshine and energy.

The 2 year old was excited she had a baby brother and loved to play with him, though she loved playing with her Daddy even more.

Currently the little ball of energy was running around the house away from her Dad who was attempting to put her in her clothes, she was going to work with him for the day.

The little girl was only half dressed as she ran before the man could put her trousers on, giggling she shouts "no daddy!" As the man almost grabs her, a smile on his face.

Still chasing the girl, surprised at how quick she was for a tot, though he wasn't running more like in slow motion, wanting the chase to last a little longer, it wasn't every day he got to do this with his daughter (besides he had time before work started)

From the living room, Hailey watches her Husband and daughter with a smile on her face as she held her sleeping baby, Jack was sound asleep as if nothing was happening.

As they make another loop around the house Aaron stops and hops into the doorway of the living room, back pressed against the wall, Hailey watches her husband as he made a shush motion.

"Daddy?" Calls Y/N as the tot ran past the room, a confused look on her face and she looked for her dad. Poking her head around the door she looked at her Mum. "Where daddy?" She asks a pout on her lips.

Hailey fails to hide her smile as her daughter was grabbed and thrown upside down, giggling madly Y/N yelled to be let down. "Daddy! Let go" giggling even more when her tummy was tickled.

"Never, now its time for naughty girls to be dressed" he tells his daughter smiling wickedly as he continues to tickle his daughter, the H/C girl only wiggled in his grasp.

"No no daddy, wanna wear princess dress" yells the tot, Aaron stops his attack and looks at his wife. Hailey only shrugs her shoudlers.

Ever since her birthday Y/N loved one gift in particular, it was a beautiful poofy princess dress her parents got specially made for her.

She loved wearing it every time they went out and was always careful to keep it clean. Hotch sighs of course she would want to wear it to his work.

Looking down at the sad puppy look hisbwas getting he gave in. Hanging his head he stood up Y/N in his arms.

"Okay, Princess dress it is" he declared, dramatically, while bouncing the little girl in his arms before walking upstairs with a happy Y/N "yayy" cheers the young girl.

Finally ready to go Hotch grabbed his brief case, his lunch and Y/N lunch. As he headed for the door he called for Y/N the little girl eagerly bouncing over to him as he helped her put on her light up shoes.

"Ready princess" he asks her, Y/N gives him a huge gumming smile. "Yes Sir Daddy!" She saluted him before hugging her Mum and baby brother before leaving. "Good luck" Hailey whispers as she kisses Aaron.

When they arrived at the FBI headquarters Hotch pulls his daughter aside. "Now N/N, I know your excited, but I need you to stay close to me today okay? The office is busy and I don't want you to get lost" he explains to the girl.

Y/N smiles and hugs his neck giggling. "Yes Daddy! I be good" she smiles, Hotch pats her head a smile on his lips. "Thank you N/N" the two Hotchners then walk into the busy building.

And what a pair they made, Hotch in his usual suit and red tie combo, his stoic expresson on his face. Y/N in her pink poffy dress with light up shoes waving and smiling at all the agents she sees.

Once they get to the bullpen, Y/N is introduced to the team who are all excited to meet the young girl. Soon Hotch is busy in his office mountains of paperwork to go through.

On the floor lays Y/N, the young girl had grown bored it staying in the office. She had drawn lots of pictures, played with her toys. Now she wanted to explore.

Getting up from the floor she walks over to the door and opens it quietly, giggling silently she squeezes through the gap and is now free from the room.

Giggling she runs around the bullpen looking at all the desk and the members of her daddy's team, one person stand out to her, that's person being Spencer Reid who had jsut recently joined the BAU.

Walking up to thr agent she grabs onto his pant leg and shakes his gaining the surprised Dr's attention, looking doen and the girl dressed in pink spencer gives her an awkward smile.

"Hi..?" He says Y/N grins up at him. "Hi! I'm Y/N" she tells him proudly. Spencer is taken aback how smiley Hotches daughter is.

"I'm Spencer, nice to meet you Y/N" he says, before Y/N holds her arms up to him, Spencer was confused before realising she wanted to be picked up.

Nervously looking over to his bosses office he picks the girl up and sets her down on his lap, Y/Ns smiles brightens as she was held by the young man.

The brown haired man was surprised again when the ball on energy on his lap twisted around so she could koala hug him, pressing tightly to him Spencer hugged her back.

" your nice" came a muffled voice pressed to his chest, Spencer let out a surprised laugh at that making Y/N erupted into giggles all over again.

After hugging spencer the H/C tot began moving around as he tried to work, afgwr wriggling a bit she finally settled behind him, half sitting on top of his chair and half holding onto his back.

