#I know a lot of people are struggling right now

[endearng]

Brave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: You're left all alone, but now you can think of some you want to share your solitude — and food — with. WC: 5.9k (I am so sorry) Warnings: brief mentions of Penelope's parents arch, grief and depression. A/N: Hello! I struggled so much trying to find time to finish this one. Let me know what you guys think! Feedbacks are highly appreciated! neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Honestly, hearing your name leaving someone's lip usually made Spencer eager to know what was going on, if it involved you — of course, he knew that you shared it with many people, after all, there are 8 billion people existing at the same time, so he could definitely come up with statistics regarding how many of them shared names with you. Furthermore, he worked with humans, dealing constantly with their data, names included, so yours could definitely be pronounced by someone close to him.

He just didn't expect to hear a chant. Something about you and him sitting in a tree as Penelope approached him in the bullpen kitchenette.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes wide, once he heard Penelope's voice. She snickered.

She repeated the chant.

"Garcia!" His voice came out in a squeak, frantically looking around. "Shut up!" It wasn't in his nature to be so rude, but he was desperate for her to be quiet, especially because someone could hear her.

Emily, apparently coming from thin air, creeped up on them. "Spencer and who?"

"G—ah! Nobody!" He jumped from where he was standing, not expecting someone else to join them anytime soon, almost spilling his coffee.

"I caught our boygenius with a friend." Penelope announced, proud of her discovery.

"What?" Emily asked, shocked.

Once Penelope noticed that she revealed something she certainly should not have and she saw the look on his face, she slapped her hand over her mouth, wide eyes looking at Spencer in an apologizing manner. She was just so excited to finally see Spencer in that scenario that she basically ignored his wishes to keep it — whatever it was — a secret. "Thanks a lot, Garcia," he deadpanned.

"What? What friend?" Emily pressed, a smile on her lips. Not teasing, surprised, perhaps, but she didn't have any traces of mockery in her expression or tone. She looked... proud?

Penelope had started feeling bad for running her mouth too easily, but once she saw Spencer's lips turn upwards in a small grin, she gushed, "Yes!!! I went over to her house to give her daughter's gift, I am her godmother, after all... So I was knocking on her door—”

"More like banging." He interrupted.

"And from my spot, I see our boygenius not so subtly trying to disguise something. Do not look at me like that," she squinted her eyes and pointed her finger at him threateningly when he opened his mouth to speak. "You were stuttering and basically left her all by herself because you got too embarrassed."

"Oh, no, Reid..." Emily couldn't help her remark, pursing her lips.

"What? What did I do?"

Truth was, Spencer was replaying the interaction in his head the entire time after Penelope had left. He had stood there, at the sidewalk, dumbfounded and mortified by her remarks in your presence, not really knowing if he should go back to your apartment. He was definitely enjoying getting to know you, but it just felt wrong to go back and act as if nothing had happened because he had just gotten awfully weird. The man had struggled with himself, his thoughts conflicting between going back to yours or keeping to himself in his apartment. He decided on the latter, not willing to put himself through more embarrassment.

What if you didn't like him like that and you thought he was a creep now? What if you just saw him as a friend?

Worse, as a neighbor?

"You should've stayed. I know you probably got nervous, but what if she got the wrong idea once you dashed out the door when you were seen with her?" Emily inquired, but Penelope, despite not being a profiler, understood right away that she was onto something.

Her eyes glimmered.

Spencer's stomach dropped. "Oh, no..." he whispered softly. "I have to go."

And he basically fled the room.

The women exchanged playful glances.

"I knew it!" Penelope stated. She turned her head in the direction he ran to. "For a profiler, for a genius, he sometimes is so dumb."

"And just like that," Emily snapped her fingers, "IQ of 187 slashed down to 60." she snickered. Reaching for the coffee pot and pouring some of the liquid into her mug, she remarked, "There is definitely something," Emily laughed. "Do you think we should help him?"

"Don't worry," she winked at her friend, "I've got a few ideas."

Later that day, you got a call from Garcia. You were in your car, taking deep breaths and willing yourself not to cry out of frustration. The work shift had finished, officially, nearly an hour ago, but your boss held you back to discuss some projects that you were involved in. You had to call your dad to ask him kindly to pick up your daughter at school — you didn't see it coming, so you called him after about an hour of Olivia waiting by herself at school.

The unexpected meeting made you incredibly late and it turned your mood sour, because you always loved the car rides with Olivia after you picked her up, not to mention that she probably thought you had forgotten about her. Never. You had just started the engine when you heard your phone ring. You put her on speaker as you drove to your parents to pick up your daughter, who was now there. "Hi, Pen!" You greeted.

Despite the disaster, a smile crept up on your face when you remembered the last interaction you had with her. With Spencer…

"Hi, sweetcheeks!" She said back. You could hear the faint sounds of computers and keys being pressed in the background. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I guess. I had a surprise meeting so I couldn't get Olivia," you replied, eyes on the road ahead of you. "How are you, Pen?"

"Oooh, I'm sorry that happened. I know you're probably berating yourself for it, but it's okay, it wasn't your fault." She tried to lighten up.

"Yeah..." You muttered, a certain tightness in your chest you couldn't keep at bay.

"She'll understand. You are doing a fantastic job showing her the real world." Penelope comforted you. You blinked away emotional tears, grateful that the roads were calm and you weren't a reckless driver. You couldn't really speak, so she continued, "Actually, she is the main reason I called you." She revealed, making you chuckle wetly. "I really miss Olivia and I'm truly sorry I missed her birthday. I haven't been the best godmother in the world..."

"Don't worry about it." You dismissed it. "I always tell her you're a tech fairy who does magic with computers to save people. A real life hero," you chuckled. "She understands it." You whispered. Trying to keep that feeling in. Not sure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.

"I know, but, still..." She retorted softly.

Penelope frequently complimented you and Olivia. You tried your best to raise her to be a good, kind and smart person. Unbeknownst to Penelope, her comments made you remind you of right after you were left all alone with your daughter. The tech analyst didn't hear a word from you for days, but once she visited you and saw the place without a single trace of Olivia's dad, she understood it all. You kept silent, still trying to adapt to a world where you were lonely again. Despite the odds and unwillingness to open up to her, you kept talking to your daughter, even if she didn't truly understand it all. From her early years, you made sure to provide her everything she needed to speak like she does now.

Your own personal chatterbox.

A titter broke through you, "I sure hope so." You replied, rubbing your eyes at a red light. "I also hope you know I'm driving and I can't cry right now," you joked.

"Ah, right! Sorry, baby!" She exclaimed clumsily, true Penelope style. "All of this to ask if I can spend some time with her on... on Friday! Yes!" She paused and then continued.

"Friday?" You asked, uncertain. "That's usually when we go out together."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for taking it away from you, it's just that I..." second pause on her speech, "I wanna make it up for missing her birthday and I seriously hope that creepy guys give me a break so that I can spend some time with our Oli girl." She finished.

Still uncertain and the tiniest bit jealous, you relented. "Okay, Pen. May I ask you where you are taking her?"

"Well... it's a surpr—we are going to an amusement park!" She paused and then squealed and you could hear clapping.

You snickered, joking along, "It's your funeral."

"I'll die a happy woman. That's all, sweetcheeks! Thank you so much! Gotta go. Prrr."

And just like that, she hung up on you. Little did you know, she and Emily Prentiss high-fived and made ridiculous noises to celebrate the execution of their mastermind plan taking shape.

Penelope Garcia, the singular rollercoaster of emotions that you are.

Back in the bullpen, Spencer focused on his reports — not that it was a difficult task, but he felt cornered by Emily's outlook from earlier. Had he done the wrong thing? If he did, could he fix it? He wasn't the most experienced man in the world when it came to dating and women in general. He was on the brink of insanity, nearly going up to Hotch for advice. He ruled out Morgan immediately because he knew he couldn't get tips from someone who would definitely tease him, in a manner that felt lowkey demeaning.

Spencer had a lot of insecurities, and being socially awkward in his mid-twenties was one of them. Next to Morgan, he felt like a fourteen-year-old who didn't even know how to properly say hi to people. He needed some words from someone who understood him.

But who did?

Wrapping up one of his reports, his phone beeped.

Come to my lair. Treats are on the table :)

Penelope

Cautiously approaching the door, like there was a bomb inside, Spencer opened the door to Penelope's office. "Okay, so I know you were upset and maybe you still are a little because I spilled your... um... moment to Emily but I wanted to say sorry and ask you to please not be mad at me. I was just excited for you and I knew Emily would be, too." She blabbered once he closed the door behind him.

His ears turned pink and he tried playing it cool by reaching for one of the cookies that were in a bowl. "It's okay, Garcia. I was upset for a moment, but I know you didn't mean it."

She smiled. "Glad to hear that! Thank you, Reid."

He leaned his body on the desk adjacent to her, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "So, um, how do you know her?"

"We met in college. She had my back when my parents... you know."

A pause. He hated that he, sometimes, lacked the sensitivity to approach people and that, despite being brightly intelligent, often missed possible outcomes for more personal conversations.

"I'm... I'm sorry I asked. I know it can be a delicate topic." He offered her a sympathetic smile, even though he was berating himself on the inside.

"It's okay. Thank you." Garcia smiled. "She always checked on me, made sure I was eating properly, that I wasn't... harming myself... She even went over to my dorm to tidy everything when I was too depressed to get out of bed." She took a deep breath. "I swear, Spencer. She was there. And we had just met." She finished, softly.

