#i just want you to know who i am

[nhasablogg]

I just want you to know who I am

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Spencer Reid, The BAU

Anonymous said: Spencer cracks the identity of a "serial tickler" and has to come to terms with his own hidden love of tickling.

A/N: This was fun! It was fun writing about a case like this again but from Spencer’s POV this time. I hope you like it!

Warnings: An UnSub who breaks into people’s homes and ties them up to non-consensually tickle them, but this one’s super ungraphic and mostly just fluff tbh.

Words: 7.4k

(Read it on ao3)

Spencer was squinting at the board, which was poorly illuminated now due to the descending sun. He probably should have turned on a light, but he’d been standing there for the past twenty minutes and refused to move. If he moved he might lose it, the little hint of something at the back of his mind. The board contained pictures of bodies, only this time they were all alive, tied up but alive. That was unusual, to have every single victim to interview. They weren’t even really hurt, only a little traumatized, but they all knew that talking to traumatized victims was almost harder than talking to mere witnesses who’d simply seen something out of the ordinary. Hell, even talking to family members was easier than to scratch open wounds that had barely had time to start healing.

He rubbed at his temple and sighed. This was hopeless.

“I can’t seem to find a connection between them at all,” he said when Gideon entered. “They’re all of different ages. Different socioeconomic backgrounds. Different skin colors, different body types, different types of people entirely. The only thing they seem to have in common is the fact that they live here in Quantico.”

“Take a break,” Gideon told him. “Let’s recoup in fifteen, okay?”

Spencer deflated. “Fine.”

“That’s not a punishment, Reid,” he replied with a laugh. “Have some coffee. Hotch and Morgan will be back soon.”

“Okay.”

Gideon tilted his head. “After you.”

“You’re no fun, you know that?”

“And you must be entirely engrossed if you’re saying no to coffee.”

“I feel like I have something,” he said, exiting the room with Gideon right behind him. “I just can’t figure out what.”

“And that’s why I told you to take a break.”

“Reid, needing a break?” Morgan said, suddenly appearing. “Well, I’ve seen everything.”

Spencer turned toward him. “You got anything?”

He sighed. “Not really. The victim’s don’t know why they’d been chosen to get tickled. We tried to be tactful in case they have, like, a thing for it or something and met the UnSub through that, but they won’t talk.”

“Probably embarrassed.”

“Well, I can’t really blame them. Imagine having the FBI asking you these types of questions.”

Spencer hummed. “I don’t think they would all lie about it though, seeing as that wouldn’t help us solve it.”

“So you don’t think they met the UnSub on some sort of forum or something?”

Something clicked in Spencer’s head. “Forum. Oh my god, that’s it.”

Morgan frowned. “But you just said they probably wouldn’t lie.”

“Not them.” Spencer was already running toward Garcia’s office. “But someone living on their addresses.”

*

“Reid, victimology.”

“The UnSub has purposefully chosen family members - or in some cases roommates - that live with the person who most likely got in contact with the UnSub through a tickle forum. Garcia’s trying to narrow down which one. Turns out there are a lot of them. As for the people he picked, he avoided minors and elderly people, keeping the age range between 20 and 55 with no other obvious preferences. The reason none of them admitted to being interested in it is because they’re not the ones who browsed the forums, so we need to go back and talk to the other people living there.”

“They’ve not said anything about their connection to it,” Prentiss said.

“They’re probably freaked out and embarrassed. Guilty because they wonder if they’re somehow responsible for it. My guess is the UnSub traced their IP addresses and found out where they live. He probably lives here and picked victims close by so that he could be in and out as quickly as possible. Mr Rodriguez said he’d been tickled for an hour, right?”

Hotch nodded. “And Miss Bardot for twenty minutes.”

“And Mrs Smith for three hours. I think the UnSub knows how long they’ll be home alone and plans his attacks after how much time he has. Mrs Smith was intricately tied up, which could tell us more about the UnSub’s preferences, since he obviously does research, but also that he had more time. Miss Bardot was simply handcuffed to her bed, which is the quickest way to restrain her without making a fuss.”

“So this guy talks to people on a tickle forum and then decides to attack their family members instead?” Morgan shook his head. “It makes no sense. Why not simply meet up with the people he was talking to?”

“He likes the non-consensual nature of this,” Gideon said. “He gets a fix from talking on the forum, and then he gets a different type of fix when he attacks. He’s simply killing two birds with one stone by picking addresses from the forum. It narrows them down. He probably also enjoys the idea that the people he talked to are freaking out about it.”

“So say we find the forum. How are we supposed to figure out who did it?” Morgan asked.

Hotch said, “We need to talk to the family members. See which one of them has visited a site like this, and if anyone in particular stuck out.”

Spencer crossed his arms. “Maybe we need to go undercover in the forum too. Draw him out.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Let’s go talk to the victims and their families first. Morgan and Prentiss go talk to the Smiths first. Reid and I will take Mr Rodriguez.”

*

Mr Rodriguez lived in a calm suburban area in a house that looked clean on the outside, but was overcrowded on the inside. Things and people everywhere, ranging from kids to cousins who seemed to be staying with Mr and Mrs Rodriguez for longer periods of time, whether it meant they actually were living there or simply visiting Spencer wasn’t sure.

“Oh hello,” Gideon said when the door opened to a little girl peeking out. “Is your dad home?”

She blinked up at him with big brown eyes, which went from curious to squinting in an instant as she slammed the door shut in their faces.

“Was that a no?” Spencer said with a laugh when the door opened again.

“I’m so sorry,” Mr Rodriguez said, holding the little girl in his arms. “We told her not to open the doors to strangers and, well-”

“She’s never met us,” Gideon filled in. “She did very good.”

“Except for the fact that she opened the door to begin with,” Mrs Rodriguez said, appearing at Mr Rodriguez’s side. “Let me take her.”