Y/N happily played with the agents hair as Spencer worked, he was slowly getting used to the girl spending time with him.

As this happened a very worried Dad was panicking in his office trying to find his daughter, after going through everything in his office Hotch threw open his door and stepped down the ramp into the bullpen.

Morgan stood from his desk as he saw the worried expression on the man's face. "Woah woah, what's happened Hotch?" He asks the worried man.

Shoulders shaking Aaron explained he couldn't find his daughter anywhere, instead of helping Derek just laughed and pointed.

Following his arm Hotch breathed a sigh off relief as he saw where Y/N had got to, smiling he watched his daughter laugh and play with the young doctors hair.

He was glad she was okay and made a new friend. Quickly taking a few pictures he sends them to Haily who messaged back just a quick. "Some one made a new friend" chuckling he responded. "I think they both made a new friend"

Putting his phone away he went back to his office, happy to leave his daughter in his agents capable hands.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot sorry for the wait! Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word Count : 1375

[kore-of-the-underworld]

i'm honestly shocked that criminal minds never had a plane crash episode with how often the bau flew

or hell have their office blown up

[themarbledstudy]

Spencer - The Outline

📃Masterlist || WC: 4249 || Unwritten Bloodlines Series

📚 Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader x BAU!Team

📚 Warnings: Angst.

📚 Context: Retelling of the Spencer Reid prison arc but now there's a lot more at stake.

📚 Author's Note: This is going to be a long series. I really wanted to rewrite the entire Prison!Reid arc with more at stake but all the while sticking somewhat closely to the original storyline. The story won't focus solely on Reid x BAU!Reader but also on the entire team and the effort to get him exonerated. There'll be small side stories and minor events, all in an effort to get Spencer out. There are a lot of twists and turns coming into play later in the series so I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I'm trying to gauge how long to make these stories. I'm not sure whether or not to keep it short (4k) or a little longer (10k). Anyways, this one kind of sets everything up for the rest of the series.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.

Prentiss responded. “Reid’s in jail.”

“Jail?” JJ repeated.

Prentiss continued. “In Mexico.”

Spencer was in jail. The weight of it all pressed down on your shoulders like a vice. Around you, everyone exchanged confused, unsettled glances. JJ’s eyes locked onto yours—pleading for answers, but also stricken, as if the news had hit her like a bullet.

This wasn’t just a team. This was family.

In the briefing room, the team sat in tense silence. You still didn’t know what to say—or even how to feel. None of it made sense. There had to be an explanation. This couldn’t be real. You knew Spencer. You’d known him long before the Bureau.

“It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase,” Garcia read.

You and JJ sat together, puzzled.

“What? He hardly ever drives,” Emily said. “None of this sounds like him.”

You thought back to when Spence was learning to drive—he was terrible at it. Honestly, you were the better driver by a mile, which is why he rarely ever took the wheel during cases. It became an unspoken rule, a running joke. One of many small memories that now felt like a lifeline.

“Where are you with the searches?” somebody asked but you couldn’t focus on who was speaking.

Was Scratch behind this? Peter Lewis. The same guy who drove Hotch out of the bureau, not by choice but by force, in an effort to keep his son safe.

“Maybe he has a contact down there,” Stephen said.

That’s when it hit you. A memory surfaced—Spence had mentioned something about a doctor in Houston.

“It’s not in Mexico,” you said, your voice steadying with the thought. “But Spence did mention a doctor down in Houston.”

JJ’s hand found yours, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Did he say who the doctor was?”

You shook your head. “No.”

She rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and grounding. She could see how hard this was for you—how deep it cut. And in that moment, words weren’t necessary.

Out of everyone on the team, she was the one who truly understood how personal this situation was for you. From the start, she’d treated you like a younger sister—always including you, always looking out for you. You’d known JJ even before Spencer met her. Funny how small the world felt, despite the millions of people in it.

She had confided in you about everything. It had been a surprise to you both when you ended up at the Bureau at the same time—new hires in the same department, though in very different roles. She’d been brought on for her exceptional skills. You, on the other hand, had been recruited quietly, bound by an NDA, your deep knowledge of sensitive government sectors—especially those involving biological weapons—deemed too valuable to ignore.

But more than any of that, she knew about you and Spencer. Or at least, as much as you were willing to share. She was the only one who knew about the quiet, careful relationship that had formed between you and him. So when the news broke—Spencer in jail—she was the only one who noticed the way your breath caught and your eyes faltered.

Her gaze flicked to yours first. Then to Emily.

“Okay, so I dug around his desk,” JJ said. “Found a bunch of medical journal articles—no big surprise. All about alternative medicinal treatments for fighting Alzheimer’s.”

