#but i kept convincing myself that The Church as an institution could somehow be good despite how evil everyone running it is

[canary-prince]

If you catch me posting Bible memes I'm not turning into a Christian or whatever the fuck I was before my intense spiritual crisis 2 years ago (or was it three)? I went to school for academic theological studies (analysis of religion from an exterior view point) and recent books have me nostalgic and hyperfixating.

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter nine: “Fuck it, I love you”

Word count: 8,2K

Summary:  (Y/N) is struggling with her feelings for Spencer, and being just her friend might be harder than she thought. Spencer feels everybody but (Y/N) knows he is in love with her, and for a second, he is sure he will lose her.

Warnings: Cursing, angst frustration, mention of S03E09 (Penelope), usual Criminal Minds content.

A/N:  Hello my dearest friends! hope you are having a great week, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. All feedback is welcome!

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

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(Y/N)'s point of view

Since Rossi joined the team, we were as busy as we had been in a long time. We didn't have much free time, and most of the cases took us out of Virginia. But, it was our job, and we all liked it, which is why none of us complained much. No one but JJ, who still tried to keep her relationship with Will a secret.

On the bright side, all that traveling and working with the team got us even closer. Having Rossi there gave us a boost to be better at what we did and be even better friends. We had to spend a lot of time together, and by the look in David's eyes, you could tell he was surprised by how good we all got along. At least most of the time.

We were in Florida trying to find an unsub who kidnapped and mutilated women when it happened. After knowing them for over two years, Garcia and Morgan had a fight. A real fight.

- "Hey, how is it going with Father Marks? Any of the volunteers jumped out at him?"- I asked Morgan when I found him at the station after a long day trying to find a lead that might take us to the unsub or the victims.

- "Not yet"- my cellphone rang that second, and Garcia's voice at the other side of the line gave me more info on the case.

- "I'm still running the particulars of our homicides though vicap. Nothing so far."- she announced.

- "Ok. I just sent you the volunteer search list"- I walked from Morgan and sipped my coffee, feeling there was something off.

- "Ok. And I'm cross-checking the names against mental institution records."

- "Pay attention to individuals who were involuntarily committed in Florida. Rossi is convinced our unsub is the type that likes to stick close to home."

- "Got it. Talk to you later."

- "Wait, PG. You usually call Morgan about these kinds of things. Is everything ok?"- I whispered though I knew Morgan was paying a lot of attention to what I was talking about on the phone with Garcia.

- "God, I hate profilers"- she groaned at the other side of the line.

- "Come on, tell me."

- "Fine. I met this guy in the coffee shop I go to every day. His computer crashed, and I helped him fix it. He flirted, I flirted, and he asked for my number, and somehow I gave it to him 'cos he was incredibly hot and nice, and did I mention he was smoking hot? I didn't think he was going to call, but he did, which was surprising 'cos these things do not happen to me, sweet cheeks, never! But it did! And when I told Derek, he just told me I have to blow him off 'cos it's too weird."

- "What!?"- Penelope spoke so fast she didn't even breathe.

- "Yes! Just because he wouldn't hit on me doesn't mean another hot guy wouldn't! And he made me feel like I don't deserve anyone's attention."

- "I'm gonna kill him,"- I whispered and turned around. Derek wide opened his eyes and shrugged, not getting what was going on.

- "Don't. I'll take care of him when you guys come home."

- "Well, take care in the mid-time, and I'm here if you need to talk."

I hung down and sighed. Morgan looked at me, knowing I knew what happened between the two of them.

- "So?"

- "You fucked it up,"- I whispered and smacked his shoulder.

- "Is she furious?"

- "She's hurt. That's actually worse."- Derek sighed and shook his head.

- "What do I do?"

- "You mean, other than to apologize?"- I walked with him to get Hotch and tell him what Garcia had just informed us- "Think big, 'cos you really fucked it up."

- "What does Reid do when he fucks things up with you?"- Morgan asked, and I could sense the innuendo hidden in his words.

- "He doesn't do a thing, 'cos he never fucks up"- I answered with a pleased smile and turned to Hotch. It was time to catch a killer, not time to argue with Derek.

I always thought Morgan and Garcia were the greatest friends I had ever met. I could envy their relationship, especially 'cos they could be so flirtatious and so adorable, and at the same time, you knew their friendship was sacred.

I envied that. I don't think Penelope felt for Derek the way I felt about Spencer. That's why I was sure I had fucked it up. I didn't have to catch those kinds of feelings for my best friend, and I felt I had to find a way to get rid of them. I had to stop having a crush on Reid.

Those weeks had been challenging and yet amazing. It was awful knowing I had a crush on my best friend, but I was really enjoying all the time we were spending together. We had been sharing rooms for the last two cases, and that meant endless sleepovers with Spencer. After a long day, we would meet in our room and just share candies, ice cream, pizza, movies, whatever we needed to decompress.

If things had been too hard, I would lay with him on his bed and just cuddle for a while before going back to my bed. More than once, I fell asleep with him, feeling his fingers playing with my hair as he read. I always apologized the following day, but Spencer kept saying he didn't bother, that he had slept well and that I could always count on him whenever I felt bad.

Knowing I had never done that with Mikey or Frank more than a handful of times in all the years we had met each other made me feel like the shit. Sure, I could sleep in the same bed with them, but not the way I did with Spencer. This felt intimate. Serious. Real. Waking up in Spencer's arms was the best way to start my day, and each time it happened, it made me feel worst and worst 'cos I didn't want to ruin the best friendship I ever had over a silly, stupid, meaningless crush.

Each time it happened, I promised myself it would be the last one. And each time I did, I ended up falling into his arms again. It never meant anything sexual. It was just sharing a bed, cuddling. Holding each other. It was all the intimacy I always refused to share with other people. And I guess that's what freaked me out the most: how vulnerable I was with Reid and how much I enjoyed it for the very first time. Ever.

- "Hey,"- I heard Spencer whisper when we landed. I was curled up on his chest on the couch on the plane, as usual after a long case. I scratched my eyes, probably messing with my makeup, and smiled at him.

- "Sorry... you must have been awfully uncomfortable."

- "Not really. Besides, you looked like you needed a good nap,"- I chuckled and shook my head, sitting down correctly.

- "Next time I drool on your jacket, please wake me up,"- I collected all my things and took a look around- "What time is it?"

- "Almost midnight,"- he announced and stared at me as he held his go bag and put on his jacket- "Do you want to grab something to eat before you go home?"- and I nodded, thinking that was exactly what I had in mind.

But life had other plans, and this time it had nothing to do with us. We were about to get out of my car to catch a late dinner when I got a call from Hotch telling me Penelope was in the local hospital. Spencer's cell phone rang at the same time, and JJ announced the same. We looked at each other for a moment, scared of the worst, and all we managed to do was to get buckled up and drive to the hospital. We both needed to know Penelope would be ok, but all we knew was that she had been shot, and the doctors were doing all they could to save her life.

As soon as we reached the waiting area, we met Aaron and JJ. They looked as worried as we were.

- "She's in surgery,"- JJ announced, and I hugged her immediately- "There's no word."

- "This is crazy,"- Spencer whispered as I felt JJ's arms tighten around me.

- "I can't believe it! I talked to her before we took off."- I murmured and closed my eyes.

- "What do we know?"- Rossi asked, walking over in a hurry with Prentiss.

- "Police think it's a botched robbery,"- Aaron explained.

- "Where's Morgan?"- Emily asked, looking around the hall.

- "He's not answering his cell,"- JJ replied, and Spencer took his phone right away.

- "I'll call him again."

I looked at him as he walked away and turned to my friends. Emily and JJ were doing their best to stay strong, but it was clear they were fighting the tears back, just as badly as I was doing.

Spencer walked back and shook his head. He couldn't reach Morgan. I walked to him and rested my head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him. It was unreal. I felt I was in a nightmare, and I couldn't wake up, no matter how much I tried.

- "They can't give me an update,"- JJ walked over to us after half an hour. She had been trying to get more info about Penelope's condition, but nothing.

- "Morgan's phone just keeps going straight to voicemail,"- Spencer added, and Prentiss's angry voice nearly made me jump.

- "Where the hell is he?!"

Nearly two hours later, Spencer finally contacted Derek, and in less than half an hour, he rushed into the hospital and found us still waiting for news about Penelope. He ran over, shocked and confused, and looked at us, waiting for an explanation.

- "She's been in surgery a couple of hours."- JJ whispered as soon as he stood by our side.

- "I was at church. My phone was off,"- he explained and mostly tried to excuse himself for not being there earlier.

- "There is nothing you could have been doing here,"- Reid whispered, trying to make him feel better. Spoiler: it didn't work. Morgan was getting more and more hyperventilated with every second he spent in that hospital.

- "The police got any leads?"

- "I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn't think we'll get anything from the scene."

Hotch spoke in the calmest voice he had. Morgan was about to say something but bit his tongue. Instead of yelling, he walked around the hall for a few minutes until a doctor approached us.

- "Penelope Garcia?"- and we all nearly yelled "Yes" as a desperate reply.

- "The bullet went into her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. It was touch-and-go for a while, but we were able to repair the injuries."

- "So what are you saying?"- JJ questioned as we all held our breath.

- "One centimeter over, and it would have torn right through her heart. Instead, she could actually walk out of here in a couple of days. And I'd say that's a minor miracle."

The way we all sighed, relieved at those words, was priceless and unbeatable. The doctor smiled at us and added.

- "She needs her rest. You can see her in the morning."

- "Thank you,"- I smiled at him, and he was gone. I turned around and looked at Reid. He cut me a short smile as Hotch's voice caught our attention.

- "David and I will go to the scene. I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

We all nodded right away. No one had other plans. And after those words, Hotch and Rossi were out of the hospital, and we were left waiting for Penelope to come back from surgery.

- "How are you?"- Reid whispered and handed me a new cup of coffee.

- "Scared. You?"

- "Me too"

- "Who could ever want to hurt Penny? She is adorable,"- I murmured and shook my head.

- "We are gonna find whoever did this"- Spencer held my hand and cut me the warmest smile. I nodded and looked at Derek, who stood up from his chair for the hundredth time and walked to Penelope's room to see if she was ok.

- "In case we ever fight, I want you to know I will always forgive you,"- I murmured in Spencer's ear and rested my head on his shoulder.

- "Should I be worried?"- he asked me, and I just shook my head.

- "I just wanted you to know that you will always be my best friend, Spencer Walter Reid. No matter what happens between us."

And I meant every word back then. I had no idea what was coming ahead and how much things would change within a few months.