If Spencer admired the person you were before, now he was almost tongue tied, not having the wits to come up with a comment of his own. It truly shocked him, because, one: his experience with college kids had been totally different, of course, but two: what kind of person goes out of their way, even when dealing with their personal burdens, to help someone they just met?

Garcia searched his face. A small smile on her lips starkly contrasted with her crestfallen eyes. "Shortly after her graduation, she got married and, later, pregnant with Olivia. I was still around, on and off. I joined the FBI and had less and less time to hang out, but I always had and always will have a soft spot for her. She was there for me."

He couldn't help but want to know more. He knows it should be better to learn about you from you, but, right now, he was handed an opportunity he couldn't deprive himself from grasping, "Wow. That's-That's a lot of history." He said, in a low voice, a little hesitant.

"Yes. And you will know much, much more." Penelope said, confident tone lacing her words.

"Why do I sense you're onto something?" He inquired, brows furrowing with worry.

"Because I am." She winked at him.

Oh, no.

"What?"

"Trust me on this one, loverboy." She snickered.

Penelope Garcia, the mess you'll make.

Friday rolled around with promises of a certain blonde bringing your daughter home by 9p.m. The feeling almost made you feel like a possessive mother who didn't let their kids have boyfriends. Or girlfriends. You were fine with it, by the way. Either. You just weren't currently fine with the idea of spending time away from her.

You reluctantly let Olivia go. Penelope stood behind her in your living room. You were crouching down to your daughter's height.

"Mommy, I'll be back before you know it," she said. Just like you did when she was first getting adapted to going to school. You scrunched your face, feeling like the most loved person in the whole universe.

You were.

"I'll bring you cotton candy." She promised, raising her pinky in front of you. You crossed your own with hers.

"Now you're just bribing me." You leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Is it working?" Penelope chirped in, an easy smile on her face.

You giggled, looking up at her for a moment. "Maybe..."

"Mommy loves you, okay?" You said. "I promise I can take you somewhere even cooler than aunt Garcia is taking you," you joked.

"Now you're just being mean," the woman frowned playfully.

"Yeah, mom! Don't be mean."

"I can't believe you're turning my own daughter against me. And she's scolding me. In my own house." You feigned offense. Garcia burst out in laughter with Olivia.

Two kids in your living room.

"Okay, mommy," she said, finally, giving you a kiss on each of your cheeks, just like you did with her. "Bye bye. Say bye bye to Aunt Penelope, too."

"Okay," you agreed. "Bye bye, Aunt Penelope." you teased. Olivia was already walking out, ahead of you two.

"Bye bye, mommy." Penelope joked as you walked her out. Olivia pressed the elevator button as you and Garcia stood in front of your apartment, side by side with you, watching your kid wait for the elevator. Then, she looked you up and down, a knowing look on her face.  "You're totally a hot mommy." She winked.

You didn't have an answer to that, the remark catching you off guard. Instead, you shoved her jokingly.

"Get outta here," you quipped, flustered, watching her as she entered the elevator with Olivia, holding her small hand.

You waved as the elevator doors closed. You sighed when they were out of your eyesight.

Coming back to your place, you looked around in hopes to find something to entertain yourself with. Truth was that without your daughter, you felt a little lost. Sometimes, you'd get lost in your own head, too sick with worry about losing yourself in order to be sufficient for Olivia. The remedy for those thoughts were usually doing something on your own for yourself. Tonight, you decided to cook something.

After a quick trip to the local supermarket and some embarrassment on the self-checkout cashier, you made it back to your home with everything needed to make pasta from scratch. Maybe you got a little excited by literally having your hands dirty and made enough pasta to feed the entire apartment complex. You cut them in different sizes and shapes and cursed your dad for a moment for having taught you your way around food.

Giving it a better thought, seeing your kitchen with pasta hanging to dry everywhere, maybe it was an opportunity. You turned the thought of feeding the families who surrounded you to simply feeding Spencer.

You smiled at yourself, pleased with the idea.

One, two, three eager knocks on Spencer's doors made him interrupt his Doctor Who's weekly (if no bad guys were forcing him to work) marathon. He looked through the peephole and found you, his neighbor, studying his door, probably to avoid looking directly into the hole, like it was an intricate work of art. A smile crept upon his face. He never thought he'd be so happy to be interrupted. Opening the door, he greeted, "Hi!"

A joyful "Hi!" was your answer.

You took a minute to look at him. He looked more relaxed, of course, but you came to the conclusion that he didn't own many casual clothes, because he was dressed in a dark blue Caltech sweatshirt and slacks. Funny matching, but it worked for you. Differently from what you usually saw him dressed in, he didn't appear so tired. He was glowing.

"Um, do you need anything?" He asked politely, scrunching his brows a little bit in concern as your silence became too long.

A sliver of doubt crossed through your features. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"No, not at all." He lied.

He'd take your interruptions at any time.

"Oh, that's great. It's just... I miscalculated the amount of pasta that I was um... making." You struggled to find the words, a little mesmerized by the simple act of looking at him. "Do you want to, um, do you want to have some? With me? I've been told I'm good at cooking." You finally asked, with a little convincing on top.

Not that he needed any. You had him at hi. Spencer felt disarmed.

"Yes. I-I'd love to."

"Great!" You cheered. "Come on. You can help me cut them once they dry a little bit."

He followed you into your apartment. Today, the atmosphere felt a lot different. You had music playing softly and the highlight was in the kitchen, where strings of pasta hanged from basically everywhere. There was still a small piece of dough on the surface of your kitchen counter, which was surrounded by a big, sharp knife, a pasta maker machine and some other kitchen gadgets that, surprisingly, Spencer didn't know the name of.

"Wow. It's really a lot." He thought out loud.

"Yeah," you chuckled. "I usually make small amounts, but there's no problem in freezing them." You said, glancing briefly at your watch.

"Oh, okay." He replied meekly. "I'm not so sure if I can help, though. I'm not very good at cooking."

"No!" You feigned exaggerated surprise.

"Yes," he quipped, furrowing his brows playfully.

"But you have to work for it." You deadpanned, looking him dead in the eye. "I tricked you. I only called you here so you'd help me with it. If you don't, you won't get pasta."

He raised both hands, joining your banter. Easily. Despite, despite, despite. "No problem. I like learning."

You scrunch your face, giving him the most adorable grin. "Okay, doctor. So, this small ball here," you said, pointing at the dough and rolling up your sleeves, "needs to rest for a few minutes. It needs to dry a little bit to make cutting it easier. I'll tell you how to do it once you have an apron on."

"Oh, sorry, I don't have any at home. I don't really cook." He mentioned it again.

"I thought so." You grinned. "But don't worry about it. I have a collection. My dad's a chef and everything he gives me as a casual gift is related to cooking" you chuckled.

Okay, so the miscalculated amount was definitely an excuse to have him with you. His heart felt like giving out at any minute. You wanted him there. It was almost like you had it all planned out, and Spencer watched as you moved around your kitchen so confidently and calmly, very much unlike his mind that was running miles per second. Spencer usually had a hard time calming down, but this, this was something else. He was alone with you and he didn't even know how to say anything. Simultaneously proud and jealous of your easygoing chatter, he decided that it was better to follow your lead and try not to be awkward around you than doing anything else.

Slowly being pulled out of his self-conscious and overall sad thoughts, he busied himself with watching you, instead. He smiled to himself. Again, despite, despite, despite. You grabbed an apron from one of your drawers and Spencer watched you quietly. You moved so effortlessly that he felt inclined to just sit and watch you in your own scene. In that moment, you were not Olivia's mother, not a character from a novel he imagined, not a publisher, not Garcia's friend from college, just a woman doing something she enjoys doing. And he was delighted to be present to see it.

Moving back to where he stood, you stopped in front of him. You held it out in front of you, almost waiting for his permission to get closer. Spencer nodded eagerly and you smiled. You put the apron over his head and he raised his arms, almost automatically, so you could wrap yours around him to tie it in the back, bodies mere inches away from one another. He somehow had the courage to watch your face the entire time, but you bashfully avoided his gaze, choosing to concentrate on the task at hand. Once you finished, you looked up at him, though. To offer him a smile.

But what caught his attention was the fact that he finally knew, now, what the color of your eyes were. They seemed a lot different than when he first saw you. Different shades swirled around your pupils in such harmony that he decided that, from then on, he'd associate these colors with you and with you only. You aimed your gaze at him with something so distinguished he couldn't quite decipher what it was, suddenly and momentarily losing his profiling abilities. Spencer knew immediately that he could never shake that moment from his memory. Then, he also noticed that you had a smudge of flour on your cheek, but he didn't have the heart to tell you to clean it up, too stuck in the warmth of your gaze. He thought of it as a reminder of what you were doing, the moment you were sharing together.

He smiled back at you.

"Okay, I guess that's it, then," you announced, voice barely above a whisper, finally. He felt both relieved and deprived from the sweet torture you put him in. He wanted to be under your spell for longer, but he worried he would be too entranced and make a fool out of himself. "First, I'm gonna divide it in half. Oh, wait. What do you want to eat? I have shrimp, chicken and minced meat. But I can also try to do something vegetarian if you don't eat meat." You blabbered inconsistently, jumping from one topic to another, our eyebrows flying to your forehead in concern for a moment.

"It's okay," he soothed you, "I'll have anything." He added softly.

You happily nodded at him. "Alright. So I'm gonna be a good teacher and tell you to use the machine to open it first, but a cook must be skilled enough to know how to open and cut pasta without one of these gems," you said.

He grinned. Cooking classes were not in his weekend bingo, but here he was. Not wishing for anything else. "I'm glad you're walking me through it." He said. "I can hardly boil an egg."