Emily had already left with Rossi and Luke; they’d flown to Mexico to see Spencer.

You took a deep breath. “Well, he told me he was supplementing her meds with omega-3s and making sure she ate plenty of leafy greens. Since it takes years for the FDA to approve treatments, a lot of holistic medicine happens outside the States.”

Garcia and Tara quietly slipped out, heading to the FBI library, leaving you and JJ alone for the first time all day.

“You’re starting to sound a lot like him,” she said, trying to lift your spirits.

You let yourself soften a bit. “I guess that’s what I get for knowing him the longest.”

JJ handed you a small, leather-bound booklet—wallet-sized and worn at the edges. “I found this in his drawer. Thought you should have it now. Something to hold onto.”

“Thank you.” She gave you a brief, comforting hug.

Opening the booklet, you found just a few photos—mostly of the three of you with Spencer. The first was from the Redskins game, the one Spencer had tried to make a solo outing with JJ before she invited you and Garcia along. In the picture, he held a cap, barely interested in the game. You sat beside JJ, who squeezed both you and Garcia so tight it looked like she was trying to squeeze the love right out of you.

You laughed softly. “Remember the Redskins game?”

She smiled. “Yeah. How could I forget? You begged me not to make you go, but once I roped Garcia in, she wouldn’t let you sit it out.”

The next photo was just you and Spencer—one he’d taken himself. It was from his first trip to New York City, the city blanketed in snow.

“Where was this taken?” JJ asked gently, trying to distract you, though you weren’t ready to be distracted.

“My hometown,” you said. “At my childhood home in Manhattan. It was his first time in the city—and meeting my grandparents. Years before we joined the Bureau.”

The final photo was just of you—standing, looking toward the camera, holding your PhD diploma tightly to your chest.

JJ had already slipped out again, searching for more clues in Spencer’s desk, leaving you to yourself.

You flipped to the very last photo.

It was the two of you at your courthouse wedding in New York City—the one you kept buried deep in your personal records, sealed away from the world, from everyone. Only you, Spencer, and Gideon knew. You were both so young then—26, compared to the 34 and almost 35 you were now. Gideon had snapped the picture as the judge allowed you both to kiss, sealing your vows in the courtroom forever.

Nobody else knew. JJ only knew you were together—nothing about the marriage. Everyone else on the team thought you were just best friends, close for over a decade.

That’s why it stung. Your husband was in jail for a crime you knew that he did not commit.

It begged the question: Did you really know him at all? (Of course you did.) This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. You just didn’t know how you’d prove it.

“Hey, JJ” Luke said through the phone.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

You were sitting next to her, foot tapping against his chair, the one you were sitting in, searching through his desk again for answers.

She pressed something on her phone. “You’re on speaker by the way.”

“I’m not sure he recognizes us,” he continued.

Your heart sank.

Stephen chimed in. “It’s the drugs.”

The phone call ended. The silence that followed felt heavier than any words could.

“He worked so hard to get sober,” you said quietly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t understand. He knows we’re here for him. He tells me everything. So why didn’t he tell me about this?”

You were unraveling by the minute. Holding it together on the outside, but inside, everything was coming apart. The sharp pang in your chest kept returning, like clockwork—reminding you just how wrong this all felt.

Right now, none of that mattered. Not the pain, not the questions. The only thing that mattered was getting Spencer out of jail—or at the very least, back on U.S. soil, where he could be within reach. Within protection. Within reason.

Everyone had gathered in the briefing room again, the air thick with tension and unanswered questions. Garcia sat at her station, typing furiously, her screen casting a faint blue glow across her face.

“I didn’t even know he crossed the border once,” she murmured, disbelief curling in her voice. “Let alone three times. What was he doing down there?”

The words hit you harder than you expected.

You’d never thought to check where Spencer was going. Why would you? You trusted him—with everything. When he said he was visiting a clinic in Houston, you believed him. You’d offered to go with him, to stay behind and take care of his mother when he couldn’t. You never once thought he’d hide anything from you.

But now?

Now it all looked different.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly unsure. He was brilliant, yes—but so were you. Maybe you didn’t have his memory, but you had instinct, and your gut told you something had been off for a while. It puzzled you—not just what he was doing, but why he didn’t think you’d eventually discover it. Maybe that was the worst part. That he didn’t try to keep you in the loop.

That he didn’t think he needed to.

“He told me he was going to Houston,” you said softly, voice barely carrying across the room. “Said there was a clinic running an experimental Alzheimer’s treatment. I didn’t know he was crossing into Mexico.”

Emily spoke over the phone. “He’s being extradited back to the States. Our jurisdiction applies—Dr. Nadie Ramos is a dual citizen.”