Spencer's point of view

The attack against Penelope hit us all hard. She had been shot by the same man who had invited her out for dinner. The one she and Derek had had a fight about.

Of course, Morgan was the one who was more affected by the whole situation. I tried to comfort him, and he nearly killed me. I knew Derek didn't mean to be mean. He was just losing it and feeling overwhelmingly guilty about everything going on. He was in hell, and you could tell. I didn't want to think what it would be like to be in his place. If anything ever happened to (Y/N) and I wasn't there to help her, I would go crazy. So I understood how Derek felt and did my best to be supportive.

Those days also made it pretty evident Rossi was still shocked we were such close friends and team members at the same time. I know he was friends with Gideon, but the fact our friendship surprised him so much made me wonder how close they really were.

It didn't get better when we were all asked to stop working on the case after Hotch found an encrypted file in Garcia's system, and she ended up suspended. That's who we found out how the FBI had recruited her.

Morgan and I were at the hospital with Penelope when Hotch gave her the news and heard the story of her hackers days. Something that I bet she didn't really want us to know about her.

- "After my parents died, I... kind of went off the rails for a while. I dropped out of Cal Tech. I lived underground, basically. But I kept teaching myself code. It was like the one thing that kept me together. In the way, the bureau decided to keep an eye on me, I guess... Did you know they keep track of hackers?"

Neither Morgan nor I opened our mouths. We couldn't, 'cos we were processing the whole information.

- "They do, of the ones who have the skill to be either extremely useful or a potential menace."

- "So they offered you a job?"- I asked her, and she simply nodded- "Like Frank Abagnale. The bureau figured if you can't beat 'em, hire 'em."

- "Yeah. Something like that."

- "Garcia, what's on the encrypted file?"- Derek crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her, waiting to hear nothing but the truth.

- "I'm required to keep a record of everything the team does. And after my system got hacked and Elle got shot, I just didn't want anyone else to be able to get at you."

- "We'll talk to the doctor, see if he'll clear you to leave,"- I whispered and left the room, just in time to get JJ's call to announce we were officially off the case. It wasn't good, and it wasn't getting any better at all.

In a way, the fact we were all such good friends wasn't as beneficial to the case as it could be. It all came clear later that night. Penelope was attacked again, this time in her own house. Unfortunately, a cop was killed in the process, and if it weren't for Morgan, who insisted on crashing her couch that night, Penelope would have been dead too.

We were all at her house at three in the morning. We wanted to take her to the BAU and keep her safe, though we all knew it would be hard to explain to the authorities, all things considered. We were all just talking about what had just happened when Garcia started remembering more details about her date with her attacker, and we decided to ask more questions about it in case she could give us more info that might lead us to him.

- "Tell us about the car,"- I told her and sat in front of her.

- "Why?"

- "Just go with him"- Morgan smiled at her and nodded, trying to reassure her everything was ok. It wasn't, not even close.

- "You said it was white, 4-door, American. What else?"- I asked Penelope, but she shook her head, confused.

- "That's it. It was just a car."

- "No, come on, think. Anything. Go back."- Morgan held her hand. We could tell she was trying her best to cooperate, and he was making his best effort to be sweet and calm, considering he was losing it to catch the asshole who hurt her.

- "The seat belt was buckled behind his back. Why does that matter?"- and that was progress.

- "It wasn't a rental. It was for surveillance,"- Derek explained to her.

- "Agents don't wear seat belts. They need to get out in a hurry"- (Y/N) added and was about to add something else when Rossi walked across the room and sat in front of Penelope.

- "All right, let's cut the crap. You need to be straight with us. Right now!"- she wide opened her eyes in shock and turned to Morgan- "Look at me, not them!"- Rossi commanded.

- "I'm not hiding anything,"- Garcia whispered, astonished.

- "You got shot. Most people get shot for a reason,"- she tried to look at Derek again- "Eyes here!"

- "Ease up, Rossi!"- Morgan shouted when David raised his voice, scaring everybody in that room.

- "You got a roomful of people here willing to believe that an FBI agent has tried to kill you. We need to know everything you do on company time that we don't know about!"

Rossi yelled on her face, pushing her to tell the truth, and Garcia nearly started crying.

- "What?"

- "Come on, man!"- I guess we were all waiting for Derek to lose it and punch him.

- "It's nothing bad!"- Penelope yelled, and every eye in the room turned to her.

- "Spit it out!"- David pushed her again.

- "It's... I counsel victims' families, and they know where I work, so sometimes they ask me to look into cases for them."

- "What does that mean?"- Rossi frowned and kept his eyes on hers.

- "It just means that the cases, the unsolved ones, I tag them, so whoever's investigating them knows that the FBI considers them a priority."

- "You're not authorized to do that"- Hotch's voice was as severe as kind, which surprised us all. Rossi the most, I guess, 'cos he stood up and turned around.

- "I know. I was just trying to help."- Garcia whispered, fighting the tears back.

- "But whoever's working those cases thinks you're watching them,"- (Y/N) said in a softer voice, probably to explain to Garcia how the whole situation had ended up with her being shot.

- "I just wanted to put pressure on them so that they don't slide,"- Penelope excused herself.

- "How many cases are we talking about?"- Hotch asked.

- "I don't know. 7, 8 maybe. I need to get into my system."

- "You can't. You're suspended,"- Hotch reminded her, though it sounded more like "you are grounded."

- "Wait a minute,"- Morgan interrupted the conversation- "Garcia, on your date, you said this guy was pressing you to find out if you were working murder cases. Hotch, we gotta look at those files."

Hotch looked at David, who was still as pissed as earlier. I don't think neither of us had ever seen him acting like it.

- "I told you, I'm sick of this jagoff being in front of us,"- Rossi said to him, and Aaron nodded.

- "Dave's right. We'll go back to the BAU. Morgan, Reid, (Y/N), Prentiss, you stay here and make sure no one forgets to log out of the system. Garcia should not have access."

We all stayed in her living room as Garcia walked to her room and hacked her own system. At the other side of the screen, Kevin Lynch, the analyst of another FBI department, was fighting back, trying to protect the files, and losing the fight after a few minutes.

Later on, (Y/N) explained to me that was how they met and finally how they fell in love. I guess everything happens for a reason, after all.

We didn't catch the bad guy that day. Instead, JJ was forced to kill him. It was the very first time she shot anyone, and surprisingly, she wasn't as shook up as we all imagined she might be.

- "You do whatever it takes to protect your family,"- she said when Penelope asked her if she was ok.

And she was right. That's how we all felt for each other at that point. And somehow, we all knew we were going to prove it, sooner or later.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I had been part of the BAU for almost three years already when it happened. And I felt so stupid 'cos we had all had a rough couple of weeks, and the last thing anyone needed was another worry. We had just gotten over the whole Penelope issue; having another member of the team injured was the worst thing that could happen.

But it did.

I got shot.

We were after our unsub. George Flemming. The bastard had killed four women in less than a month, convinced God had sent him to Earth to get rid of sin. We had been after him for two whole weeks until we finally got him. But I was stupid and reckless and didn't wait for backups. I wanted to catch that mother fucker, 'cos the way he had killed those women made me madder than I had ever been with an unsub before. That's too dangerous. You can't lose yourself in a case, 'cos you lose your objectivity. You risk your life every day in this job, but that specific day, I put mine on a silver platter.

We were supposed to wait for backup. I was just checking the perimeter, searching for the unsub. Spencer was with me, but he stayed behind for a second, trying to contact Garcia to run the plate number of a car we found hidden in a barn. I should have waited for him, but I couldn't stay still and do nothing when I heard a woman screaming for help. I had to run and try to save her. I wasn't going to let George kill yet another innocent woman and get away with it. He had to pay.

- "FBI! Freeze!"- I shouted as I walked into the last room of the house and found George holding close and pointing a gun at a woman who was covered in blood and bruises but still very much alive. Which, I must say, was a relief.

- "Stay away!! I'll shoot her!! I swear I'm gonna shoot her!!"

The unsub was sweating cold; he looked sick and weak. He looked like I could definitely take him down in a fight.

- "George! Put down the gun!"- I commanded and didn't move my eyes from him.

- "You put your gun down!"

- "I am sorry, George, but I can't do that!"- I answered- "Now let her go and put the gun down before anyone else gets hurt."

- "I don't have to listen to a whore like you! Who do you think you are? Giving me commands? You are evil!! Evil!"- he shouted, clearly losing control.

- "(Y/N), where the hell are you?!"- I heard Reid asking in the earpiece, and I just shook my head.

- "That's all you've got, George? Hiding women in the back of your house and threatening them with your gun? That makes your God proud?"

- "Shut up!! You bring disgrace to Earth! You should be punished too!!"- I took a step closer slowly and shook my head.

- "You are going to be punished, George. For killing innocent women."

- "Innocent? What makes you think they didn't deserve it?"

- "What makes you think you are the one to judge them?"

I kept my gun pointed at him, but I couldn't take a shot 'cos he grabbed the victim and kept her close to him, like a shield.

- "There's a special place in hell for whores like you!"- he announced, and suddenly, all I could feel was pain. There was a second gunshot, and George was down. I took a look around and saw Morgan still pointing his gun at him from outside the room, as Spencer and Prentiss ran inside, and he moved to me and held me close.

- "Medic!! We need a medic!!"- Reid yelled frantically through the speaker- "(Y/N)! How do you feel?"

- "I'm ok, honey bunny,"- I whispered in the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my entire life- He just shot my shoulder, nothing important.

But the way Spencer looked at me, I swear that no one has ever looked at me the same until this day.

- "Don't move!"- he commanded, though his voice was soft and gentle. Prentiss took care of checking George's body. He was clearly dead. She liberated his last hostage and helped her to the ambulance while Reid stayed by my side until a doctor appeared.

- "Why didn't you wait for me?"- Spencer asked as they took me to the ambulance.

- "She needed help"- that was all I could say.

- "Please, try not to talk,"- the paramedic commanded and got me into the ambulance, followed closely by Reid.

- "I'm coming with her."

My best friend wasn't asking for permission. He was informing the medical team he wasn't going anywhere else. And by the tone of his voice, it was clear no one was ever going to change his mind.

- "That was so stupid, chipmunk,"- Spencer whispered and held my hand in our way to the nearest hospital. The paramedics kept pressing my shoulder to stop the bleeding, and I just closed my eyes 'cos honestly, it hurt too much to process what was going on.

- "I am so sorry I wasn't there with you, chipmunk."