He handed the girl over to her mother and stepped aside. “Please come in.”

The house seemed less crowded this time around, but they found people in each room they passed. Spencer kind of liked it in theory, but knew he’d probably go crazy himself if he couldn’t be left alone. If each moment could potentially bring someone else into the room, needing him, needing company, needing reassurance. Finding just one hour where the father would be entirely alone in the house must’ve been difficult, and yet the UnSub had managed it. Whomever he’d been talking to they probably had been talking for a while.

They settled in the living room, a child instantly climbing into Spencer’s lap. Another girl, identical to the one who had opened the door. Twins, he realized as he semi-awkwardly placed his arms around her as she leaned back against his chest and looked up at him. “Hi.”

She didn’t reply, but smiled so brightly he had to smile back.

“How many children do you have, Mr Rodriguez?” Gideon asked, sitting on the other couch across the room, giving them both opportunities to see different things.

“Biologically we only have five. Elena and Julieta are the youngest. They’re four. Then we have Emiliano, who’s seven, Amelia who’s nine and lastly Felipe who’s eleven.”

Spencer and Gideon exchanged a look. All too young to really be on a forum.

“But we did foster my older brother’s children,” Mr Rodriguez continued. “That’s why there are so many of us,” he added with a laugh. He seemed calmer that day. He wouldn’t fully meet their eyes still, but he wasn’t shaking anymore.

“That’s compassionate of you,” Gideon said, straightening.

He waved a hand. “He would’ve done the same for me. He got deported, you see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’re trying to get him back, but…” He trailed off. “Anyway. He has four children, but they’re all a little older. The oldest one, Lucía, is away at college and Samuel’s moved out, although I swear he’s here more than at home. We only have Ari and Camila here.”

“And how old are they?”

“Ari’s 18. He’ll be going off to college next year he said, but he’s taking a gap year. Camila’s eleven, like Felipe.”

They exchanged another look. “Could we possibly talk to Ari?”

Mr Rodriguez frowned. “Ari’s a good boy,” he said.

Gideon held up his hand. “I’m sure he is, Mr Rodriguez.”

“He works to help us out. Never got in trouble. Straight A student. The only reason he took a gap year is because his scholarship didn’t go through.”

“He’s not in trouble, sir, we’d just like to talk to him.”

Ari cracked his door open when they knocked. “Yes?”

“Hi, Ari,” Gideon said, showing his badge. “Agent Gideon and Doctor Reid. You remember us?”

“Sure,” he said, opening the door wider. “You were here after we found my uncle.”

“We have a few questions for you if that’s okay.”

He visibly stiffened. “I was at work when it happened.”

“Oh, we know. We got everyone’s alibis, don’t worry.”

He shifted from foot to foot, glancing behind them at the empty hallway. “Come in.”

Ari sat on his desk chair while Gideon and Spencer took the bed. “This might be an uncomfortable conversation,” Gideon warned him. “But we need you to be honest with us.”

Ari fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Okay.”

“You know how your uncle got tickled by his attacker?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we have a theory that he got the address to your house from a specific forum. That he spoke to someone on this address and traced it here to pick a victim.”

Ari’s face fell. “You think?”

“Do you happen to know if someone in this household has visited a tickle forum in the past and possibly talked to someone?”

“They’re all children,” Ari said. “And I don’t think my aunt would. Maybe my uncle?”

“No. He would admit to it in a heartbeat since it would mean his attacker would get caught.” Gideon smiled sympathetically. “That leaves you.”

Ari avarted his eyes. “Me? You think I’ve been on this… t-tickle forum?”

“It’s just a theory, but it’s currently the only one we have.” He leaned forward. “I’m sorry that this is embarrassing. We only really need to know if that’s the case and what site. Maybe if we could borrow your computer too.”

Ari ran a hand over his face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening.” He looked up at them. “It’s my fault?”

Gideon hummed. “So you have been on a forum.”

“Yes, okay? Yes. I’m just. Curious.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to us, it’s okay.”

“Oh my god, please don’t tell my uncle. Or anyone.”

“We won’t, don’t worry.”

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. “I wondered if it was my fault,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t expect the answer to be yes.”

“Ari.” Spencer spoke for the first time, tilting his head at the teenager. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

*

“I’ve not been tickled in years,” Spencer found himself saying later that day.

Morgan grinned at him. “I bet you’re real ticklish, though,” he said. “Probably a giggler.”

“I didn’t say that.” But he started blushing, which was unusual even to him. Spencer was awkward, yes, but not shy. “Besides, being ticklish is natural. A defense mechanism of some sort. Back in ancient Japan it was used as punishment if you wanted to ensure no one would be able to find any proof of actual injury.”

“Changing the subject, I see.”

“Not at all,” he insisted. “It’s still within the same topic.”

“But it’s been redirected away from your own sensitivity.” Morgan leaned forward, which didn’t necessarily cause any alarm since there was a whole table between them. “Tell me, pretty boy. Where’s your spot? The spot that makes you scream if touched.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I have one?”

“No? Nowhere?”

“No?”

“But you are ticklish?”

“Of course he is,” Garcia said, suddenly walking into the room.

“Oh?” Morgan leaned back. “And how exactly do you know that, baby girl?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get jealous, my love. I accidentally poked him when I first started working here.”

“Is that so?” Morgan’s smirk was actually scary enough that Spencer suddenly felt as if he was in danger. “And where exactly was that spot?”

“I don’t kiss and tell I’m afraid, mon chéri.”

“Oh, that’s unfair, Garcia.”

“Try him yourself,” she said, pointing at Spencer. “He’s right there.”

Spencer stood. “Let’s not.”

“There you go,” Morgan said, standing as well. “Panic. I like that. It probably means you’re really bad.”

“Morgan, come on.” He started walking when Morgan did, the two of them rounding the table over and over again without breaking the distance between them. “This is childish!”