Everyone exhaled—quiet, collective relief washing over the room like a low tide. It wasn’t over. Not even close. But he was coming home. Back where you could see him. Talk to him. Ask him the questions that had begun circling in your chest like storm clouds.

You clutched the little leather booklet JJ had given you earlier, the edges soft from wear. Your thumb brushed over the picture of you and Spencer in the snow outside your childhood home, his arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go.

He was your husband. No one else knew. Not JJ. Not Garcia. Not even Emily. It had been your secret—sacred and quiet, sealed in a courthouse years ago with Gideon as your witness. You loved him. You still did.

But now, sitting in that room, surrounded by people trying to unravel his actions, a small crack had formed inside you. And no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, one aching question kept rising to the surface:

What else didn’t I know?

You wanted to believe in him. You needed to believe this was all a misunderstanding. But for the first time, you weren’t sure if the man you’d married had trusted you enough to tell you everything.

And that, somehow, hurt more than the rest.

On the Jet

On the jet, the hum of the engines filled the quiet space between them. The calm after everything wasn’t peaceful—it was too still, too fragile.

“I’m glad you sound like your old self again,” Emily said gently, her voice carrying more meaning than the words alone.

Spencer offered a faint smile. “Me too.”

She watched him for a beat longer than necessary, then turned her eyes back to the folder in her hands. “We can stop by the BAU when we land,” she continued, tone shifting into something more procedural. “But after that, we’ll be taking you to the district. You’ll be processed at the federal jail.”

A heavy pause settled over the cabin.

Spencer sat motionless for a moment, then parted his lips—as if something needed to be said. But nothing came. The words caught in his throat, dissolving before they reached the air.

Does she know?

His gaze lingered on Emily. She hadn’t said anything… not about her. Not about them. But something in her tone, in the way she kept looking at him—like she was waiting for something—made his stomach turn.

The silence stretched, filled with unspoken truths. And for the first time since this nightmare began, Spencer wasn’t just worried about getting out.

He was terrified of what he might lose when he did.

At the BAU

You were still in the briefing room, eyes scanning over Spencer’s old personal records—files you'd read a hundred times before but suddenly felt like you’d never really seen. Everyone else had gathered near the elevators, waiting for his arrival. You couldn't bring yourself to leave the room yet. Not until you were ready to face him. Not until you understood something—anything.

Down the hall, JJ was the first to hug him. Garcia followed, then Tara. The moment was brief but heavy, each embrace carrying more than words could.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked quietly, glancing toward JJ, his voice unsure.

JJ gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “She’s in the briefing room. I’ll go get her.”

A gentle knock pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see JJ leaning in the doorway, her expression soft, careful—like a mother coaxing her child from behind a locked door.

“Spence is here,” she said. “He’s asking for you.”

Your legs moved before your heart caught up. You followed her silently through the hallway, your mind racing, your chest tightening with every step.

He stood by the elevator, flanked by agents, his hands still cuffed but draped in an FBI jacket—as if that could hide the reality. But it didn’t. Not even a little. That’s when it hit you—not like a blow to the chest, but a fracture through your whole life. Past, present, future—all cracked at the foundation.

His eyes found yours instantly. And in them, you saw the same thing reflected back: this isn’t just bad—it’s personal.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. The room faded around you. Emily was already speaking with the team about legal protocols, the logistics of his protection. But none of it reached you.

Luke stood close—close enough to maintain control, far enough to give a sliver of privacy. Spencer leaned in just enough to whisper, voice low and urgent against your ear.

“You can’t get involved,” he said. “You have to go. Witsec.”

You pulled back slightly, trying not to make a scene. “Spencer, no. I’m not leaving. I need to be here—with the team. With you. I’m going to find out what’s going on. We’re going to fix this.”

He shook his head, locking eyes with you—his gaze desperate. “Y/N. Baby. I want you here when I get out. If Scratch is behind this... he’ll come after you next. He pushed Hotch out of the only place he ever felt in control. He’ll do the same to you. We can’t let that happen.”

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t let the tears fall. You held the line, even if it felt like it was breaking inside you.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly. But there was something in his tone—firm, commanding. The same tone he used with unsubs when he couldn’t afford to lose control.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, just once. Soft, grounding.

“You’re strong, baby,” he whispered. “Stay long enough to let things cool off… then go.”

You shook your head, the denial barely visible but full of meaning. “I can’t. I won’t.”

He looked at you—really looked at you. There was a plea in his eyes, something raw and afraid and protective all at once.

“Please.”

But still, you didn’t move. You just shook your head again, the smallest gesture that meant everything.

