#4000 year old idiot

[gum-iie]

“to become stricken by mara is to be a long-life species, no?”

[no-light-left-on]

the 'he's 15' debate is so very stupid and all that Harvey said on the matter is taken at such surface level it might as well not have been considered at all

he was 15 at the time of being taken in by the cult and sacrificed - which makes A Lot Of Sense, like that's a homeless child, what is he gonna do, say no to food? or the lack of struggle, again, he was a kid, what was he supposed to do? the way things happened during the sacrifice make a lot of sense if we take it as him being a kid, besides, the cult targeting a beggar child makes sense because who's going to miss him?

we're also told that he appears 'almost as he did in life' - he has the same face, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't age himself up to be more respectable in the eyes of his chosen. he doesn't look 15 because he either aged in the Void, if only barely, or he decided that maybe after being hurt by adults it would make more sense to present as one

lastly, the tweet of him backing out of the Outsider being 15 is just.... not true. the question Harvey got was 'now that the outsider is free is he going back to being 15?' to which Harvey said that no, he is still thousands of years old and appears to be in his early 20's.

here's my two cents to this really stupid debate on the Outsider's age based off the tweets, hope it helps

it's one of those days when everyone needs a reminder that the Outsider is about a whole foot shorter than Corvo

[anika-ann]

Paperweight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, prequel, canon-ish (see A/N)

Pairining: (pre) Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4000

Summary: Falling in love with Steve Rogers is easy. Hiding it while your friendship blooms is considerably harder. Especially when he’s being absurdly loveable and perfectly hot during a training.

In which you stay behind after a work-out, bear witness to a training session led by Steve and are asked for assistance. How could you say no to the man?

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical violence, language? Hopeless idiots in love.

A/N:  a slice-of-life standalone or a one-shot set about half a year before Love on the Brain series; reader is called “Agent Jones”; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

If there was one thing you had known long before you joined the Avengers Initiative, it was that falling for a friend tended to be a complicated thing. It was even more complicated if one was worried it might not work out – which was practically always. The growing affection and attraction were not easy to hide, especially from perceptive people. People like Black Widow. Or worse, Steve Rogers himself.

The one thing making it easier was that everyone and their (grand)mother – in this case, the saying was way more accurate than in all other cases you were aware of – had a crush on Steve Rogers too. That meant that if someone caught you staring, lingering, or even gushing (usually meaning defending) Steve, it was hardly something unique to you. No one would think twice about it. Even as his friend, you were a person with well-working eyes and blood pumping your veins and it was indeed very hard to miss that Steve’s body was literally boosted to perfection to become the peak of man. That was fine.

However, the one thing making it insanely difficult was Steve. His irritating goodness of heart that was actually way more attractive that all typical bad boys from the movies made it seem. When he added the mischievous side to his persona, his wit, his warmth, both physical and in demeanour… and the numerous numerous occasions where he could show off not all his character qualities, but also his strength, it was impossible to stay within the lines of a simple crush.

Growing affection and attraction were never easy to hide, but god damn, in the case of Steven Grant Rogers, it was task fit for titans. And you were just a walking mass of bones, flesh, blood and hormones with a brain that might be rather well-developed, but could still short-circuit when Steve showed off the biceps that could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat – or flashed you an easy smile with the sweetest edge or a spark of being up to no good.

Now, it was given that Steve was a fan of mixed groups in training. Newbies with old dogs who needed to accept they needed to learn new tricks, men with women, different departments and teams mingling together and sharing tips. But Steve, for most part, was also a very reasonable man. He did see that there were advantages to training in groups divided according to sex as well. As someone who had spent the bigger part of his fully conscious life in a body more similar to those of women, he was aware that women needed to learn how to use their agility and how to turn the weight and strength advantage of their opponents against them for instance; men, on the other hand, needed times where they would not haveto hold back completely during training in fear of making the match unequal.

Apparently, Steve also believed that men needed to build their strength in a drool-worthy way.

You had lingered after the training session you had with your female colleagues led by the infamous Natasha Romanoff – or Nat, for you – feeling the need for extra stretches. Nat said it was fine and there was an area in the largest gym designated for stretching even as the main area could already be occupied by someone else. The someone else were men, led by Steve and Jack Rollins; you expected no issues.

You did not expect the training session to turn into a drool-fest so fast. But maybe you should have.

The architectonic genius designing the gym must have indeed been a genius, because even as the group of agents and recruits would have been out of your earshot due to the distance, you could hear Steve’s voice clear as day. You refused to believe it was because you were tuned to his gentle and yet commanding timbre he used whenever he switched to the role of a teacher, the role of the Captain.

You listened. You simply couldn’t help it: not only because it was Steve, but because of what he was saying was, in fact, intriguing.

Squats with weights, front lever. One thick iron pole, three people. As he described it, you admittedly couldn’t imagine how that would work.

And then he asked Rollins to help him demonstrate, picking an agent whose name you couldn’t recall to help by performing the front lever, which alone was a feat because of the strong core muscles and arms it required, along with incredible bodily awareness and coordination. At first, you were grateful Steve wasn’t the one showing that, because seeing him control his body so perfectly as he held onto the pole to basically levitate above the ground would send your mind to the gutter real fast.

Your mind ended up in the gutter anyway. Because the two remaining men – Steve and Rollins – were holding the pole on their shoulders while Agent Whatshisname performed his task. Steve already had to be slightly crouched because he was a good foot taller than Rollins, so it was truly difficult for you not to stare. But then… then they made a squat. Using the agent as a damn weight.

The pole rested on Steve’s wide shoulders with ease as it was nothing but a paperweight, the expanse of his back muscles dancing under his white tee. His sweats hugged his defined ass the way your hands itched to. Your stretches were forgotten.

It was just a brief moment, even if generous enough, and then he and Rollins rose to their (almost) full height. And then they repeated the motion just to show off and to test you. You were just a breathing walking mass of bones, flesh, blood and hormones indeed; you felt physically unable to avert your gaze. As for your brain, well. It circled straight to the thought of being stretched in a whole different way.

Being Steve's friend and only think about him as such was truly an impossible task.

“Easy for you, you could probably lift him on your own!” a voice called out from the crowd, clearly referring to Steve and you internally cursed and used all your willpower to snap your gaze away at last, hearing Steve’s chuckle and the murmur of agreement.

Gee, Mr. Mouthy, thanks for that mental image.

“True. But that is not the point,” Steve explained, thanking the agent for assistance in their demonstration. “This is not all about strength. If you're thinking why bother with this when you could simply lift weights...”

More murmurs of agreement followed and you asked yourself the same, for you could have lived without another image added to the collection haunting the better of your sleepless nights.

“This is not an exercise to build strength, not primarily. It's a group exercise. It’s about cooperation. It took us a hot minute too before we could show you. Come here, Agent Stalinski, please. If you didn’t mind, you’d help us demonstrate why.”

Once again, you did not find it in yourself to resist watching them; this time from genuine curiosity. At least this time, you made a point of laying your chest on your knees and only peeking at them for a few seconds, as Agent Stalinski, who seemed to regret his decision to speak up already, obediently walked to the pole. He could have refused, but he clearly didn’t want to look like a chicken – and didn’t want to disrespect Steve. It was never easy to decide and disrespect a kind man without looking like an idiot and feeling that part too. Giving a choice and respecting it was part of Steve’s charm and strength as a leader.

Without another word, Agent Stalinski performed the front lever as Rollins and Steve held the pole.

“If I use all my strength to show off, we'll fail... ready?” Steve said, waiting for Rollins to nod before they squatted.

And then Steve held back his bodily superiority considerably less than before and stood up with vigour.

It was an exhilarating sight; not only because poor Rollins nearly toppled over and even importantly, because Stalinski saved himself half a second before falling on his ass hard, but obviously also because Steve showing off his skills was a treat to watch. More so when he was proving a point; that was always fun.

And your heart could melt when Steve offered Agent Stalinski a hand to help him up, effectively shutting up the cackles that sounded among the other agents with one single glare; because humiliate the agent for mouthing off was not the point.

Goddamn Steve’s golden heart. He truly wasn’t making things any easier for you – and probably half the agency who was in love with him too.

You could hear a smile in his voice when he spoke up again, almost as if he knew.But you, in return, knew he was simply satisfied with proving his point and the agents understanding the task and the goal of the exercise. Understanding that bodily strength wasn’t everything and they needed to believe both in themselves and in each other; like Peggy Carter or Dr.Erskine once believed in him even if others didn’t.

“Like I said. It's about cooperation. One weak link – weak in working with others, not necessarily in bodily strength – and this isn’t going to work. So… let's group up and try."

As the group of agents begun to move around, you returned your full attention to your stretches, breathing in deeply, slowly releasing the air as you felt your muscles cry in both strain and relief. Remaining in position, you closed your eyes, breathing through the slight pull of pain further. You would sleep like a baby tonight; Natasha did not hold back on you, but that was part of the thrill. She pushed you all, but with enough kindness to make it worth it and a lot of more satisfaction when you could see and feel your progress.

You heard the steps as soon as you felt the floor vibrate under you, and your heart involuntarily fluttered. You should truly not be able to recognize Steve’s jog, because that bordered on creepy and obsessive, but you did go running with him quite often so you could blame it on that. At least that was how you reasoned with yourself. It had nothing to do with the fact that your mind tended to gravitate towards him too often, feel his presence, because it felt like first warm sunrays of the approaching summer.

Easing your position, you looked up as he approached you with a slightly bashful smile, a brief sparkle of mischief in his eye.

Before he could even open his mouth, you glanced behind him, noticing the issue and already guessing why he was here with you instead of the trainees.

One agent stayed alone. That meant that either both Steve and Rollins would be in a group with him, leaving the others without proper supervision and assistance or the one agent would be left out. Or you could join them for a bit. The choice of letting Steve use you – for the exercise, as a faceless agent only to even the numbers in an exercise – was a real no-brainer.

Once again, you reasoned that leaving the poor loner without a chance to train would leave you feeling evil when it was no problem for you to help; and it really would, if you were being honest with yourself. If you got to see Steve up close, either working out or directing other agents with his leadership skills, as a bonus, that was simply a nice coincidence, wasn’t it?

Raising your hand with a tired smile and gesturing for him to help you up, his grin widened, pulling you up without a second thought.

“Hey Sparkles,” he hummed gently, squeezing your hand before releasing you. “Could-“

“Sure, GG,” you interrupted him, rolling your shoulders and pretending your heart didn’t skip a beat when his eyebrows rose, one corner of his lips quirking.

“Well, now I’m tempted to ask anything.”

You gulped. It was nothing but a friendly teasing, you knew. But damn if it didn’t make your stomach somersault a bit, if you didn’t think you saw something flash in his eyes.

The thing was, he could ask you anything. And your little foolish heart would probably command you to do it. Especially when he smiled like that as he towered over you, eyes roaming over you with slight concern in his expression.

“Thank you. You don't even have to do the horizontal workout-“ he noted, a genuine worry in his voice as if he didn’t just said the words horizontal workout in a completely different context than you would like him to. He had to know about how you felt about him and was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he? “Just...”