“Well, you are a kid after all.”

“I’m literally 25- no, wait!” Morgan had suddenly picked up his speed and Spencer rushed to do the same, nearly crashing into Hotch in the process. “Hotch, oh my god, save me.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, blinking at them in confusion.

“Derek’s trying to find out where Spencer’s ticklish,” Garcia said.

“Pretty boy thinks he can run away from me,” Morgan said, grabbing Spencer’s arms. Hotch was standing just in the way of him being able to flee. “Not gonna work, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer didn’t know which was worse; the fact that Morgan grabbed onto his sides and wouldn’t let go or that he was still facing in Hotch’s direction and got to see him witness the very first peals of hysterical laughter they’d probably ever heard come out of his mouth. “No!”

“Aw, I knew you were a giggler,” Morgan was cooing behind him. “Isn’t he cute, Hotch?”

Spencer caught Hotch’s ghost of a smile through his plight. “Oh, very. But we have work to do. Leave Reid alone.”

“You’re no fun, Hotch,” Morgan said, letting him go. “I’ll get you later, pretty boy.”

As Spencer straightened he found Gideon standing behind Hotch, meaning he’d probably heard if not seen the whole thing.

He felt himself flushing. He was gonna kill Morgan.

“Had fun?” he asked as he entered the room, his smile fond.

“Oh, the time of my life, truly,” he muttered as Morgan laughed. “I can’t wait to do this again.”

“Don’t you worry, Reid,” Morgan purred. “I’ll make sure that happens.”

Spencer shook his head and willed his blush to calm down as they all settled down around the table, all eyes on Hotch and Gideon. “As you all know we’ve talked to all the victims and their families again,” Gideon started. “Some of them refused to admit to it, but for the most part we found someone in the household - older teens, roommates, spouses - who’s visited the site iTickle, a forum where you can talk to like-minded people.”

“Garcia did some digging,” Hotch continued. “Turns out the site is completely text-based, so you can’t send any pictures or videos, which means you also can’t view any type of content on there. It’s strictly to talk to others.”

“Which gives us the impression that the UnSub uses that site on purpose. It’s like he wants just enough to get going so that he can go out and act out all his desires. Reid?”

Spencer cleared his throat and stood. “We’ve been given access to one of the computers that was used to visit the forum. It’s one of those portable laptops, so we were able to take it with us. The kid who used it said there was one user who was acting a little too sketchy that stuck out to him. Garcia will be tracing the IP address, and after that we’ll figure out a course of action.”

“Great job, everyone,” Gideon said, clapping his hands. “And now we wait.”

*

Spencer was swirling his chair around when Morgan grabbed his shoulder, stilling him. “You’re being super distracting,” he said, but there was no menace in his voice.

Spencer straightened. “Sorry. I’m bored.”

“This case not entertaining enough for you, huh?”

“Well, we’ve practically cracked it. We just gotta find the UnSub.”

“The easiest part,” Morgan said with a laugh.

“Maybe not,” Spencer said sheepishly. Morgan’s hand was still on his shoulder and he could feel it each time a finger moved even just an inch. Despite himself, Spencer had spent the past two days waiting for Morgan to tickle him again and finding he was disappointed each time the opportunity was missed. He wasn’t entirely willing to have that conversation with himself yet.

“Since there’s no DNA on the crime scene it’ll be difficult to actually track him down,” Morgan continued.

Spencer shrugged. “I told you. One of us should go undercover. Set up shop in an apartment somewhere. Pretend two or three of us live there for a few days and have him come to us.”

“Pretty boy, that isn’t actually too bad of an idea.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised about it,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes.

Morgan barked out a laugh and curled his fingers over the sides of his neck. “Smartass. Don’t forget I know that you’re ticklish now.”

Spencer retracted, a sound that was almost a squeal leaving his lips at the sudden unbearable sensation. No matter how low he tried to slide down the chair Morgan simply followed, and while it only really lasted for a moment the whole office could probably hear him giggling and begging for him to cut it out.

“Mor-gan!” he choked out, managing to grab his wrist, which to be fair did very little to make him stop.

“Ye-es?” Morgan teased, index fingers working their way to the area beneath his chin. “I told you I’d get you again.”

“Stop being mean- wait!”

“Oohh, your neck’s a real bad spot, huh? Maybe this is the spot that makes you scream? Or are you worse somewhere?”

“Morgan, stop messing with him,” Hotch said. “Come on, both of you. Garcia found something.”

Morgan let him go, muttering the whole time. “I’ll get you properly one of these days.”

Spencer exhaled, rubbing at the skin where his hands had just been. “You’re terrible.”

“Mm, I could be worse.” Morgan helped him up and slapped his back. “Let’s go tell them about your idea.”

“I didn’t know you were ticklish, Spence,” JJ said when they entered the room, smiling gently if not playfully at him.

He groaned. “Did everyone see?”

“Pretty much,” Prentiss replied. “I mean, you weren’t necessarily being quiet.”

“So you all saw him torturing me and did nothing?” He shook his head in mock betrayal. “Traitors, all of you.”

“Aw, he’s blushing,” Morgan said, pinching his cheek. “So cute.”

“As endearing as you’re both being,” Garcia said, standing in the front of the room. “I have been lured out of the comfort of my own room to hold a presentation and I’d rather get it done quickly.”

Morgan chuckled. “All right, mama, whatchu got?”

Garcia took a breath. “So I think I’ve narrowed down the user. He calls himself ‘TheFeatherFrontier’, which at first I thought was a reference to Star Trek, but- anyway, not the point. I did some digging and it turns out he’s been in contact with someone in all of the households we’ve found victims at. Looking back at their conversations, it starts innocently enough but becomes real strange after a while.”

“Strange how?”

