#I'm tired of people getting away with everything they do even if it's just a stupid thing like a TV show

[knottedhearts]

Argument Pt 2: M.S

The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. The tension in your chest began to loosen, but the knot in your stomach remained. The whole argument with Matt had left you feeling exhausted, like your body was at war with itself between the physical pain and the emotional toll of the fight. You hadn’t meant to storm out like that, but you didn’t know how else to handle it.

You didn’t even know where you were going, just walking, letting the cool night air clear your mind. The city was quiet, the streets empty save for a few passing cars and distant voices, nothing but the occasional sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

You found yourself at the nearby park, sitting on a bench beneath a streetlamp. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to breathe, a space to think. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But you couldn’t. It was Matt.

You hesitated before pulling it out. There was a message: "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can we talk?"

You stared at the screen for a moment, the apology almost feeling too little too late, but something inside of you softened. You knew Matt’s pride was as big as his voice, so for him to admit that much meant something. The frustration in your chest ebbed a little, replaced by a mix of confusion and the tiniest shred of hope.

You typed out a quick reply: "I need space right now. I can’t talk."

You sat there for a while, the screen of your phone glowing in the dim light as you waited for a response. When the buzz came again, you opened it to find a single sentence: "I understand. I just want you to be okay."

For a moment, you just stared at the words, not knowing how to feel. Was it genuine? Did he really understand? You wanted to believe it, but your heart was still heavy with everything that had been said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this fight had dug a deeper divide between the two of you.

You exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars, letting the chill of the night ground you. The silence was a comfort, though it didn’t completely take away the lingering tension. You weren’t sure how to fix things right now, but you knew you couldn’t stay angry forever.

After a while, you felt your phone buzz once more, this time with a call. It was Matt.

You debated for a moment before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen before finally accepting. "Hey," you said, your voice quieter than before, the tension still not fully gone.

"Hey," Matt’s voice came through, softer than usual, almost hesitant. "I know you’re pissed, and I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have been so loud, and I should’ve listened when you said you weren’t feeling well. I… I get it now."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you leaned back against the bench. "Matt, it’s not just about the noise. It’s about not feeling heard. I need you to see when I’m struggling, not just assume I’ll get over it."

He was quiet for a moment, the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. "I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize how bad it was for you. I just… I didn’t know how to tone it down, you know? It’s like I’m stuck in my own head sometimes, and I forget that there are people around me who need something different."

"Yeah, well," you paused, your voice steady but tired, "maybe it’s time you start noticing."

Another silence passed, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It felt like he was reflecting, trying to understand, really trying.

"I get that," he said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to make it worse. I’ll do better. I just… I care about you, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like your needs didn’t matter."

There was something in his words that made the anger in your chest loosen a little more. It wasn’t perfect, and the fight was still fresh in your mind, but you knew this was the start of something. The start of him learning how to be more considerate, how to see when you were struggling instead of barreling through with his own world.

"I know you didn’t," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of your phone. "But you have to hear me next time, Matt. I don’t want to be the one always having to ask for peace. I need you to understand that."

"I do," he replied quietly. "I’ll make sure of it."

You leaned back, your shoulders loosening just a little, the tension still present but not as overwhelming. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little more even now. "I just… need a little time to cool down."

"I get it. Take all the time you need," Matt said, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here when you’re ready."

The conversation ended shortly after, and as you sat there in the quiet park, the cold air wrapping around you, you realized that maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe this was the start of a bigger change, one where both of you learned to meet in the middle, to understand each other better.

You didn’t know when you’d be ready to go back, but for the first time that evening, the idea of heading home didn’t seem so daunting. There was still work to do, but things would get better. You had to believe that.

As you stood up from the bench, the weight on your chest felt lighter. With each step, you felt a little more like yourself, a little more hopeful that the space and time would help Matt understand, and that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to make things work between you two.

[wallowslistener]

second chances. ೨ৎ s. reid x reader

𐙚˚ spencer reid x fem!reader. fluff. 1.5k words.