- "It's ok, honey,"- I mumbled- "You are right. I was stupid. This is my fault."

- "Please, don't talk,"- the paramedic commanded again, and I just shut up 'cos the pain was too much.

Spencer stayed by my side the whole time. After we reached the hospital, the paramedics took me to the ER, where a doctor cleaned my wound and took out the bullet from my shoulder.

It was a clean wound, and luckily, no arteries were hit. I just got some stitches and a sling, plus a few painkillers I really didn't want to take, 'cos after Spencer's experience with drugs, I was scared of painkillers.

- "Thank you,"- I whispered to the nurse who helped me get dressed and walked out of the room to find Spencer filling up the medical forms and Morgan and Prentiss waiting for me

- "How are you feeling, princess?"- Derek asked and caressed my cheek.

- "Like a virgin"- I sang the Madonna song- "Shot for the very first time"- and though Emily chuckled, Spencer didn't think it was funny.

- "I can't believe you think this is something to joke about!"- Reid frowned, upset.

- "Calm down, honey. I'm ok, I'm alive. It was just a shot on the shoulder."

- "Just? Just a shot in the shoulder?"- and Spencer freaked out- "Did you know some of the larger vessels of the human body run through the shoulder? The subclavian artery and vein, which by the way, are the basic blood supply to the upper extremity."

- "I'm sorry, honey bunny. I shouldn't have said that."- I whispered and tried to calm him down, 'cos I knew precisely the kind of man Spencer could be when he was mad and stressed.

- "The brachial plexus is also located in the shoulder, and it's the primary nerve supply to the upper extremity as well,"- he added and didn't take his eyes from the form he was filling.

- "I understand,"- I added, but he didn't stop.

- "You should also know that the shoulder is a very complex spheroid joint, and if it's injured, it can lead to lifelong disability."

I stood in front of Spencer and placed my movable hand on his chest. That forced him to stop writing and look at me.

- "I'm sorry I got hurt. It was a mistake. I didn't mean to make you mad at me or worry. I am ok, I am here, and I promise I won't do something as stupid and reckless as this ever again. Ok?"

Spencer looked at me and sighed. Morgan and Prentiss were still there by our side, and I had the feeling that stopped my friend from saying what was in his mind. Instead, he nodded and cut me a short smile.

- "Good. Can we go home now?"- I asked, and Morgan grabbed my bag immediately.

- "The jet is waiting, pretty girl. Let's go."

The flight back home was too long. It was only a four hours flight from Fargo to Quantico. But it felt eternal. Besides, I kept doing my best to act cool and in zero pain, in a poor attempt not to worry Spencer. Little did I know, no matter what, he would be worried sick anyway.

- "I was on the phone with Frank,"- he announced and sat in front of me with a cup of hot chocolate.

- "Please don't tell me you called to tell him I got shot,"- Spencer stared at me and cut me a short smile. I closed my eyes and groaned- "Did he go nuts?"

- "No, I started by telling him you were alright."

- "Thank you,"- I whispered and sipped the cup he had prepared for me just the way I liked it, even with the little marshmallows.

- "Your mom went bonkers, though."

- "You called my mom?!"- I shouted, and everybody in the team turned around and looked at us- "Why did you do that?"- Spencer looked at me surprised and frowned.

- "You just got shot, chipmunk. Of course, I'm gonna tell your mom!"

- "But she is going to overreact!"

- "She won't! We already talked. She said she'd stop tomorrow by your apartment to have lunch."

- "Tomorrow, I'll be at work for lunch,"- I frowned, and I swear I wanted to cross my arms on my chest, but I couldn't, 'cos... I have been shot.

- "You won't be back to work until next week,"- Aaron announced from his seat, overhearing the conversation.

- "But Hotch! I'm ok!"

- "Spencer is correct. You just got shot. Take the rest of the week,"- I groaned and frowned at my boss.

- "I can still do my paperwork."- I can't believe I was begging not to get days off from work.

- "You do realize most people don't argue when their bosses give them a few days off, right princess?"- Derek took off his headphones and asked, frowning.

- "But I'm not injured,"- I argued, but I knew I was losing that fight.

- "Chipmunk, may I remind you, you just got shot!"- Spencer looked at me, annoyed.

- "But I'm fine! Look at me! I can dance!"- I was about to stand up and do a little dance, but Reid stopped me. He literally grabbed my good arm and kept me on my seat.

- "It's Wednesday. You just have to stay home Thursday and Friday. And I'll be there, making sure you won't do anything stupid."

I looked at Spencer and groaned one more time.

- "There's no way out of this, (Y/N). You are hurt, and I'm gonna take care of you."

- "Will you cook?"- I whispered and pouted, defeated. And Spencer chuckled, blushing.

- "I will definitely call and ask for your favorite food"- I tried not to smile and shook my head.

- "Oh no, no. If you wanna take the lead and take care of me, you will have to do the whole job and cook, Spencer Walter Reid."- I teased him, and his cheeks turned blood red in less than a minute.

- "Fine,"- he whispered, narrowing his eyes.

- "I can give you my carbonara a la Rossi recipe,"- David said to Spencer from his seat- "Guaranteed to heal all wounds, and special to cheer up your girlfriend, kid."

Everybody stayed quiet at the same time. I wide opened my eyes, shocked, and looked at Spencer, whose cheeks were burning red.

- "She... (Y/N) is not my girlfriend,"- Spencer mumbled and avoided looking at me for a few seconds. Rossi chuckled and turned to us.

- "You call each other cute nicknames, you are always together, you argue like I did with my first wife..."

- "No"- I shook my head and did my best to ignore Derek's teasing comments and Emily's laughter.

- "Well, you could have fooled me,"- David smiled at me, and I didn't know what to answer. I frowned and looked at Spencer, who somehow was even more blushed than he had been a moment earlier.

- "I'm driving you, by the way,"- he whispered, and I didn't really have the strength to argue against that, so I just nodded and sighed.

Spencer's point of view

I thought I was going to die when I saw (Y/N) lying on the floor, blood coming from her shoulder. Time passed in slow motion, like a movie cliché. I ran to her, and I didn't know if the perimeter had been secured. I had no idea if the unsub was dead. I would have killed him myself if I hadn't been focused on (Y/N).

Then she smiled and assured me she was ok. But that wasn't enough for me. Her face was so pale, though her smile was shining bright. So I held her and called a medic. She was in pain, and I didn't know what to do to help her.

I held her hand the whole ride to the hospital and stayed by her side in the ER while the doctor cleaned her wound and put some stitches on it. Then I walked with her to the jet, and the whole time I made my best and biggest effort to stay calm. But once we were on the air, on our way back home, I couldn't hold it back anymore. I could feel the tears fighting their way out, no matter how much I tried to keep them inside.

So I did what seemed more logical and locked myself in the backroom. I needed a minute to put myself together again before I had to continue pretending I didn't nearly lose the woman I love that day. So I washed my face and let the water run through my fingers for a few minutes, trying to calm myself down. But I failed, and the tears started falling down my cheeks anyway.

I rested my back against the door and slowly slipped down to the floor until I was sitting, hugging my legs, crying my heart out.

I knew why I was crying. It was a weird mix of fear and relief. I was scared to lose (Y/N), and at the same time, relieved nothing terrible had happened to her. I had to convince myself it was all ok, that she was there on the plane with me, hopefully trying to get some rest.

- "Spence?"- I heard JJ's voice at the other side of the door, and I quickly stood up and washed my face saying, "In a minute." I looked at my reflex. My eyes were puffed, my cheeks were red. There was no way I could ever convince anyone I hadn't been crying.

- "Can you open the door?"

- "There's another bathroom, JJ,"- I said and closed my eyes.

- "I need to talk to you."

- "I'm kind of busy here..."

- "Spence, please"- she begged, and I gave up, only because I knew she wasn't going to leave me alone. No one at the BAU seems to understand the concept of personal space.

I opened the door and let her in. The bathroom was too small for the two of us, and I didn't want to think of all the teasing I would get from Morgan if he saw us locked in there. JJ smiled and handed me a cup of coffee. I just sipped it carefully, 'cos it was very hot, and looked at my hands, avoiding eye contact.

- "Why were you crying?"- she whispered and stood against the wall in front of me.

- "I wasn't,"- I lied, but she just raised an eyebrow, and I knew it was useless to deny it- "It was a hard day, and I needed to decompress somehow."

- "Was it because of (Y/N)?"- she simply asked, and I just nodded- "It wasn't your fault, Spence."

- "I should have been there. But I stayed behind, on the phone with Garcia checking the plate of a car that didn't even matter at the end."

- "You were doing your job, and so was she."

- "But I should have done my job better, 'cos something bad might have happened to her, and I would have never forgiven myself,"- JJ nodded and reached out for one of my hands. I tried not to look at her but failed.

- "Are you going to tell her how you feel?"

- "Telling her I feel guilty she got injured won't stop her from being reckless,"- but JJ shook her head.

- "No, Spence. I'm talking about you telling her you are in love with her."

I widened my eyes and stayed still, shocked, blushed. JJ cut me a short smile and probably tried to soothe me, 'cos I immediately got all defensive.

- "What... what are you talking about? I am not in love with (Y/N),"- I whispered and prayed no one outside that bathroom had heard her.

- "Spencer, there is nothing wrong with being in love. I actually think you two would make a cute couple."

- "No, JJ, no. I am not in love with her."

- "Spence, I'm not a profiler, but you are not that hard to read. I can see the way you look at her."

- "She is my best friend."

- "But you love her,"- JJ sentenced, and I just sighed- "It's not wrong to have feelings for someone, Spence. I am sure she feels the same way too."

- "We are just friends. That's it. Thanks for the coffee,"- I added and opened the door.

I walked out of the bathroom in a rush. To avoid talking with anyone on the plane, I called Frank and told him what had happened. I also asked him for Mrs. (Y/L/N) phone number and explained the facts too. She was so scared it took me a while to calm her down.

- "I'm going to stay with her tonight,"- I said and looked at (Y/N) at the other side of the yet. She hadn't slept at all, and I knew she had to rest.

- "Thank you, Spencer. I'll be in Virginia tomorrow. I'm visiting Phoenix in New York this week."

- "Don't worry, Mrs. (Y/L/N), I'll take care of her."

- "You are the sweetest man she could have met,"- she whispered before hanging down, and I couldn't help but wonder if she knew it too.

Apparently, I wasn't hiding my feelings for (Y/N) very well. If JJ could see it, maybe anyone else could. And after what Rossi said, I didn't know if I was busted or not. I didn't know anything. (Y/N) seemed to be as shocked as I pretended to be, so I guess I felt safe. But I knew I had to watch my back now.