“Well, this guy has practically zero boundaries. Zilch. It goes from ‘hi how are you’ to things I’m way too uncomfortable to say aloud. And it’s weird since this site is all about creating connections through text. Why be crass and drive people away?”

“It’s not really about them,” Gideon said. “They’re simply shortcuts to people he’d rather tickle.”

Spencer squirmed in his chair, trying his best to not look away from Garcia. He wasn’t sure why the word suddenly flustered him, but it did. Maybe because Morgan had just tickled him in front of everyone. Maybe because-

No. Not now. Not yet.

“Reid had an idea,” Morgan suddenly said, directing all focus on him. “Tell them, kid.”

“Oh, uh, well, I kind of told you about it earlier, but- well, one of us should go undercover. Set up shop in an apartment somewhere. Pretend two or three of us live there for a few days and have him come to us,” he quoted himself verbatim. “And hopefully he decides to take the bait.”

“Reid, that’s a really good idea.”

Spencer turned to catch Prentiss’ eye. “Yeah?”

“And probably the only way to actually catch him,” Hotch said. “Great thinking, Reid.”

Morgan reached over to ruffle his hair. “Our ticklish little genius.”

“Oh my god, stop.” Spencer shoved him off of him. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

Morgan laughed. “Not as long as I’m around. But hey, you should totally be the bait.”

“Why me?”

“We need someone super ticklish to make it more believable.”

“Morgan, he won’t even tickle me-”

“Still. And you look like you could be hanging out in there. All in favor of Reid chatting him up?”

“We’ll probably all be involved,” Gideon said. “Although we can’t consult each other after each message. It’ll take too long, and he’d probably be messaging at night.” He looked at Reid. “You up for a night shift or two?”

Spencer sighed. “Fine. But I’m not coming in on time tomorrow.”

*

Their fake apartment was small to have three bedrooms, but it did, and so they decided that Reid, Morgan and Prentiss would be staying there for the next few days, starting immediately in case the UnSub decided to stake the place out after the first conversation.

“Will you guys be okay if he catches one of you?” JJ asked, and both Morgan and Prentiss made a big show out of waving the concerns off, claiming to not be ticklish.

“It’s Reid we should be worried about,” Morgan said and Spencer sighed, having accepted his fate to get teased until his death.

“I’ve got you all set up,” Garcia said, motioning to the monitor on the desk of Spencer’s temporary bedroom. “Derek came up with your username.”

“PrettyShyBoy,” Spencer read, flushing. “Oh, come on.”

Morgan peeked into the room. “Did I lie?”

“I’m not shy.”

“Oh, with how much you’ve been blushing recently he won’t know the difference.”

“Shut up-”

“I need you to come up with a bio,” Garcia said, interrupting him. “It’s better that you do it.”

Spencer sighed and took her place when she got up. “Do you all have to watch?”

“Oh, flustered, are we?”

“Morgan, leave him alone,” Hotch said for the hundredth time that week. “Let’s give him some space. We can look through the bio once you’re done just to make sure it works, but I trust that you know what you’re doing, Reid.”

“Thank you.” Spencer straightened as they left the room. “A bio. Right. Uh.” He tapped his fingertips on the desk. “Guys, do I look like a college student?” he called out, getting a collective yes back. “Right. Thanks.”

20. Shy college student looking for like-minded people.

Hmm, maybe a bit generic, but he was supposed to be a regular shy guy, after all.

Inexperienced lee just wanting to talk.

He’d done his research on tickling as a kink and found a rather fascinating community. He could imagine who he’d be in it. Shy and inexperienced and wanting to be on the receiving end.

Hypothetically, of course.

He erased what he’d written and rewrote it. Shy, inexperienced 20-year-old lee looking to chat to like-minded people. Better. More concise and less repeating.

“It’s not much,” he said when the others returned. “But I think it’s better to keep it short, no?”

“It’s great,” Hotch said, reading it over. “Straight to the point. Appealing enough. It’s good that you added an age and inexperienced. The UnSub’s probably looking for control and it will be easy controlling someone of this background.”

“I didn’t add it, but I named myself Oli. It seems regular enough for a shy college guy.”

“It’s perfect. I think we’re ready to start.”

Everyone but Spencer, Morgan and Prentiss left and Spencer set to work, connecting to TheFeatherFrontier immediately. The connections were random, but Garcia had worked her magic for them.

‘Hi,’ The FeatherFrontier wrote instantly. He was online.

Spencer took a breath. ‘Hi..’

TheFeatherFrontier: Are you new here?

PrettyShyBoy: Yes. Are you?

TheFeatherFrontier: Not really. Been around a while.

PrettyShyBoy: I see..

Spencer shook his head, unable to decide if Oli would be so shy he would be this short, or if he would be trying desperately. He should’ve profiled this fake persona before using him. It might cause him problems.

PrettyShyBoy: Do you like it? This forum I mean.

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh yes. It’s very nice. It’s fun talking to like-minded people.

PrettyShyBoy: Oh that’s great! I was a bit nervous joining.

TheFeatherFrontier: Haha

TheFeatherFrontier: You have nothing to be nervous about :) 

“Ew.”

“What?” Morgan and Prentiss peeked their heads into the room, having obviously been lurking just outside.

“Nothing. He just gives me bad vibes.”

“Let me read.”

“It’s really nothing yet,” Spencer said, but turned the computer toward them anyway. “I think it might also just be me knowing what he’s doing.”

“He- oh, he wrote again.” Prentiss turned the computer back toward him.

TheFeatherFrontier: Sorry. Did I scare you off?

“He’s impatient,” Spencer said. “Better not keep him waiting until we’ve got his attention.”

PrettyShyBoy: No no! Don’t worry :)

PrettyShyBoy: I’m just. Well.

PrettyShyBoy: Shy.

PrettyShyBoy: Heh.

“Nice,” Prentiss said. “Have Oli ramble to showcase it.”

