#Logically in my LOGICAL brain I know that's silly

[starglitterz]

WE ARE SO BACK

okay HOLD ON WE JUST STARTED WHY IS HE ALRDY HOT "The voice, low and wry, edged with dry amusement" so maybe i came. HAHAHSKDKJSDKJ " Less like a scholar. More like— Well. More like a man." do u fuckign hate me just SAY IT im losing my shit rn

oh??? reader calling him PROFESSOR??? knox i know what you are. why is anaxa so emo girl we have to learn to see the art in the science!!!!!!!!! “The human mind imposes meaning where there is none.” im kidnapping you and harvesting your brain (affectionate)

"So you do what you do best. You challenge him." i LOVE this reader sm <3 "But then—Anaxagoras steps closer." WJKADWKAJDKJSADKJ WHAT WHAT WHAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM (she was not, in fact, calm)

"A conversation wrapped in stardust and metaphor" this line is so pretty 🥹 "as his eyes scan the lecture hall, they pause. Just briefly. On you." knox i am in your walls. I AM SO INTO THIS SLOWBURN TENSION THING </3

"It’s a trap, and everyone knows it. He’s handing you something abstract, intangible, and expecting you to apply cold logic to it. A thought experiment designed to test whether you’ll break under paradox or force the universe to make sense." i don't have anything to say here everybody just look at knox's gorgeous prose and weep.

WHY IS ILIAS SO UNSERIOUS my silly king can we get a spinoff ilias x reader fic please i would read the fuck out of that <3 "Anaxagoras arches a brow, unimpressed. "A phenomenon you’ve yet to personally demonstrate."" PLEASE??? we are victims of the sassy man apocalypse!!!

""Stay after class," he says smoothly, as if it’s nothing." FUCKKKK IT'S HAPPENING EVERYONE BE NORMAL STAY NORMAL!!!!!!!!!!!! me when the teacher in the teacher/student romance makes the student stay after class and you alrdy KNOW shits abt to go down.

"You hate that he’s right. And worse—you hate that you like that he knows you well enough to give you something harder. Something that will actually make you think." this tsundere ahh reader this is actually so cute 😭 "YOU DONT LOOK BACK BUT YOU DO SMILE" NO ONE TALK TO ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT SPEAK IM ON THE BRINK OF ASCENDING TO HEAVEN

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 002. the assignment.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 1.9k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: chapter twooooo oh my god im so excited for this chapter AUGH IT FELT SO GOOD writing this !! this is when things get GOOOODDDD and im ao HUHUHUHUHU to hear yalls thoughts!! hehe. i hope you like it! <3 -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

You don’t expect to see him here.

The planetarium is dimly lit, the soft glow of projected constellations swirling lazily across the domed ceiling. You hadn’t planned on coming—it was a last-minute decision. Yet, the vastness of space, even simulated, has always steadied you.

But then—

"Of course."

The voice, low and wry, edged with dry amusement, is unmistakable.

You turn.

Anaxagoras is standing just a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back, his dark eyes reflecting the cosmic sprawl above. He isn’t wearing his usual academic robes—just a simple, well-fitted dark tunic beneath a long coat, the fabric settling neatly against his frame. He looks different like this. Less like a scholar. More like—

Well. More like a man. 

"I didn’t take you for a stargazer," he says, voice measured, gaze still fixed on the cosmos above.

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "I could say the same about you, professor."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I do prefer the certainties of physics over the whims of celestial bodies."

"Ah," you hum. "So no fate, no destiny. Just equations and probability."

"Precisely." His gaze flickers up, tracking the slow rotation of the star map. "Though I will admit, there’s a certain poetry to the illusion of it all."

You glance up as well. Orion looms overhead, his belt gleaming sharp and clear. "Illusion?"

"These constellations," Anaxagoras murmurs. "They don't exist as we see them. Stars scattered across thousands of light-years, their arrangement nothing but a trick of perspective. We only think they belong together because of our vantage point." He says, after a pause, “The human mind imposes meaning where there is none.”

Your lips curl. "That’s kind of sad."

He tilts his head. "Is it?"

"Yeah," you say, watching the artificial night swirl overhead. "Thinking you're part of something greater, only to realize it's all a trick of perspective."

For a moment, he says nothing. Just watches you, thoughtful. Then—

"Perhaps," he concedes. "But perspective is all we have."

You glance at him again, but his expression is unreadable. 

There’s always been a distance to him that he maintains… almost religiously.

The hush of the planetarium stretches between you, the weight of his regard heavy. You’re not sure what it is that makes your skin feel so warm, your breath so shallow.

So you do what you do best. You challenge him.

"If constellations are an illusion," you say, "then what of all the truths we believe to perceive?"

His head turns slightly, his gaze locking onto yours.

You don’t look away.

"We only think things are connected because of our vantage point," you continue, your voice quieter now. "So how do we know if any of it actually means anything?"

Another beat of silence. Then, slow and deliberate, he says—

"We don’t."

Your chest tightens, though you don’t know why.

For a moment, it feels like that’s the end of it. Like you’ll both turn away and let the conversation dissolve into the simulated cosmos above.

But then—

Anaxagoras steps closer.

Not much. Barely enough to notice. But enough that when he speaks again, his voice is lower. Measured.

"We don’t," he repeats, as if the weight of it matters. "But sometimes, it’s worth entertaining the illusion."

You don’t know what to say to that.