Of course, planning to stay with her that night didn't make it easier for me at all.

- "I'm ok, honey bunny,"- she argued and sat carefully on her couch- "You don't have to stay here with me."

- "I'm sorry, chipmunk, but you were shot. There is nothing on Earth that's gonna make me leave you alone right now."

- "Fine, then help me take a shower,"- she simply said, and I widened my eyes. I know I even held my breath at that. I stared at her from the kitchen door, on my way to make her a cup of tea.

- "Well, in that case, I, I will do... I will do whatever you need to help you,"- I whispered and made my best not to stutter. She shook her head and sighed.

- "I was bluffing, honey. But I mean it, you don't have to stay and take care of me. I'll be fine. Just go home and rest,"- but all I could do was walk to the kitchen and put on the kettle.

- "I'm not going anywhere, so... how do you feel about that carbonara a la Rossi recipe?"

- "Spencer Walter Reid, you don't cook."

- "I do cook! Do you think I've lived on take-outs and coffee all these years?"

- "Hell yeah!"- she said and chuckled. She was right, though. I wasn't the best or more experienced cooker on Earth. But for her, I could try.

- "I tell you what. What if you take a bath and relax, I'll cook you dinner, and then we'll watch a movie? Anything you pick."

- "Anything?"- she raised an eyebrow and stared at me so sweetly and concentrated, I nearly stopped breathing. I didn't trust myself with an answer, so I just nodded and looked at her. Her cheeks were blushing, and that made me feel better. Clearly, she was relaxing at home. The color was coming back to her after being hurt. That was always a good sign.

- "Even my favorite chick flick?"- (Y/N) bit her lips and caught my full attention with that simple movement. I nodded again, not really thinking what she meant with "chick flicks." All I could think of were her lips and how incredibly soft they looked.

- "Even Pride and Prejudice?"- she added, and I nodded again.

- "It's an essential piece of literature. Jane Austen was an incredible writer,"- my voice was muffled, and her eyes were shining- "Did you know In 1802, in her late 20s, Austen briefly accepted a proposal from Harris Bigg-Wither, the younger brother of two of her close friends? She rescinded it the following day."

- "Yes, neither her nor her sister ever married"- (Y/N) added, and her eyes moved from mine, traveling around the room- "She believed that a woman shouldn't get married if she wasn't in love. She once advised her niece Fanny Knight that "anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection."

Somehow, (Y/N)'s eyes were blurry with sadness all of a sudden. Her words stopped. I was tempted to hold her hands that rested on her lap but stopped myself. I was scared to give too much away, and that she suspected how I felt about her. I didn't want her thinking I was in love with her. Don't get me wrong, I was. I am. And I know I will always love her. But that night on that couch, I was afraid of her rejection and scared she might have stopped being my friend if she ever knew how I really felt about her.

- "Maybe you are right, honey,"- (Y/N) whispered and slowly stood up- "I'll take that bath after all."

- "Watch those stitches"- I quickly stood up too and just nodded, looking at her as she started walking towards her room- "I'll cook dinner meanwhile."

- "Thank you, honey bunny,"- she said and turned around just to cut me a small smile before disappearing into her bedroom.

I made my best effort with dinner. I followed Rossi's instructions to the letter. (Y/N) had a lot of food in her fridge. Unlike me, she actually cooked her own meals. She was right about me and the take-outs. I had never been a great cook, and I trusted my local Thai place with most of my dinners. But that night was different.

Pasta carbonara was pretty good, I must say. (Y/N) opened a bottle of wine, though I told her it was a horrible idea mixing drinking with the pain killers she was prescribed.

- "I am actually not taking them,"- she whispered and took a sip of red.

- "You had a major injure on that shoulder (Y/N)."

- "It's just five stitches, honey. I don't need those pills. I actually didn't even get them,"- she replied. I looked at her in awe, thinking she was way stronger than she even gave herself credit for.

- "In that case, you can have two glasses of wine and extra dessert,"- I stated, and she chuckled.

We ate in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I guess the two of us were pretty tired that night. It had been a long day, a long case, and though neither of us wanted to deal with it, we knew things could have easily gone wrong.

After eating, I cleaned the dishes and prepared a tray with a cup of herbal tea for (Y/N), a coffee for me, and two bowls of ice cream, and we cuddled on the couch to watch Pride and Prejudice. She whispered most of the lines and argued against Darcy for half of the movie. But by the end, she snuggled closer to me, and I wrapped an arm around her carefully, trying not to get near her shoulder at all. Her head was resting on my chest, and I could feel her sighing with each word that Darcy spoke.

- "What is it with you and this book?"- I asked her suddenly. She huffed and looked at me with a cut, short smile.

- "I don't know, but I've been obsessing with Darcy and Lizy ever since I first read the story. I guess the classic "fools in love" story is my weakness. How couldn't they see how much they loved each other from day one?"

My mouth fell open, but I didn't say a word. She just smiled and turned to the screen again. That was good. I didn't want her to see how flustered I was.

- "Darcy knew he loved her, but he tried to fall out of love with her, and she was completely blinded by her so-called "hate" towards him to deal with her real feelings."- (Y/N) added- "I know that's not a complex and complete study of the story but in a short version of the whole plot... I guess that's what's so endearing and addictive about it. Everyone has been Darcy or Lizzy."

- "I doubt most people can relate with having four sisters and an obsessive nervous mother who keeps forcing you to get married,"- I joked, and (Y/N) giggled.

- "You'd be surprised, honey,"- she sighed and snuggled closer. My hand played with her hair for a few more minutes until the end of the movie.

- "(Y/N)?"- I whispered when we were already in bed. I wore the pajamas I kept in my go bag and crawled into bed with her as soon as she asked me to sleep with her. Ee had done it before, it wasn't weird, and we were best friends.

There was absolutely nothing friendly with how I felt, though. But I had to put all those feelings in a box and hide them deep inside of me 'cos they were no good for our relationship.

- "What happens, Spencer?"

- "I just wanted to tell you... you scared me today,"- she sighed. We were already hugged, but she snuggled closer and kissed my cheek softly.

- "I'm sorry, Spencer. I'll be more careful, I promise."

It was such a simple promise, and I knew though she meant well, the job was always going to get in the way. Our lives were always on the line working at the BAU. And no matter how much we wanted to take care of ourselves, sometimes things were out of our control.

- "Promise me you'll be careful too,"- she whispered, and I leaned over to kiss the top of her head gently.

- "I promise I'll be careful, chipmunk."

- "Will you always come home to me?"- she whispered and sighed, dozing off.

- "Always. I love you so much, (Y/N)"- that last confession fell from my lips before I could even realize what I was saying.

- "I love you too, honey,"- she answered, her voice muffled against my chest.

I stayed still, trying to burn in my memory every second of that moment, 'cos I knew it was going to be one of my most precious memories until my last day.

–

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: June 9th, 2021

[things-with-teeth]

“And Hope That I Don’t Crash You”: The Web, The Archivist, and Control

In her statement to Jon, Annabelle Cane states, “I have always believed that the key to manipulating people is to ensure that they always under- or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans” (MAG 147). In a lot of ways, the narrative supports reading this as an admonishment against doing the later. In MAG 149, Melanie shoots down the idea that the Web has some strategy beyond “to paralyze [Jon] with indecision, sitting here terrified that everything [he does] is somehow part of its grand plan;” Jon doesn’t necessarily concede to this point, but he does admit it’s a possibility. Every time we’ve met another avatar of one of the Entities or an organization that worships them, it’s turned out that they’re not all they were cracked up to be when they first appeared on the scene: Peter can’t protect the Archives as he told Martin he would, Elias isn’t as all-knowing as he would lead others to believe, the Cult of the Lightless Flame and the People's Church of the Divine Host are both 95% petty in-fighting and about 5% knowing what the heck they’re doing. (Simon “in it for the lulz” Fairchild is sort of a breath of fresh air; he also doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he doesn’t pretend otherwise.) So maybe the Web is the same; even Annabelle suggests it, telling Jon that it’s entirely possible the Mother of Puppets is “simply sitting and reveling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia as those who hold her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory” (147).

On that note, please allow me to cocoon myself in red sting and theory: I think Annabelle has basically been engineering events since season one, and here’s why.

I want to be clear from the start: I think Annabelle is being completely above board when she tells Jon that she hasn’t influenced his decision to take statements and feed the Eye. It’s clear from the moment that he proposes the possibility that this is a bit of a reach, a desperate last-ditch attempt to convince both himself and the others that he hasn’t been acting with any kind of autonomy while doing something he knows will hurt people. He is. He does. Jon Sims is becoming a monster, and that wouldn’t be nearly as horrifying or as sad if there wasn’t some element of choice to it (and some element of inevitability to that choice, as with a lot of great tragedies, but the kind of inevitability that’s as much personally driven as externally motivated). In no way am I writing this in an attempt to say “the spiders made him do it, he had no choice.” That being said, Annabelle herself makes an argument for choice being dictated by circumstance, and I’m going to argue that Annabelle herself has dictated a great deal of the circumstance from the very beginning.

Some of this is very well-supported by the things that we already know for a fact; Annabelle, herself, admits to Jon that she’s been “been nudging something here and there to keep [Jon] safe, to keep everything on track” (ibid). I don’t think there’s much room to argue that Annabelle wasn’t the one who prevented Jane Prentiss’ plan to destroy the Archives from coming to fruition. As of MAG 123, we know that Annabelle was responsible for what happened to Carlos Vittery way back in MAG 16, the very same case that Martin is investigating when he discovers Jane in the basement of Carlos’ apartment leading up to MAG 22, and from MAG 16 we know that Jane’s presence there predates that of the spiders – Carlos says his building has an “infestation of some sort of insect [he] didn’t recognize – small, silvery worms [...] they provided a good meal for the eight-legged little monsters.” As a result, the Archives are aware that Jane is a present and immediate danger. In MAG 38, the infestation of worms in the tunnels and Jane’s attack on the archives is revealed when Jon damages the false wall while attempting to commit arachnicide, and she’s forced to attack early. This is almost definitely why she fails; Tim states that “[being inside the Magus Institute] made them weaker, and they’ve been down there for months, breeding, building up their numbers until there were enough to properly bury us. Except you found that hidden passage, and they had to act” (MAG 40). I think it’s also possible – although this is more conjecture at this point – that Annabelle was the one who sent the note that incited Jared Hopworth to attack the archives between seasons three and four, although that’s mostly because I’m not sure there’s a better candidate; Peter potentially has motive, but that kind of manipulation reads more as the Web than the Lonely. “I’m starting to think the letters were a trap,” says Jared (MAG 131), and I would argue that it was a trap, not for Jared but for Martin, meant to nudge him into looking outside the Institute for protection. It’s more-or-less explicitly stated that Annabelle sent Oliver Banks to coax Jon out of his coma: “I'm still not exactly sure why I'm here. But you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asks” (MAG 121). Annabelle has nudged, here and there, and she has kept Jon safe, and she has kept everything on track.