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh, you are, huh?

TheFeatherFrontier: I bet you’re really ticklish.

Spencer, even though it made no sense, blushed. “Oh my god. You guys gotta leave now.”

Morgan peeked at the screen and laughed. “All right, all right, call for us if you need help.”

PrettyShyBoy: Maybe a little…

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh, I’m sure it’s more than just a little, right pretty boy?

Spencer frowned. He didn’t like that the UnSub stole Morgan’s nickname for him, even though it was technically in his username.

PrettyShyBoy: I’ve never really gotten properly tickled… but I think so heh.

TheFeatherFrontier: What’s your worst spot?

Spencer hummed. He really was making no effort in being conversational.

PrettyShyBoy: Maybe my belly…

TheFeatherFrontier: Mmm I’d love to tickle you there. Tie you up, stretch you out real good and go to town on your defenseless belly.

TheFeatherFrontier: Make you scream with no one to hear.

Spencer nearly exited the chat. How the hell had this guy not gotten caught yet with how blatantly obvious he was being?

PrettyShyBoy: That sounds a bit intense…

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh, but I’d stop once you asked me to of course.

PrettyShyBoy: Oh right :) 

PrettyShyBoy: Well, then I guess I should tell you about my feet…

He’d tickled all his victims’ feet for a long time, so they’d pieced it together that it was probably his favorite spot to torture.

TheFeatherFrontier: Mmm what about them, pretty boy?

PrettyShyBoy: I can barely stand having them touched…

PrettyShyBoy: Let alone tickled…

TheFeatherFrontier: We’d definitely need a safe word for those, huh?

PrettyShyBoy: Definitely heh.

Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t entirely sure when to stop, but it seemed too early still.

PrettyShyBoy: How else would you tickle me…?

TheFeatherFrontier: I’m glad you asked.

TheFeatherFrontier: First I’d make sure you were securely tied. Maybe even blindfolded to keep an element of surprise.

Spencer twitched. All his victims had been blindfolded.

TheFeatherFrontier: Would you like that?

PrettyShyBoy: Yes…

Spencer spent half an hour reading about how this stranger would tickle him to half death, feeling a conflicting disgusted and strangely intrigued. Not that he actually wanted this man to do this to him, but…

Well, that was a morning Spencer problem, he decided, feeling confused by his own thoughts.

He logged off only once Morgan and Prentiss had read through the chat and TheFeatherFrontier had become semi-aggressive.

*

“I’m so tired,” Prentiss whined for the tenth time that day, her complaints being echoed by Morgan and Spencer. “I deserve a raise.”

Morgan snorted. “Reid deserves the raise I would say.”

Spencer groaned into the table where he was currently resting his head. “I know right,” he mumbled.

“You’ve all done great,” Hotch said semi-distractedly, glancing over the chat which had been saved to Garcia’s computer. “I think his interest has been piqued.”

“Mmm. I especially enjoyed the part where Reid was forced to ask him how he’d tickle his-”

“Okay!” Spencer exclaimed. “Hotch can read that for himself.”

Morgan laughed. “All right, testy.”

“It makes me feel ticklish just thinking about it,” Garcia muttered from where she was standing behind Hotch.

Morgan gasped. “Baby girl,” he sang. “Don’t tell me you’re ticklish too?”

Garcia huffed. “Oh, come on, sugar shack, as if I don’t know about your-”

“Hey, hey!”

Spencer raised his head to grin at him. “What is this I’m hearing, Morgan?”

“You shut up, nerd, I know you’re worse than all of us combined.”

“This is a strange week,” JJ said, appearing with a pile of papers. “Copies of the chat, just in case,” she explained.

“Good thinking,” Gideon said, taking them from her. “God, I hate cases where we have to wait for the UnSub to come to us.”

“At least we can tickle Reid in the meantime, huh?”

Spencer jerked away when Morgan made a move to squeeze his knee. “Stop.”

“Never. Too fun. Now stay still.”

“Hotch, he’s doing it again- no!”

Only this time Hotch merely glanced back at them and said, “I don’t have anything for you to do right now anyway, so you’re free to play.”

Spencer gasped. “Traitor- Derek!”

“Oh, first name basis,” Prentiss teased, but Spencer’s own panicked giggling overpowered her as Morgan grabbed for his knees again, this time managing to latch onto them for long enough to squeeze just above the knee cap.

Spencer tried to kick him off. “No, come on, I’m tired, please don’t-”

“I’m just waking you up. You should be thanking me, really.”

“JJ, help!”

“Oh, no. Not getting involved in this one, sorry, Spence.”

Morgan moved upward, poking and prodding at his torso, and Spencer found he was very much trapped against his chair. “I’m dying.”

“Drama queen.”

“Emily, help!”

Prentiss, unlike the rest of the room, didn’t seem to mind getting involved at all, and Spencer’s laughter was soon joined in by Morgan’s indignant, “Hey, no!”

“I knew you were ticklish,” Prentiss cheered, and despite Morgan’s sudden laughter it took him a moment to stop torturing Spencer anyway, so by the time Spencer was able to compose himself Morgan had fled with Prentiss at his heels.

“Aw, man, I missed it,” he pouted, sitting up. “Where did she get him? Guys? Hello?”

Hotch sighed. “This is gonna be a long case.”

*

“Sorry, Spence, you’ll have to find that out for yourself.”

Spencer huffed. “You know he’ll just tickle me before I can even try.”

“He is sitting right here, you know,” Morgan said, kicking him lightly under the table.

Prentiss let out a laugh and took a bite of her pizza. They’d left the office early, making a show out of entering the apartment together so that it would be obvious that Morgan would be staying behind for an hour or so on his own. They didn’t expect the UnSub to show up that day, and so they would do the same thing the next. Hopefully he would act quickly so that they could close this mess of a case soon.