✦ when you first joined the bau, you noticed right away that something was off with spencer. the rest of the team was warm and welcoming, offering tips and advice to help you adjust. but spencer? he seemed distant. he was borderline cold, and it wasn’t long before his sarcasm became impossible to ignore.

it started small, just a few curt remarks here and there. anytime you spoke up during a briefing, spencer would find a way to interject, usually with some underhanded comment about your theory or analysis.

one morning, you presented a potential profile for the unsub. as you finished explaining your idea, spencer leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“that’s an interesting theory,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “if you’re trying to rewrite everything we know about behavioral psychology.”

you blinked, taken aback by his tone. the rest of the team exchanged glances, but no one said anything. it wasn’t the first time spencer had been like this with you, but it stung all the same.

you tried to ignore it, focusing on your work and doing your best to prove yourself. but every time you suggested something, spencer found a way to shut it down.

when you suggested a possible location for the unsub’s hideout, he scoffed. “yeah, because that’s exactly where someone with this kind of psychopathy would want to lay low,” he muttered under his breath.

you shot him a look, your patience wearing thin. "do you have a problem with me, reid?"

he glanced up from his stack of papers, clearly surprised that you’d confronted him so directly. “i don’t know. do you have a problem with the concept of research and facts?”

your jaw tightened, but you bit back a retort, not wanting to make a scene in front of the team. you didn’t understand why he had it out for you, but you weren’t about to stoop to his level.

as time went on, the sarcastic remarks became a routine. no matter what you said, spencer had some clever, biting comment ready. you tried to brush it off, reminding yourself that he was brilliant, intimidating, even, and maybe that’s why he was so hard on you. but it didn’t make it any easier.

one evening, after wrapping up a case, the team was gathered in the conference room, reviewing the final details. you offered a suggestion, and predictably, spencer made another cutting remark.

this time, you couldn’t hold back. “you know, i’m getting real tired of this, reid,” you said, your voice low but firm. “every time i open my mouth, you act like i’m the most incompetent person in the room. if you’ve got an issue with me, just say it.”

the room went silent. everyone turned to look at spencer, who was clearly caught off guard. he glanced around the table, then back at you, his expression hardening.

“i don’t have an issue with you,” he said, his voice defensive. “i just don’t think you’re as knowledgeable as you think you are.”

“wow,” you replied, sarcasm creeping into your own voice now. “thanks for clearing that up.”

morgan cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. “alright, let’s all take a step back.”

but you didn’t back down. “you don’t even know me, spencer. you never gave me a chance. you’ve been judging me since day one, and for what? because i'm new? because i don’t know as much as you?”

spencer shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “it’s not—"

“no,” you interrupted. “you don’t get to do that. i’m here to learn, just like you were when you first started. you didn’t know everything either, but people helped you. so why are you treating me like i don’t belong here?”

for a moment, spencer just stared at you, as if he didn’t know how to respond. then, without another word, he gathered his things and left the room.

the next day, things were quieter between you two. spencer didn’t make any sarcastic remarks, but he kept his distance. you assumed he was still angry, but at least he wasn’t openly hostile anymore.

a few days later, as you were getting coffee in the break room, spencer walked in. he hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly cleared his throat.

“i, uh, wanted to apologize,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “i shouldn’t have been so... dismissive.”

you blinked, surprised. “wow. i wasn’t expecting that.”

he shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. “i... don’t always handle new people well,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “it’s not an excuse, but i’ve had a lot of people come and go, and sometimes i guess i just... assume the worst.”

you softened a bit, realizing that his behavior might have been about more than just you. “it’s fine. i get it. but you don’t have to make me feel like i don’t belong here.”

spencer finally looked at you, his expression sincere. “you do belong here,” he said, almost hesitantly. “you’re good at what you do. i'm sorry if i made you feel like you weren’t.”

you nodded, feeling some of the tension between you dissolve. “thanks, reid. i appreciate that.”

he gave a small, almost shy smile before turning back to his coffee. the sarcasm didn’t disappear completely after that, but there was a new understanding between you, one that allowed both of you to coexist, maybe even as friends someday.

the next evening, as you were gathering your things to head out, spencer caught up with you in the hallway, looking hesitant but determined.