"What? I couldn't tell." You said, faking earnestness, while opening a piece of dough with a roller. You had your eyes on it, rolling the dough on the counter to make sure you'd open it completely. He was mesmerized by your focused expression. Looking at your skilled hands. Watching.

"Really?" He asked, lighting up.

"Yeah, I could. Sorry." You said, snickering, folding the dough on itself to start cutting it. The result was thicker strings of pasta, like fettuccine. "You look like the kind of guy who only eats outside."

"I am." He confided, trying to mimic your previous actions. "Maybe you're the profiler."

"Nah, just a real observant neighbor." He laughed. "Hey, you're doing alright." You told him once you saw what he was doing. Your stare was on his hands. Oh. His deft hands, albeit not accustomed to the task, worked dexterously, flexing the veins on his forearm. You shook your head lightly as an attempt to get rid of the thoughts, glad he wasn't paying attention to you.

Being with you, he realized, was easy. He condemned himself for overthinking the advice Penelope had given him earlier about asking you out today, because she planned on taking Olivia out. He had decided not to under the excuse that a case might pop at any second, but the truth was he was too afraid to be rejected. 

"Okay, so you can open the dough, Doctor. Good job!" You teased as you watched him use the machine instead of the rolling pin like you did.

"I'm decent at it, yeah," he quipped.

Spencer Reid being able to take and to crack jokes about himself. He decided then that he liked jokes, he liked your banter, but because you weren't mean to him.

Something in him finally started to heal.

"Alright." You placed yourself beside him. He gulped at the closeness. "See how I'm doing with my hands." Was it appropriate to answer that he hadn't looked away not even for a second? "You wanna fold it over and over. Careful not to stick it, though, so be gentle. You can use a little flour to help you. Wanna give it a try?"

He only nodded and you helped him fold it. He wasn't as skillful as you were — hell, your movements seemed rehearsed from how much ease you had at doing them. He was a little slower, but he moved in an effective way. "Careful not to cut yourself, Spencer." You whispered to him, to which he hummed weakly.

"Is there a right way to hold the knife?" He asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your reply was to touch his right hand, the one holding the knife, and closed his fingers around its base. Grabbing his left hand, you curled his fingers on top of the dough, and, slowly, pushed the knife down to cut it. "See?" You pulled the cut dough, revealing a string.

He wondered hastily if he could have some more time with your hands on top of his. Your delicate hands, even dirty, beat every single texture he had felt on top of his. Spencer couldn't answer anything. "Okay! Now we can set them to dry."

"Where?" He asked, robotically. You grinned.

"We gotta find somewhere." You chuckled. "By the way, it's best if we keep them away from the others." You advised.

"Why is that?" He inquired, intrigued look on his face.

"I, um, made some with eggs, you know, the traditional one." You bit your lip. "I also made a recipe with no eggs in case you had any restrictions."

Usually, he'd be speechless, not used to being treated like this. Not being one people usually thought of so intentionally, so dearly, so full of carefully. He noticed, though, that as he spent time with you in your kitchen, every one of your actions peeled away some of his issues. Then, "Oh, wow." He said, a hint of a cocky expression dancing around his features. If you kept that attitude, he might even become greedy. He remembered about your so-called miscalculation for the second time.

You finished up the meal in an instant, too fast for Spencer's liking. He was observant, of course, and you made sure to tell him about what you were doing and why you were doing every step of the way, like he was a child acquiring language. He was a grown man learning how to be around you, studying your every movement and engraving it to his memory, trying harder than he ever did when learning English (or other languages). Those came to him naturally. You, on the other hand, were full of patterns he didn't quite know yet — not that he wasn't dying to.

"Okay. We're done." You said, softly, plating the meal on two white plates. "Do you want to sit with me on the balcony?"

"Yes."

"Be there in a second. Make yourself at home."

His face lit up. Joy and embarrassment fighting to control him.

As he left with the plates in hand, which was a little funny to you, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen as much as you could. You glanced at Spencer, meticulously placing the plates on the table to help you out. You couldn't control the sigh that made its way out of you, out of the very depths of your being.

Sitting down with him after you both ate to your heart's content, he complimented you. "It's not very often that I get to eat this well." He chuckled. "And you're a good chef. You make things efficiently and neatly." He said, looking at you. You looked straight ahead, longingly, into the city.

You shrunk your shoulders, a little embarrassed. Was he flirting? His words were completely different from what you used to consider flirting. Too analytical, too technical. "Thanks!" You exclaimed, albeit meekly.

Silence.

Spencer was rummaging through his big brain for something to say. You were, sort of, deflating from basically carrying the interaction all night long. Letting too many thoughts consume you all at once. "I'm not really an interesting person, so I'm not sure what I should say," he chuckled, a little disappointed by having your attention somewhere else.

Your heart probably doubled in size.

You crossed your legs on the chair. "I think you are an interesting person," you said softly, looking at him. "And I think there's no shame in being silent. It's nice. I know you like it."

His heart was making somersaults in his chest.

"Yeah..." he chuckled. “But I’d like to talk to you.”

"Try me! Penny said you can do magic, good ice-breaker. It's so nice, but so baffling!" You gushed. "I can't even do the classic trick, that one that you're supposed to be pretending to pull your thumb off. Olivia says I'm not convincing enough." You laughed, shooking your head and squinting at him. "Can you believe that?"

"She's a very bright kid." He said, amused. "It must be hard tricking her."

"Yeah, it is."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Penelope asked to take her out. Pasta time was supposed to be time spent with her. But I guess you're a good substitute."

Again, Penelope was onto something. That was when he knew for sure that his theory from earlier was correct.

"Can I tell you something?" He decided to be honest, instead.

"Is everything alright?" You ask, searching his face for something that told you if there was something wrong.

"Yes! Yes! Everything's fine." He blurted. "It's just that, earlier, Penelope was, ahem, encouraging me to ask you out on a... date. I kept thinking about it and maybe I actually overthinked everything and ended up making excuses not to ask you out.”

You were taken aback by his words. You blinked once, not expecting his words, those words, and failing at trying to slow the racing of your heart and at stopping the smile creeping up on your face. “It's… it's no problem. Don't worry.”

Spencer couldn't help but glance over, listening attentively to your reply. Your words struck a softer tone, a side of you that was filled with warmth and genuine affection — he was estranged to it, not being used to being so understood. It caught him off guard. He watched from his seat, his heart still aching from feeling scared, but filled with a new emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint yet. “Would you, um, would you say yes?”

“To what?” You faked coyness, but you knew he could see right through you. You weren’t a good actress.

He smirked, encouraged by your playful mannerisms. “If I asked you on a date.”

“Well, yes.”

Oh, so it was bravery. He felt it completely, now.

A deep breath from his end. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“There's nothing I would want more.” You replied, tone full of mischief, but your eyes held all the truth he needed to confirm that he was actually going to spend time with you in a more… romantic, perhaps private setting. “Does that count as a yes?”

Spencer was hyper-aware of himself and his reality. Therefore, used to his own little life and the trauma and suffering that came with it, he had grown accustomed to the thought that romance was far out of his reach—  stories only told by books and didn’t, couldn’t exist in real life, in his life; writers were just too idealistic. Thus, being used to those thoughts, but secretly refusing to take them as the sole truth of his life, romance came to him in the shape of silly scenarios to help him fall asleep. Now, he was suddenly changing his mind, relieved to see that it could be real.

He was immensely glad for your bravery. He wanted some of it. Needed, even.

“It's the prettiest yes someone has ever said to me.”

“Glad to hear that, Spencer.”

“I just feel a little embarrassed by not having the courage to ask you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, again, with an adoring look in your eyes, gazing at him, “we can share courage when things get too much.”

“Hey!” Olivia greeted once Spencer opened his door after her persistent, but gentle knocking. He looked around, but you were nowhere to be found. He crouched down to her height. “Here’s a sticker. Mommy said you were very brave last night.” She placed the adhesive on his vest, a star shaped sticker. “Here’s other sticker. Mommy also said you were helpful.” She said, adorning his vest once again.

Oh, my God, he thought, even her daughter knows.

He chuckled, not having it in himself to let the opportunity to joke go. “Oh, so we get rewards for good behavior?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, we do. When I get five, mommy gets me something I want. Usually cookies.” She replied, sounding satisfied with herself.

“Thank you, Olivia. I'm gonna make sure to keep them so I'll know when it's time to ask for my gift.” He said, ruffling her hair playfully.

At the conference room, Aaron Hotchner couldn't help but frown at the sight of the extra accessories on one of his agents’ vest, almost interrupting his briefing in order to address the topic to quench his curiosity. “Reid, why do you have star stickers on?”

He shrugged, failing at disguising his happiness, the corners of his lips curving up. “These were a gift.”

He was brave.

[drdemonprince]

do you have any advice on navigating a friendship with a former abuser? they are pretty open about their past when asked although not incredibly initially forthcoming about it, which I think is understandable if maybe not the most,, idk,, straightforward I guess. But I do truly believe they’ve mended their ways and try really hard to do right by themselves and other people, but they’ve garnered a lot of vitriol from their former community (and with reason!!) but that community tries to, rightfully, make sure everyone knows about this person’s past, and I have a lot of guilt around being friends with them even though I do believe that they’re different now, I wouldn’t be friends with them if I didn’t believe that. Anyways, I guess im curious if you have any advice or experience with how to navigate any kind of relationship with someone who has done a lot of prior harm, while also trying to honor and respect the people who they have harmed?