“Statistically most men are ticklish under their arms, upper ribs and feet, and seeing as you probably didn’t get his feet while he was standing and in shoes, my best guess is his underarms since he had his arms extended while he was tickling me.”

“So why so curious if you have a theory?”

“Well, theories have to be proven right too,” he muttered, throwing a piece of pizza crust at Morgan who promptly threw it back. “Come on, let me try.”

“That’s not how that works, genius.”

“Just once. You’ve already tickled me like three times today and I don’t know if I can handle another.”

“I’ll make it four if you don’t stop pestering me.”

“Emily.” Spencer turned toward her. “I will tickle you unless you tell me.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows. “Oho, making threats now?”

“I technically don’t know if you’re even ticklish, but most people are.”

“Do I look like most people to you?”

“Reid, it’s a trap, don’t answer that.”

She grabbed the crust off Spencer’s plate and threw it at Morgan. “Behave or I’ll tell him.”

“Hey, hey, I’m always nice, aren’t I?”

“No,” Spencer and Prentiss said in unison.

Morgan frowned. “You’re asking for round four now, pretty boy. Better be careful or I’ll be looming over you during your whole chat with Mr Feather.”

“TheFeatherFrontier,” Spencer corrected him unnecessarily.

“Yeah, yeah. Oh.” Morgan’s phone started ringing. “It’s Hotch. Hey, you’re on speaker.”

“Have you guys finished eating?”

“Just about.”

“Good. I’ve enrolled Reid and Prentiss in a yoga class. That way you have a specific place to go in case he would happen to keep track of you and actually is thorough enough to look up your fake names in the system. You obviously don’t have to attend, but I’ve enrolled you for the next three days. That way he has a time limit to act during. The studio is located next to a library, which you can enter from inside the building as well. I figured you might not actually want to attend the class.”

“Good thinking.”

“I was kind of excited to,” Spencer said.

Morgan snorted. “I’d like to see you do a downward facing dog.”

“Look at you coming through with the yoga terms.” Prentiss patted his arm. “I’m almost impressed.”

“Oh yeah? I can do better than that. Chaturanga.”

Prentiss shivered. “Stop, I’m not used to feeling impressed.”

“Focus, guys,” Hotch said dejectedly. “The class starts in 30 minutes, so I suggest you get going. It’s one hour long.” And then, as an afterthought, “Good luck and thank you.” He hung up.

Prentiss turned to Spencer. “Looks like we’ll be hanging in the library this afternoon.”

Spencer stood. “I’ll bring a book.”

*

“I’m gonna use the computer.”

“I thought you said you brought a book?”

“Just for a bit. I want to look something up and I’m not sure they have books on it.”

“Are you gonna talk to TheFeatherFrontier?”

“Oh no. Not here. Besides, if our theories are correct he won’t be online anyway. And for us to connect twice would be suspicious.”

“Okay, well.” Prentiss pointed to the part of the library where you could find couches lining the walls. “I’ll be over there napping.”

Spencer picked the computer which was located in the far back of the library, hidden behind shelves of topics so obscure Spencer could only imagine one single person to be walking them (and that was himself). He felt silly. It wasn’t like he’d not done research on it both at home and at work, but that had been for the sake of the case. This was personal, even though he’d been pretending it wasn’t.

Taking a deep breath he typed in tickling and hit search.

And boy the things he found.

*

He had to admit it was nicer to be staying at this apartment when he wasn’t forced to sit in front of a chat room for half the night. Gideon, Hotch, Garcia and JJ had come over for a couple of drinks, even though they all had work the next day, but so far neither of them seemed to be regretting it.

“Baby girl, truth or dare.”

“Mmm, dare.”

“Read us your latest sent text.”

“Oh my, hot stuff, that could be dangerous.” She took out her phone, grinning devilishly at the screen. “My latest text says ‘Perfect, sounds good’.”

Morgan clicked his tongue. “Boring. Who did you send it to?”

“Nuh uh. Not your turn. But I’ll bite. Sugar, truth or dare.”

“Dare, duh.”

“I dare you to show us your last sent text.”

“Now that’s vengeful behavior, Garcia.”

“We’re waiting, Morgan,” Prentiss said, tapping her imaginary watch on her wrist.

“Fine. Okay.” He grabbed his phone, his face forming into a frown when he looked at it. “Oh, no, that’s too much even for me. I’ll take my punishment,” he said over everyone booing. “Pour me my shot.”

“Weak, weak!” Garcia said, but poured him his shot anyway. “Bottoms up.”

Morgan grimaced as he swallowed. “Gross. Okay. Pretty boy,” he purred, grinning. “Truth or dare.”

Spencer thought for a moment before saying, “Truth.”

“Do you have any fetishes?”

“Oh my god, Morgan.”

“What?” Morgan turned to Prentiss, holding out his hands. “We’re off the clock technically.”

Spencer, flushing the entire time, said, “I don’t know.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“It’s good enough for the way you phrased your question.”

“Oh, we need to get you laid, Spence.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “All right, my turn. Emily. Truth or dare.”

“Hmm, truth.”

“Where did you tickle Morgan?”

“You’re still going on about that?” Morgan asked incredulously.

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t like being excluded.”

Prentiss was busy doubling over with laughter, so Morgan had time to reach over and squeeze Spencer’s thigh a couple of times. “I’m starting to think you’re ticklish everywhere, kid,” he said as Spencer did a lovely imitation of Emily.

“You’re gonna have him scared of being around you soon,” he heard Gideon say, something amused in his voice which made Spencer blush all the more.

“Good. I like it when he’s squirmy.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” JJ said with a laugh.

“Not my fault you guys have dirty minds.”

Spencer managed to grab Morgan’s hand. “Em, answer the question.”

“His ribs.”

“Ah, so I was right.”

“Didn’t you guess armpits?”