“Be your paperweight?” you suggested cheekily, hopefully masking how the probably unintended innuendo made your face hot.

“I mean-“ You raised eyebrows when he looked as if he was about to deny it. Really? “Well, yes, basically. It’s an important role either way. And I know you could do it, but you already have one session behind you and you were already almost done with your stretches. I understand if you don’t want to undo all of that. So really, any way you’re willing to assist us, we’ll be grateful.”

It truly would have been easier if Steve was only attractive; or only kind, considerate or passionate. But the fact he was all of it was a deadly cocktail you had got addicted rather fast. He was like a magnet, calling out for every part of you and pulling you into his orbit with ease and inevitability. How could you say no to him?

“Sure, whatever. We'll see. But if I’m joining you, I might as well go for the full experience, right?”

Steve smiled at you, a proud edge to the soft curl of his lips, as he beckoned to the agents. The warmth spreading through your body was already well-worth the hard work you had ahead of you.

“Right. Let’s go.”

People who even suspected that they were in love should be stripped of their lawful right to make decisions and be declared temporary insane for the time being. Or maybe that just applied to people in Steve Rogers’ vicinity. That was what you thought of as you wiped the sweat off, feeling your hands trembling minutely with exhaustion.

Of course you had gone for it. You went for the work-out with all you had and maybe even what you didn’t have, but how could you relent for even a second when you had Steve’s proud grin directed straight at you whenever you tried another rep and succeeded at least partially? Your abdomen muscles burned, but when something flashed in his eye, admiration and something you couldn’t quite decipher beyond the emotion being a good one, the pleasant warmth in your belly simply took over and you gritted your teeth once more.

Your body was utterly ruined, all thanks to Steve; and it might not be in all ways you sometimes dreamed about, but the satisfaction it brought you was still well worth it.

The shaking not so much.

The other agents went to run a few laps under Rollins’ command as Steve followed you back to the stretching area, smile all soft and playful even if a little concerned since you walked with a slight wobble. Your core muscles were so overworked that it even affected your ability to walk.

You’d be sore tomorrow; very sore. If there was a chance to prevent at least part of the pain awaiting you in the morning, it was only natural you would take it, right?

That was how you reasoned with yourself. That was how you justified that when Steve’s gentle giant hands carefully took yours with an unspoken question, thumbs pressing into your right forearm just right, you let out the words ‘yes please’ with as little moany quality in your voice as possible.

You must have succeeded, because Steve didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he was polite enough not to mention it. Needless to say that you were grateful you could blame the flush in your face on your previous work-out.

Working his way up your arm in a perfectly collected manner, Steve pressed against the tendons and muscles with precision and well-calculated amount of strength; he wasn’t rough at all, yet he made sure you felt it.

You would bet there were a lot of things which he could make you feel it, but you tried to steer your mind away from the gutter as much as possible. Once again, you blamed your momentary inability to do that more than usual on exhaustion, the lovely visuals you had been offered, and Steve’s more than pleasant touch.

“Thank you, Sparkles. You did amazing,” Steve spoke simply but sincerely, an easy smile on his lips as if his thumbs weren’t kneading the exact spot you needed, flooding your body with the relief you craved; your muscles. Your muscles craved.

Focus.

The gush of wind created by the running agents helped you ground yourself in reality.

You weren’t alone. There was a purpose – a very platonic purpose – to what Steve was doing. He was thanking you for being a good colleague and teammate and it was time again for your brain to switch into that mode. Because there was no romantic mode in your relationship with Steve. There were two people needed for that and if all Steve was offering was his absolutely exquisite friendship, the best-friendship as it seemed to bloom lately, you’d grab it and never let go. Not for anything.

And you’d take a quick massage to your exhausted muscles too.

To sweeten the deal, it felt really good to be praised by Captain America himself. You would be lying if compliments from the Steve Rogers, the ultimate good man, were the only ones that mattered to you; the side to Steve which carried the mantle of the Captain and appreciated you wasn’t exactly something to sneer at, quite on the contrary.

“I didn't want him to feel out if I could help,” you shrugged, earning a slightly scolding look as you moved your shoulders, the arm under Steve’s touch tensing when it was supposed to be relaxed. You grinned apologetically. “And you know you're a good motivator- I mean--- motivational speaker... whatever.”

The gentle rumble of Steve’s chuckle was nothing short of warm even as his grin gained a teasing note.

“Why thank you. I'll consider a career change to a motivational speaker indeed.”

You chuckled too – and instantly regretted it as your belly spasmed minutely, trembling due to the way you overdid the work-out. Steve’s fingers ceased their movements, simply gripping your arm in support. Glancing up, you found his brows furrowed in worry.

Bless the sweet man. But if he was so concerned about your abdomen muscles, maybe he could massage them too- stop.

“Yeah, okay, maybe I pushed myself a bit too much,” you admitted with another chuckle, gritting your teeth to stop the hiss threatening to escape your lips. “Glad I could help. But you mister, are forbidden from making me laugh for the next 48 hours.”

He glanced at the finger you pointed at him with slight offence.

“But I like making you laugh?”

You glanced up on instinct. There was the faintest pout to his lips as your eyes met his and you found yourself on the receiving end of the warmest gaze. His hands were cradling your elbow now – giant and gentle still, thumb brushing over your bicep.

Yes. It was a true shame that Steve’s feelings towards you were merely platonic. Because at this moment, the blue pools of his irises seemed so inviting you’d follow him anywhere, to hell and back; and you knew he’d keep you safe, held your elbow tenderly but firmly when the need would arise and he’d protect your heart too, because Steve Rogers was as much of a fighter as a protector. You already knew as much. You wanted to know even more.

You wanted more. Selfishly and wistfully, you wanted more, especially in moments like this, moments that felt as easy as breathing with him even when your chest felt so full that breathing in seemed difficult – useless. Had he leaned forward, had he taken your lips, you wouldn’t care for oxygen, you’d- stop.

You had to stop and take a cold shower in the evening.

“GG-“

“Cap? What’s next?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Rollins’ howl reached your ears.

Whatever you were about to say died in your throat, whatever your hazed brain planned. You had to admit it was rather satisfactory to see Steve jump a little too, his hands practically dropping your arm and realizing last minute you had obediently left it completely limp and it might hurt. So he gingerly pressed into your bicep two more times, slowly manoeuvring your arm back down, wary of any rapid movements.

“Be right with you!” Steve called back, turning to you with another smile. You probably only imagined the hint of regret and yet; it was a nice feeling to see you’d be missed.

“Well, the crowds call your name, Mr. Motivational Speaker. Thanks for the quick massage, GG.”

“Thank you. Now go get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

You cackled at his unamused face when you addressed him as such, quickly replaced by a brief smirk at how you instantly regretted your actions, your belly protesting again. Serves you right, that smirk said, but quickly blended into the signature worried frown.

“Rest, Agent Jones,” he bit back good-naturedly, shooting you one last glance before he jogged back to other agents under his wing.

You watched him retreat, allowing yourself one last indulgence in the form of the glorious view of his back and ass, before you sighed and turned to walk away, the wobble in your step still present. You hoped a hot shower would ease the tension in your abdomen; however, you did not forget about the need for a cold shower either.

You supposed such was the price for being friends with Steven Grant Rogers.

You didn’t mind paying it, more so when you were gaining too.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did: the evening found you with a knock on your door from your sweet neighbour and a sweet aroma of sugar, cinnamon and apples. Steve stood in your doorway with a slightly bashful but brilliant grin, holding a plate with at least a third of a freshly baked pie that might as well have been prepared by Martha Stewart herself, but was baked by her biggest competition in the baking department.

“Is this allowed or does it fall under don't make me laugh category?” Steve questioned innocently and this time, you remembered to lay your arm over your belly when you laughed a bit, smiling wide, something so painfully soft, gentle and just a little heavy humming in your chest.

“Well, I think this falls into making me smile category, so I'll allow it,” you said, not even pretending you needed to think too hard.

“Good. I like making you smile too.”

The acute feeling in your chest grew – warm, tender and bright – an echo of outrage in your ribcage that Steve could say the words so easily as if they couldn’t be a declaration of love as well as friendship.

“Yeah. I like it too. And same,” you hummed, stepping back to let him in. “Come in, neighbour.”

As you invited him into your apartment, you knew that you were – all over again – inviting him into your heart too.

Maybe that was a dangerous thing to do; but in your line of work, a little danger was an occupational hazard. Of all the risks you could take upon, carrying love for Steve Rogers was one you’d take upon gladly. You’d happily taken the burden; because the weight you’d carry couldn’t be heavier than a paperweight. And even if it was, if that was a weight you were allowed to carry, at least platonically, you’d do so with pride – and with your whole heart.

Because Steve Rogers deserved nothing less.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Saw a video of this specific work out and my mind couldn’t let go of it… and it’s no longer available, sorry 🤐

Re-reading this, I am genuinely shocked they lasted so long and that it took the Love on the Brain case to break them… well, put them together, whatever :)

I hope you enjoyed this little floofy blurb and that autumn is being kind to you 💕

[you-ate-glue-you-eat-ass]

im sad

so i ranted to my friend about dnp and how much im obsessed with their relationship and uhm

now im just really, really sad because i realise that i will never have a relationship like theirs. i fall in love so easily and i just THINK that maybe i will find a love like theirs but it’s so rare to have something as precious as whatever they have.

like so for example my last crush was on this person who was/is one of my best friends as well and like god i idolised them but somedays they just kind of forgot i existed

but then other days i could force myself to believe that they were in love with me as well because of the way they acted towards me (lots of affection in general)

and there was a time period of like 2 months where he just. stopped talking to me completely, and it broke me to the point where i found it literally physically painful to drag myself out of bed most days. i still haven’t really spoken to him about it (but i probably should considering we’re “bsfs” lmao)

sorry going back on track: what dan and phil have is so special and i just want what they have to such an intense degree that it ends up hurting me because i believe that everyone i fall in love with will be my soulmate, husband, arch enemy, 4000-year-old tortoise, etc etc

tl;dr: ian rants about being a fucking stupid idiot who yearns for the dip n pip dynamic whilst also having attachment issues. this leads to nothing but sadness

please tell me someone else feels like this

[country-corner]

I just roll my eyes

Extended family advice to me when I moved (from 4000+ ft elevation) to my current location (less than 2000 ft elevation): "You can't live around here in the winter without a new, not used, 4wd vehicle." I kept the same 2wd truck I had at over 4000 elevation.

Looking at a new home (2600 ft elevation), same extended family: "Oh, you've been lucky around here, but you have never been through a winter at that elevation, you can get 15' of snow over night at that elevation. So you will need to replace your 45yr old 2wd truck with a new, not used, 4wd." Me rolling my eyes remembering living at 4000+ elevation with the same 2wd truck I'm using today and not remembering ever hearing locally of 15' of snow over night, even at the local ski resorts. Then smiling while remembering them getting their 4X4 with all season tires stuck in 12" of snow several times in the last few years, while I only got stuck once, due to my own fault of hitting the gas to hard in high gear and spinning my all terrain tires, in my own yard, when pushing 18" of snow.