I think that people in that situation are in really desperate need of community, most of the time. It is very difficult to work on yourself when pressure to excise you from every social group follows you everywhere you go, and the stories of what you've done have morphed into an entity that exists entirely outside of you, your victims, or anyone who was actually privy to the abuse that you committed.

It's very reasonable for people affected by the abuse & their allies to want nothing to do with such a person, of course. But there sometimes becomes a broader community norm of penalizing anyone who associates with the abusive person in any way whatsoever, and when you're already struggling with entitlement, boundary issues, loneliness, impulsivity, and self-hatred, as so many abusers do, it's hard not to spiral out further from being rendered that radioactive.

I think by being friends with this person you're doing something important. It is far easier for people to grow when they have social incentives to do so and emotional support. In the care of other people, we see our worth reflected. We learn more about who we are and who we *can* be through the interplay of ours' and others' various selves.

I think the best thing that you can do is to offer a space to this person in your life, if you continue wanting to, and building small spaces for them to find connection with people who are okay with that and feel comfortable doing so. Bring the person along with you into new spaces where they can help people and receive help in turn, without constantly being defined by their most horrible actions. Bring this person along with you to somewhere they've never been, with people who have no issue with them -- do a shift together at the local mutual kitchen or community garden, for instance, or a book club, or include them in a cultural practice that you participate in, and share that with them. Do jail support together, or mail books to prisoners. Take both of you outside of your everyday social context and allow them to exist in a new way, in new relations to others -- including people who, like them, have experienced social ostracism and struggle.

While you're doing that, observe them and see how they're doing. Talk with them afterward about how they feel, and anything they're finding difficult. I will trust your judgement here that the person seems fundamentally changed. Just being there and involved in activities alongside them will help you be on the lookout for any red flags, and I do think there is a degree of responsibility on your part to ensure you're not putting anyone else in danger by being around them, but you can do this in a light, nonjudgmental way, and let them grow into that trust that you're offering.

I have witnessed firsthand how healing it is for people like your friend to slowly realize that suddenly there are people that like them, now, and open up to them, when everybody shied away from them or hated them before. I do think that if someone is committed to no longer being abusive or boundary violating around others, they eventually do need to feel that they are accepted by some community, and seen as on par with anybody else. They can't be treated as lesser or more suspect for their entire lives in every social context. The communities they've already harmed shouldn't have to provide them with that acceptance and room to grow. But I think somebody should.

As always, keep an eye on your own feelings and make sure that this isn't too exhausting for you. By keeping the formerly abusive person separate from the groups they've harmed, you should be able to minimize the blowback you get for spending time with them. Not all of our friends need to be friends with one another, and not every social group in our lives has to make contact. It's okay to include your friend in a running group with a few other people you met volunteering but then keep their name off the guest list for your birthday party because associates of their victims will be there. If your friend is truly contrite over their actions, they will understand and respect that some people will never want to be around them -- and most reasonable community members should understand that who you associate with independently of them is not their business.

There may be some people who take a really hard line stance and expect everyone to ostracize the former abuser no matter what, and so you might be criticized or lose friendships with such people. But so long as you are helping to give the former abuser some social connection that is separate from anybody they've hurt, and you're not pressuring anyone to be around them or doing any apologism for them (which it sounds like you have no interest in doing), then you are not doing a thing wrong, and I think it's beautiful to give someone that space in your life. Navigating this stuff with grace, respect, and compassion is a skill that a lot more of us will eventually have to develop than we realize, I think. Life is long, and over the course of it, people change a great deal and do a great many things they regret. We need to be able to move through these things together somehow.

[rohirric-hunter]

I don't know if I agree that escalation is important. Another series that did this well is the Redwall series by Brian Jacques. The first book written in the series had a protagonist, Matthias. A later book focused on his son, Mattimeo. The stakes in Mattimeo's book are, if we're quite honest, noticeably lower than in Matthias'. There are still stakes -- one of the villains kidnaps Mattimeo and a bunch of other children and another one threatens their home while they are away from it, but neither villain is as threatening as the main villain of Matthias' story, and both of their evil plots are fairly localized. If they both got away with it then far fewer people would be negatively affected than in the first book.

In fact, both villains are villains that Matthias, as the hero of the first book, would easily have been able to deal with if he had just happened to be in the right place at the right time, but he's not. Matthias' failing as a parent isn't that he is bad at it. It's that his greatest strengths are also his greatest weaknesses. He's a very kind character, and this results in him letting Mattimeo get away with far more than he should, and one instance of him choosing to be kind rather than cautious kicks off the plot and all the ensuing conflicts. (Note that this is not presented as the wrong choice, per se, just an example of how unfortunately bad people can often use people's good qualities against them.)

Matthias then spends the entire book being restrained from being involved directly in either plot (which, again, he would have sorted in about ten minutes most likely) by time, distance, or cave-ins. Getting thrown into a bottomless pit. That sort of thing. There's almost a third plot where Matthias struggles against himself, TBH. His actions only indirectly and distantly affect the downfall of either villain. (This is thematically appropriate for the character, something something themes and motifs, but only tangentially related to this discussion.)

Some of the things that make this sequel succeed where others fail are these:

Matthias is present and active in the story. He is not put on a bus or killed early on; lesser writers use this tactic when they fear the new characters won't hold their own against the old ones. He is present and active; the story is simply not about him. He also passively influences the story through his past actions from the first book (kind of) and who he is as a person.

Matthias is a good parent, albeit not a perfect one. This works to the story's advantage, as Mattimeo ends up sharing many of his good traits that endeared readers to him in the first place by virtue of having been raised by him. Now they endear readers to the new protagonist as well.

Matthias has his own proper role in the story and a satisfying character arc. Matthias enjoyers still have something to be excited about in the story even though he is not the protagonist: here the writer neatly sidestepped the pitfall of alienating readers who are primarily reading the sequel in the hopes of new stuff about their faves.

Stakes really have little to do with it -- if anything the story is helped by the fact that the stakes are all deeply personal to the protagonists and not an Even Bigger Threat that will Destroy the World Even Harder than the first time.

In the case of Tolkien also doing this well, I think the most important takeaway is this: The parent figure must in some clear and important way influence and direct the child figure's story. You cannot write a sequel about a beloved character's kid where things just happen just because. There must be a clear line of narrative that makes sense between the parent and child's story.

But it takes a really talented writer to pull that off (especially if they weren't planning the sequel when writing the first book) and well a lot of people aren't really talented writers.

Generational spin-off media is like “okay, what would be the most in-character way for the previous show’s protagonist to comprehensively fail as a parent?”

[literatelyobsessive]

done for the night

axel kovacevic x reader

author's note ⋆｡𖦹 ✮ ‧₊˚✩彡

hiiiii this is my first fic for any CK character so i'm kinda nervous. hope u like it. i started a pt. 2 already bc i just love axel but i also wanna write him in different scenarios as well! will open my requests asap :)

c.w.

s6pt2 spoilers, drinking.

being in barcelona was a dream. you were grateful that you were able to tag along with the miyagi do's. sensei larusso and sensei lawerence always liked you, especially johnny. being miguel's best friend is a privilege you were happy to have. sure, it came with a lot of drama but it also came with a protector, a group of friends, and some karate skills.

plus, being miyagi do's water girl wasn't a bad deal for being flown out to barcelona.

you were enjoying being on the inside of all the events while not needing to fight. the first couple of rounds you seen were intense. being around all these powerful people made you a little nervous but you had hope nothing terrible would happen like the rumble at west valley. these weren't angry teenagers fueled off drama and angst, they're athletes. aspiring professionals.

after miyagi do managed to stay in the game by the skin of their teeth, everyone was getting ready to go out. sam was talking your and devons ear off about spain and all the things her and miguel were going to do in their freetime when there was a knock at the door. you got up from your spot at the vanity and opened it to see miguel.

he was distressed, foot anxiously tapping with a hand through his hair. "is sam in here?"

"yeah, sam." you waved her over to the door. "you good, miggy?" miguel opened his mouth to speak and his eyes immediately welled up with tears. "what's wrong?"

"my mom..." his voice shook as he took sam in his arms for a hug. "something's wrong with the baby, i need to go back home." he spoke, voice muffled by sams hair.

"of course." you nodded. "is there anything we can do?"

he only shook his head and hugged sam harder.

"miguel." johnny said from the end of the hallway and beckoned him.

miguel let sam go and gave you a quick but tight hug before taking off. you and sam share an uneasy look before going back inside the room.

"miguel's going back home? sensei too?" devon asked and the two of you nodded.

"i need a drink." you said, grabbing your purse.

***

at the bar, everyone just seemed to take the gloominess with them. knowing miguel was struggling made it impossible to have fun.

"what are we going to do now that miguel's gone?" devon asked hawk and demitri.

"we could always have y/n take his spot?" hawk said, giving you a look over like he was sizing you up.

you scoffed. "yeah right, i wasn't even good enough to fight for a spot in the sekai tekai. getting my ass kicked on the world stage isn't on my bucket list."

"i'm serious." hawk said. "if they can't get kenny, you're next up. so don't black out this time." hawk pointed at your drink, remembering the time you got blackout drunk and threw up all over the inside of his car at one of moons parties.

"i'd prefer drunk y/n over kenny any day." demitri started. "at least she didn't shit her pants."

"oooookay." you stood up, taking your empty glass with you. "i'm getting another drink." you saw the way they were looking at you. "my last one. i don't think you guys will need me but if you do, i'll be ready. i promise."

you walked over to the bar, where sam and robby were sitting. "hey."

"hey." sam said and robby only nodded.

"what's with him?" you noticed robby's bad mood as soon as you walked up.