"hey," he began, a bit awkwardly, "i, uh, wanted to say thank you. for giving me a chance to… explain myself earlier." he paused, glancing down for a moment. "i was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner? just to, you know… start fresh."

surprised, you looked at him, noting the sincerity in his expression. despite his prickly demeanor lately, there was something earnest in his gaze now. "dinner sounds good," you replied, a small smile creeping onto your face.

later, at a quiet restaurant, spencer seemed different. he wasn’t defensive or sarcastic, instead, he was focused, thoughtful, and even funny in his own way. he opened up about his love for books, sharing stories of obscure facts and odd cases with a passion that was almost contagious. it was as though the walls he’d carefully constructed began to fall away, revealing a side of him you hadn’t seen before.

over dessert, he offered a faint, slightly self conscious smile. "i know i wasn’t exactly… welcoming," he admitted. "but honestly, seeing you here, well, you’re really good at this. maybe even better than i initially gave you credit for."

you chuckled, feeling a warmth blossom between you two that hadn’t been there before. "thanks, reid. maybe you’re not so bad either."

spencer looked down, an almost shy smile breaking through, as if he wasn’t quite used to being complimented. he twirled his fork, clearly thinking something over, before finally glancing up at you.

"i don’t mean to be difficult," he said, carefully choosing his words. "i’ve just… never been good at new things. or new people. it’s like…" he hesitated, searching for a comparison. "it’s like an unfamiliar book that everyone says you should read, but you don’t know if you’re ready to invest in it. and then… sometimes it turns out to be worth it."

you laughed softly at his analogy, feeling that rare warmth from him. "i think i know what you mean."

he nodded, almost relieved, and took a breath as if ready to say something more. but his usual composure seemed to falter slightly, and instead, he looked down at his dessert, his expression thoughtful.

"i think, sometimes, i don’t realize when I’m pushing people away," he admitted quietly. "it’s just easier than… than getting used to someone and then… well, losing them." his voice was softer now, almost a murmur, but there was a weight behind it.

the vulnerability in his eyes surprised you. he was usually so guarded, so quick to put up walls, but now it was as if he was allowing you to see past the endless facts and statistics he normally shielded himself with.

"i guess that makes sense," you replied, meeting his gaze. "but, for what it’s worth, i’m not going anywhere. not unless you push me out the door," you added, offering a reassuring smile.

spencer gave a small, almost sheepish smile back, and you saw a flicker of something. maybe relief, maybe gratitude cross his face. he lifted his glass slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a newfound warmth.

“to second chances?” he said, his voice a touch uncertain but hopeful.

you clinked your glass against his, smiling. “to second chances.”

for the rest of the evening, the conversation flowed easier. spencer shared stories about the team, little quirks you hadn’t noticed yet, and even a few awkward moments from his own early days at the bau that left you both laughing. it was a side of him you hadn’t expected. a mix of wit, warmth, and vulnerability that you found yourself drawn to more and more.

as you both finally stepped outside, the cool night air settling around you, spencer hesitated, as if there was something else he wanted to say. but he just offered a tentative smile. “thanks for tonight. i… enjoyed it,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

“me too,” you replied. and for the first time, you felt like maybe this connection could be the start of something real.

[darth-mortem]

This is a small background of what's happening in this fic.

Fluff, 721 words.

“I'll help ye!” Ghost heard Soap's cheerful voice and looked around, lowering the knife.

Johnny stood in the doorway, smiling his shiny smile, and his eyes radiated so much love that Simon involuntarily stared at him and forgot to answer. Dressed in shorts and one of Ghost's black T-shirts, Soap looked like he had just gotten out of bed. However, it could be true: he was still weak from his injury and tired quickly.

“No need to, sweetheart.” Simon finally spoke up. “We agreed that you would go to the store and I would cook. You should get some rest.”