I think Annabelle has been influencing events in more subtle ways, too, however. Very early in the series, Jon receives a delivery which includes “an old Zippo” with a “spider web design on the front” (MAG 36). He’s suggests that Tim have the others take a look at it, but that’s quickly lost in the realization that the other item delivered is the web table, which Jon recognizes from its description. As far as I can recall, we don’t hear another mention of the lighter until MAG 111, when Gerard asks Jon if he’s “a spider freak” after Jon offers him a cigarette and, presumably, a light. This means that, three seasons later, Jon is still carrying the lighter. A lighter with a spider web pattern on it, delivered by Breekon and Hope, who may belong to the Stranger but who are certainly willing to deliver parcels for other powers (the yellow stole Father Burroughs receives in MAG 20, for instance). Jon has been carrying around an artifact of the Web for the better part of the series, and I don’t think it’s impossible that it’s been influencing him, or that Annabelle’s been using it to influence him, in ways that are much less obvious than those I’ve listed above. Mostly I don’t want to speculate as to how it’s influenced him – I straight up do not know, and like I said, my intention is not to absolve Jon of all agency in his own actions for the last hundred plus episodes – with one exception. There’s one other time that Jon’s smoking habit has heavily impacted the plot: when he steps out to have a cigarette in MAG 80, leaving the way clear for Elias to brutally pipe murder Jurgen Lietner and keep Jon “on track” in his development as the Archivist.

This is speculation, but I think it’s speculation supported by past events within the podcast, most specifically those surrounding Gertrude and Agnes.

Annabelle wasn’t an avatar of the Web back then, of course, but I still think that there’s a lot to be learned when it comes to how the Web and/or its representatives influence the course of events nominally controlled by and benefitting other Entities. In MAG 139, Eugene Vanderstock says:

The compromise we came to was Hill Top Road. We knew it was a stronghold of the Web, full of other children Agnes’ age. We would supervise from a distance but were confident she would be in no danger. The Mother of Puppets has always suffered at our hand – all the manipulation and subtle venom in the world means nothing against a pure and unrestrained force of destruction and ruin.

And that’s—that’s weird, isn’t it? We know that the Cult is at least somewhat protective of Agnes; it’s how Diego convinces Arthur Nolan and the others not only to refrain from acting against Gertrude but to protect her for so many years after she binds Agnes to her, because it might be “catastrophic for Agnes” if Gertrude were to die “a violent death” (MAG 145). In spite of that, here they are, sending their baby chosen one into the lair of an enemy power so that she can get some normal socialization and learn not to bite (or burn) the other kids. As a result, Agnes ends up tied to Hill Top Road and Raymond Fielding, even after Fielding is dead, perhaps because of an early attempt at the same kind of binding that Gertrude eventually succeeds at creating. I don’t think it’s outside of the realm of possibility that the chain of events leading up to the Cult making this disastrous decision were not entirely without influence from the Web.

Then there’s Jack Barnabas. I’m ridiculously charmed by Jack’s whole mindset of “this girl is so goddamn weird and I’m really ridiculously into it,” and I’m not going to suggest that what he felt for Agnes wasn’t real; even Jon is “ninety percent” sure that Gertrude “didn’t pay poor Jack Barnabas to fall in love with Agnes” (MAG 139), and I’m about equally certain that the Web didn’t compel poor Jack Barnabas into being head over heels for her, either. That said, I think it’s clear that the Web did have some involvement. When preparing for his first date with Agnes, Jack smells burning and notices that “within the corner of the room, where there had been a spider's web this morning, there was just a faint wisp of smoke” (MAG 67). The language in his statement, years later, is filled with confusion about his own motives and hints of compulsion: “I was drawn to her in a way I can't even explain,” “I don't know how it happened, it [asking Agnes for a date] just tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it,” “drowning in emotions that I still can't explain,” and “looking back, I'm still not sure what I would have done differently [...] I don't know if I would have had it in me to resist. I just couldn't avoid being drawn in” (ibid). Jack’s feelings for Agnes may not have been entirely manufactured, but they did receive a nudge, and the result was doubt and eventual death for the avatar and a necessary component in the ritual of one of the Web’s opposing powers.

Finally, there’s Gertrude. When speaking of the path that led her to the ritual which eventually bound her to Agnes, she describes it thus:

It was the Web. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, and I would call it an accident, but it never is, with them. It’s only after the fact that you can see all the subtle manipulations [...] I began researching what I thought was a counter-ritual of sorts. Like I said, I was young, naive. I somehow found just the right books, made just the right connections, and even got what I thought was a piece of blind good luck when I found a tin box in the ashes of Hill Top Road, containing some perfectly preserved cuttings of her hair. Of course, what I thought was a banishment ritual turned out not to be. The circle I constructed was more of a—an invitation. It let the Mother of Puppets bind me to Agnes, interweave our existences at some metaphysical level, as it had with Fielding and the house. (MAG 145)

Somehow she found the right books. Blind good luck that led her to Agnes’ hair at Hill Top Road. I would call it an accident. It’s only after the fact that you can see all the subtle manipulations – and this is Gertrude, who isn’t infallible, but who Arthur Nolan pinpoints as being “too practical” (ibid) to buy into the mystique of the Entities or to ascribe to them some greater motive, which would seem to belie the possibility that she’s falling prey to (as Annabelle suggests in MAG 147, as Melanie suggests in MAG 149) the tendency to succumb to paranoia while crediting the Mother of Puppets with some grand act of manipulation that the Web isn’t actually responsible for. I would argue that Jon has most likely been experiencing the same kind of quote-unquote happenstance that Gertrude once did, the same kind of subtle manipulation cloaked in coincidence, for the entirety of the series, all of it leading him toward whatever end Annabelle finds most desirable.

Some final notes that I couldn’t really incorporate elsewhere: I really, very much hope that Melanie’s therapy sessions really are just her getting good professional help for everything the Archives and the Entities have thrown at her, but I’m less and less certain that’s the case. Annabelle’s inception, her origin story, takes place in a psychology department. When doing follow-up in MAG 69, the archival staff find that all of the post-grads involved in the experiment have disappeared; in addition, Elizabeth “Liz” Bates, the advisor on the project, refuses to give a follow-up statement. The Web is about control and manipulation; it’s entirely possible that Annabelle has a large pool of qualified candidates to draw on when it comes to providing Melanie with a counselor who doesn’t have “cobwebs down her face” (MAG 149). I also keep getting stuck on the fact that very soon after Melanie asks Daisy not to call her “Mel” in MAG 147 because her therapist has advised her to be more open about these things, Annabelle opens her statement with “Free will is a funny old thing, isn’t it Jon? Can I call you Jon? I’m going to call you Jon.” Sure, it’s coincidence – but Gertrude was convinced, at first, that what she was dealing with was coincidence, too.

As for why Annabelle is doing this, I don’t know. Maybe the Lonely is as much in opposition to the Web as the Desolation is – after all, it’s difficult to manipulate someone in isolation – and she’s trying to impede Peter, not from stopping the Extinction but from benefiting from it, as Simon Fairchild says he will, thereby eliminating an enemy just as the Web did with Agnes and the Desolation. Maybe she’s trying to beat him to the same goal, establishing some level of control over someone beholden to the Ceaseless Watcher just as Peter is trying to gain control of Martin; Jon’s first experience with the supernatural involved the Web, and then there’s that Zippo. Maybe she has some goal all her own, some third option not yet even hinted at. Or maybe, like Jon, she’s acting on instinct, unable to do anything but “dance the steps [she is] assigned” (ibid), manipulating and spinning out her web because she’s incapable of doing anything else.

---

So I accidentally wrote 2.5k of wild conjecture about creepy spider people because I got stuck on the idea that there was a connection between the Zippo and Lietner’s death, that was fun. Shout out to @wildehacked for letting me yell about this and additional shout out to anyone involved in the wiki or the transcripts because oh goooooood would this have been more difficult to compile without being able to utilize those resources to check citations and grab most of the quotes. 

Quick edit to add a link to @caught-in-the-infinite‘s excellent alternative explanation for why Annabelle might have wanted Jared Hopworth to attack the Archives, which I think makes a lot more good sense than mine while also having even more ominous implications. 

[pocketfulofrogers]

Haunted Woman, Broken Lover Part 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers is usually a reasonable, ‘think first man’. Throw someone he cares for into the mix and that goes out the window. Now the world is left wondering what the hell Captain America has gotten himself into now. 

Notes: Part 3, no warnings. Idk I’m in the middle of moving and freaking out so have this.

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

“I think that’s enough for today.” Steve’s voice isn’t what pulls you from an old memory, it’s his hand cradling yours. The soft warmth of his fingertips pressing into your palm. There’s concern in his eyes, a crease in his brow. He closes the file you had all but forgotten about and sighs. “Would you like to talk about where your head’s really at?”

There’s a joke you’re about to let slip, one that would certainly make him blush, but it feels cheap for the moment. “Do you ever wish things were different?” You find yourself asking instead.

Your question surprises him. “Different how?”

“Do you ever wish you weren’t what you are?”

“Do you?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Sometimes.” You admit.

“Me too, I guess.” You’re shocked to hear him say. “Sometimes I wish someone else could take over. This isn’t really a life you survive.”

“I always thought of it as the sacrifice we make.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before pulling away. “Maybe.” He’s quiet for a long time, and you think you should just leave it at that. “What if we didn’t have to sacrifice anymore?”

You’re about to question him, ask what exactly that means when he makes an out of place joke, brushes off the whole conversation. 

Like him with you, you were trying to figure him out, pull back the layers the suit and name had given him and figure out who Steve Rogers really was.

Perhaps you had dug a little too deep.

**

Natasha finds you just outside the Trinità dei Monti church with a book you’re definitely not reading in your hands. It’s only for appearances as are the dark, round sunglasses and wig you don. Most of your attention is trained on the entrance of the Hassler Roma, awaiting the arrival of a man who uses his art gallery to hide the funding of terrorist attacks.