It's not the truck it's the driver. You keep it safe and sane and gear down, if needed, you can drive a 2wd on paved snowy/icy roads better than any of the idiots with their 4x4s who think they can go at high speeds and stop on a dime on those same snowy/icy roads, all because they have a 4wd. If you drive a 4x4 safe and sane and gear down, if needed, on snowy/icy roads, then I have no issue with you and would be willing to trust you with driving my 2wd in the winter.

[thrudgelmir2333]

“Anxiety Writing”, Imperator Rome, Antiquity, Lance’s Role and my infuriating obsession with a “Catholic Fantasy” cartoon for children

Since I’ve decided to focus a bit more effort on Tumblr after basically being a whole year quiet, to the point I published ten whole chapters since the last time I publicised one here, I thought I’d try my hand at writing a blog post too, since that’s kind of what this site is supposed to be about. 1. Confessions about being the biggest Saint Seiya Tsundere People who know me online, even tangentially, whether on Discord, Fanfiction.net, Twitter or Tumbler, know one thing about me; I have an obsession with a pathetic excuse of a show called Saint Seiya. Or Knights of the Zodiac. Or whatever you wanna call it, I don’t care, call it Power Rangers: Ancient Greece if you want to.

But frankly? I kind of despise this franchise. I mean the whole of it. I really do. It’s so bad, to an embarassing level, like a B movie cashing in on a trend. It makes me genuinely embarassed that half the things I have to talk about with anyone about the last 10 years of my life are either about depression, college or Saint Seiya. And when I’m not embarassed by it, I’m infuriated, because Saint Seiya, for those of you who don’t know, is one of those franchises that has become endlessly commodified online. They’re a bit too aware of their own success and have decided to bank on it for the rest of its irrelevant existence, endlessly pumping out bad cartoons and CGI-filled movies to raise the appeal of the toys and DVDs they want to sell.

And yet, I have the ignoble badge of having spent those ten years writing a shockingly long fanfic of it, a fanfic that I pretty much work on every other day or so for the past 4000 days of my life. And this is the only life I’m gonna get lol Not only have I written Lance’s Role, a incoherent behemoth of a fic, but I’ve befriended SS fanfic writers, I’ve reviewed SS writing, I’ve commissioned art, I’ve climbed my way to a top of a SS Discord server that I didn’t even create, I’ve hosted streams of episodes of all of its spinoffs to friends and I’ve endlessly discussed every minute aspect of this franchise, from Seiya’s character flanderisation in classic Saint Seiya, to the accidentally sexual language of the scene of Athena “taking in Saga’s knife”, to the lighting on Chakram Europa’s monologue in Saint Seiya Omega. Like, the bots on those servers tracking everyone’s posting experience speak for themselves; I’ve talked about SS more than some of its oldest and most ferverous members combined.

Why do I do this? lol Wtf is the matter with me? I’m a 30 year old college graduate that barely even liked this show when I saw it on TV back in the 90s, in the few moments of my off-hours when I wasn’t being dragged to church masses, or other social gatherings my parents didn’t really even believe in. Why have I revolved my headspace around a show I don’t like or respect?

A couple years back, my friend @zebulonwallace told me that a friend of hers once described Saint Seiya as “Catholic Fantasy”. We talked in-depth about it and why her friend claimed it and really, even when discounting the regions this show is popular at (France, Latin America, etc). While I feel like that moment made a lightbulb turn on my head about why I can’t forget about this stupid show, it’s just too easy an explanation. It’s too convenient and comfortable and it puts the hot lightbulb too away from myself. It doesn’t take a degree in media literacy to see that SS is packed to the brim with catholic imagery. Saori herself is one big Virgin Mary figure, especially in the 4th movie of Saint Seiya which, guess what, stars the DEVIL as the villain. So, I think it’s time to fess up that there is no good reason for these last ten years of my life. I’m just an obsessive idiot who found an easy target. That’s the truth. Saint Seiya is my stress toy because, frankly, it’s easy and comfortable to criticise it. It doesn’t take a lot of in-depth thinking out of me to point out its flaws and, frankly, that makes it less of a threat to my ego. It also has a very fractured and, paradoxically, unquestioning fanbase, which makes it very easy for me to levy arguments against pretty much every single niche in it whenever I want to feel superior to someone who thinks “Seiya is a true role model” or that “it’s fine that Lost Canvas has bad writing, cause Gold Saintz be hot”. If I was writing for One Piece or something, however, a franchise I have much greater admiration for, I would be competing with people with a lot more imagination and media savviness. Lance’s Role, which is essentially my personal anxiety outlet, would be under a lot more scrutiny in such spaces.

Why Saint Seiya, of all things, though? Why not Bleach, which is more modern, equally flawed and even somewhat inspired by Saint Seiya? Well, because fucking Bleach doesn’t have Ancient Greece on it, you dingus! Duh! It’s about fashion magazine Samurais wearing hip clothing, not people being drawn on pots chocking a lion or something : v 2. Imperator Rome and Antiquity Nerdism So, what some people might not know about me in my spaces (or maybe they do), is that I’m also a big fan of history and geography. My mother was a geography teacher herself, my father was... part of a questionable culture of historical revisionism BUT ALSO a respected journalist in our area, so I think I just have it in my blood to have a deep curiosity about how history and geography relate to eachother. It permeates everything I do and, even in my early years, I had a fascination for Ancient Greece and Rome, because they were the closest sources of the topic I could understand.

As such, I’m also a big fan of video games heavy on history and geography. This manifests itself in me having 1250 hours of playing Imperator Rome, a game even some of the most ardent Paradox Interactive fans barely have a tenth of the time spent on, and that time in IR is almost a tenth of the time I’ve probably spent writing Lance’s Role. Imperator Rome, despite its name, is frankly a lot more about celebrating the Hellenistic Period than the Roman one, with a lot of features and tidbits dedicated to the history of the Diadochi states, Makedonia, Greece, the Indian Mauryias and even the extinct Aechemenid Empire. Hell, Rome is almost just the easy-access gateway civilisation you play before you inevitably dive into the rabbit hole that are Diadochi soap-opera intrigues.

And if you dive into this rabbit hole, the first thing you realise is that there’s so much more to Antiquity than you even imagined. I never heard in my life of Antigonus Monophtalmos, and now I think he’s some kind of super one-eyed mega-general worthy of his own page on Badass of the Week, a dude who spent his life routinely dunking on his fellow former friends and was the first of Alexander’s subordinates to dare proclaim himself King and try to reunite his lands, only to then meet his end when some random dude hit him with a javelin. Yes, the guy got killed by a freaking random mook who got close enough to throw a stick. And that was the first battle his side would ever lose. That’s so comically tragic that its like something out of the Illiad or whatever. Eumenes of Cardia, the secretary of Alexander the Great that Antigonus defeated and killed, is such an obscure and interesting character that there’s AN ENTIRE AWARD-WINNING MANGA made about him by Itoshi Iwaaki called ‘Historie’. Imperator Rome even references it in its achievements. How cool is that? Moreover, I also never heard of how much of a dingus Antigonus’ son Demetrius was and how his fuck ups and delusions created a cascade of fails that, through his descendancy, led to the fall of Greece to Rome and effectively the beginning of the end of the Hellenistic Period. And did you know Phyrrus of Epirus, the fabled coiner of the phrase “Phyrric Victory”, died not in battle, but because while he was occupying Argos in a war, some random old lady hit him with a roof tile over the head, and his enemies decapitated him? The guy spent a decade of his life going up and down Sicily, fighting both Carthage AND a nascent Rome, and the thing that does him in was your nasty gradma complaining from her window how your horse was eating her flowers, or something. This was such a tragic end that Phyrrus’ enemy, the descendant of Antigonus, punished his son for cutting off Phyrrus’ head, because it reminded him of the curse his own family felt. Forget it, this isn’t like the Illiad, this is borderline Shakesperean. This is Hamlet, Greek-edition. Or I guess Hamlet is Phyrrus, Danish-Edition. Or is it English? I also never understood the cascade of complexity that was Egyptian dynastic history and its screwed up mix of monumentality and petty intrigue until Imperator Rome gave me a framework to understand its geography and rulers and encouraged me to read more about Antoquity outside of Ancient Greece. I found myself thinking back to the character of the graphic novel Watchmen, Ozymandias, and how he went from admiring Alexander the Great to admiring Ramses instead, cause holy crap, Ramses... was also kind of an incredible character of history. No, really, there are so many characters in antiquity, female and male, poor and rich, generals or philosophers, Greeks or Persians or Egyptians or Levantine, who are so immensely interesting and wrapped in legend that, in a way, Greek Mythology *falls short* of real life Antiquity people. I feel like I’ve barely dipped my toes. And hell, this is just one region, in one continent, in one era of the world. I will never understand fully the complexity of the Chinese Warring States period, because there’s just so much to go into it, but I definitely appreciate more the immensity of it. In a way, you could say reality, at least the recorded one, is endlessly more fascinating than the myths it inspires. .... *sigh* And then you have a show like Saint Seiya. ╯︿╰ 3. What Saint Seiya is, what it is not Allow me to be serious for a second; I don’t believe Saint Seiya should or could be this one big epic tribute to the comically complex history of the Eastern Mediterranean. At the end of the day, it’s Power Rangers: Ancient Greece. That’s all it’s ever going to be. It wouldn’t even be entertaining if it was loaded with all this lore. Saint Seiya appeals to a very popular conception of astrology, greek mythology and catholic imagery, all three things popular and various demographics, both in the West and the East, and mixes it in with shounen fluff from the late 80s. Saint Seiya is a show for children. And (wo)man-children. It’s not “Game of Thrones”. And that’s fine, lol

... But it doesn’t mean the potential isn’t there, does it? Or that its appropriation (if this term can be used) of Eastern Mediterranean mythology (specifically the Greek one) to drive up its appeal in markets is any less apparent. Right? And when you combine it with all the loose ends, unfinished character arcs and wonky timeline welding between the various spin offs, there’s just this big, fertile middle ground there, just tempting you to do something with it! So, what is an obsessive nerd like me supposed to do with all that untapped wealth just sitting there? Just bitch and complain that no one with a Toei badge on their suit will dig it for me, like so many do? Just endlessly whine that no one will put at the helm some sycophant artist regurgitating Shingo Araki’s style on Twitter? Well, no. That’s stupid. There’s honestly a lot of fertile ground in Saint Seiya to tell stories. All you really gotta do is plant a seed and water it and I guarantee; it will bloom. I have had endless conversations with friends of mine like Kenshiro and Zeb about the insane amount of fun things you can do with this world and some of them even expressed desire to maybe one day give writing them a shot. So maybe Saint Seiya isn’t Game of Thrones, or even Dragon Ball, but it does sound like it is something. And that if a passionate fan just takes the time, they could make it that something. So why doesn’t it happen? Especially when some people, like me, are obsessed enough to give it a go? Well, frankly, cause it’s a fool’s errand. 4. Saint Seiya Rewrites and “What the Fans Want” Saint Seiya fans don’t want Saint Seiya stories. They want an elevation of Saint Seiya stories into something of mainstream impact. The reasons for this are not monolithical, but it is the main driving force of what I’ve seen constitutes as the motivation of the core of the fanbase. This, the fandom believes, can be done two ways:

a) Finishing and adapting the now, pretty much, mythical “Heaven Chapter” that Masami Kurumada just won’t get into, which will usher Saint Seiya into a new age of Shounen relevance that will put it back in the pantheon of anime along with Dragon Ball and One Punch Man

b) “Fixing” early Saint Seiya, usually through some kind of new manga edition, rewrite of Sanctuary Arc or outright remake of the old anime, preferably cutting out filler