You weren’t going anywhere. Not yet. Not without a reason.

JJ stepped in, trying to ease the weight in the air, her voice light but laced with care.

“I took my boys to see your mom. Garcia made sure she’s been eating every night. Y/N handled the nurse situation—you know how she is. And she’s been keeping an eye on those early trial studies you were so interested in.”

Spencer offered a small, grateful smile. He meant it. He appreciated it all. The care, the loyalty. The way the team—his family—had stepped in. And especially you.

But his eyes never left yours.

Not for a second.

It was like the two of you were having an entirely different conversation—one without words, just looks exchanged with the weight of everything left unsaid. He was asking you to listen. To leave. To protect yourself. You were asking him to stop. Let you stay. Let you help. For better or for worse.

JJ’s House

JJ stepped quietly out of her sons’ rooms, the soft hum of a white noise machine trailing behind her. They were finally asleep. Will was still on duty for a few more hours, so she’d called in reinforcements—their boys’ favorite person outside of family: Aunt Y/N.

You’d come without hesitation. And being godmother to Henry? That had been one of the happiest surprises of your life.

Spencer had been a little more hesitant when JJ asked him to be godfather, unsure if he could live up to the role—but he said yes. Of course he did.

You smiled, remembering the moment at the hospital when Henry was born.

“You’re gonna go to Harvard,” you had whispered, brushing a finger over his tiny hand. “I’m sure of it.”

JJ laughed from the hospital bed, cradling him against her chest. “You hear that, little guy? Ivy League already.”

“Harvard?” Spencer had scoffed, seated beside you with his usual edge of sarcasm. “I could get him into CalTech with one phone call.”

“Don’t worry, JJ,” you’d replied, shooting Spencer a mock glare. “I’ll make sure he goes to the better school.”

Spencer gave you a look—whatever written all over it—but you caught the twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He knew exactly what you were doing. The Harvard-CalTech banter was an old dance between you two.

Will had just laughed then, standing beside JJ with awe in his eyes. “Kid’s already got more love than he’ll know what to do with.”

And he was right.

Back in the present, JJ moved into the living room where you were curled up on the couch with a mug of tea. She smiled, soft and tired.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Always,” you said. “They’re angels.”

She nodded, sitting beside you. For a moment, the house was still. The kind of stillness that only came when kids were asleep and the grown-ups could breathe again. But beneath the quiet was something else—a subtle knowing in her eyes.

“You holdin’ up alright?” JJ asked, her voice low, careful.

Your fingers tightened around the mug. You didn’t look at her, not right away.

“Not really,” you admitted. “But I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

You tried to brush it off, but your voice cracked at the edges. The weight of everything—Spencer, the silence, the fear—hit you all at once. You dragged a hand over your face, as if wiping it away would help.

But it didn’t.

The first tear slipped down without permission. Then another. And another. Until you weren’t just holding back—you were falling apart, quietly and fully, for the first time that day.

JJ moved closer without hesitation, handing you a tissue and rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. She didn’t speak at first. She didn’t need to. She knew the language of grief and pressure far too well.

You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “He wants kids, you know?”

She stilled, letting you continue.

“We talked about it one night… years ago. We were at a Target, of all places. Just wandering around. He was standing in front of the baby clothes, touching this little onesie with dinosaurs on it.” You laughed faintly, choked by tears. “He leaned down and whispered something about our future kids. We’d only been together officially for a couple of months. But he meant it. I felt it.”

JJ smiled softly, her own eyes glistening with emotion—not just for you, but for Spencer too.

“You’re all he thinks about, you know?”

You looked at her then, something searching in your eyes. Needing more.

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to tell you—but because the story in her mind was his. And yet… it was yours too.

“Emily and I once took him to an outlet mall in Virginia,” she said slowly, settling back into the couch. “You were in California on that expert witness thing with Hotch. We thought it’d be good to get him out of the office for a few hours. Big mistake—he was miserable in the sun, whining about exposure and bacteria on food court tables.”

You cracked a weak smile, letting her keep going.

“We stopped into a store—Emily wanted to look for baby clothes for Henry. Nothing serious. We were goofing off. But then we turned around, and there he was. Just... standing there. In front of a row of cribs. Reading every label like it was a bomb manual. Safety ratings, materials, recall notices—everything.”

You stared at her, stunned. You hadn’t heard this before.

“I asked him—jokingly—‘Thinking about having kids?’” JJ paused, her smile faltering a little. “He didn’t laugh. He just nodded. Said, ‘We both are. Just waiting for the right time.’”

Silence filled the space between you. Heavy, tender, real.