Quite cliché if you ask her

Tracking you had been the most eventful months of her year so far. She had tried to follow you through the bodies you left, but was always too late, just a step behind. She spent some time roaming Europe, then South America. Even did a week in Canada.

Then Steve had gone missing. Took an armored car and a duffle and never returned.

A tracker put the car just outside of Richmond in a field in Lorraine. The local SHIELD team reported it was intact, no signs of a struggle, but that only makes them more nervous. They tried to trace his footsteps, but lost track somewhere around Manchester.

Two hours later, Natasha was in Steve’s apartment going through everything she could find. She found a file with the name ‘Arthur Yates’ printed on the front in a locked cabinet hidden in a closet. The note you left smoothed out and paper clipped inside.

Her blood ran cold, fear stiffened her fingers and hung heavy on her shoulders. She cursed herself for not knowing, not guessing that of course Steve Rogers would take it upon himself to clear your name. The love sick fool.

Arthur Yates was a man few knew little about. What she did know came from stories you let slip after one too many drinks. You painted a picture of a powerful and obsessed man furious over the loss of his prized ‘creation’.  

One day she tried to ask you more about him and what you had called the ‘Institute’, you shut down, disappeared for a few days. 

Steve is the one who found you and brought you back.

She never asked again.

**

You recognize the soft footsteps behind you and groan. “Don’t tell me my Russian is dead.”

“It was a quick death.” Natasha quips.

“What a shame.” You sigh turning to her. “How’d you find me?”

“Tracked your hack, messy job even for you.”

You shrug your shoulders. “SHIELD had Yuri’s contacts on file.”

“Oh, cut the shit.” She bites.

You wince. “I don’t know where he is, Nat.”

She rolls her eyes. “You gave him coordinates. Did you really think he wouldn’t follow them?”

“They weren’t real! I only put Yates’ name on that stupid letter because I needed him to believe they were.” You pause to collect yourself and start again. “He’s a good man, Natasha. Everything you ever said he was and more. He never would have let me go easy.”

“So instead you left in the middle of the night. Why? Cause you started to get attached? Started to feel something real for once? It’s just a name Y/N! You are not some lifeless-“

“Do not pretend you know anything about me.” You hiss. “People who get close to me don’t just get hurt, they get killed. Yates was in DC. He was closing in. I sent Steve as far from the danger zone as I could.”

“Didn’t seem to work.”

The sudden rush of guilt causes you to look away. “He shouldn’t have been able to find anything credible. Yates covers his tracks better than I do.”

“Well he did.”

“Only because he wanted him too.”

That stops her cold, trickles ice down her spine. The thought of Steve at the mercy of a man like that was not something she had allowed herself to think about. But you? It tormented your nights and was the drive behind your days.

“Where is he.” She bites out, but doesn’t allow your response. “You can’t tell me the ‘all-seeing ghost’ hasn’t heard one thing about where Captain America is.”

You ignore her jab. “Did the Russian have a notebook on him? Would’ve been white with gold etchings, did you see it?” You press. She rolls her eyes again and you know there will be poison behind her next words, you don’t blame her. “Just tell me you know where he was staying, please.”

She tells you of a hotel three blocks east and ignore her when she questions your character, your loyalty. She’s scared, she needs an outlet. That’s why you don’t protest when she declares she’s coming with.

The walk is tense, you try to hold your tongue.

**

“Where did the name even come from?” Steve asks you.

You’re outside a crowded café in the city. High sun, blue sky, light breeze. It had taken him a solid hour to convince you to go with him. Something about fresh air. He said nothing of your disguise when you came out, not knowing why someone no one knew existed needed one, but worked up one of his own in order to show ‘solidarity’.

A local college shirt and a baseball cap worn low. The effort counted; you guess.

You had pointed out it didn’t do much to hide him, but he seemed convinced that, without the suit, it was all too easy to slip under the radar.

Still, you felt uncomfortable so out in the open. The bustling patrons, loud laughter. So many moving parts kept your eyes darting around behind your dark sunglasses. All it took though, was a single touch from him to pull you back.

This time he nudges your knee under the table with his.

You slip back into the conversation and shrug your shoulders. “Definitely not from me. Honestly, I’m not even that big of a fan of it.” He laughs at your admission.

“If you could choose, what would you go by.”

You take a moment to finish your cup while you think. “No name, just an agent.” He raises a brow. “I’ve always been solo; it’d be nice to be a part of something.”

His smile beams beneath that ridiculous cap and you wave down the waitress for refills.

**

It’s an easy building to get into. Low security, if any at all and old school locks that only take you seconds to open. You try to make a joke about missing simpler days to lighten the mood, but are only met with silence.

The door squeaks open, a testament to the lack of quality, and inside is… interesting. Gaudy red carpet and over stated gold accents. It’s tasteless and grimy and you dread having to search through his things.

Natasha stands in a corner with her arms crossed, silently seething and you’re about to reach your limit.

You find the notebook tucked under a loose floorboard and begin to flip through the pages, trailing your fingers down the margins.

“Is this really your priority right now? Your next target? Unbelievable. Steve is-“

You ball your fists, tilt your face up and close your eyes, trying to tune out her latest insults. “Do you really think so low of me?” You cut her off, voice low. “I get he’s family and you love him and he’s in danger. Alright, I get it. But if you keep coming at me like this, I’m going to kick you to the curb and go get him by myself.”

Your threat surprises her. “You’ve been tracking Yates?”

“No one can track him, but I can track those around him. Yuri had a meeting with him in Valencia two weeks ago. I almost had them both. They were communicating through a message board, coded of course, was hoping this guy wrote down the cipher.”

“Would he be stupid enough for that?”

You sigh, feeling defeated, but then your eyes catch something. “I thought so, but we’ll just have to settle for his login.” You dangle the book before her and roll your eyes when she comments she could’ve hacked that information.

**

You’re extremely good at what you do, as is Natasha, but one truth remains evident. Cracking a cipher you have no prior knowledge of because it doesn’t exist outside of one very small group of people, is difficult. The lack of privacy in this internet café doesn’t exactly help either of you.

You’re leaned over her shoulder, reading each post she pulls up. Something she only mentioned was irritating a few times.

Knowing you hadn’t purposefully led Steve into the arms of Satan himself, or that you did intend to save him, had only lessened her hurt a fraction. She still felt as if you had betrayed her somehow. At first, she understood why you had to leave, but you hadn’t returned after the dust had settled and that alone had left her reeling. She had let you in, a rare occurrence for the Black Widow.

An hour later, and perhaps Yuri hadn’t been as dense as you originally thought. Each message left was a different cipher from the last, making establishing a pattern almost impossible. Natasha had scribbled through three pieces of paper before you’re ready to tear your hair out.

Just as you’re about to call it quits, a new message pops up. Natasha groans, but you recognize it. You spent three weeks in a dark room helping develop it so long ago.

It starts with a poor attempt at pleasantries, vaguely detailed threats for taking out a partner, but the last line shakes you to your core.

“Come home before America’s soldier is no longer breathing.”

You keep your face emotionless, but know exactly what it means: trade your life for Steve’s. Give yourself up and submit so that he may have a chance of making it home alive. An exchange you are more than okay with.

The only problem was, Natasha would never allow you to do something as risky as this, something that could very well end in your death. She may be pissed at the moment, but you know with absolute certainty that she would knock you out and lock you in a cell if she had any idea you were even considering this.

So, the question is, how do you shake one of the greatest spies to ever exist?

“Look, we’re not going to figure this out staring at a screen all day. This is too complex for him to have not written it somewhere. Can you still access his body?”

Natasha scrunches her nose. “Yeah.”

“You get his phone and anything else that might be useful, I’ll turn the room and see if I can shake something loose, then we’ll regroup latter.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, selling your frustration. “There’s a printer here, right? This place is making me itch.”

**

Leaving Natasha with nothing more than a goodbye and an empty promise to see her soon, you flash her a smile, silently thank her for all the small slivers of happiness she had brought to your life. She returns it, mutters a small apology for her assumptions and a part of you aches.

You’re on a plane to North Carolina before she’s able to figure out you’ve tossed your burner and disappeared again, this time without a word.

[deilands]

The (Gas)Light of God

Before I begin writing this entry, I want to make it clear of my reasoning for composing a post of this sort. My audience is varied and some are people of faith and some are not. Some are questioning their faith and some have already walked away. I would not feign to call myself a spiritual scholar or philosopher but at times I have thoughts that run through my head that need to be put on paper. For some this may express thoughts that you’ve had before but haven’t really been able to properly attack them. For others, this may be offensive. In either case, understand that I am not attacking any individual personally. I am not trying to take anyone’s religion away from them. I am simply placing my own thoughts out into the ether. Also – one last note – I may edit this as time goes on to add to the length. But I wanted to get started at least.

Part 1: What is Gas-Lighting?

In 1944, a movie called Gaslight debuted. It starred Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer. In this story, a woman named Paula (played by Bergman) marries a man named Gregory Anton (played by Boyer) after a whirlwind romance. They are in love and they are happy and Gregory persuaded Paula to leave her home and move with him far away from her community to London where she knows no one.

Things quickly take a turn for the worse as strange things begin to happen to Paula. Things begin vanishing from around her. Paintings that were on the wall disappear, a personal broach that she had kept in a particular place vanishes, and all the while Gregory tries to convince her that she is the one causing the disappearances. She also notices that the gas lights in the house seem to be dimmer each day – except when she asks her husband about these things, he convinces her that she is just seeing things. Slowly, but surely, unable to trust her own senses – she begins to go crazy. Gregory’s end goal? To have her institutionalized so he can steal her family jewels.

Gas-lighting is now known as a number of behaviors used to control a victim by making them doubt their own reality. According to “Turning up the lights on Gaslighting” by Kate Abramson, gaslighting “is a form of emotional manipulation in which the gaslighter tries (consciously or not) to induce in someone the sense that her reactions, perceptions, memories and/or beliefs are not just mistaken, but utterly without grounds—paradigmatically, so unfounded as to qualify as crazy.”

It’s important to note that this is not usually done consciously by the abuser but as part of a grander unknown scheme that exists within their head.

I want to posit in this journal that the Christian god can, if not constrained, become an amazing element of gas-lighting and as a result can damage people in a way much more profound than from a traditional relationship.

Part 2 – It’s YOUR Fault

Instead of building from the minor examples of how the Christian narrative tends to gaslight believers, I want to start from my largest supposition and work down.

According to Christianity, the reason that the world is corrupt - that sin and death exist, that children die by the millions each year, and that enumerable atrocities both man-made and natural happen is due to one thing. You.