It is no coincidence that half the new stuff coming out the past 15 years for Saint Seiya that has gotten any sort of traction online (and not scoffed at or ignored like Dark Wing and Sho were) were either pseudo-sequels like Omega (see method A) , or movies and tv shows retelling the story of Galaxian Wars and Sanctuary Arc with new computer-assisted animation, 3D and now live action (see method B). There is a firm belief among fans that all that Saint Seiya needs to do is just get through Next Dimension and have Seiya finally climb Mount Olympus, Kratos-Style, and defeat Zeus, so that everything will be right with Saint Seiya and it can reclaim its spot of relevance, where fans can debate online freely in scaling forums and anime Discord Servers why Saint Seiya is *so* important as an influence to popular shows like My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaizen. I don’t know about you, but this to me just sounds a lot like Abraham Simpson fantasies, the kind where he complains he “used to be with it”, or how his descendants don’t appreciate him or give him the attention he feels entitled to. Its the kind of thinking that has no concern for the characters themselves, the voice of Kurumada or the style of storytelling they oh-so-love-so-much, and more to do with fragile weeb egos desperately trying to prove to teenagers online they shouldn’t laugh at their old show. But regardless of how I feel about it,... it’s the market of Saint Seiya. These attitudes are what define what the fans seek in Saint Seiya and what market researchers will tell their directors and animators to appeal to in future projects. Hence the glut of revisionist shows and remakes of Sanctuary Arc like Legend of Sanctuary, Knights of the Zodiac and now the 2023 LA Saint Seiya movie. So is there really a place for originality in Saint Seiya? No. Sorry. Well, don’t turn away just yet, this post ends with a positive message, just stick with me first through the valley of darkness. @melosfantasos​  is an author currently writing a remake of Saint Seiya. By their own words, “Saints of Athena” is what they wished Knights of the Zodiac by Netflix had been like. It is a fan rewrite of Saint Seiya, just like Bruno Masei’s “Legend of Seiya”. Melos, in some ways, represents this wave of wanting someone to ‘fix’ Saint Seiya, but rather than sitting around waiting for someone in Japan to read their minds and get to it, or stan accounts of fanartist shills on Twitter endlessly posting more and more ‘tributes’ to Shingo Araki, or make posts online about “Why aren’t things better? ＞︿＜Boohoo!” Melos took upon themselves to sit down and effing write. And you know what? Melos is doing a pretty good job. “Saints of Athena” is of relative quality and Melos has written 250,000 words in a year, which is a level of hardwork that should be respected no matter your opinion on the product. People, including me, have praised Melos for harnessing the potential of the characters and setting in a narrative form. And you know what? For a fandom that seems to think that the height of characterisation is Aldebaran in Kotz talking to a couple of Hoplites for five seconds about how tense things are in Sanctuary? Melos’ writing oughta be Shakesperean to them. Applause *clap clap* We got a real fan! This is it, right? This is what SS fans have been looking for. Someone with passion for the ‘narrative’ to take the reins and really use the characters the way everyone wants them to. So how many reviews has Melos gotten? 100 like Bruno? 180 like I have over 10 years? 450 like Jenny has? Maybe a 1000??? ... He’s gotten 7. For a year’s work. 3 of them are from the same people and one of them is from me. And I pretty much tell him in it that I won’t be reading because I am not interested in rewrites, but new stories. Uh.   I’m sorry, what the hell? (￣﹏￣；) 5. Spin-offs, Fanfiction and ‘Originality’ in Saint Seiya It’s no secret around FF.net that Saint Seiya fics have been going through a review drought. I publish in AO3 as well and, frankly, I don’t see that much of a difference. In fact, I get a lot more hits per chapter in FF.net. So, the question is ‘why?’ Around a week ago or so, Melos asked in a Tumblr post (mentioning me in a flattering light, btw, thank you ^_^) how come fans don’t support more original stories. I’ve conversed with the fans in various spaces over a decade and I don’t think there’s one common answer to this question. I’m not the type that thinks my work (or even Melos, no offense, please keep reading) should be given more attention simply because it’s *original*, because let’s face it, nothing is really original. Especially in fanfiction. There’s nothing new under the sun. That’s just a fact. I don’t care how weird or quirky you think you are, you’ve been influenced by something other people are already aware of. I love @jennydevic ‘s Love You, Kill Me, I think it’s one of the most ‘original’ things ever done for Saint Seiya, but guess what? I can also see the influence of South Park and Batman Animated Series in it (especially after she told me she was influenced by these lol). Her Cepheus Albiore and her June are very much Bruce Wayne and Batgirl in their dynamic. The Andromeda Island gang are various Robins, at least as far as their relationship with Albiore goes. And it’s great. So, asking why fans don’t try more ‘original content’ just... doesn’t really mean much to our markets. I can’t blame casual fans for being skeptical to when I say they should read LR because “it’s different” or subversive, especially when a lot of inexperienced writers use this as a shield to their flaws. Besides, being original or subversive is subjective. I’m sure that to a lot of people, especially people of taste, LR is nothing new or ground-breaking. It’s just ambitious, at best, and not necessarily well guided. BUT... I do think there’s a lack of curiosity on the fan’s part hidden behind a veil of feigned-curiosity, and that fans that endlessly bitch about bad spin off and movies, but then would rather buy a ticket to them or spend some extra bucks on Saori’s beach-going attire on Saint Seiya Awakening (a game designed, by the way, to make it very clear to you that the franchise exists to rip you off) than search for things fans are making, are acting fundamentally hypocritical. And I’ve been seeing this happening for well over a decade, so imagine how resigned I must feel with it. “More than Gold” is an incredible story with a premise fans should love. It’s a freaking AU about Aiolos surviving in exchange for Kido leaving behind the Sagittarius Cloth in Greece and it delves into his emotions and survival guilt and having to live in a wheelchair and rebuild his life and relationships and fighting! If you’re a Saint Seiya fan of any kind, you should stop what you’re doing and go read it right the fuck now. What are you waiting for?! To get off work?!  Quit your stupid job! All you’re gonna do with that money is spend it on Awakening anyway ￣へ￣ So go read it! More than Gold Is also about Jenny gradually discovering her love for Yaoi writing, but let’s leave that aside. There’s enough homophobes in anime fandoms. But if “More than Gold” is so goddamn perfect, as I say, how come it’s not being read? Quoted even? Because ‘something original’ isn’t what fans want. Despite what they might say. I don’t know about you, but there’s just an ugliness in the soul to going on Reddit and Twitter all the time and complain Toei doesn’t give you what you want, and then refuse to lift a finger to seek out works like Melos’ “Saints of Athena” or Jenny’s “More than Gold”, which give you everything you SAY you want, and very passionately so, but off the hand of someone that doesn’t have paid composers, animators and marketeers to legitimise it. It screams ‘envy’, not adoration, because it proves all you really want is for Saint Seiya to be what it’s not; a Dragon Ball show, but you don’t want it to work anything about itself to achieve that. In fact, many of these people don’t even try spin offs that are too different. I will never forget whiny comments made on Saintia Sho online publications that “I’m not gonna read this, because it’s Saint Seiya without Seiya. How does that even work? （︶^︶）” which is especially shocking because Chimaki is easily the most passionate spin off author of them all, in my opinion. She’s also the only spin-off author who writes Deathmask correctly, yet got the most horrible adaptation ever done for an SS manga and has been treated with dismissiveness by the fans since. What they want is something old with a fresh paint, so it won’t look so old. They want the LA movie filled with Marvelisms or a remake of the anime in the style of Hunter x Hunter’s, so they can ‘enjoy’ their cartoon without the shame of being confronted with its obsoleteness. Something ‘ truly new’ is the last thing many Saint Seiya fans want, because it doesn’t respect their nerd religion. And I don’t think people like me, or Melos, or Jenny or anyone else who want to write new things in Saint Seiya should be hanging on the hopes that these people will one day recognise them, or recognise some other fan’s work when they themselves are just sitting around waiting for a new cartoon to drop. But what choice do we have? To go ask Naruto fans to read them? And this, of course, hurts creative writing people who are passionate about what they do, because it puts them in an ever shrinking box of rejection and apathy. Jenny has made clear in her “More than Gold” chapters, even though the fic had a premise any fan of SS would love, that part of the reason she winded down production was because the lack of reader feedback was driving down enthusiasm. In her final words to the last chapter of More than Gold, Jenny says “Part of the joy of writing fanfiction is for an audience, but if there is no audience, there isn’t any point.” How heartbreaking is that? －_－Don’t worry too much about Jenny, though, she is perfectly fine. The author of Love You, Kill Me, the best Saint Seiya fanfic ever made, has moved on to greener pastures and is having fun again, bless her heart. The heartbreaking part is that we, Saint Seiya fans, have allowed this to happen. So what does this mean about me? And my obsession with Saint Seiya? Or with fans that aren’t interested in reading what I write? If there is no place for originality in Saint Seiya, why do I even bother? Pah, cause it shouldn’t matter. ＼（〇_ｏ）／ Duh! 5. Spite, Anxiety, Passion and Obsession - Why, after ten years, do I still write for a junk show I don’t like with an audience that isn’t there? It would be easy for me, after everything that I’ve written so far, to say that Lance’s Role is an engine that moves on sheer spite. I’m sure part of the truth lies in this, but that’s just too self-flattering. It paints what I do as some kind of protest against fans I don’t personally like, that I take joy in not being read by them. That I am, in a way, superior to them. That would be the Spite. But the reality is, no. I’m no better than any of them. I make plenty of mistakes in my writing and my beta-readers aren’t afraid of whacking me with their newspaper roll over them. Some of the most exciting moments I’ve had writing this fic is getting the Betas back from Jenny or my friend Elly and they let me know they like what I’m doing with characters like Lance, or Olivia, or Dohko. I am overjoyed when Jenny says she really cheered for Lance in this last chapter I wrote, or when Zeb listens to my character rambling, or when Elly tells me “hey, this is actually pretty funny”. It’s a very “please praise me some more \(￣︶￣*\)) “ kind of moment that any creative person can relate to. I still very much care what people have to say about what I write. I’ve recently joined a real writer’s server (as in, you know, people who PUBLISH) and I’ve had moments of incredible self-consciousness about everything I do, from my excessive use of ellipsis to the many references to mixed mythology that Saint Seiya forces me to employ.  I’ve been embarassed to show them what I write, but it’s also been a very interesting experience because, for the first time, I’m around a group of people that admire writing in and of itself, and not just what panders to them. This means that, paradoxically, I am aware of my flaws, terrified of them and I crave the feeling of knowing I have defeated them. For now. I think that would be the Anxiety. I think that, in a lot of ways, people write these big fanfiction projects as an exercise of fan energy. We have these crazy thoughts in our head influenced by colors and music and animated movements and, like a composer, we want to put them into paper, even if it’s really bad and you can’t really put music, colors and motions into words so well. But we also want to celebrate with others that we can find that kind of joy in what we do. I can’t speak for other writers like Melos or Jenny, but to me LR has also been a vehicle to work out some very toxic emotions in myself. The 2010s were a very difficult period for me in a lot of ways and part of the reason why I’m still alive, not just in a physical way, is because of this fic. I’m a better person for having adopted this habit and I want to know that after I’ve gone through the valley of depression and self-doubt, I have something fun and engaging to give back. Something that excites others. That in turn, would be the Passion. What is the obsession, then? Why am I obsessed with Saint Seiya? ...Well,  I’m not. I told you from the beginning of this post; I hate this franchise. It’s fucking lame and has no soul anymore. It’s largely just a vehicle, a setting for the story I want to tell. You could say I am appropriating Saint Seiya for my story the same way Kurumada appropriated Greek myths when he can’t even point on the map where the fuck in Greece Sanctuary is supposed to be at. He doesn’t even like his own show that much and his understanding of what Cosmos is changes every 2 years or so. The proof of it  is that I don’t even know what to talk about in it anymore, and I’m one of the goddamn admins at the R/SS Discord server. Everytime I want to talk about Saint Seiya, I find myself steering instead towards the things *around* it, and noticing how similar they are to other cultures I have gripes with in real life, like culture wars, politics or just the conflict of attitudes between non-prospective people and prospective people. Even in LR, the things I write with are largely manufactured concepts of my own creation within Saint Seiya. Shamballa is not a real Saint Seiya place. The map of Death Queen Island I have made is 50% headcanon. Neither are real to Saint Seiya half the things that Dohko shows Lance in Rozan, or the Princes of Hades, or the False Holy War, or even Lance himself! So maybe the Obsession... is just writing! Fuck! Ugh, I’ve inherited all of my dad’s manias, and directed them at a cartoon! (=~= God help me! So that’s the lesson, kids. Write for the sake of writing. And if you get ignored, write some more, because if you really got the itch, that’s the only thing that will scratch it.