It was the kind of story that cracked your heart wide open—not just because he wanted a future, but because he was already planning for one.

With you.

And now, everything felt so uncertain.

JJ leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees as the soft hum of the living room settled around you both.

“You know,” she said, voice low and careful, “I’ve known for a long time.”

Your eyes flicked toward her. “Known what?”

There was no accusation in her tone—just understanding.

“You and Spencer.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes softening. Of course she knew. Part of you had always known that she’d figured it out—years ago, even before you'd had the courage to call it what it was. But JJ had never said a word. Never pushed, never teased. She just… let it be.

Because she respected you. Respected him. Respected whatever it was the two of you were building behind quiet glances and unspoken promises.

JJ offered a small, knowing smile. “I don’t think you ever really meant to hide it from me. Not intentionally. But you never told me either.”

You sat in silence, heart picking up pace.

“I figured it out in Boston,” she continued, her gaze drifting like she was watching the memory play out in front of her. “That case with the museum director’s daughter. We were all running on fumes—late nights, freezing cold. The kind of case that lingers even after it's solved.”

You remembered. That bitter wind off the harbor. The endless hours in the field. And the final, quiet relief when it ended.

“Everyone was getting ready to pack up and head out. I was across the street grabbing coffee when I saw you two walking back to the precinct. Just the two of you. Laughing. He was carrying your bag for you, which wasn’t weird—Spencer’s always been thoughtful—but something about it was... different.”

JJ’s voice softened as her eyes returned to yours.

“He leaned in a little too close when he said something to you. You laughed, and then—he looked at you like you were the only person on the planet.”

You swallowed.

“And when you thought no one was watching,” she added, “he kissed you. Quick. Barely a second. You were behind a row of parked cars, and it was dark enough that I think you thought you were alone.”

Your chest tightened. You remembered that kiss. It had been spontaneous, a quiet moment in the dark—Spencer’s gloved fingers brushing your cheek, your lips meeting his just once before you both slipped back into your roles.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” JJ said. “Not because I didn’t care. But because I did. I knew what that moment meant. That kind of quiet love—it’s the kind you guard with your whole life.”

You blinked rapidly, throat tight.

“I saw it again, after that. Not always a kiss. Usually just… the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking. Or how your voice softened when you said his name. It was subtle. You two were good at keeping it quiet. But it was there.”

JJ leaned back slightly, exhaling.

“I didn’t need a label. I didn’t need the details. I just knew.”

You wiped your cheek with the side of your hand, voice barely audible. “I didn’t thought we hid it well.”

JJ gave a quiet laugh. “To most people? You did. But I’ve always paid attention. Especially to the people I love.”

There was a pause before you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought he told me everything.”

JJ’s expression shifted, more serious now. “He probably thought he was protecting you. That whatever he’s holding onto… maybe it felt safer for you not to carry it too.”

“But we’ve never—” your voice broke, and you tried again. “We never kept secrets from each other. At least not like this.”

JJ leaned in, brushing your hand gently. “I know. And I don’t think it’s about not trusting you. I think he’s scared. Of what it might cost. Of dragging you into something that could hurt you.”

You let out a long breath, eyes glassy. “He doesn’t get to choose what hurts me.”

“No,” JJ agreed softly. “But love makes people do irrational things. You and I both know that.”

She gave your hand a final squeeze.

“And no matter how far he tries to push you away, you know in your heart that you could never live– wouldn’t ever leave.”

[crows-king]

I've been thinking a bit about how Galinda and Fiyero work as foils(?), and the contrast between their goals, personality, and their relationship to social influence individually change how they navigate their specific social situations.

And why it puzzles me when people judgmentally compare them and what they'd do in "What-If" scenarios as a gotcha to make one seem better/worst. Because in my mind they are similar but not comparable, because they fundamentally have very different personal stakes.

Primarily because of the difference in how they act in an Active (Galinda) vs Passive (Fiyero) approach to social engineering. And also, because one of them in writing is more developed as an individual than the other.

I'LL MOSTLY BE TALKING ABOUT: WICKED MOVIE - PART 1

Galinda is inherently Active. She has wants and desires that she's driven to achieve, and so actively plays the part of the good socialite because it will help her become more popular and to eventually become "Galinda the GoodSorceress". "It's not about aptitude, it's about the way you're viewed", and so on. It’s the one thing she knows she’s good at.

Of course, she also likes the attention and validation, but her charms doesn't come as naturally as she wants others, and probably herself, to believe. (I love that quote Ariana said somewhere about how "Galinda sees herself as a graceful swan, when she's actually a very stiff, but still beautiful swan", or something of that sort). She's insecure that she’ll lose people's favour and thus her most important asset, so she continually appeals to them. It's an act that she simultaneously enjoys doing for the most part, but also traps her from ever being truly close to anybody for fear of being known and not meeting expectations and losing that adoration. Until Elphaba that is.