You are the cause in some way of this insidious destruction which leaves so many to mourn. You are the reason that God sent his only son to die on a cross. Every time you think of someone lustfully you nail again Jesus to the cross. Every time you are angry without cause at your brother, you stab another nail into his hand. After all – if mankind wouldn’t have sinned in the first place, none of this would have ever happened.

But that’s ok. God forgives you. He loves you. Just don’t do it ever again.

I want to pause and post a few of the traits of a person who is feeling the effects of gaslighting:

1)  You feel the need to apologize all the time for what you do or who you are.

2)  You never quite feel “good enough” and try to live up to the expectations and demands of others, even if they are unreasonable or harm you in some way.

3)  You feel like there’s something fundamentally wrong with you, e.g. you’re neurotic or are “losing it.”

Most importantly, a person who is being gas-lit is being convinced that their own mental faculties and their own beliefs and their own story is somehow tainted and incorrect. They are convinced that they are the one in the wrong – that they can’t even trust their own choices or their own minds.

We were taught as Christians from a young age that we can’t trust our own hearts. They are, after all corrupted by sin. Our own decision making is flawed. I’ve sung many songs about Jesus being more and me being less because when it came to who was better, the person I was wasn’t good enough and could never be good enough no matter what I did.

It was all filthy rags.

But let me ask you a question. Who is more powerful here? If the Christian God existed, wouldn’t he be?  If God is unable to create a perfect being who lives perfectly and does perfectly then doesn’t the blame fall not on man but on God? If I place a chocolate cake in front of a two-year-old and walk away after telling them not to eat it and they do it anyway – who is really to blame? Is it me or is it the two-year-old?

If God were to be the creator of the universe and were to give mankind all of the traits that express themselves as what Christians call sin and then expect them not to fall prey to those devices and THEN when they do – blame them for HIS mistakes… is this not gas-lighting?

Part 3 – Who are you to question?

Even as a Christian, the most disturbing story that I ever read in Scripture has to have been the story of Job. Imagine this – God and the Devil are hanging out up in heaven and the Devil says, “Hey, God, I betcha I can make Job curse you.”

Of course, God being all-knowing says, “Uh, I don’t take bets. Especially when I know what happens in the end.”

No. No. No. I’m sorry. That’s the way it would have happened with a compassionate God.

Sorry. God, sometimes having a penchant for gambling, tells the devil, “Sure. Go ahead. Take your best shot.”

So, the devil does. He kills and he maims and he disenfranchises Job among his friends. He destroys the life of this guy so that he and God can settle a bet that God (according to Christian doctrine) already knew the answer to.

And in the end? When Job deigns to question what the crap happened?

The perfect response from a Gas-Lighting Creator. “Who are you to question me?”

Imagine telling this to your kids. You take away everything they hold dear. I’m not talking about grounding them to their room. I’m talking about killing their favorite kitten, shredding their beloved teddy-bear, burning all of their clothes, and destroying every last thing that they hold dear. Why? Oh – because the neighbor bet that if that stuff happened your kid would hate you.

And when your child – who has been better-behaved than any child could be, asks you why? You tell him, “Who are you to question me. I’m your father. I give and I take away.”

You’d be arrested for child abuse. How many people have questioned God when their child got sick or their job got lost only to be told by well-meaning individuals, “It must just be part of God’s plan. He knows.”

That, my friends, is gas-lighting.

Part 4 – A glass of cognitive-dissonance anyone?

I think the most difficult part to recognize in all of this is that it happens slowly and methodically. We are taught by the church that we are horrible people and only believing in the God of the Scriptures will save us. We feel accepted because the words sound nice on the surface and we are hurting so much. A person doesn’t get into a relationship with a narcissist because they are mean. They get involved because that person shows all of the best things.

I can heal your hurt. I can take away the pain. I can help you lose the guilt and the shame. I can bring you joy and happiness. I can show you love.

If. And this is the truth that reveals the lie. If you will follow my commands. If you will become a slave to me. If you will let me invade your life and change your friends and isolate you from all of those people that aren’t like us. If you will give up everything – your mother, your father, your sister, your brother – to follow me. Then, I will do these things for you.

What is even more insidious is this. I don’t believe that there ever was a Christ that was crucified. I don’t believe that there is a Jehova Jireh waiting to provide if I do all of the right things and pray the right prayers. What I do believe is that a group of people, searching for answers – and eventually for power – created an amazingly powerful institution that convinced people that they were inherently evil in and of themselves.

It convinced them that they couldn’t trust their own hearts.

It convinced them that their conscience was seared as with an iron and their faculties were controlled by desires that were not proper. It told them not to question because questioning was pride. It told them to accept that all things happened for the better. “I’m only doing this for your good.”

And even more so it had a potion for all of this. Eat of this body, drink of this blood and all will be well. But is it well? Has he lived up to his bargain? Or does he simply ask for more. And more. Do you feel confused as children continue to die while prayers are lifted when the God of Mark says that you can heal the sick? Do you feel hurt while you have to explain why God was ok with the Israelites raping women?

I can’t.

It doesn’t really seem to have gotten any better to me and I want to tell you something important.

YOU ARE GOOD IN YOURSELF. You don’t need to be justified or sanctified because, let’s be honest – If God needed to let us commit atrocities so that he could send his son to die to appease himself. . . if he needed to create mankind on this little blip of a planet in this tiny solar system in a galaxy that is only one of millions of others just so that he could be worshiped? Damn. That’s the greatest gas-lighter I’ve ever heard of.

I’m sorry if this post seemed hard. I’ve heard stories tonight and they break my heart and in that I am angry.

[axelsagewrites]

Magnus Bane*Visions

Requested by anonymous:

im kinda having obsession toward magnus bane after watching the movie (godfrey gao's Magnus is love) and reading the series, so i would like to request a fic pls. where reader is a mundane with extra ability in which when u sleep sometimes u saw the future n one day u dreamed of magnus. in d distant future he will become ur boyfriend. so when u met magnus much earlier than expected, u understandably nervous. u also worry when realized he seeing another woman, camille. angst then fluff pls. Tks.

I decided to split it into two parts. I hope you like it and it may slightly differ from the request but its mostly the same idea.

Part 2 Part 3

Main Masterlist HERE

Shadowhunter Maserlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Ever since I was younger I had these dreams, these visions. It’s like I could…see the future. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true, I swear! The first one I remember is I dreamed I would get a history test next week. Next week rolled around and guess who was ready for the surprise test? Oh, me! I don’t tell anyone about it because who would believe me? Besides some of the things don’t happen till a lot later than the dreams. I once dreamed that my brother would break his arm. I was always on the lookout for him. Once id somehow convinced myself he would be fine a couple months later he broke it! It was about a year since I had that dream but it still happened. It's not every night I dream like that. I kind of know though if it’s a dream or a vision.

Recently I've started writing down what they are, just so I can prove its true. I would type them up on my laptop so the date could be added. I'm just waiting for a few more things to happen so they cant say it’s a coincidence. Last night I had this dream, this vision. Normally they're about other people but this was about me.

I was lying in some fancy bed in large room. The walls were white and the sheets and pillows were canary yellow with black accents. The room had a sparkly sheen all over it somehow. Looking around everything seemed to be a little sparkly. I was in this large bed alone through the space next to me felt warm. I sat up and scratched my head looking around. I felt tire even though I was asleep. When this happens its like I’m there but can't control my actions. I looked at the door when it opened revealing an Asian man with black hair with blue tips. He had on sweat pants and seemed to be the source of the glitter. He came over to the bed holding a tray with food. “Morning darling.” He whispered, sitting the tray on my lap. “Happy three year anniversary.” “Morning.” I smiled. I didn’t have control of what I said. It was like watching through a screen. “Did you sleep well?” The man climbed under the covers and wrapped an arm around my waist. “I always sleep well when I’m with you.” “You truly are a hopeless romantic.” “Only for you.” He smiled. “Knowing you has been the best three years if my life, babe.” Why all the pet names? I need to know his name so I can find him! “Ever since I met you I couldn’t keep my eyes away.” The vision started to fade. I was waking up. “I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” “I love you too, Ma-“  

I woke up. Damn it! I thought. I didn’t even get his name. I groaned but got up regardless for school. Before I left I quickly typed up what the vision was and left. The whole day I was thinking about it. I was distracted all day. The visions weren't normally about me. It was never about love in any way.

“Hey! Earth to (Y/N).” Simon, my best friend, waved his hand in front of my face. “What?” I looked up and noticed my other best friend, Clary, sitting across from us. “Oh hey! How’d the meeting go?” “Good. I got in.” she squealed. “I knew you would!” Of course, I knew. I was the one who told her to apply for a reason. “Are you ok though? You’ve been weird all day.” They both looked concerned. In truth, I was being weird. I shouldn’t think about it as much. Some things might not happen for years. “Yeah, um, just thinking.” They gave me a look as to say go on. “You know. About college and stuff.” They nodded. “Same,” Simon said. I felt bad for lying but its not like they’d understand. “Come on, let's not think about that. It's Clare Bears birthday we should be thinking of!”

I didn’t go to the club that night. I told them I had a headache when actually I was sleeping. I wanted more of this damned vision! The next day I woke to Si blowing up my phone asking if I knew where Clary was. I told him I wasn’t sure and I was going for a shower. I put my music on and jumped in. I went to change the song but I dropped my phone in the shower. “Crap!” I quickly got out the water and started to dry the phone. Why wasn't it turning the hell on? I've only dropped it in water once. Or twice. Ok, maybe more than that but still! I sighed and got dressed. Once I was ready I took it to the shop. They said it would take a couple days and they would phone the house when it was ready. Reluctantly I gave them the phone and money and went home.