[crazilily]

hey so i'm a stinky idiot that accesses the internet via 4000 year old rock. will i get this update despite this warning thingy i get on like every new session?

PSA

[the-firebird69]

We go ahead and we put restrictions on BJA and several others i'm sending the list in now.

- Here's several things going on firstly Dave running around with a carriage with nuclear weapons what's not really something they knew about and it's something we knew about. John Remelard thought it would be code he could use and then he thought it would point us out and he he means himself so they're going back and forth terry Cheesman and him and he doesn't want to do it which usually means that he does and he comes back around after cheeseman puts him away and we feel he sends the car. And it is code that he's using and he's trying to say our son is roboticized and dumb things like that that BG has been saying he's he's also insane and dangerous both of them are nuts and we're going to fill them full of holes but the timing is right with September 22nd trump would be out probably for a week and he would come back running for Terry Cheesman and he would use trying to hit cheeseman as cover and he would try and get us to agree to hit achievements areas because he's good at it and stuff like that now that makes sense but he would have to have money to drive a car around you need insurance and you need gas and it does not explain that and he'd simply have to sell it and people don't believe it but that's what it would happen because the monthly insurance is too much it's about a $120 a month or $100 a month and it's too much. It's too high here anyways. Maintenance and gasoline make it a prohibitively expensive so really it's putting a cart before the Horse and I don't think that he would even tell them that he's going to sell it so he doesn't tend to do that he wants to get the car and have it brought down here and he'll sell it and you can sell it online and then come down and examine it and they'll give you probably $1000 less than what it's worth and people say that's not right and he says that's what I would do because you're asking me to cut my own throat and they say you could sell an ebay for a year of Insurance and he says the E bike is my insurance for the year it says what do you care i'm gonna sell it whether you **** know it or not. And yeah it'll get Ronald de Rudy out of the Social Security office and Terry Cheeseman would make it happen it's funny it's gonna be but then he says we intend to get money to you and he says 20 grand from Social Security is all the old it's not enough and it will it will come in pieces and it's not gonna help He says with the car I was spending like an extra $200 a month a month but $300 a month I wasn't saving that much let's say$4000 a year. Grade school math. So we're listening to this and we're going to hit this **** **** **** in their store and the other one and if they if they bring it down and hand the title over that's good if they don't who cares they can drive anywhere they want they do it all day long we think you can get about 10 grand and he likes that that's good he needs that kind of money and he doesn't care what you say trump you're an idiot he doesn't care if it's your master program everything is hinging on it he's going to sell it because of that. Anything to get at you. and your a moron trump

we use this he is so damned dumb. and yeh will bring it anyways. and is stupid. lol. nd tons say it sold the car at a loss to save moneya dn he is daft. now we look need another ebike non needs to save money. and cant too well. we help shortly.

Thor Freya

Olympus

[heprevaricated]

a old description about my oc, Quinn. love him <3 also includes some little facts abt him

this is him in one of my stories revolving around my apocalypse au

Description

--

Quinn stands a whopping 5 feet and 7.4 inches tall. Has downturned, and striking light brown eyes. His skin is tan with moles scattered across his whole body. He has straight (sort of wavy), ink-black hair that almost passes his ears, accompanied by his small, little bangs in the front that he clips back. Wears a dark camo military jacket given to by his ma, along with a stained, long-sleeved shirt underneath. Has matching dark camo pants with thick knee pads and big scruffed-up brown military boots. Carries a knife holder on his right thigh. He has a dark red scarf around his neck (he loops it around a good number of times for extra security).

some facts

--

・24 years old.

・Big softy. A big loser, even.

・Had two moms: Ma, and Mom. Ma served in the military. notice the HAD. lmao

・Canasian (Asian-Canadian) is canasian a word...?????

・Chinese

・He/him

・Cisguy whos a bit silly

Silly Facts

--

・Eats strawberries whole. Leaves and all.

・Knows how to cookk

・Knows how to handle a pistol thanks to his Ma bringing him to shooting ranges.

・Played soccer throughout high school and somewhat in college.

・Aimed to be a culinary chef after failing to get a sports scholarship.

・Bit of a social dunce.

・Is super good at chemistry.

・Is far-sighted

・Can NOT handle the cold. freezes in 70 degree weather

・Has over 4000 hours in Stardew Valley. Managed to get Jace (his boyfriend) to play so they can get married in every playthrough. loser stardew fanatic

・Was originally supposed to be an idiotic jock. But, dumb jocks hurt my soul so I made him a smart jock </3. Was originally inspired to look like Nick from Heartstopper but I hate British people /hj.

・In sophomore year, dyed his hair an obnoxious color of blonde by accident. Like i mean, neon highlighter yellow. Then started doing it on purpose throughout his life (before the apocalypse, ofc)

[gum-iie]

“what part of immortal do you not understand?”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Helena

Published: Feb 20, 2022

My name is Helena, and as of this writing I’m a 23-year-old woman who, as a teenager, believed I was transgender. In the years since detransitioning (stopping testosterone treatment and no longer seeing myself as transgender), I’ve become interested in exploring why, in the last decade, nearly every English-speaking country has seen a meteoric rise in adolescents believing they are transgender and pursuing cosmetic medical and surgical interventions. Here, I’d like to go over how and why I came to see myself as transgender, the process of transitioning, and the events leading up to and following my detransition.

The short version of my detransition story for those who want the bare details is that when I was fifteen, I was introduced to gender ideology on Tumblr and began to call myself nonbinary. Over the next few years, I would continue to go deeper and deeper down the trans identity rabbit hole, and by the time I was eighteen, I saw myself as a “trans man”, otherwise known as “FtM”. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I made an appointment at a Planned Parenthood to begin a testosterone regimen. At my first appointment, I was prescribed testosterone, and I would remain on this regimen for a year and a half. It had an extremely negative effect on my mental health, and I finally admitted what a disaster it had been when I was 19, sometime around February or March 2018. When the disillusionment fully set in, I stopped the testosterone treatment and began the process of getting my life back on track. It has not been easy, and the whole experience seriously derailed my life in ways I could never have foreseen when I was that fifteen-year-old kid playing with pronouns on Tumblr.

But what leads a girl with no history of discomfort with stereotypical “girl” toys and clothes, or even the slightest desire to be a boy in childhood, to want to be a “man” through hormonal injections as she approached adulthood? In a vacuum, such a profound confusion leading to such drastic measures sounds like it should be rare and a sign of some sort of severe mental disturbance. Was I a fluke? Was I some kind of idiot who mistakenly believed I was trans because I’m crazy or just downright irresponsible?

The truth is that there has been an extreme rise in adolescents, especially girls, believing they are transgender. UK NHS referral data shows a 4000% increase in pediatric gender service referrals (not a typo). So-called “gender dysphoria”, which was once a very rare diagnosis that described mostly prepubescent boys and adult men, is now most commonly diagnosed in teenage girls. Activists will argue that these explosive numbers are a result of increased societal acceptance, and that at long last trans people are coming out of hiding and living as their authentic selves. If this were true, one might expect to see comparable rates of transgender identity across all age groups and between both sexes, but its disproportionately adolescent females feeling that warm and fuzzy inclusive acceptance. Considering “acceptance” now implies supraphysiological doses of cross sex hormones and having healthy body organs surgically rearranged, it’s worth a deeper look into what kinds of factors are driving this population clamoring to go under the knife.

[ Continued on Substack... ]

This is a very long, very compelling, very personal essay by a woman who got caught up in gender ideology, but thankfully realized she made a mistake before doing any irreversible damage. It’s far too long to post here - a good 20-30 minute read - but well spending the time on.

I wanted to pull out a part of it that stuck with me.

How could I have been so stupid?

I couldn’t bring myself to tell Jamie what I was truly thinking. I knew that she would probably freak out and try to make me rationalize away these feelings, but it was too late for that now. The dam had broken. Instead, I silently berated myself and catastrophized internally until I mustered the courage to tell my very pro-LGBT therapist: being trans had been a massive mistake.

I remember her response clear as day: “But you always tell me about your terrible dysphoria!”

“I know, but I… I don’t think that’s what it is” I replied, and started to tell her my still developing thoughts on how I had developed the “dysphoria” after finding out about gender identities online as a teenager, when I had been struggling with so many other emotional issues for a long time, and that in retrospect I must have gotten carried away, thinking that being trans was the explanation and solution for all of my problems. She wasn’t really hearing me, and questioned the things I said from the angle of “you’re trying to talk yourself out of being trans because transphobia is making you hate yourself.” Ironic that nobody ever questioned my desire to be trans that way.

This was the first moment I started realizing something was off about the trans movement, and institutions in general. I had experienced this massive realization, and it was agonizing but at least it was finally something real, and here I was being met with all these rationalizations for why this of all things was a psychological symptom. Not the effects of the testosterone, not my belief that all of my problems would be solved by transitioning, not my aversion to being female, but the fact that I now knew transitioning had been a mistake.