"maybe you can help." sam stood up, taking her cup with her. "i'm gonna go sit with the others for a sec, see if miguel still has service."

"okay." you nodded, taking sams spot at the bar. "what's wrong?"

"everything." robby sighed. "i need a drink."

you wanted to tell him not to, that it wouldn't solve anything but you knew that he already knew.

"get one, whatever you want. i got us for the first round." you took some cash from your pocket. "hey, can i get a mai tai and..."

"a rum and coke. double. please." robby asked and the bartender nodded, getting to work on your drinks.

"it's one of those nights, huh?" he only nodded, peering at the other edge of the bar for a moment before scoffing and turning back to you.

"yeah." you looked down to where he had just looked, to see tory and kwon sitting besided each other. kwon had an arm around her shoulders and was whispering something in her ear.

"i'm sorry robby. she's gonna come around, i know she is."

"i don't know. she's doing better without me." robby took a sip of his drink and looked down to where tory was sitting. kwon had separated from her but was still close. "and i'm here." he looked at his drink. "thanks by the way."

"it's not good to drink alone. especially when you're down." you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. "also, i missed out on the robby who smoked weed and skated everywhere. i hear he was kinda fun."

"i still skate everywhere." he said with a small laugh. "just not a skate rat anymore."

"yeah, you're the captain now." you gently nudged his shoulder. "i don't know how that feels exactly, the pressure, but i do know that you're gonna make everyone back home proud. especially tory."

"i hope so." he took another drink and eventually, his was gone.

"i know so. she's been watching every one of your fights."

robby cringed a little bit. "knowing i've lost every one of my fights definitely makes me feel lame."

"you're still in it. there's still tomorrow." you took another sip of your drink.

robby nodded. "i'm gonna go to the bathroom."

you nodded in return, looking over your shoulder to see hawk on his phone, sam and devon talking, and demitri dancing with a girl. when you turned back to where robby was sitting, kwon was in his seat.

"hi."

"hello." you were playing with your straw.

"what are you drinking?"

"a mai tai." your responses were dry but kwon wasn't backing off.

"do you want to dance?" he offered his hands but you shook your head, backing away a little.

"no, thanks."

"what? you're only miyagi do's little girlfriend? not for the rest of us?" kwon leaned in closer. "i can treat you better than keene."

"leave me alone, kwon."

"hey." robby's voice came from behind you.

kwon only scoffed and backed up. "someone's waiting for me anyways." he stood up. "i promise i'll keep her warm tonight, keene." he said before leaving the bar.

"are you okay?"

"i need some air." you stood up and went outside, leaving your friends at the bar. you felt bad for leaving robby alone but you couldn't be there anymore.

you felt the effects of the alcohol as you walked down to the beach. your head was spinning. you stopped and took a seat near the shore, sighing as you looked out to the water.

and then you saw him.

axel kovacevic.

he had been destroying his opponents on the mat. nobody's been able to land a point on him. he was one of the strongest competitors. he was stoic too, especially now as he was practicing his kata about 10 feet away from you. in the moonlight, by the ocean, with the alcohol making your perspective soft, he wasn't robotic. he was focused. until he caught you staring at him.

you made eye contact and immediately looked down at your lap. you waited about 5 seconds to check if he was still looking and he was full on staring. it was awkward. he wasn't looking at you as a threat, but with curiosity.

the two of you observed each other for a silent minute before you decided to say something. "hi." you waved and he didn't say anything in return. "you're axel right?" he nodded. "i'm y/n. i liked the kata you were doing."

"i'm not supposed to speak with opponent." he turned away from you and you stood up.

"i'm not your opponent. i'm not even fighting in the tournament. more like, emergency backup." you smiled, watching the corner of his lips tug upwards.

"why aren't you fighting?" he asked curiously, taking a step closer to you.

"i'm not really a fighter like my friends are." you shrugged. "you're great though."

"i'm alright." he leaned over to pick up his shirt and revealed bruises on his back. the sight made you wince.

"what happened?"

"bo staff competition."

"nobody has been able to land a point on you yet." you looked at him and he had a sort of an embarrassed look. "i know about... your sensei. one of my friends saw. it's not right. you should be out with your team, not practicing alone."

"there's always time for practice. my sensei wants me to be the best. it's because of him i never lose."

"doesn't make it right." you responded. "your entire dojo is pretty great though, i have to admit."

"you're pretty." axel stopped himself. your face was on fire and so was his. "your dojo's pretty good too."

"thanks. do you wanna walk with me? back to the hotel?" you asked, rocking on your heels. axel looked around and nodded and you both took off into the night.

"how long have you been fighting for?" you asked.

"ever since i was a kid. what about you?"

"only a couple years. after one of my friends got really hurt, i decided i had to get serious about learning. he had been teaching me some stuff but when it happened i just had to join a dojo. it was actually... cobra kai."

axel looked at you in disbelief. "you were in cobra kai?"

"yeah. after miguel got hurt, i was really angry and i took it out on everyone."

"miguel..."

"he was the original cobra kai." you remembered when miguel excitedly showed you his first gi. "it's a long story though. those sensei's, silver. they put me and all my friends through hell. so i know what its like to have a sensei do anything to make you the best, even hurt you."

axel couldn't say anything, he could only look at you with wonder. "is that why you don't fight anymore?"

"kind of. i don't know. i'm just not as angry as i used to be. i feel like my anger was the only reason i was ever good and i don't wanna live like that." you shrugged.

"i understand." he nodded. "i love karate but i don't want to be a robot all the time." you shook your head and opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted. "i hear what everyone says. they call me a monster, a machine. sometimes i just want to be axel." you nodded, this time you didn't have anything to say. "that's why i like to travel. i get to disappear in each city whenever i'm not fighting."

"how many cities have you been to?"

"a lot." he chuckled and listed all the cities and countries he's been to. you listened in awe. "what about you?"

"i've never really left california." you responded. "but after being here, i'd love to see everything. the sagrada familia makes me feel small but not in a scary way. it's like a monument to the great things humans can do."

"how cute!" a familiar voice interrupted. "little rival team playtime, huh?" kwon and another cobra kai came from around the corner. "thought you were only for miyagi do to play with."

"and i thought i told you to leave me alone." you tried to push past them but they blocked the path. you could smell the alcohol on kwons breath as he spoke. "just let us go."

"what's the magic word?" kwon asked, leaning in closer to you.

"move." you responded bluntly, not wanting anything else to do with this.

"wrong." kwon scoffed and shook his head. he glanced over your shoulder and you were sure someone was behind you.

"we just want to go back to the hotel." you weren't planning on giving kwon what he wanted.

"okay. you can go, only if you say please." kwon was in your face again, smug smile plastered on his face.

before you knew it, the other cobra kai kicked axel. it barely affected him as he shot into action to defend the both of you.

"come on, hit me. show me why they brought you here." kwon tapped his cheek and you were about to raise your arm when you were grabbed from behind. you elbowed whoever grabbed you multiple times before being able to slither out and kick him across the face. at the same time, axel shoved the other cobra kai into kwon. "okay come on. i'll take you both."

the sound of sirens took everyone but kwon out of the fight. he was still pressing axel and had to be taken away by his teammates.

"come on, let's go."

the two of you bolted back to the beach. after catching your breath, you started laughing a little.

"what?" axel asked.

"that guy kicked you and you barely moved. you have a strong base."

axel looked away from you, a smile spreading across his face. "thanks. that was a nice roundhouse."

"thanks, axel." you smiled at him and then looked out at the ocean. when you looked back at him, he was staring. no, he was admiring you. "what?"

axel said nothing, he only reached to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. his hand brushed against your face and you leaned into the touch.

and then he kissed you.

and you kissed him back. it was perfect. he was cradling your face with one hand, pulling you closer by your waist with the other. his mouth moved against yours softly and romantically. it was sweet. he didn't want anything other than to kiss you and you were happy to oblige and let yourself be putty in his hands.

but then your head started spinning again. you pulled away abruptly, taking a deep breath as you came up for air. the alcohol, the running, and the kissing were all making you dizzy. "axel i-."

"i'm sorry, i should go. already after curfew." axel took off running down the beach.

"wait, axel!" you called out after him but he was gone. you felt terrible as you went back inside the bar to meet with your team. everyone was already heading out and robby was nowhere to be seen. you figured he had went back to the hotel and hoped he would be fine. everyone else on the other hand would be dealing with their drama for a minute, including yourself.

[xoxoch3rry]

𝔻𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

Word count: 1,229

────

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Warnings: Possessiveness, Jealousy

Summary: Rafe struggles with jealousy at a party, but after a heated confrontation, he learns to trust his girlfriend's commitment to him.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

The warm summer air was heavy with the scent of salt and sunscreen as you leaned against the balcony railing of Tannyhill, gazing out at the marshland. The party below was loud—laughter and music mixing with the occasional splash from the pool. But you weren’t in the mood for mingling tonight. Something about being surrounded by Kooks, their sharp gazes and constant whispers, made you feel like you didn’t quite belong.

Still, you were here—for Rafe.

“Been lookin’ for you,” his voice cut through the humid stillness, low and edged with that mix of charm and something darker.

You turned to find Rafe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, the dim light from the hallway catching on his sharp features. He was in a white button-up, the top few buttons undone, paired with his usual khakis. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it all night.

“I just needed some air,” you said softly, giving him a small smile. “It’s a little too much down there.”

Rafe’s piercing blue eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped onto the balcony. He moved with an easy confidence, but there was tension in his jaw—something simmering just beneath the surface.