He tried to make his voice sound soft and gentle, but he could tell by the way Johnny's expression changed that something was wrong. This was all hard for Riley, who had spent most of his life in the military with occasional breaks for hell like the one Roba had given him. He preferred living on military bases, and when he and Johnny rented this apartment, all of Ghost's belongings fit into a small bag. And Simon could never have imagined that civilian life, even with someone you love with all your heart, would be so difficult.

“What's wrong?” He asked quietly and somehow helplessly, and Johnny immediately stopped pouting and came closer.

“We need to do something together.” He said, taking Ghost's hand. “All of this that's happening now is a test drive for our future, when we retire, get married, and become a real family. All families do things together; it’s called ‘tradition’, ye know?”

“We watch movies together on Thursdays.” Simon said, bowing his head.

“That's not it!” Johnny argued. “We do a lot of things together, but it's all recreation, and I'm talking about housework. Ye do everything by yourself; ye clean, wash the car, do the laundry, cook... If ye didn't hate being around people so much, ye'd go to the store by yourself too!”

“I was just trying to take care of you.” Ghost pursed his lips and turned away to the kitchen table where he was slicing meat; in that moment, he was really regretting agreeing to be at home without a mask.

“I know, luv.” Soap looked at his back sadly. “If ye hadn't taken a leave to be with me, I would never have been able to handle it. But I'm feeling better now, and I want to take care of ye too. Otherwise, ye're going to come back to the base so tired that Price is going to fly here himself to ask me personally what I did to ye.”

The knife stopped moving, tapping the board. Simon washed it, wiped it down, and put it back before turning to Johnny again.

“I would have stayed with you for the rest of your recovery.” He said.

“I know ye would.” Soap nodded. “But the boys need ye, too.”

Ghost sighed but quickly shook off the sad thoughts because they still had plenty of time. Of course, the command was not happy that the lieutenant had decided to take all the leave he had stubbornly ignored for at least seven years, but Captain Price sided with him, arguing that Sergeant MacTavish needed to be cared for while rehabilitating from a serious injury. Of course, Soap could have gone to his parents' house, but it was too far from the hospital, and the eldest daughter and her children were staying at MacTavish’s family home, which would not have been conducive to the peace and quiet the doctors recommended.

“All right, then.” Finally, Ghost said, taking the second apron off the hook and handing it to Soap. “Put it on, take three medium-sized onions, and start cutting.”

“Oh no, not the onions!” Johnny rolled his eyes tragically, tying the apron.

“No arguments, Sergeant.” Riley cut off and reached for the meat mallet. “It's Tuesday, right?”

“Aye, Lt.” MacTavish took out an onion and began peeling it, standing next to Ghost.

“So on Thursdays we watch a movie.” Simon tossed the hammer and caught it by the handle. “And on Tuesdays we cook together.”

Johnny smiled happily, and Ghost couldn't help but smile as well. He began to pound away at the meat, thinking that Soap was right: of course, and if they were going to be a family, they should have some family traditions.

[lililye]

Between Lies

Synopsis: At a party, tensions rise when Rafe confronts the protagonist about her closeness to someone he disapproves of. As they argue, emotions run high, and she demands honesty from him. Can Rafe prove he’s worthy of a chance, or will their toxic cycle continue?

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Apologies for any mistakes!

I'm entering Topper's huge house alone again, seeing the same boring people complaining about the same things.

Yesterday, I was at Rafe's house with him, and he freaked out because I got close to Sarah. It's like he doesn't want me to be part of his family.I walk past everyone, smiling, and see the host on the porch. I decide to talk to him.

"Hey! I didn’t think you’d come after everything," Topper says as he hugs me.

"Sorry, I think I missed something. After everything what?"

"Rafe told me you did something bad yesterday and that you two fought. I don't think you should be here, you know how he is. If he sees you here..."

"I think Rafe got the story wrong. It’s fine, I’ll catch you later."

I walk away, blood boiling. It’s unbelievable that, after being unbearable yesterday, he’s now spreading lies. I grab a beer and notice a guy staring at me. Jonah, I think that’s his name. I smile and keep walking.We start dancing a little to the music playing. He touches my waist and pulls me closer.