I left this session feeling frustrated, and I don’t think I ever went back. Sitting in the car outside the building, I told Jamie that I was regretting my transition and questioning my trans identity in general, and predictably she was extremely upset. She reacted in anger, saying I must be confused and, like my therapist, accusing me of having these thoughts due to some underlying psychological issue, like only an insane person would ever regret being trans.

She was not being uniquely harsh here, this is a common occurrence in the trans community. In one direction, there’s a desire to encourage gender questioning in others who have not questioned their gender yet (some people call this “cracking an egg”). In the other direction, there is an intense fear of others changing their minds about being trans or wanting to transition. Once someone is questioning their gender, there’s a push to encourage them to take steps towards social and medical transition, which, once initiated, makes changing one’s mind more complicated and going back to living as they did before more difficult. I personally have gotten very angry and desperate when friends in the past would voice doubts about identifying as transgender, and I have also encouraged gender questioning and trans identity in friends of mine who did not yet identify as trans. I regret this very much now, as some of these friends have gone on to medically transition, and I no longer believe this was remotely in their best interest. But in the trans community, people cope with the inherent doubts and cognitive dissonance of pretending to be someone they are not by encouraging others to do the same. This is also why so many adult trans people advocate for child transition. If an innocent, pure child can “be trans”, that validates their identity and belief system too. An enormous amount of mental energy is devoted to the crowdsourcing of validation and firefighting of anything that triggers internal conflict, which is always nagging in the back of the mind.

When a person is at peace with themselves and expressing themselves naturally, they don’t desperately micromanage everything and everyone around them.

Consider someone who doesn’t hold a belief in a god, becomes a Xian, then deconverts. The Xians from the church they left might accuse this person of “having these thoughts due to some underlying psychological issue” and never spot the hypocrisy.

Apparently it’s relevant only when disparaging someone leaving the group, but is never a consideration when welcoming someone into it.

If we question the ethics when Xians do this, why other than reasons of activism, wouldn’t we do the same here?

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hell and heaven [S.B.]

Sirius Black x fem!reader good omens au!

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: it is not necessary to have seen the series to understand it

N/A: This may not be very good because I think I have covid:( and I've been crying for a long time. Writing made me feel better but I really don't even know how it turned out. I saw the series today and I really liked it a lot. Although it is very brief I hope you like it

You walked in long strides, anger beginning to build inside your stomach, and wishing you were inside your apartment for a cup of tea and reading a book with the ease that humans could enjoy. But you were not human and you could never be calm as long as he existed.

"Come here, angel!" he yelled behind you "You're not really upset about that, are you?" he asked him with that smug tone that you wanted to wash off with holy water if necessary.

Sirius Black was the worst demon you have ever met.

"Get out of here, you idiot if you don't want me to accuse you of fraternizing with the enemy!"

"Hmm, technically you're doing it too so I don't know how things work out with your boss, but I don't think I'm the only one who could get punished, don't you think so?" he bragged. For God's sake, he was insufferable.

You and Sirius had been on earth longer than you would have liked to admit. God and Satan respectively had sent you to help a little with earthly problems and to keep an eye on each other a bit, which had been more difficult than expected.

I mean, technically you were keeping an eye on each other... pretty good, actually.

"Besides," he added. You were in a quite remote area of ​​London that you used to frequent when you needed help with something, but almost always that old kiosk witnessed fights of hellish dimensions "I thought angels weren’t swearing and you just called me an idiot"

"Guess who I learned them from?" you murmured rolling your eyes. You didn't want to turn to watch him, because you knew that Sirius would take this opportunity to convince you not to be angry with him anymore. You kept walking, aimlessly, with the boy trying to reach you.

"To be small you walk very fast, Y/N" he murmured in response, panting a little from the exhaustion of following you during those minutes.

"And wait for it to start flying"

"I have wings too, in case you've forgotten," he said calmly.

If you had learned anything in those 4000 or 3000 years (you weren't really keeping track) it was that Sirius always found a way to turn things in his favor. He was carefree and very rarely thought what he said. He was mean, rude to most people, and conceited. That his hair had gone through a thousand styles over the years, that he had been involved in a couple of wars and was personally in charge of collaborating in the creation of some narcotics used by thousands of humans. You knew he didn't have a favorite food because he had tried all the foods in the world and he was very indecisive. You knew that when he showered he liked to use tangerine shampoo for some strange reason and you also knew that sometimes he had a lot of nightmares. But he always managed to make things seem the easiest in the world.

“Are you listening to me or will I have to keep you walking all over London? Not a problem for me, if you ask me. I like to exercise” he said cheerfully. He was right, you couldn't keep running away from him because being the insistent bastard that he was he wouldn't leave you alone until he got what he wanted.

You stopped, a little resigned, letting out a sigh and finally facing the man. You had always envied a bit how good the color black was on Sirius and that day he was no exception. He was dressed in a jacket, military boots, ripped jeans, a silver ring, and circular sunglasses. His hair, now shorter than usual, was a bit disheveled and you wished you could perform a miracle and fix it.

"You have two minutes to explain to me how it is that you accidentally broke one of the sacred articles that I have in my department and why it shouldn't disintegrate you because of that" you pronounced without taking your eyes off him. Sirius smiled widely and clasping his hands raised them to the sky.

"I knew you would come to your senses" he murmured as he closed the distance between you and took both of your hands in his "To begin with, I didn't break it, it was the ball I was playing with" he started to say. You had regretted giving him the opportunity to speak "and to continue, I don't think anything will happen if it's a bit broken, don't you think?"

"And how do you think I'm going to explain it to Gabriel if he asks me?" You said in a stern voice “Hello Gabriel, I no longer have that device that you put in my care because my demon boyfriend stayed in my apartment last night and accidentally hit him. I'm sorry, greetings to the Almighty God" you exclaimed sharpening your voice. Sirius smiled slightly and removed his glasses, showing his pretty chocolate eyes. For some reason they were normal, just like yours and the humans. They were not strangely colored, nor were they completely black. What's more, you could even say they were very pretty.

"Did you just call me your boyfriend?" he asked touched. You frowned and what little peace you had recovered was completely gone.

"I can't stand you Sirius!" you exclaimed annoyed, trying to get out of there again. But one of your hands was still being held by his and he took advantage of this to pull you back to him with a half smile on his lips.

"Hey, don't be so grumpy" he said amused, hugging you from behind and speaking into your ear. You wanted to say that it bothered you to be held like that by him, but it really didn't. His body was very warm and fit perfectly with yours. "I'm sorry I broke whatever I broke, I didn't know it was so important. I promise to fix it, but please don't be mad at me anymore, okay? " he murmured gently. You exhaled heavily, annoyed with yourself for not being able to say no to any of his apologies.

But you were an angel after all, being kind and caring was in your nature.

"I swear to you that if you cause another disaster like that I'll move to a church and you won't be able to visit me again, do you understand?"

"Oh, what are you saying?" he murmured, giggling. "I have seduced you to evil so many times that I would be a little worried that you can enter a church and be safe"

"If you don't shut up right now I'm going to reconsider forgiving you" you warned him. But he, as always, just laughed. Without saying anything, he raised one of his hands to your face and guided your face to the side, gently taking it by the cheek.

"Look at you" he whispered, more to himself than to you, maintaining that charming smile that drove you crazy "So heavenly" he joked, making you narrow your gaze. His laugh was caught in his throat because seconds later he was kissing you.

And so, the whole problem ended.

[halloweenhoneylover]

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you. 

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

——— 

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call.  (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously. 

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye. 

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again. 

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

——— 

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings. 

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

——— 

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled. 

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good. 

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence. 

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation. 

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

[reidsconverse]

memories • spencer reid

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none! just 4000 words of pure angst

This was an old fic reworked to be about around spencer so its taking a lottt of creative/artistic liberty with the character, so it kinda sucks im sorry! 😁

Every moment you had with him was one to be remembered and cherished for better or worse.

It had been a few weeks since Spencer had officially ended things, he had moved all of his stuff out of your apartment and now it seemed as if he had never even existed in the same place as you, as though you two were strangers. That is had it not been for the images of memories the two of you held. So, here you were sat alone in your room, your only company the half-empty bottle of wine and photographs of the two of you which sat strewn carelessly across your floor.

You picked up a picture and stared at it realising you both looked so happy. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, a cup in his hand and his signature grin sitting across his face. Your head was leaning against his shoulder, the smile on your face reminding you of how free you had felt that night, you had never felt happier and you recognised that night as the night you realised...you were so in love.

"We should have a party," Spencer yelled despite there being no one else other than the two of you in the room.

"Right now?" You looked at him as if he was insane, not only was it completely out of character for your boyfriend but also, it was 1 am on a Wednesday and although your friends weren't those with a regular schedule you presumed most of them would decline a house party in the middle of the week.

"Yeah right now, c'mon doll I'll call Derek and some of the others and you call your friends." His hand was already on his phone texting Derek before you could protest so you followed his instructions and went ahead and invited your friends before getting up and preparing for this impromptu party.

It had only been 10 minutes when you heard Derek and some others open the door shouting for Spencer and you walked over with a grin on your face, "Hey D, Spencers being a diva and redoing his hair, he'll be right down." You said, rolling your eyes as Derek pulled you into a hug, he may have been Spencer's best friend but he thought of you as a sister and always treated you as such.

"Well I have look good for my girl," You heard Spencer say from behind you quickly placing a kiss on your cheek before doing his weird handshake with Derek, "Hey, thanks for coming'."

The three of you made your way to the kitchen to grab some drinks and greet some more guests who had congregated in that area and before you knew it, you were 4 shots in, feeling way past tipsy and in the mood to dance.

"Hey Spence," You said walking over to where he was now sat, a cup in his hand as he held a conversation with JJ and Emily about something that you didn't care too much about. You waved a quick hello to the girls so as not to be rude and then placed your head on his shoulder to let him know of your presence.

"Hey darling, you feeling good?" He turned his face and flashed you a wide grin before wrapping an arm around you to pull you close to him. He enjoyed being near you whenever he could, when he was away he would long for the days where all he did was sit and hold you close to him regardless of what the two of you were doing, so now whenever he had the chance he would hold you close.

"Feelin' great Spence.. wanna dance with you..."  You said pulling out of his hold and grabbing his hand leading him onto the 'dance floor', which was just the open space in your living room. He laughed and quickly finished his drink, discarding the cup somewhere in the room and held you as you both danced to the music playing through the speakers.

After a couple of songs, you both made your way to get another drink and get a break from the crowd, you sat at the kitchen island and passed him a drink."You know, considering you're a genius, I would've thought you'd be able to coordinate a bit better."  You said teasing him about his choice of moves which had essentially been him waving his arms in the air attempting to be in tune with the music.

He looked at you in fake shock and scoffed, "Yeah well it was still better than whatever you were trying to do." Referring to your horrendous attempt at trying to be sexy which in truth was never going to be anything but embarrassing. You stuck your tongue out in a childish manner causing him to laugh and quickly move to place his lips against yours giving you a soft kiss.