“Too much?” he echoed, tilting his head. “Or is it someone?”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Saw you talking to Kelce earlier.”

Oh. That’s what this was about.

“Rafe,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “He just wanted to know where the drinks were. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice tightening. He stepped closer, towering over you now. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around you, grounding and suffocating all at once. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Maybe he couldn’t, but that’s not my problem,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t control where people look.”

His hand reached out, brushing your arm lightly before gripping your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to make his point. “You can’t control that, no. But you can control how close you let them get.”

Your breath hitched as his eyes bore into yours, the possessiveness in them unmistakable. It wasn’t the first time Rafe had been like this. He had a way of staking his claim on you that was both thrilling and unnerving. You’d told yourself you could handle it, that his intensity was just part of who he was. But sometimes… it was a lot.

“I didn’t let him get close,” you said, your voice softening. “I swear, Rafe. You’re the only one I’m here for.”

His grip loosened, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good,” he murmured, stepping even closer. His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “Because I don’t like sharing.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. It should’ve annoyed you, should’ve made you push him away. But instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, drawn to the intensity of his emotions.

“You don’t have to share,” you whispered, your heart pounding. “I’m yours.”

Something in his eyes flickered at your words, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, darker. “Damn right, you are.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel every part of you to believe you were truly his. The kiss was heated, possessive, and entirely Rafe.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before the sound of laughter drifted up from below. Rafe stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over the railing. You followed his gaze and spotted Kelce standing near the pool, a drink in hand. He wasn’t looking up at you, but that didn’t seem to matter to Rafe.

“I don’t like him being here,” Rafe muttered, his jaw clenching. “Thinks he can come to my house, look at my girl…”

“Rafe, stop,” you said, placing a hand on his chest. His heart was racing under your palm. “It’s not worth it. Let it go.”

But you knew Rafe too well to think he’d actually listen. He stepped back, his hand dropping from your waist as his gaze darkened. “Stay here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe, don’t—”

“Stay. Here.”

And just like that, he was gone, striding back inside before you could stop him. You leaned against the railing, frustration bubbling up in your chest. This was exactly what you’d been afraid of. Rafe’s temper was like a storm—unpredictable and destructive. You loved him, but sometimes it felt like you were trying to hold back the tide.

Minutes later, the sound of shouting drew your attention back to the party. Your stomach dropped as you spotted Rafe and Kelce near the pool, their voices carrying over the music. Rafe was in Kelce’s face, his fists clenched at his sides.

Without thinking, you hurried downstairs, weaving through the crowd. By the time you reached them, Rafe had grabbed Kelce by the collar, his face inches from the other boy’s.

“She’s not yours to look at,” Rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Got it?”

“Rafe, stop!” you said, pushing your way between them. You placed your hands on his chest, trying to create some distance. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

His eyes snapped to yours, still burning with anger. For a moment, you weren’t sure he’d listen. But then he let go of Kelce, shoving him backward with a sneer.

“Get out of here,” Rafe spat. “Before I change my mind.”

Kelce didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled away, disappearing into the crowd. You turned back to Rafe, your own anger flaring now.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded. “You can’t just start fights every time you think someone looks at me wrong!”

“I’m not gonna stand there and let some loser disrespect you,” he shot back, his tone defensive.

“Disrespect me? Or disrespect you?”

The question hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Look,” he said, his voice softer now. “I know I get carried away sometimes. But I can’t help it, okay? You mean everything to me. And the thought of someone else trying to take you…”

“No one’s taking me,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand. “But you have to trust me, Rafe. I’m not going anywhere.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I just… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to,” you whispered, your anger fading as you felt the sincerity in his words. “But you need to trust that.”

Rafe nodded, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I’ll try,” he promised. “But you’re mine, okay? No one else gets to have you.”

You smiled faintly, resting your head against his chest. “I’ve always been yours.”

And with that, the storm passed—for now.

[animeyanderetalker]

I think this will be a Gojo/Geto/Sukuna thing. If the Darling is insecure about her looks, they will fuck her infront of the mirror/s and forcing her look at herself. Maybe even fuck her, when she is leaning on the window or even Infront of their followers/minions.

Tw: Nsfw, non-con, dub-con, mirror sex, humiliation kink, power display

I 100% agree with Sukuna for the point of fucking his darling in front of his minions. It's just such a power display for him, knowing that he can bully his cock inside of you and have others watch as he rails you into the ground all whilst knowing that no one dares to speak up or voice their uncomfortable feelings with the situation.

I take it one step further and say he'd even fuck his darling in a bloody battlefield of his enemies or even other women who threw themselves at him, offering themselves in hopes of mercy, protection or simply to seduce and use him. If he were to consider you ugly and worthless you would have ended up like the dead bodies around you, dismembered and severed with limbs scattered in all directions.

By all means, sweet-talking and Sukuna are two words that do not belong together and he would certainly degrade you verbally just as much. However, if he tells you that your looks are alright you will stop moping around like a bratty kid and if he has to fuck you to hammer that into your brain he will gladly do it.

Mirror sex I can see most realistically see with Gojo. He would never expose his darling to the eyes of others, especially when she's naked and vulnerable beneath him. Now, considering that Gojo attracts people left and right it is not unsurprising that you might start to get insecure about your appearance because you realise that theoretically Satoru has a lot of choices besides you.

Gojo, as a response when noticing your insecurities, would amplify his affection tenfold. That's when mirror sex probably comes in and with the shit ton of money that he has I wouldn't even be surprised if he designs an entire room filled with mirrors and then makes love for you for hours in that room and no matter where you look, your reflection will always look back at you.

Whilst he wouldn't ever let anyone see you naked I can imagine that in case someone attempts to seduce him and convince him that they're better he makes an audio the next time he makes love to you and then plays it to the other person, clarifying that they could never elicit such sounds from him like his darling.

Geto is kind of tricky because he really struggles to accept the fact that he is in love with his non-sorcerer darling. Similar to Sukuna he isn't the kindest with his words either as he actively tries to put you down so that you feel like the worthless monkey that you are. As his followers share his beliefs I do not believe that he would fuck you in front of them.

There could be a point made for him doing the dirty deed with you in front of other non-sorcerers because to him they are disposable and even more worthless than you are. However, even that is rare and would most likely be used when he really wants to humiliate you or punish you in which case the non-sorcerer being forced to watch might be someone far too close to you for his liking.

At one point he would switch his feelings as he is forced to embrace his feelings more and more. He still is far away from a Prince Charming for obvious reasons as he will never view you as an equal to sorcerers but you are no longer in the same category as the humans he views as monkeys. Then he would be more confrontal if you were to harbor insecurities because he still chose you, meaning that you should at the very least realise that you are more special than other non-sorcerers.

[rttnz0mb]

Ticci Toby x G/N Reader with Schizophrenia

Note: I was kind of struggling with this one but hopefully its good and I would love to learn more about people with schizophrenia and how it affects different people, so if I got anything wrong please comment about it because I definitely don't know everything that comes with having schizophrenia

Toby first met you because you were a new proxy and were assigned to work with him

He wasn't too thrilled with having you as a partner as he usually likes going killing alone

He first found out about you having schizophrenia from Tim and after that he kind of viewed your differently

Toby out of everyone knows what its like since he himself suffers from mild schizophrenia along with a lot of other things that people would call him crazy for

You and Toby eventually get closer after going on a few missions together and you really enjoy his company

Unlike other people you've met before, Toby doesn't treat you like you're any different then everyone else

Just like you, Toby also suffers from hearing voices and you guys kind of bond over it in a weird way

He talks to you about whenever the voices get really loud for him he likes to wear headphones and listen to music to kind of soothe his mind a bit

Whenever you are going through an episode Toby tries his best to make you feel heard and tries reassuring you that you are safe without downplaying whatever your going through

"Hey, I know you're really scared right now and I would be too but I promise you I wouldn't let anything or anyone do anything to hurt you okay"

Whenever it gets really bad for you he always tries to make sure his voice is calm and reassuring and asks if there is anything he can do to make you feel better

Hope you guys enjoyed it okay bye bye!!

[the-pen-pot]

Have u ever thought about Arthur time travelling instead of Merlin?

Not one with just Arthur, no. Hiraeth almost entirely scratched my time travel itch. That said, I'm actually writing (slowly but enthusiastically) one called "What We Might Be where they both end up back at the start with all their memories intact. It's a huge amout of fun!

It's basically about how this time they work together and maybe find that golden age (and do it a lot sooner!) It's posting on my patreon very slowly right now, but you can read the first chapter here (warning for angst)

Here's the synopsis from my fic ideas page below the cut to spare you all!

I made this post on Tumblr and it did numbers (I was thinking 4 people would "hell yes" me, not 2000)

"Not me sitting here thinking about writing a fic where we start with Arthur dying in Merlin's arms after Camlaan and it's all tragedy and then the magic rises and they both end up back at that first day, in the marketplace, Merlin with "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?" dying on his lips as they stare at each other, fascinated, horrified, so fucking relieved because they both remember ALL of it and none of it's happened yet and this time they can maybe make it to a different, better ending.

And they can do it together."

BUT TO EXPAND

I want to explore how Arthur and Merlin would interact with each other having lived in one another's pockets for ten years, only to be sent right back to the beginning while retaining everything they are to each other. Merlin's magic newly revealed from the confession by the lakeside. The two of them standing there with every mistake in their future rather than their past and realising that maybe "two sides of the same coin" means "you need to work together, dumbass".

I want the two of them shocked by how young the other is. How different Camelot seems from what they're used to. How harsh Uther looks now that they know it can be different (though not as different as it should be, Arthur realises.) I want them correcting their mistakes (and each other's mistakes) and taking all that they know of each other and rebuilding their relationship (all their relationships, actually) on that honesty.