Because of her drive to fulfill her dreams and to keep her best asset, and personal desperate need for validation, she has a much more obvious internal conflicts when she has to choose between Elphaba/the moral good vs keeping with the good graces of authority and/or the public. She's more prone to being influenced by others, and many of her choices become a calculated risk. She’s often times selfish and chooses her own desires, but it’s what makes her such an interesting and very human character. The struggle she balances when she’s forced to choose for better or worse.

In contrast

Fiyero is Passive. Dancing Through Life is literally him telling others that being lazy and not thinking is the best way to cope and enjoy life by ignoring problems. He is discontent with his life, but doesn't really acknowledge it until Elphaba reads him. Much like Galinda he is also playing a part, but it's not as tightly controlled as Galinda because he doesn't have an end goal for it.

Of course, while he probably doesn't want to lose his princely privileges. His passive "brainless" approach doesn't really put him in risky situations that would put him in conflict leading to losing things he cares about, because he really doesn't have a lot to lose. (Which is a byproduct of the fact he is primarily written as a love interest side character without much of an arc or motives outside his love triangle relationship to Elphaba and Galinda).

What confounds me is when people compare them and judge what their choices would be in if they were placed in pivotal moments, because we never really see them in situations with similar stakes.

For example, the Lion Cub scene. Most people interpret this scene as an act of braverism and heroics by Fiyero. And in some part it is, he's spurred on to save the cub, and he and Elphaba do. But it's telling that he only does this after everyone is asleep and there are virtually no risks. Any present social or physical conflicts that could arise? POOF! Gone. The worst that could probably be done to them is being punished, or even kicked out, if they’re discovered afterwards. Which Fiyero is not new to and doesn't really care about, and while maybe uncertain for Elphaba, is also unlikely because she's Morrible's irreplaceable pupil.

Some people use this scene as evidence that under his facade, Fiyero is secretly valiant like Elphaba thinks so. But I think in actuality tells the opposite. It reveals that Fiyero does care about the Animals, yes. But, the fact he only acts when prompted and there are no longer any present risks initially makes him seem less brave than Elphaba, and even Galinda. Because it contrasts with the Ozdust dance scene between the girls. Where Galinda had to make an active choice to do the risky and brave thing as an apology for hurting Elphaba, and offer to truly connect with her in front of everyone with the possibility of social out casting. She has an obvious internal conflict and risk assessment where she ends up picking the moral good over her personal comfort and social appeal. I'm genuinely curious on what kind of choices Elphaba, Galinda, and Fiyero might have done in that situation if they weren't given the perfect out by the magic poppies.

Would Galinda have helped in with the lion cub if she were awake? Probably, but who knows? Because in the narrative, Galinda isn't really put in a situation where she could choose good without being watched or without someone breathing down her neck. The prospect of being punished and kicked out from Shiz would also be most plausible and ruinous for Galinda. Morrible would definitely use it as an excuse to kick her out, or at the very least punish her, if she could, and it could throw away her only chance of achieving her dream of becoming a sorceress. She would have probably joined them in the end, though. If only to make sure they were safe. Compared to Fiyero, she has more conflicts of interests because she has personal aspirations and influence based on her reputation, and thus have more fears and consequences to consider in losing it.

Would Fiyero have joined Elphaba on the broom? Maybe, mostly likely. Because narratively, he’s never given a reason why he shouldn’t. He doesn’t see his worth and his skills intrinsically tied to public influence and opinion. He doesn’t have any wants or wishes he would have to abandon. He’ll have to leave his friends and family, but it’s not shown how close they really are to him outside Feldspar, his Horse friend, and he’s probably joining them anyway. He’s definitely more equipped to survive on the run compared to Glinda. Unlike Glinda, who is proven right in the end to being most useful when she can wield her powerful social influence For Good, Fiyero would probably be most useful as a sidekick to Elphaba. He was always written to be Elphaba’s follower, it’s no surprise. It’s also easier to take risks when you don’t have much to lose. But I think most people would agree that would make a less interesting story.

[stemms]

After rewatching season three of TOH, I’ve noticed an interesting detail. So, as we all know, Hunter has a hair strand reminiscent of Caleb’s that he cuts off at the beginning of ‘Thanks to Them’ to stop being reminded of his abuser and heal properly. Yet, the very moment he’s possessed by Belos, the hair strand grows back.