You jumped down from the counter after pulling back as a couple of your friends walked in and struck up a conversation about nothing interesting yet you made the effort to look engaged as Spencers's arm slipped over your shoulders and you placed your head against his shoulder.

"Hey guys, look here." You both turned to see your friend Harry, as always with a polaroid camera in his hand. You and Spencer gave each other a quick smile before grinning wide for the camera, both your faces full of love and happiness.

You sat there thinking about how quickly things can change, the people in the image you held so young and naive to the struggles the future would hold. Taking another sip of your wine you skimmed through some more pictures before stopping at one that held a bittersweet meaning. A picture that was taken a few days after what had been your worst fight, you both looked happy but all you could think about the events leading up to the image being taken.

It was your and Spencers 5th anniversary and he had promised he would make it to dinner. You hadn't seen each other in weeks because he was away on a case but he had promised he wouldn't miss this day, he had asked for permission from Hotch to leave for a couple of days so he would be there. "No excuses, No ifs and buts...I'll be there babe. I promise."

But there you were, alone at a table for two. The look on the waiters face held nothing but pity as he walked over for the fourth time to ask if someone would be joining you. Finally, you gave up and shook your head to let him know you would be leaving and would like the cheque. You had never felt so humiliated walking out of the restaurant head held high but tears building up in your eyes and so you cried. You felt so broken, almost as broken as all those promises Spencer had made you. The word promise and sorry had lost all meaning in the last 5 years, simply a courtesy rather than meaningful.

The minute you got home your phone began ringing, it was Spencer.

"Hey doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it, the team wanted to go out last night and I kind of missed my -." He began to explain causing you to scoff, 'no ifs or buts' my ass.

"How could you?" Your voice cracking as you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill for the second time that night. "I waited for 2 fucking hours Spencer, I felt like a fucking idiot."  

"What? What are you talking about?" His voice was full of confusion. "Didn't you get my text?"

"No, I fucking didn't. I didn't get a fucking text. But that's not the fucking point, You should've been here, you promised you would be here."

"Babe, I'm so -," He began but you knew what he was gonna say. The only conversations you seemed to have were stuck on a loop like a broken record.

"Save it. Don't say you're sorry when you don't mean it, stop saying sorry and show it instead."

"Look, I'll get on the first flight out. I'll see you in a few hours, I'll make it up to you I prom-." You hung up the phone before he could continue, his promise worth nothing to you anymore. Walking over to the couch, you fell asleep the minute your head rested against one of the many cushions populating the seat.

You woke up to keys jingling in the door, yet you made no effort to move from where you were. The sound of his footsteps got louder as he approached.

"Babe? I know you're up." He said, kneeling beside you making you sigh and sit up. "Babe, I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

You just stared at him, it might have been petty but you didn't want to give in to his apologies just yet, he had to understand just how much he had hurt you first.

"I couldn't care less anymore, Spencer. I just need to remember that I'll always come second to work and that's fine, it's important to you and I understand that." You got up and walked over to the kitchen to gather yourself.

"Babe you are the most important thing to me, I'm sorry-."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Here we go again, Spencer there's only so many times you can say you're sorry before it loses all meaning. I'm sick and tired of this, I don't know if I can do this anymore. You're never here, you make promises you can never keep and I'm pretty sure you've told me you're sorry more times than you've told me you love me."

"Please don't do this. I love you." His voice was shaking, breaking down at the thought of you leaving him. He moved over to you and turned you so you were facing him. "I know this means nothing to you but I am so sorry. I've been so shitty to you and I know it."

"Spencer, I deserve better than this and I'm sick of forgiving you and acting like I'm fine with how you treat me, you might not mean it but it fucking hurts. I love you so much and I know you love me but would it kill you to put me first for once in your fucking life."

This annoyed him, the lack of sleep and being overworked leaving him less patient and more irritable, "That's not fucking fair, you knew what you were signing up for when you started dating me, I'm doing my fucking best. I go to work for US, to support US. If I could devote all of my time to you if I could, but I can't and it fucking kills me. You can't understand how much I miss you when I'm not here."

Tears welled in your eyes seeing him breakdown, unable to keep up the unbothered facade you had on, "I just...Spence, I miss you too. It hurts not being able to be near you and so when you're not there when you promise you will be, it hurts it really fucking hurts not to mention it's terrifying, how am I supposed to know you're ok if you do shit like that."

He pulled you into his arms as you sobbed into his chest, all the emotions you'd kept bottled up during the argument letting go. "I know baby, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I promise, and I mean it this time, I won't let you down again. I love you." He mumbled into your hair, slowly kissing your forehead whilst consoling you and holding you like he never wanted to let go.

The two of you went to bed that night in silence, not a word was spoken until the next day wherein Spencer switched off his phone and dedicated the whole weekend to you and only you. He kept his word once he had to leave, always fulfiling his promises, never pushing you to the side and communicating with you always. The two of you felt strong again, you were happy.

You put your glass down and walked out of your room and began pacing around the living room, pictures of you and him still up on your walls, the walls that no longer belonged to the both of you. You thought back to when he asked you to move him, how nervous he was and how excited you were.

It was movie night at Spencers house. Each week he invited everyone over to watch a film, everyone taking it in turns to select a film. This week Emily had chosen Midsommar, a film you were yet to see so you were excited. You were sat beside Spencer on the loveseat, his arm around you and your face resting against his chest, a blanket covering you both for extra comfort. You looked up and saw Derek and Penelope lay spread across the floor whilst JJ and Emily sat on the sofa. Bowls of popcorn and sweets were scattered around the room and beer bottles were piling up. It was nights like this that you wanted to treasure forever, for the first time you felt like you had a family, people to call your own, people you could trust.

"Watcha thinking about?" Spencer asked, glancing at you and realising your mind wasn't directed at the movie anymore.

"Nothing, just really lucky to have you in my life," You reached your hand up to hold his face and gave him a soft kiss. "I love you."

He pulled you in closer if that was even possible, "I love you too."

"Ugh, get a room." Derek groaned making you both chuckle.

Spencer responded by throwing some popcorn at him, "Aw is someone jealous, don't worry you'll find someone soon enough."

Derek murmured a quiet, "Fuck off" before turning his attention back to the movie, making everyone laugh.

The movie ended shortly and everyone was discussing what to watch next, you were in the mood for a comedy but Derek wanted to watch Die Hard for the millionth time. After several minutes of slight arguing, you finally decided on rewatching Moana for the 12th time.

Everyone was pretty much settled, drinks refilled, popcorn replenished and everyone back in their positions. Emily was about to press play before JJ stopped her, "Wait before you start I'm kinda cold can I borrow a sweater?" She asked Spencer.

"Yeah sure, take one from our room." He said casually like it was normal but it made your breath hitch in your throat, did he just say our room? As in, yours and his. Unofficially he wasn't wrong, it was your room as much as his, you spent pretty much every night here making having your own apartment redundant, but he hadn't yet asked you to move in with him. You couldn't help the small blush on your face and the way your lips turned upwards at his words. It made you happy knowing he thought of it as something for both of you.

"What has you so happy?" Penelope asked in a teasing tone, she'd picked up on Spencer words and knew exactly why you were smiling.

You just stuck your tongue out at her and looked up at Spencer, "Our room huh?" You asked making him smile.

"Yeah I mean, you're here every day, maybe more than I am. You should just move in at this point." He let out a little laugh after he said leaving you confused as to whether he was being serious, so you just laughed along and waited for JJ to come back so you could start the movie.

A couple of hours later almost everyone was half asleep, everyone apart from you and Spencer. You began making your way to his room followed by him carrying the blanket he had taken from his bed. The two of you went about your night routine, Spencer had insisted on keeping at least half of your things at his place hence why you never had to leave. You quickly changed into one of his shirts which fit you just right and climbed into bed where he was already sitting, reading a book.

"Spence, were you being serious...earlier when you said I should move in?" You asked him, making him put down his book and look at you.

"Would you like that? You don't have to say yes but I would love it if you moved in. The mornings when I wake up and you're still next to me, are the best mornings. Honestly, knowing I'm going to wake up next to you makes falling asleep easier. Plus Tesla and Edison love you, maybe even more than they loves me." He asked, the mention of his fish making you laugh despite the fact your eyes were welling up, what had you done to deserve the sweetest man to walk the earth.

You shifted yourself so you were straddling him and held his face in your hands, "I would love to move in with you." You answered placing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you so much," He said as you moved back to laying down next him. "You make me the happiest man alive and I'm so lucky to have you."

"God, Spence you gotta stop before I start crying, I love you too." You said, as he laughed and pulled you into a comfortable sleeping position.

"Goodnight love." He mumbled, already falling asleep.

"Goodnight Spence." You responded, closing your eyes and beginning to drift off but not before saying, "By the way, the fishies definitely love me more."

You hadn't realised you were crying until a tear fell onto the frame you were holding. The image just as blurred as the memories it held. You carefully placed the image face down onto the table rather than placing it back up. Making your way to the sofa, you got your phone out and glanced at the image that had left you in this state. A picture of him and her, his hands holding hers as tight as they once held yours, the grin on both of their faces wide. He was happy, only it wasn't because of you anymore. You closed your eyes again, remembering how it all ended.

He had been distant since he had come back from this last case, he had been away for almost two months trying to catch this unsub and you had thought he'd be more excited to come back to you and finally be home. But he hadn't spent more than 10 minutes with you, the only time the two of you were in the same room for longer than that was when you fell asleep. Recently that had also stopped, he spent more nights away from home and at clubs with Derek and Emily , only coming back once he knew you weren't there. It was killing you but every time you questioned it he shrugged you off, telling you he loved you.

You wanted to scream at him if he loved you why isn't he showing it, why does he refuse to acknowledge you. You knew he was lying to you, he didn't love you anymore, you could see it in his eyes, how he never looked at you as he used to, he never held you like he used to. It was killing you and you knew you should ask him but you also knew that would lead to conversation you didn't want to have, an ending you didn't want to happen. So you kept quiet, went about your day and didn't question his actions, you had decided you would rather have the worst of him than not have him at all.

But that didn't last long. A few weeks later something happened, something you could ignore. Spencer had barely been home, only coming back to grab new clothes and leaving again often returning at 4 am or not all. The nights you spent alone, his side of the bed going cold broke your heart bit by bit. But you weren't ready for it to completely shatter, the images Penelope sent you of him holding that girl, a little too close, a little too tight, a little too much, start to fill your screen causing a lump in your throat and tears threatening to spill. You walked to the kitchen, surprised to see him there, he was sat at the counter head in his hands and a coffee in front of him.

"Spencer, what fuck is going on?" You all but shouted.

"Shh, my heads killing me." He said, burying his head in his hands attempting to block you out.

"You fucking asshole." You screamed at him, the pain and hurt evident in your broken voice as you tried your best not to cry.

This made him look up, far quicker than he should've causing his head to fill with pain and throb, but he didn't care, the memories of last night were coming back he knew he had fucked up. "I-I'm sorry, I was drunk and she was just there, nothing happened.