After I get tired, I go sit outside. I hear a noise, look to the side, and see Rafe walking toward me. He looks furious, his jaw clenched, and his eyes locked on me. My heart races, but I keep my composure. I won’t let him see I’m bothered.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he snaps, his voice filled with anger.

"What does it look like? I’m enjoying the party,"

I reply, trying to sound calm, but my tone comes out sharper than I intended.

"Dancing like that with Jonah?" He leans in, his voice lowering but still venomous. "Are you trying to get attention or provoke me?"

"Maybe a little of both," I retort, crossing my arms and staring at him. "But honestly, it’s none of your business, Rafe. After yesterday, you don’t get to tell me how to act or who to be around."

He takes a step forward, and for a moment, I think he’s going to explode. But instead, he lets out a dry, disdainful laugh.

"You really don’t get it, do you? This..." he gestures between me and the house around us, "isn’t your place. You’ll never fit in."

Those words hit me like a punch in the stomach, but I refuse to show it. I stand up, getting face to face with him.

"You know what, Rafe? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t fit into your rotten little world full of lies. But if there’s one thing I won’t do, it’s stoop to the level of someone who needs to lie to others to feel important."

He doesn’t respond immediately, but his face twists in anger. Before he can say anything, I turn on my heel and walk back to the party, feeling his gaze burning into my back. The air feels heavy, but I refuse to let him ruin my night.Rafe follows me, and in the middle of the crowd, he grabs my arm. Everyone stops to watch, and I’m furious. How dare he contradict himself?

"We need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you. You don’t want me, Rafe."

"That’s not true. Don’t make this complicated."

I let out a dry laugh, dripping with irony, and look straight at him.

"Complicated? Do you even hear yourself, Rafe? Yesterday, you lost it with me, today you’re spreading lies, and now you want to have this conversation in front of everyone? I’m not the one complicating things—you are."

He looks momentarily taken aback but quickly regains his controlling tone.

"I just… I don’t want you leaving here thinking this is all my fault."

I take a step forward, closing the distance between us.

"But it is, Rafe. It’s all your fault. You want to push me away, but at the same time, you act like you can’t let me go. It’s exhausting. I’m not a game for you to win."

The people around us are whispering, and I realize everyone’s paying attention. But at this moment, I don’t care.

Rafe takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to control his anger or find the right words.

"I just… I don’t want you with anyone here."

"That’s not your choice!" My voice rises slightly, but I work to keep calm. "You can’t control everything, Rafe. Either let me into your life for real, or let me go. It’s that simple."

Ele hesita, e por um momento, vejo algo como vulnerabilidade em seus olhos. Mas cansei de tentar descobrir o que se passa na cabeça dele. "Você decide, Rafe. Mas decida logo, porque eu não vou ficar nesse ciclo tóxico."

Mais tarde, quando a festa começa a acabar, sento-me no jardim para finalmente respirar. Ouço passos e sei quem é antes mesmo de me virar.

"Can I sit?" he asks.I shrug, not looking at him.

"Do what you want."

He sits next to me, staying silent for a while before finally saying:

"I know I messed everything up. I know you have every right to be mad at me."

"And what are you going to do about it, Rafe?"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes sincere.

"I want to change. I want to do things right, but I need you to give me a chance. Just one."

"Then you’ll have to prove you’re worth it."

He takes my hand, and this time, I let him. Maybe it’s the start of something new. Or maybe he still has a lot to learn.

[cipheramnesia]

They're not fun to shop at. They aren't even fun to get to, surrounded by miles of low speed roads, far from their customers, chances are good you have to budget thirty minutes for travel, minimum, longer for a bus. Ride or park, no matter what you get a long walk into a looming gray edifice, wreathed in broken asphalt, overflowing trashcans, and tired people everywhere. It's every ominous portent of cold war propaganda against the USSR, hidden behind blue paint and white block lettering. The sun is somehow always going down behind it.