“I said either ribs or armpits.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Either way-” Spencer threw himself over Morgan, knowing that was his only way of actually getting even an ounce of revenge. “-payback’s a bitch.”

“Did you just swear- woah, woah, no, you don’t!”

Morgan tried, he really did, but Spencer had managed to latch onto his rib cage with both hands and was wiggling his fingers over it. Combine that with the booze in Morgan’s system and he was laughing within seconds. It was quite refreshing to be on the other side of it for once, Spencer realized, although he wouldn’t say he minded being the victim either.

Anyway.

“Emily, you traitor!”

“It’s truth or dare, Derek, I can’t be blamed.”

“Oh my god, Morgan, watch the coffee table!”

“Garcia, help!”

“This is an interesting turn of events.”

“Hotch, help!”

“I’m sure you can handle this by yourself.”

*

“Hey.”

Spencer swung around, coming face to face with Morgan. “Please no revenge,” he begged.

Morgan laughed. “Nah, it’s late so you’re good. But maybe Gideon’s right. I seem to be making you nothing but jumpy. Sorry about that.”

Spencer shrugged. “It’s okay.” I don’t mind.

“It’s just.” Morgan shifted from foot to foot, a rare display of nervousness. “You don’t really, you know. Let loose much. It’s fun seeing you let go, even if I have to force it out of you,” he added with a grin.

“Oh.” Spencer wasn’t entirely sure how to react. “Well.”

“I can scale down my attacks,” Morgan said. “I won’t fully stop, though.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“What?”

“Stop. I don’t want you to stop.” Spencer averted his gaze, finding the wall of their fake apartment incredibly interesting all of a sudden. “It’s… fun.”

“Oh, Reid,” Morgan said with a sigh. “Look at me.”

“Do I have to?”

Morgan let out a laugh. “I guess not. But hey. It’s fine if you like it, okay?”

“I don’t know if I like it like they like it.” He didn’t mention the people browsing the forum by name, but knew Morgan understood. “But I, uh. This case has kind of… made me realize things. I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I might act upset whenever you do it, but-”

“You actually enjoy it,” Morgan finished for him. “That’s really fucking cute, Reid.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, no, I’m not making fun! Come here.” Morgan reached for him, putting his arm around his shoulders when Spencer moved closer. “I like that you like it. It’s fun messing with you, you know? And if you’re also having fun at the same time, all the better.”

“It’s not. I don’t know. Weird?”

“Nah. Tickling’s all about bonding and having fun, after all.” He grinned. “The word flusters you a little, huh?”

Spencer looked away. “Oh my god, shut up.” But he was laughing.

Morgan ruffled his hair. “Come on. Bed time. Quickly before I get your neck. It’s literally right there.”

*

Spencer and Prentiss were at the library when Gideon called them. “We got him.” They raced to the apartment, finding a middle-aged man who wouldn’t take his eyes off of Spencer.

“You’re not that pretty up close,” he muttered and Spencer wasn’t sure whether laughing hysterically when catching an UnSub was acceptable behavior.

“He totally lied,” Prentiss said, placing a hand on his shoulder blade. “You’re, like, really pretty.”

“Morgan overpowered him before he managed to tie him up,” Hotch explained to them. “We got it all on tape too.”

Spencer exhaled. “It’s done.”

“Well, almost. Interviews.”

“He’s guilty,” Morgan said. “At the very least for breaking and entering.”

The next few days were a whirl of interviews and paperwork, and Spencer found he’d not been tickled since the day before they caught him and he was having withdrawals.

Weird.

“You seem deep in thought.”

Spencer turned to look at Gideon. “I am.”

He smiled, gentle, patient. “Anything you want to share?”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, now you’re making me curious.” He approached him, arms crossed. “I won’t push,” he added. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I know.” Spencer smiled briefly at him, wondering if it would be weird to share what he’d already shared with Morgan with someone he considered a mentor and not simply a friend. Was that overstepping? Was this weird to even be talking about? “This case,” he started, rubbing his neck. “It, uh. Well, it- I’m sure you’ve noticed Morgan torturing me.”

Gideon chuckled. “It’s been hard to miss, yes.”

Spencer felt the now all too familiar blush spread over his cheeks. “Right. It, uh. It’s made me realize that I-”

Gideon tilted his head. “Enjoy it?”

“Oh my god, is it obvious?”

“Not necessarily.”

“But we’re profilers?”

“No, it’s not that. You just seem.” Gideon shrugged. “Happier.”

Spencer blinked. “Happier.”

“Yes. Jumpier, yes, but I’ve enjoyed seeing this side of you. Of all of you. Everyone’s much more playful and I think it’s needed, especially now.” Gideon patted his arm. “I’ve not necessarily been suspecting anything-”

“It’s not a fetish!” Spencer found himself blurting out.

Gideon held up his hands. “I didn’t think it was.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

“Of course not.”

“I just. It’s fun.”

“I can tell.” Spencer averted his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I like seeing you happy, you know. All of you.”

“Is everyone else also happy?”

“Oh, very. Even the ones who aren’t joining in. It’s making things seem easier.”

“Okay.”

“I sense there’s something else you want to say.”

Spencer flushed even more, finding it hard to remember a time where he wasn’t blushing this frequently. “It’s nothing.”

“Reid.”

“Really, it’s silly.”

“Reid,” Gideon said again, this time with a laugh. “I won’t judge, and you clearly have something on your mind.”

“Well, it’s just that. We’ve not had fun in a few days. Oh god, that sounds ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

“No, no, I understand what you’re saying. Wait here.” Gideon left the room, reappearing a moment later with a grinning Morgan in tow.

“I heard you’ve missed my hands on you, pretty boy.”

Spencer decided to be embarrassed about it all afterward.