"You're sorry? Are you fucking kidding me?" You said, moving away from him as he got up to come closer to you. "No, don't fucking touch me. I'm done."

"What? No look I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I love you." The words were said, but the tone held so much uncertainty you couldn't tell if he was trying to convince you or himself.

"No you don't Spencer, not anymore. I know you don't and I've been lying to myself, saying that I'm ok with it when I'm not. I love you so much but I can't keep hurting myself by pretending like we're fine, We're not fine, we haven't been for a long time. Yes that fucking hurts, I thought we were forever, I thought we were going to grow old together and have kids and show them that we were soulmates. I thought we were perfect but we aren't."

"I never wanted to hurt you, I love you so much but-" He started with a sigh.

"You're not in love with me anymore..." You finished for him

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different, I wish I could control how I felt. You were everything to me, I really did picture a future for us but things changed, I don't know why and I don't know how. You don't deserve this, I'm so sorry."

"I know Spence, I know." You moved closer to him and he held you like it was the last time... because it was. "I'm sorry too."

You pulled away from him."I'll grab some stuff and go stay at my mom's for a few days. I just need to find a new place to move my stuff to." You said, trying to brush some tears away but failing as they kept falling.

"No, it's fine. I'll go, this is just as much your home as it is mine. I'll stay with Derek for a bit, you take your time sorting stuff out ok?" He said, using his thumbs to attempt to wipe away your tears. You sighed but nodded knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You sat down as he went to the room to gather some things, your mind reeling from the last half hour. How could so much change in such a short period of time, years spent together thrown away so quick.

"I'm done, I'll get going ok?" He said placing his duffel bag down beside by the door.

"So this is it huh?" You said, with a sigh. You felt him walk towards you and take a seat next to you.

"The last 10 years have been the most incredible time of my life, you put up with so much of my shit and loved me unconditionally and I can't thank you enough for giving the eager 25-year-old who wanted nothing more than to impress you a chance. I'm never going to stop loving you, you know that. I'm never gonna forget about you, my first love, the first woman to capture my heart. I'm so sorry things didn't work out like how we'd imagined them. If I could change how I feel I would, I wanted nothing more than for this to be a silly phase, for me to wake up one day and feel how I felt again. But it didn't happen and it fucking sucks."

"I get it, Spence, you have to do what makes you happy and I'm not gonna stop you. I'm just sorry it wasn't me that could give you want and need, but you're gonna make some girl out there very happy if you're even half the man you were when you were with me." You gave him a soft smile as he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead.

He stood up and walked to the door. "Call me when you're ready ok? I love you." He turned and gave you a soft smile before picking up his bag and walking out the door.

You just broke down, you don't know how long you sat there sobbing your heart out but it felt like forever. Everything hurt so bad you didn't think you'd ever feel any emotion other than heartbreak for as long as you lived.

You took a deep breath as your hand hovered over the delete button on your phone, it was time to move on just as he had. As you released the breath you were holding, your finger pressed against the button, deleting all the pictures you had with him and you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and the realisation sunk in.

You loved him so much, but he wasn't yours to love anymore.

He was just a memory.

-

tagged: @gcblers​ @187-reid​ @mgg-theprettiestboy​ @mggbler​ @snitchthewitch​

[exxa1812]

Voldication: A Vacation with the Riddles and Malfoys:)

Notes:

I used to play this with my friends when we were younger. Do NOT take this seriously. We had and probably still have mental issues. Have fun reading this. Sorry for the loss of braincells.Btw my first language isn't english. Sorry for any mistakes

Oma: german word for grandma [Om•ma]

Bussle: german word for a van for 7 people. not a bus! [Bus•sle]

Summary: Lord Voldemort needs a break from killing muggles. So he decides to take his family on a vacation to Italy. There is a lot of family fun and fluff and a Pool.

Chapter 1 : Oma ist KEINE Alkoholikerin (Oma is NOT an alcoholic)

I'm Delphi Riddle. My parents are Lord "Voldi" Voldemort and Bellatrix LeSTRANGE. This is the story of my family who went to Italy for summer vacation and things got a little bit out of hand when I was five years old.

Day 1.

The journey from London, England to Bucine, Italy was horrible. The bussle was packed with my dad, my mom, Narcissa, Lucius, Draco and me.

We could've apparated but DAD insisted on the whole experience. So we had to drive 4000 hours to Italy in a really crowded bussle without air conditioning.

When we FINALLY arrived I was sweating like a monkey in a shed. The house was nice and big. I even had my own room. There was this beautiful garden with lots of different flowers and plants. And behind the house there was a pool.

Since it was already late, we decided to eat dinner consisting of grapes and raisins because we didn't buy any food and because my dad is an idiot who forbid magic for the whole vacation.

So we just ate what was left for our trip. The wasn't much so everybody got a grape and 2 raisins except Draco he only got 1 raisin. After dinner I went to bed. It was already past my bedtime while the grown ups stayed up late which was really unfair.

Day 2.

When I woke up the next morning I already had the feeling that this was going to be a horrible day. This feeling turned out to be true when I found Oma sitting on a chair at the house bar with a glass of a weird clear liquid in her hand. Her wand was holding up her hair.

I always loved her hair. It was mid length and gray but in a certain light it looked lilaclightblue. I didn't know what she was doing here. Or how she got here. Suddenly I heard a lout gasp and a even louder and high pitched "MOMMY!!!" I turned around to see my dad standing in his with yellowish night gown in the door frame mouth hanging wide open and eyes comically large.

He was stuttering out a lot of questions like "What are you doing here, Mommy?" or "Really, Vodka?! It's only 9am." But Oma ignored him and yelled:"Have you lost your mind? How could you do this to me. To our family name. You stopped killing muggles for a vacation in Italy. You are a disgrace to this entire family." " I-I-I j-just thought it w-would be a good i-i-dea."

"You just thought! Well clearly you didn't. And for your information. I'm not drinking Vodka. It's water. I'm not an alcoholic."

Yeah, that's right. Oma is NOT an alcoholic. Just like uncle Lucius isn't one either. My dad just stared at her and said again "What are you doing here?"

"I'm part of this family and this is a family vacation. So of course I'm here. Somebody has to make sure you haven't gone completely insane. And I also wanted to see my granddaughter again." Oma answered slightly annoyed but smiled at me. Well, I think she did. You never know with her.

"Where are the others? Is the rest of the lazy folk still asleep?" Oma complained and took a big swing of her water.

"Bella is up. The rest, I don't know." Dad said unsure. "What are the plans for today, daddy?" I asked. Dad seemed to think before he answered: "Today is our first day here, so I thought we chill here a little bit and do some watersports."

"Yay!!! I love watersports. Especially waterball!!!" I said excitedly, while jumping up and down. "Of course that's your great plan for today. To do absolutely nothing. You are so lazy." Oma said with a very disappointed look on her face, while she poured herself another glass of water.

"It's not lazy. We just want to spent some family quality time. And we don't have to do a lot because it is vacation." Dad tried to defend. "Yeah, yeah, what ever" Oma said dismissively.

Then mom came. She was as equally shocked as dad when she saw oma. "Oma, what are you doing here?" Mom said with a forced smile. "And are drinking Vodka? We said no alcohol around Delphi" she added with a disapproving tone.

"Like I already explained to my lovely son. I'm here because this is a family vacation. And I'm family. It's water that I'm drinking, not Vodka. I don't drink."

Mom groaned really loud and dad walked quickly over to the bar to pour himself a glass of a brown yellowish liquid. I assumed it was apple juice. Dad emptied the glass and looked like he wanted to die.

Then Narcissa and Draco came in. Narcissa was pleasantly surprised when she saw Oma. Draco didn't seem to notice her presence. He was busy staring at his phone. "Lovely seeing you here, Oma." Narcissa said. For some reason Narcissa was the only adult who got along with oma. Oma always criticized dad. She didn't like mom because Oma is her mother-in-law. I don't know about Lucius. Oma never talks about him. I don't think I've ever seen them in one room.

But Oma didn't respond to her. She just stared at Draco, who still didn't notice her. "What is that?! Is that one of those muggle phones?! Why do you have this?!" Oma shrieked and started to completely freak out. She screamed things like "Stupid muggles." And "Stupid technology." To my surprise she didn't go for Draco. She went for dad. "And you allow this. That your nephew owns this muggle trash. Unbelievable!"

"Mommy, please. I didn't know he had it." Dad exclaimed quietly. "Boy, why do you own such horrible device, that is contaminated with muggles." Dad asked Draco in a strict voice. For the first time Draco lifted his head and saw Oma. His eyes went wide and his skin even paler as usual. "I uh need this for uh school."

He stuttered out. "I use it to uh submit my school assignments because uh owls don't fly to Italy. You know owl policy and stuff." He then explained a little bit unsure. "Oh, I didn't know Hogwarts uses now muggle trash. But I mean it is for school so I guess it is fine." Oma said understanding.

"I'm hungry." I said because I couldn't stand the fact that the attention wasn't on me. I mean I'm the main character after all. "Well Lucius went shopping for food. He actually should be here by now." Narcissa said.

"I had a long journey and I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Oma said with a yawn and left. But not before she took two bottles of her favourite brand of water. Five minutes after Oma left. Lucius came back from shopping and we all got to the dining area to eat breakfast.

The rest of the day was not that eventful. We stayed at the house and chilled. We all played some watersports. I didn't see Oma for the rest of the day. Mom said it's because she is tired and has a male cat (Hangover). Whatever a male cat has to do with this.

At the end of the day we had a beautiful dinner in the garden. Dad made pizza, which wasn't even that bad. Then I went to my room because I had to go to bed.

[virtue-and-beneviolence]

ok so here’s some of my stories

at 5 years old i got high at a music festival bcs a lot of ppl were smoking weed n i forgot my thingy that i had to fan the smoke out of my nose face so i just stared at everything and cackled then got severe munchies afterwards n finished 2 happy meals when i was never even able to finish the fries bcs i did not eat as a child

i once peed the bed at like 8 because i was dreaming n thought i was awake so in my dream i went to the bathroom but i actually ended up pissing myself since i thiught i was awake n hid it from my parents n just took off the bed sheet

i roleplayed at like 10 on a one direction website n it was me x louis (someone was louis n i was like zayn for them) n we were smut role playing

louis is like railing me in the middle of a beach at night and mid moan i go “omg ur so tight” TO THIS MAN W A PENIS and the girl just put “chuckles and keeps pounding into u” and i was so embarrassed when i found out men cannot be tight

i pretended to be the sister of a guy from this mexican reality tv show and led a girl on to believe this man was in love w her at 6 years old b told her we’d visit her until my mom found out and ratted me out to her

there’s a full 3 minute video of me doing the chicken dance on youtube w 4000 views that all my friends make fun of me for bcs i look literally ridiculous

my mom has caught me role playing w myself out loud multiple times or dancing like an idiot on my bed and it never gets less embarrassing

berry why are you chaos incarnate wtf,,,??? Sanzu???? Who else could keep up with the whiplash of all these stories holy shit??? berry wtf i--