And the others don't remember. Morgana is still Morgana, still struggling but still hoping to be saved. Mordred's just a boy.  Lancelot never sacrificed himself and it's so clear in Arthur's eyes that Gwen loved them both but that she loved Lancelot first and best with all her heart.

The knights end up at Camelot earlier simply because Arthur and Merlin set out to find them earlier. 

("We need Gwaine." "Do we? Really?" "Yes, you great prat. Come on.")

And so much more.

[nothorses]

My parents are immigrants who became citizens decades ago, and my brother and I were born in the US. We're now scrambling to make sure we have passport cards so we can have proof of citizenship at all times, just in case, because we're brown and have "ethnic names" and that's how Republicans are apparently identifying "illegals".

I have never been angrier. If this was not enough for people to vote for Harris, if they were okay with putting people in this position, I struggle to understand how we ever make any progress. And I think people advocating for not voting need to sit with the choice that they did make, ultimately. Abstaining doesn't keep your hands clean. It just tells me you were okay with allowing him to win. I don't know what to do with that.

I'm really sorry. I hope you & your family are safe.

I honestly think Olayemi Olurin has some of the realest things to say on this point; that Americans are the most hostile towards immigrants out of any group. imo it's true of a lot of places, but my pet theory is that it's, y'know, colonization. This is a settler colonialist state first, and immigration tugs on a very specific fear that people here have of others doing to us what this state has done to others. Xenophobia and hatred of immigrants is a defense of colonization, and defending colonization is defending the very nature of this state's existence; the reason so many of us are on this land at all. It's an existential fear.

I don't think that's true of everyone any more than I think everyone hates trans people; there are lots of people who authentically care and will do what they can to help (and then some, in a lot of cases). I also think it's crucial that we start facing & unpacking the very real baggage that has contributed so heavily to this leftist, like, doomerist apathy towards immigrants & immigrant families.

you're 100% right that people who either chose not to listen, or believed immigrants were a sacrifice they could make (for who knows what, tbh) need to sit with that. I think we all need to sit with how we reacted to that, too, and how deep this shit runs even if we are sympathetic. I know I do.

[acesandocs]

Some of the different phases in Åse's life.

3-6 Like most are at that age he's a curious but shy kid. He has at that point started to pick up on how a lot of people seem to dislike him but he doesn't know why. His mom and grandparents try to shield him from most of it but he still gets teased and bullied by a lot of the other kids though since he was so little at that point he couldn't do much about it. (theme)

6-9 This is the point he gets big enough to actually defend herself. This period is marked by a lot of visits from angry neighbors about whatever new fight he had gotten into with their kids. His mom usually didn't punish him for this though as even she knew nine times out of ten he was just defending himself. And while he didn't actively start exploring her gender identity until after she moved to America, she did start asking a lot of question about why certain things were only for boys or girls, like having short hair. He ended up cutting it himself after getting into an argument with his mom about it and it was mostly a decision made out of spite and just to see what would happen. (theme)

9-14 When he came into his preteens he had proven to be more trouble that he was worth so most left him alone at this point and just judged him from a distance. She also started making her own clothes and expressing herself though her fashion, taking a lot of inspiration from the fairy tale illustration in her favorite books. She also made her closest childhood friend when she was nine. And maybe she also wanted to look lovingly into her eyes and kiss her but all girls want to do that with their friends right? They stayed friends up until Åse had to move which was also her first heartbreak. (theme)

14-18 Maybe the worst part of her life if you asked her, not that she really want to talk about it anyway. Moving took a big toll on her and after a falling out with her mom she ran away from home. She fell in with a bad person who was very controlling and made her dress more to his liking than what she actually felt comfortable in. She wore a lot of dark colors and she felt and looked the least like herself. (theme)

18-19 After some questionable decisions and a short incarceration she officially became a fugitive from the law and thus started traveling west to escape the heat. He presented fully male at this point as well as starting to bind his chest. Traveling was ok enough and in some ways he got to fulfill a childhood dream of traveling the country. But the stress of not having a stable and safe place to sleep at night and not knowing if one bad run in with a cop could land her back in jail took a toll on her. So did all the back alley fighting matches he took part in to make money, its a miracle he still has all his teeth. (theme)

19-21 after getting scouted at a match in st Louis a subordinate of Atlas got him in touch with her and he offered her a job, to which she agreed. She was a bit of an outsider at first but eventually found her footing. He kept presenting male but did open up about his assigned gender to a few people. (theme)

21-22 while she wasn't all that close to Atlas his death still affected her through the shock waves it sent though the Lackadaisy. She might be the person with the most reason to pack up and leave other than maybe Horatio. Still she stays, because even if he doesn't want admit it she cares about these people. It took me a few tries to land on his default design but I feel he started to come together when I gave him the neckerchief. Its kind of a signature item and I try to include it in most of his designs now. He inherited it from his mom and thus didn't have it as a child. It kind of represent him stepping into being an independent adult. While the general style and length of his hair has stayed the same how I draw it is something I have and still struggle with. This is probably the closest Ive come to being happy with it. I struggled similarly with her pants as well for some reason. They have ended up looking more like bell bottoms than suit pants which isn't all that historically accurate but its ultimately what I think looks best. (theme)

[lisharchivez]

Thank you so, SO much capturing and sharing the different chat/dialogue options with the LIs!!! I cant imagine how much time and work it takes but I’m so appreciative. Sometimes I take forever choosing a chat option but I feel better knowing that you’ll likely upload the alternative options for others to see.

Anon ,may your favorite snacks never goes out of production .

Working for one social act(post/chat) takes away 1/2 - 1 hour of my life . And I have made over 230posts 🫠🫠 and over 300 is pending now that I picked up both Xavier and Rafayel to stay up to date.

I do wish to wrap up everything as fast as possible.

My only gripe is that I am not discoverable. I believe it's not a unique experience to be curious about what happens in other options .But I am afraid many players who have this issue might not know that I am here trying to do it ,and that they can rest assured and proceed without the fear of missing out any responses.

There are some accounts I see that engage in posts regularly and it makes my day . But sometimes when I post and I don't see them then it makes me feel guilty ,perhaps the algorithm didn't reach them..should I tag them? Would that be appropriate?

I can not afford to promote my page with financial means either

I don't want more engagement as clout . I just want to reach more players and let them know that they can somewhat count on this page .

I still wish having a wiki was a better idea because then a lot of people would contribute and help around ,while here it's just me . And imagine discovering that the thing I am doing already exists and done better by a generous player💀I would burry myself and never come back🫠😭

I do appreciate all the support and appreciation I get . Thank you for being here with me . Thank you for seeing the posts . You really make my struggle worth it .

I am really in need of Players who completed the Bounty hunt lvl 9s with Rafayel Xavier & Sylus . I can handle my man zayne because I have higher affinity with him in more than one account . But I only have single account for rest . So please .Help .

If you cleared it with him , DM me for further information to co operate . You will be credited where it's due . Don't worry.

Once I wrap all these up I decided to change my Acc name too and probably open a Twitter account for this purpose..Right now it's only a dream 🫠

Once again ,thank you.

Thank you to 200 people that trusted my account throughout these months . I pray I never let you down.

Sincerely

Fay(admin)

[a-dragons-journal]

hey, i know you’re na’vi link so i wanted to ask something. i’m questioning na’vi kin right now but can’t talk about it on my main blog because one of my friends follows me. they know about my alterhumanity and i post about it on that blog. however, i am white. very white. i’ve seen some people say that na’vi kin is cultural appropriation? i’m worried my alterhuman friends will try to accuse me of cultural appropriation if i confirm this kintype. any advice?

Okay, well, first off, I'm also white, so let's get that out of the way. However I have had this conversation with and have heard the opinions of Native American people with both opinions, so I can pass on my conclusions from that conversation, and if other people have opinions they want to add I welcome them to, especially Indigenous folks of course.

Thing number one: if it's not a choice, it can't be morally wrong. End of. You can't apply morality to things that aren't choices. You can engage with it in moral vs immoral ways, but simply having an identity that you didn't choose cannot be immoral.

Now obviously that doesn't apply to me, and it may or may not apply to you, so here's the rest of it:

Someone who's Na'vikin/link isn't claiming to be Indigenous here and now. We're not claiming to have direct experience with those struggles or the same amount of voice as Indigenous people do with regards to them. Na'vi are similar to and based on Indigenous people, but they aren't actually Indigenous people.

The Na'vi aren't based on any one Indigenous culture - although the Metkayina are much more heavily based on the Maori than anything else, the other clans we've seen aren't as specific, and are intentionally a mish-mash of dozens of Indigenous cultures. So... who is allowed to be Na'vikin/link, exactly? If the answer is "only people from the culture they're based on," then the real answer is no one. And about that:

This is really just a variant on the old "is kinning outside your race problematic" argument, and we came to a community-agreed-upon conclusion on that years ago: no. For a lot of reasons, including the above, and also the fact that if you're saying it's okay to identify as a wolf but not as a character of a different ethnicity than you... does that not imply that it's easier for a white person to connect that deeply with an animal than with a person of color? Is that not pretty damn problematic itself?

As a bonus round, if your answer then becomes "well, I guess you can be Na'vikin/link, but you shouldn't talk about it/engage with it in public": we know that suppressing kintypes is bad for you. We have learned this the hard way - how many stories are out there about how incredibly unhealthy that is for most people? You're now advocating for a known harm in order to avoid a hypothetical one. I don't think that's fair to anyone.