The next few days I couldn’t message either of my friends. Clary had disappeared off the face of the earth and according to Simons mom, he was staying with a friend. I swear if the ran away together I’ll kill them! It was two days later I got my phone. It had a few messages on it but not many. One from Simon, however, concerned me. ‘Hey! I know I’ve been mia for a few days but I need you. Somethings not right.’ That was this morning. ‘what is it?’ I shot back. I started to put my shoes on. ‘meet me at the park and I’ll explain’. I grabbed my coat and left my house. ‘Be there in 5’. It was only a two minute run from my house to the park. I knew where he’d be anyway. I started heading to the old swing set that no one really used anymore. There were only two seats on it so when all three of us went there one of us was always on the ground. It was normally Simon. I saw him as I jogged over. “What’s up, Si? Is it Clary? Did you find her?” I hadn't been able to contact them so I was worried. “Yeah, it um complicated.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I've got time,” Simon explained what happened. He told me about the shadow world and how he thinks he was turning into a vampire. We sat in silence. What was I supposed to say? I believed him but still. “Just don’t go turning into Edward Cullin.” I tried to joke. “It's not funny.” “Sorry,” I sighed. “I believe you Si. I do but I just don’t know. Can’t, you ask Clary? She’s a shadowhunter after all.” “No. She’s too busy chasing some blonde guy.” “It gets better Si. You’ll get over her.” “You don’t know that.” I sighed. Truth is I did know that. I had a vision once, it was Simons wedding. I don’t know who he was marrying since it was me and Clary trying to calm his nerves. Clary was maid of honour, not the bride. Would I be able to tell him? I took a deep breath. “The thing is I do know that.” He raised an eyebrow. “I've been having these…visions. It's like a glance into the future. I knew Clary would get into art school. I knew my brother would break his arm. And once I saw you getting ready for a wedding. Your wedding. And Clary was a bridesmaid. Not the bride.” “Who was the bride?” “Don’t know. I didn’t see them. So you don’t think I'm crazy?” “At this point anything is possible.”

We came up with a plan. He was going to go ask the vampire, Raphael, what was happening to him. We figured he’d be the most likely to know. Si told me to wait at a small 24-hour café around the corner so the vamps wouldn’t get me. It took a bit of convincing but I did. I did tell him though to phone me while he went so I knew what happened to him. He did so while he went to the vampires I was listening in. It happened so fast and I couldn’t see him. I heard someone threaten him, Camille I think? I got up and ran to the hotel. Before I could even yell his name someone had a hand over my mouth. Thinking quickly I elbowed them in the gut. Sensing it was a male I also kicked my foot back to his area. He grunted and let go. I turned around frantically and got into a fighting position. I knew I wouldn’t win but I had to try. “There is no need for that.” The man said in a Spanish accent. “I just can't let Camille turn another mundane.” “Another mundane? Oh god, tell me it wasn’t Simon?” “You know then?” I nodded. “Very well. I was about to take him to the shadowhunters. I suppose you could come.” “Thank you…” “Raphael.” He told me to wait there and not to make contact with anyone under any circumstances.

He came back holding Si’s body. “Oh God.” I put my hand over my mouth. “Don’t use the Lord's name in vain.” Was the only thing Raphael said apart from. “Keep up.” He began running and I blinked at how fast he moved before following. I could tell he was holding his speed back. We got to some strange church. “How will they know we're here?” “Just wait.” He sighed.

Clary was surprised to see me but was to focused on Simon to say anything. Alec tried to say I couldn’t come in but I basically just said a few choice words to him and he shut up, muttering ‘stupid mundane’ under his breath. That night Simon was turned into a vampire. The whole night was weird. It was weird because I had had visions of Jace, Alec and Izzy before. I didn’t know what they were but I felt like I knew them. I kept my mouth shut though. The next week was a blur.

That night I didn’t go home because Izzy said the vampires knew me so it wasn’t safe. I spent a week in the institute not being able to do anything. Clary was too busy to talk to me and Simon was trying to adjust. I had enough of it. I got up and grabbed the few things I had. My parents thought I was crashing with Clary and thought it was the time I got home. I agreed so I headed to the door. No one paid me much attention. It's not like they wanted me here but as I was about to leave someone stopped me. “Where do you think you’re going?” I turned to see Alec with his arms over his chest. “Home.” I turned around and started to walk but he grabbed my arm. “You cant go home. I may not like you mundanes but I'm obligated to protect you.” “You are nothing like I thought you’d be like,” I muttered under my breath. In the visions, he wasn’t a brat but here we are. “And what did you think I’d be like?” damn it! He heard me. I forgot he had that hearing rune. “Um, nothing. I didn’t say anything.” I went to pull my arm back but he was stronger. “What did you know about me before you came here? It's not like the vampire would tell you I was nice.” “Its nothing Alec.” I had to get away. I had had visions of the clave since I’d been here so maybe that could help? “I think the clave envoy was looking for you.” I quickly pulled my arm away and he didn’t stop me. I quickly walked to the door but he called out to me. “The clave envoy won't be here for two days. We got the message an hour ago so how would you know?” I froze. Slowly I turned around and looked at him but it wasn’t just him. Jace, Izzy and Clary were next to him. “Yeah, and how did you know our names when we first met?” Jace asked. “Simon?” It came out as more of a question. “How do you know what happens before it does?” Clary asked. “Simon said something about it. That you told him you had these dreams.” “He told you?” I was shocked. “Of course he did!” she said angrily. “That’s what friends do! I was waiting on you telling me-“ I cut her off. “It's my fault?! You haven't spoken to me in a week. You are always too busy. How am I meant to tell you I have visions of the future if you can’t even tell me what you’re doing?” I was so angry I forgot about the others. “Visions? What visions?” Alec asked. “Are you some sort of downworlder?” “How the hell should I know?!” I had enough of it. “Isn't it your job to find out? To help mundanes like me?” They were silent. Alec pulled Jace and Izzy aside and started talking to them while Clary walked over to me. “I'm sorry. I forgot about you.” “It's fine.” I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Its just..its just annoying, you know? To not know what you are.” “Trust me, I get it.” “We’re taking you to Magnus Bane. He might know what you are.” Jace said when he Alec and Izzy joined us. “Who?”

Part 2   Part 3

[she-thoughts]

I Battle With Racism Everyday

I battle racism everyday but not in the way that you might think...

Literally everyday I am challenged by racism. My racism. I’ve heard many people say ‘Black people can’t be racist”, and you can think what you want and you can substitute the word racist for prejudiced or biased all you want but I know my truth and my truth is that when it comes to white people as a general culture , my views, feelings, and opinions are more than somewhat skewed.

What I am writing is not meant to offend anyone, though I know it will. But the facts remain the same and at the expense of sounding like others blind to their less than noble beliefs of superiority and experiences of privilege whether or not recognized, YES, I have white friends, some of whom indulge in conversations such as these with me. But even with their lack of ignorance, recognized knowledge of privilege, and overall understanding character they have not yet convinced me to fully amend my generalized thoughts and opinions of their culture.

I’ve often wondered and thought back to uncover just when I began to experience racist views toward white people. And to tell you the truth there is a part of me that believes it started around the time I went to college. Now I’ve always been aware while with my friends in high school that I was different (and in case you’re wondering by different I do in fact mean Black), and every weekend I would re-up with my blackness at church and family functions. But a lack of understanding and connection to the roots of my culture which lie in Africa drove me to an HBCU (Historically Black College/University) to further my education. But could it be that it was this institution that fostered my racist ways? Could it be that the more I uncovered our history the more I saw the so called ‘superiority’ of MY people. I mean since when did Pride have to equal Superior?

It was somewhere around the time I began to see colonization and the white people who carried it out (and their descendants) as the enemy, forever benefitting from the destruction of my own and others alike, also experiencing the downfall of one of my closest relationships over issues that I know remain unseen but are completely related to this topic I am writing of.

Yet even still those superior attitudes remained in check and easy to suppress, until I entered graduate school that is. I attended Sonoma State University in Rohnert Park, California - a far cry away from the illustrious Clark Atlanta University. I went from a school where everyone was black so no one was to now being the only black person not only in class but in the entire program. In fact the only other black person in the department was the secretary, with whom I quickly became acquainted with and noticed my/our expressed familiarity with each other though we had never met prior to my enrollment.

I sat in every class listening to their views, beliefs, and general thoughts which they always felt compelled to say aloud. I noticed every moment I disagreed or didn’t catch a reference, or was utterly offended by the blatant ignorance they couldn’t help but expose. Often I chose to cope by making fun in my head. I mean this one time I told this lady I put only juices and berries in my hair to make it curl and smell so good and only after about a minute of my laughter after she asked where do I buy the berries did I tell her that I use regular garnier shampoo and conditioner. But let me tell you, it felt like it only got worse in my multicultural class to which I often sported my “The blacker the college the sweeter the knowledge” shirt I bought online. And just when I mustered up the strength to express my perspective of life as I’ve experienced it in this skin and my reasonings for my behavior as peculiar as I seemed to them, I was met often with confusion, ignorance, micro-agressions, and I’m pretty sure that one guy thinks I’m slow. Nevertheless, as dreadful as it all was I persevered but not without biases, prejudices, and racist thoughts that only seemed to expand. 

Day in and day out I sat in the midst of these people who had just found out the truth about Columbus and that one girl who told me I wasn’t “that” black - as if she’d somehow received magical gifting to determine not only what it means to be black (which by the way according to her I wasn’t that black because I spoke proper english as opposed to slang, and essentially was educated to which I replied by telling her to #1 NEVER say that to any black person, EVER, and #2 why would I speak slang to her when she can’t even understand my basic humanistic nonverbal communication, and furthermore had I spoken in that manner, such as I do with my family and friends who know that I am educated thus I don’t have to prove myself to them, she would’ve been racking her brain trying to figure out just how did this uneducated Black girl get into this program) - needless to say I didn’t feel like my opinion was ever really welcomed. I felt like not only was it unwelcome but often patronized as some may feel sitting in a room with untrained and culturally ignorant eager new therapists.

But that’s it right there. Even as I write this I can feel myself becoming frustrated again as I lump them all together - though surely not all of them were that bad, or even ignorant. So where did all of this anger really come from?

I’ve been known to be an emotional distant person as I’ve heard many people describe me though I’m not sure if I’m fully willing to accept that - sometimes I just think I prefer not to be bothered by peoples drama and bull, but whatever helps them categorize me I guess - however, what I do deeply feel are the wounds of my people. My anger comes from the hopelessness I feel with the financial, familial/communal, and overall health of my people both historically and presently. I mourn for the traditions I may never know because they were ripped away, the language I may never speak, the land I have yet to visit that has continually been robbed of its resources, the credits that were never given, and the ancestors I will never know because they were seen as only cattle so no records were kept on them other than the words, “Negro Male Age: about 10″ who may or may not be my great great great great grandfather. And it’s this pain, this history that those classmates of mine had never heard and couldn’t understand - there is a piece of me that feels lost forever. Ironically many of them had no connection to any part of their heritage nor had a desire to begin such process.

Yet despite these atrocities we continue to push through, destroying barriers and limitations and I am amazed by the resilience, the inner joy, and beauty of my people and others of color. So pride meets superiority yet again, and I continue the conversation within myself, checking my thoughts and facing the truth. I battle with racism everyday, but not in the way you might think.