Although it’s a subtle detail, it encapsulates Belos and Hunter's relationship perfectly: Belos is in complete control of Hunter’s actions, appearance, and future, while Hunter is a vessel to be moulded at the former’s whim. Additionally, it may symbolise Hunter’s struggle to leave his traumatic memories behind and heal. Given that he’s lived his entire life in Belos’ company, his trauma and conditioning simply cannot vanish the moment he gains physical freedom from his abuser. Healing takes a long time, and his abuser’s return isn’t helping at all.

If we compare Hunter’s hair strand from season two and ‘Thanks to Them’, we’ll notice that they’re not identical.

As you can see, it descends into the middle of Hunter’s forehead instead of being positioned to the side like it used to. Guess who else has a hair strand in this exact area. Belos.

The bastard grew it out the very moment he gained control over Hunter’s body, just to mark his ownership over the boy and flaunt it to his friends. Also, remember how Hunter cut his hair short in the intro because his hair length reminded him of his traumatic past? Belos also grew out the rest of the boy’s hair (maybe not as long, but still), possibly to let him know that he’ll never be free, and most importantly, himself.

After breaking free from Belos’ control, Hunter’s hair strand returns to its original side position, which symbolises that he accepted his grimwalker roots, but made sure to remember that he’s his own person, not the tool or property Belos reduced him to. Considering how much happier Timeskip Hunter looks, it’s quite possible that he eventually started associating that part of his hair with something much more positive, rather than with pain and shame.

[magewritesstories]

[ SPENCER REID ] IT'S BASIC MATH, REALLY

cw. my continuation of unit chief!spencer reid x gen z!agent, in this installation you try to explain girl math to him [fluff.] wc. 601 (it's a small blurb)

SPENCER REID KNOWS MATH; HE HAS A PHD IN IT TO PROVE SO. But somehow you've managed to stump him (which happens more often than the genius would like to admit) with the concept of what you call 'girl math.'

It started when you walked into the small crowded bar near the Quantico building where the team had decided to meet up after a particularly satisfying arrest.

You strutted into the room in a pair of gorgeous, expensive-looking shoes, and of course, Penelope had to comment on it.

"Oh my God, Y/N," the blonde practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug, "You look even more gorgeous than usual—I love, love, love those shoes!"

You let out a soft laugh as you joined the rest of the team at the table with a quick greeting. "Thanks, Pen, they were actually pretty cheap," you reply, "I got 'em at Bloomingdales."

"Really?" JJ asked, joining in on the conversation, "Were they having a sale?"

"Nope, but they were only $156," you answer.

Spencer raised his brows in surprise, "You think $156 is a cheap price for one pair of shoes?"

"Mhm," you hum as you take a drink that Luke hands you, "It's girl math."

"Come again?"

"Girl math," you clarify, standing closer to him so that he can hear you over the loud music.

Spencer leans towards you instinctively, genuinely curious about whatever 'girl math' was.

"So, basically, these shoes cost $156, right?" you say as he nods along, "But they're comfortable and cute, plus they go with like four different outfits, which means I'll be wearing them a lot. In the coming month, I'll probably wear them, like, 10 maybe 15 times. Which means that they actually only cost me around 10 to 15 dollars—you know, if you divide 156 by the amount of times I wear them."

"But you don't pay for the shoes in installments," Spencer replied in confusion, "And your shoes aren't a car, the amount you walk in them doesn't depreciate their value like mileage would a car."

You shrug as you take another swig of your drink. "But this way, I make myself feel better about spending $156 on shoes," you reply with a grin.

"So it's a form of consolation?" he replied with a small grin playing on his lips.

You roll your eyes as you give him a soft shove, "Shut up, Dr. Reid."

Spencer lets out a laugh at your playful eye roll.

"Well, either way, you do look nice in them," he said.

"You sayin' I don't usually look nice?" you teased, leaning even closer to him.

The close proximity suddenly made him realize the rest of the team had magically vanished from the table.

(Luke and Penelope had managed to drag JJ and Emily to the dance floor, while Matt, Tara, and Rossi were making conversation with the bartender.)

"Silence, really, doc?" you continued, feigning a hurt expression, "I'm hurt."

"I—I—What, no!" Spencer quickly replied, turning back to you, "That's not what I—what I mean was you look nicer than usual—not that you don't usually look nice or anything—"

You laughed, throwing your head back just a little, as you stopped him from digging himself an even deeper grave. "Calm down, Spence, I was joking."

You put down the now empty glass and grabbed his arm. "C'mon, you need to loosen up, let's dance."

Spencer let you drag him to the dance floor, where he pointedly ignored JJ and Emily's surprised faces as well as Luke and Penelope's eyebrow wiggles.

He was never going to hear the end of this.