For what it's worth, I do think there are probably ways to engage with being a Na'vi that are appropriative, racist, and weird toward Indigenous people - just like there are plenty of ways to be a fan of the Na'vi that are appropriative, racist, and weird toward Indigenous people. But I don't think being a Na'vi is inherently that way. I don't think it's that hard to be Na'vi and be respectful of real-world Indigenous cultures that the Na'vi have parallels to. As long as you're not claiming to be Indigenous here and now, or have some ~special connection~ to Indigenous cultures because of your Na'vi 'type, or appropriating Indigenous things because they have Na'vi vibes, then I think you're fine.

But, as I said, I'm more than willing to hear other opinions if people have them! Please, add on in the notes. (I also feel like I'm forgetting a major point in my argument as to why it's fine for some reason, but can't get my hands around it, so hopefully I'm wrong and if not you might see an update to this post in the future when I remember. I've got a bit of a headache right now, so I'm a little bleary.)

[hangingslothcentral]

Today is the fourth anniversary of the day I launched Spirit Box Radio, and it's also the last day of trans awareness week.

I have a lot of big feelings about SBR. If you've listened to the show, you'll know that I was medically transitioning through its release. I went on T at the show's midpoint, in the middle of S2, and my voice was changing throughout the rest of the show's run. I got top surgery two months after the show ended, almost exactly to the day.

Now. We're all big enough and daft enough to be able to have a grown up conversation about this, I think. So here's some stuff about that experience I haven't really talked about before.

1. I wish there had been media which had trans creators transitioning alongside a character who is transitioning when I was younger. The main reason for this is that it would have been representation of trans people, but honestly? The main thing I wanted was to see someone transitioning over a long period of time. So often, transition seems to happen behind closed doors. Unless you are lucky enough to have lots of trans people around you (I grew up in semi-rural Wales so no luck for me there) you just do not see it happening. People, understandably, want to hide the length of the process, the messy in between stages.

2. Transitioning and playing Sam transitioning simultaneous to me was one of the most mentally challenging and emotionally vulnerable things I've ever done. I do not say this lightly; I'm a survivor of abuse and I've seen a lot of shit in my life. I've come out as nonbinary at a corporate job and argued with a university about changing my name on my graduation certificate. As much as I loved it, and still love it, and I'm intensely proud of it and SO glad it exists, making SBR was fucking brutal. Hours of editing my own voice through a period where it sounded different on a near-weekly basis. Having no idea how I sounded anymore and posting episodes anyway. Dealing with the emotional fallout of people responding weirdly to me in my real, actual life whilst portraying a character who is outcast, isolated, and terrified of himself? Challenging as fuck.

3. Many people need to examine the way they're talking about trans men. The conversations around Sam shifted very violently as my voice dropped. This is in part due to the arc this character follows, but it's hard not to notice a shift in language as dramatic as this. It started as soon as the show came back from its S2 midseason break and my voice had shifted down a bit. People talked less about Sam being cute, and for the first time, I started to see people talking about him like he was sexy. These things aren't mutually exclusive, but it was very noticeable to me, especially in contrast to conversations about Oliver, Sam's hot, cis gender, florist boyfriend, who was categorised as sexy from the off. Before my voice dropped, even though they were using the right pronouns for them, people talked about Sam with very feminine, infantilising language, and this almost entirely stopped when my voice dropped.

4. I am so fucking glad I did this. Yes, it was brutal, emotional, and I really struggled through a lot of this process, and I am so glad I did this. I will have the immense privilege of medically transitioning in the way I have over the last few years exactly once in my life. I am glad I took that vulnerable moment and made art with it. I'm glad that my transition is captured and mirrored by this thing I was making at the time it was happening. I'm glad that thousands of other trans people have listened to the show and have heard me doing this as they are doing it, or before they do it, or after, or as they're deciding not to, or finding out they can't, or realising they'll never have the chance, or any one of the myriad experiences of transness that exist. I am, frankly, honoured to have been a part of such a vulnerable aspect in the lives of so many people.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for listening to the show, if indeed you already have. If you enjoy my work, I would love to be able to pay my bills and be able to keep making it. I have never made even minimum wage for the work I do on my shows. Please consider becoming a member.

[night-owl-bard]

My Personal Experience with Mizuki and Mizu5

Coming out, fear of abandonment, loneliness, and learning to trust others.

When I started liking and following the Project SEKAI franchise, the game hadn't even been released in its global version yet. So you can tell I’ve been here for quite some time.

I identified with Mizuki right from the beginning. A person whose defense mechanism is to avoid or joke around in tense or conflicting situations? Someone with deep-seated anxiety and fear of being alone? Someone who never shows their true self out of fear of rejection? Well, that’s just me.

When I first started following the story, I was about the same age as the characters. Now I’m older, with more life experience—which, while not a lot, still makes me quite different from how I was when I was Mizuki's age.

The 'core' of this character revolves around two things: identity and connection.

Mizuki wants to be themselves—to dress, behave, and live in a way that feels true and comfortable.

And Mizuki wants to have people by their side. They want to feel supported, to support others, to hang out with real friends, and to have people who stay in their life. They're tired of losing.

Mizuki believes these two desires can’t coexist.

At first, they purposely keep their distance from the rest of Niigo so that, when the inevitable happens and everyone leaves, it won’t hurt as much. Later, they decide to make the most of the time they have left with the group. Mizuki doesn’t doubt that Niigo might accept them; they fear that Niigo only accepts them out of kindness, as if it’s out of pity.

Mizuki doesn’t want to be treated like a charity case. They want genuine connection, true belonging.

I don’t relate as much to Mizuki’s personality (I think Kanade is the one most like me), but I deeply connect with their struggles around identity and gender expression (I’m agender and AFAB) as well as with their issues of trust and abandonment.

I’m doing much better these days, but I know all too well what it feels like to want to disappear, to push people away out of fear that they’ll leave first, to keep everyone at arm's length. I have amazing friends who give me all the support in the world (they’re my Rui, wishing my heart to be protected haha).

Sometimes, I still fear ending up alone, that other circumstances will drive us apart, or that they're only kind to me because they’re good people. But those are just the bad days, which eventually fade away into a sea of good ones.

When I look at Mizuki, I see my younger self—scared, sad, lonely, and hopeless. I deeply wish to see a healing arc for them, just like we’re seeing with Mafuyu. It would be wonderful to see a character I identify with so much learn that they can have a happy life.

That they can be themselves and still be loved

[animentality]

Looking at a post of yours that was talking about boomers and older Gen xers not voting to help the coming generations and how you are suffering from it. I'm a Gen xer and I agree with the point. I would just point out your generation didn't make much better decisions in the last election. Young males voted Republican. You'll see that every generation when they are young show promise to fix the future but inevitably get caught in the system and shit the bed. I'm not sure why people lose their empathy and compassion as they age because it didn't happen to me. I had a lot of hope your generation would be different. Your showing in the last election broke my heart.

Hey, I didn't vote for him. And I did vote, I vote in every election, even the small ones. My state was blue, we voted Kamala.

But I see your point.

People have been talking about this since voting day.

How there's been so many people saying gen z was going to fix things. Gen z is different. Gen z is more politically and socially aware than any other generation. More compassionate. Kinder.

Gen z is going to be the change that no other generation before them could be... but then the sobering reality is...

people don't evolve this fast. humans are still humans.

maybe it wasn't fair to place the title of hero on a new generation's head, because societal changes don't shift this quickly.

Gen z is still a product of Gen x. and of baby boomers.

Gen z is still unfortunately very human, and humans are always self absorbed and greedy and prone to cruelty when they're desperate or even just when they feel like it.

Gen z exists in the same world that's been spinning for the entire history of the human race.

it doesn't matter what year you were born. if you were alive during the age of the Renaissance or Cardi B.

we have inherited the problems of the generations before us, and we are struggling with new burdens.

I don't think gen z is doing particularly well right now either.

but you know.

we're still young.

things can still change. they always can. you never know just how fast things can change.

people in 1924 never would've predicted the way humans live now, in 2024.

in the grand scheme of things, humans do make huge leaps and bounds in technology and society.

the technology and attitudes of 1930 were soooo far behind 1970, despite being only 40 years apart.

who knows what will happen.

we certainly don't.

[popfizzles]

fizzles what is the trick to making all of your men(and women and vaguely gendered Beests as well) SO smoochable. Smith is like my favorite right now and i have been a silent Cain enjoyer for ages

tbh, I don't know the exact science of getting characters lots of attention? A nice design is a good place to start, but it also probably has to do with having an interesting story and personality, one that people want to know about and read.

Smith is a fan favorite for a few reasons, if I had to guess;

Smith is a family man! He's the eldest brother, and in a way, a makeshift/stand-in father figure. I mentioned once that Smith wants to have a few kids of his own one day. A lot of people are into family dynamics! One of my favorite posts involving him was the comic of him struggling to help Goldie with her math homework.

He's a complex, flawed character. He's got a lot of vices. He's done a lot of bad things in the past, and still continues to do bad things. But he also takes accountability for his mistakes, holds onto guilt, and tries to make things right when he realizes he's messed up. Smith apologizes.

Some people just prefer the more rural vibe of a farmhand guy who works on an orchard. A muscled sweaty dude in a tank-top lifting 50 lb bags of topsoil is nice to look at :)

He's admittedly. just an asshole?? And sometimes that's all you need!!!

Cain is a little different, because he doesn't have MUCH story or personality, so maybe a nice looking design could be enough? :)

I have @dreambones to thank for that! She's the one who designed Cain for me, after all.