It's physically painful just breathing the air inside, and their fluorescent lights make it feel as if it's overcast indoors. Inside a WalMart or a Target feels like you're constantly about to get a headache. Another hour of time vanishes the second you walk inside. When did you go there? It doesn't matter, the sun is always setting.

The aisles are so long! There's so much stuff! And it's... all the same stuff. The aisles aren't accommodating variety, they're so you can have 30 different coffee brands, a hundred different shampoos, a dozen colors of energy drink. Your life slowly trickles away while you try and figure out if a dollar a pound or a buck fifty per 10 grams is cheaper overall. Next week it'll be different prices and you have to do it again. You look at three different brightly colored packages of butter and buy the cheapest one anyway because that's what you're in there for. Walk through the clothes, because you're tired of having just ten shirts, and forty-five minutes later you find one sort of okay graphic t-shirt and you can't spend the $25 on it anyway, because people gotta eat here. Everything is a hundred feet away from every other thing you need, you're fucked if you're even a little disabled. You can stare at expensive appliances you can't afford, a hundred different frying pans you just kinda want for no reason, a $600 vacuum cleaner and the damnable thing over all of it is that I know for a fact those all come outta the same factories and use the exact same six colors and flavors. Not in a grouchy old person way, in that it's my profession, it means I'm constantly aware this football field packed with billions of brands is a single monolith with an illusion that's nothing more than the repeating pattern on the wallpaper in an old toilet stall of a hotel room that inexplicably feels like home. And the sun is setting anyway.

It's monstrous, a grinding wheel showing you what you could have, if you just paid more for something that's going to fall apart in six months. So you finish spending most of your paycheck at the registers, go outside for the long walk across the parking lot, the sun is setting, it's over and all you want to do is lie down and sleep.

I wonder how much of the deep down dread and unhappiness of the giant WalMart type stores is familiar outside the USA. Other places gotta have this too right?

[iniziare]

Consider Yelan's facial expression to be my own in reaction to opinions shared on both X and Tumblr, and I guess I'm in the minority of the 'loud ones', but I'm pretty excited for Natlan since that trailer, actually. The previous teasers left me a little 'eh', but this definitely got my hopes back up, and I'm back in the right spirits for it (and ready to catch some Pokémon.)

Now I wouldn't be me if I didn't touch on the salt that I've seen scattered across the dash, so here I go. Listen, I read people's objections and I see what you're all aiming at, but in that light want to note that it's often incredibly easy to point fingers (arguably too much so) at others while being, quite honestly, hopefully rather aware that many of our own countries, cultures, and its populations across the board (and no, I'm not excluding anyone here) would likely be just as easily guilty as MHY is with these things. And no, I'm not blindly defending them, but I also won't point fingers at only one without pointing them everywhere else as well, including those you might think would 'never do such things', because I'm absolutely certain that they would. /continues on in the tags.

[jupiter--dream]

(cw vent, sorry it's just been A Couple Of Days)

Not really having many irl friends comes at the price of feeling so terribly lonely, I feel like I have no one to talk to because I'm not close to enough people, or maybe I am and I just haven't talked to them in a while and I don't want this to be our first conversation qwq

I'm honestly just. Tired, tbh qwq

[morningmask27]

Tonight, right now, not even ten minutes ago, might have been the closest I got to an outright hatecrime

[medicinemane]

.

[echoheart0324]

Sorry for just kinda disappearing in and out lately, I recently moved into a dorm (with 7 other people...), and I genuinely feel like I'm going to lose my mind... Q.Q

[sealeneee]

siiiiiiigh

[yeahlikethebird]

.

[cutneteel]

meh

[clerk427]

Tags rant

no general theme i just want to yell about stuff

will delete later i think

Upd. I am doing better but won't delete it because archiving purposes and I like to reread stuff like that as diary entries and think "haha what a feeble minded fool i was"

[daz4i]

i am so angry about being alive it's not even funny anymore

[i--am-ironman]

you know you're "not doing well" when you can't manage anything more than a weak smile upon seeing sewis together again