[iheartmoons]

iris is SOOOO gallavich coded

[ex-justmychampagneproblems]

[thepavementsings-archive]

listening to iris by the googoo dolls thinking about the horrors of suzuka last year...

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

Heeeeeey, so we’ve all sobbed in the car to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, right? (If you haven’t, I’m judging you. Harshly.)

What if I said that’s a Robin Blorbley song—

I don’t think I have to explain but I’m going to because no one can stop me <33

First of all, the pure pining of this fucking song and Robin pining over Miss Nancy Wheeler??? Hello???

We’ll skip to the chorus first because i enjoy hurting myself <33

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

Robin Buckley, who has come out to one (1) person because she is so scared of what will happen. Of COURSE the world won’t understand, her world is 80’s Hawkins, Indiana, and she’s watched people be awful to other queer people her whole life. But I’m thinking it’s deeper than that too. You can’t tell me that Robin doesn’t have some serious internalized homophobia. Growing up where she did, heating the awful things people said about homosexuality, being told that gay people are dirty and perverted, there’s no way she didn’t internalize that at least a little. There’s more to not wanting to be seen than just fear of homophobia. It’s fear of her dirty little secret being out, of people knowing she’s “wrong.”

She feels fragile—made to be broken. And every evil word breaks her a little.

But then she meets Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler who played chicken against a speeding car with nothing but a pistol. Nancy Wheeler with guns in her closet. Nancy Wheeler who sawed they end off a shotgun and blasted Vecna to bits. Nancy Wheeler who stands up against assholes who try to put her down, no matter how powerful—and it makes Robin feel brave. She’s drawn to this powerful, incredible woman, who gives her comfort in small moments, holding her hand, offers reassurance, all in the same five minutes as killing monsters. She wants to be brave, and she wants to be vulnerable. There’s just something about the metaphor of cracking open her rib cage and offering her heart to Nancy—she wants Nancy to know who she is, deeply and truly, not just the mask she puts on (like in ST3).

And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life

And sooner or later, it's over

I just don't wanna miss you tonight

Does this not sound like Robin pining over Nancy? Powerful, incredible Nancy? Werewolf Robin’s very own Angel of Death? The closest to heaven—and hell—that she’ll ever be?

Being lost in the little moments. That tiny hand hold in the Upside-Down. Laughing in Nancy’s car as they make their getaway from the asylum. The little high five after convincing that guy to let them in. She thinks about those moments, and she realizes she’s made a home in Nancy Wheeler—maybe it’s not intentional, but it’s happened. She doesn’t want to go back to her frankly probably neglectful parents, an empty home—she wants to go home to Nancy’s arms. She’d give up her life for that chance. And she doesn’t want to, because she knows there’s no way Nancy loves her the same way—she’s straight, right? She hates it, she hates the way she misses Nancy—she doesn’t want to.

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies

When everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know, you're alive

I think Nancy lies. She lies in telling people that she’s okay, she’s fine, she can take care of herself—but Robin has heard this before, hell, she’s said all the same. But she sees the truth, because as much as Nancy puts up that mask and builds up her barriers—everything is made to be broken, including the walls between them, and Robin sees through the cracks, stares into Nancy’s eyes and knows she’s lying—knows there’s something deeper, sees the truth, sees “I need help too, but I don’t know how to ask for it” and so she provides it. And it hurts, but hey, the pain means she’s alive, right?

Also obligatory reference to the Movies one shot and Robin being a sucker for cheesy movie romances—she can’t help thinking this feels like a movie.

Then we return to the chorus, but there’s a note of hope to it, because she’s beginning to learn that Nancy is keeping things hidden too. They’re breaking each other down to build each other back up, learning each other’s darkest secrets in the middle of the night, holding each other through the nightmares and their darkest moments. Robin feels it bubbling up in her, growing with the bassline, until it’s spilling from her lips, and then Nancy knows. Nancy knows her dirty little secret, and Robin has to hold her breath, watching, waiting, hoping, because god she just wants to be known—

And Nancy just offers her hand, a soft smile, and tells Robin that she knows her. Nancy knows the messy, rambling mess that is Robin. She knows the intelligent mind, the heart of gold, the way she’s willing to give every bit of herself for the people she loves—and that matters more than anything so small minded as to think Robin is dirty for loving in a different way. And it’d be hypocritical wouldn’t it? And oh, Nancy’s eyes are wide and watering, impossibly deep—Robin swears she sees right to Nancy’s bared soul, sees the mirror—Nancy wants to be known too—and Robin realizes, oh

She isn’t alone. This whole time, she’s been known, because Nancy has felt the same way, this whole time.

[totentnz]

i had this silly little idea for awhile: v is working on a program that detects a persons emotion and then plays music according to it, an idea that spawned out of the annoying feeling you get when none of the playlists you have fit your current mood

she got it to work pretty well and was quite proud of it until she gets into the car after the oilfields and iris by the goo goo dolls starts playing

[creaturina]

“And I don't want the world to see me,

Cause I don't think that they'd understand”

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[thatsadick]

my birth name being Iris because of the Goo Goo Dolls song and me indeed not knowing who I am is very interesting

[mamawasatesttube]

BTW... PSA.... even if we arent mutuals if youre in my notes regularly theres a Very high chance i am still fond of you. yes im vaguing someones tags on the compliment the person u rbed this from post. but like. positive vaguing? THE POINT IS im weird abt following ppl but IM STILL SENDING U FOND VIBES...

[indigo6f00ff]

need to share an experience i had 30 minutes ago

(edit: thanks to @walks-the-ages for providing and reminding me to put alt text, sorry it slips my mind alot lol)

[mythicalcoolkid]

You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side

[anna-scribbles]

last one i promise(<—lie)

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[anneapocalypse]

So, just curious how many writers and creators will have to be forcibly outed by relentless harassment before we acknowledge that "This queer characters was written by a cishet person and that's why they're bad" is not good criticism.