You’re early to class.

Not by much, but enough to claim your usual seat and settle in before the lecture hall fills. Enough to shake off the strange tension that’s been humming beneath your skin since the planetarium.

You tell yourself it was nothing. A conversation wrapped in stardust and metaphor, just another verbal sparring match. Anaxagoras challenged you. That’s all.

But it lingers.

It lingers in the way your heartbeat picked up when he stepped closer. In the way his words—so measured, so precise—felt heavier than they should have. In the way his gaze held yours just a fraction too long, as if entertaining the illusion wasn’t just about the stars.

You exhale, flipping open your notebook. Focus.

The room fills, a murmur of voices, the scrape of chairs against stone. Then, just as the hour strikes, he enters.

Anaxagoras walks with the same deliberate grace he always does, his robes sweeping behind him. But today, as his eyes scan the lecture hall, they pause. Just briefly.

On you.

Something flickers across his expression—gone before you can name it. Then he looks away, moving towards the podium.

"Good morning," he says, voice smooth, effortlessly commanding. "Let’s begin."

You should be taking notes. You should be focused on the equations he’s sketching onto the board, the elegant arc of chalk gliding across the surface. Instead, you remember his voice in the dark, low and certain—

"Sometimes, it’s worth entertaining the illusion."

Damn him.

You press your pen to the paper, forcing your attention forward.

"Consider the nature of causality," Anaxagoras continues, turning back to face the class. "An event—any event—can be traced backward through a series of causes. But the perception of these events is often subject to our vantage point."

A pause. Then his gaze flickers to you, deliberate.

"One might argue that meaning is an emergent property. That cause and effect are simply the mind’s way of drawing constellations between unrelated points."

Your fingers tighten around your pen.

Is he—?

No. No, you’re imagining things. He’s lecturing. That’s all.

And yet.

His gaze lingers a beat too long before he looks away, continuing as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t just lace the entire moment with subtext so thick it might as well be its own theorem.

Your pulse is ridiculous. You need to get a grip.

The lecture moves on, but now you’re watching him differently. Not just listening, but observing. The way he gestures, the way his mind moves faster than his words, the way his lips quirk slightly when a student offers an answer that surprises him.

You’ve spent weeks admiring Anaxagoras for his intellect. Respecting him as a professor. Arguing with him for the sake of curiosity.

And...

Well, there'a no point dwelling on it, is there?

By the time the lecture is nearing its end, you’ve barely written anything coherent.

Your notes are a scattered mess—half physics, half what the hell is going on? The worst part? Anaxagoras knows. He hasn’t called on you once today, which is unusual. He always prods, always challenges. But today, he’s let you stew in your thoughts, like he’s letting you chase your own tail. 

Infuriating man.

"Before we conclude," he says, dusting chalk from his fingertips, "your next individual assignment."

The room collectively stiffens.

Anaxagoras turns from the board, his gaze sweeping over the lecture hall. Ilias straightens immediately, feigning deep intellectual engagement. You suppress a smile.

"As we’ve explored, physics attempts to model reality through observable forces," Anaxagoras continues. "But what of the forces we cannot measure? What of the unseen variables?"

Ilias perks up at that, intrigued. "Is he finally acknowledging my suffering?"

You elbow him. "Shut up, he’s setting up the assignment."

"Your task," he continues, "is to examine a concept often deemed metaphysical—fate, intuition, divine intervention—" He lifts his gaze, letting the weight of his words settle. "And construct a framework to explain its existence. Or—" his voice sharpens— "prove its impossibility."

A murmur ripples through the students. Anaxagoras doesn’t tolerate pseudo-science in his lectures, so the fact that he’s even entertaining this angle is unexpected.

It’s a trap, and everyone knows it. He’s handing you something abstract, intangible, and expecting you to apply cold logic to it. A thought experiment designed to test whether you’ll break under paradox or force the universe to make sense.

You listen, absorbed—until Ilias leans in again, whispering, "If I were to quantify the force that compels me to sleep in class instead of studying, do you think he’d accept it?"

You stifle a laugh. "I think he’d call it laziness and fail you on principle."

"Damn. Guess I’ll have to go with my second option."

"Which is?"

He grins. "Manifesting an equation that proves I am, in fact, always right."

You shake your head, biting back a laugh. "I’d pay to see you argue that with him."

As if on cue, Anaxagoras glances your way, sharp-eyed.

"Would either of you care to share your insights with the class?"

Ilias, ever the survivalist, doesn’t miss a beat. "We are discussing emergent properties of intelligence, professor."

Anaxagoras arches a brow, unimpressed. "A phenomenon you’ve yet to personally demonstrate."

The class chuckles. You shoot Ilias a look.

"Walked right into that one," you murmur.

Ilias sighs. "Yeah. That’s on me."

His gaze sweeps the class. "You may choose any concept, but your reasoning must be sound. Sentimentality will not be rewarded."

A collective groan. Someone mutters something about dropping the course.

You, however, are too focused on the way he’s looking at you.

He knows you’ll take this further than anyone else. He wants you to.

Then—

"Stay after class," he says smoothly, as if it’s nothing. "I need a word."

You feel the shift immediately. A few students glance between you and him, intrigued. You school your expression, pretending it doesn’t affect you.

"Yes, professor." you say.

He nods, then dismisses the class.

Chairs scrape against the floor. Students file out, some grumbling about the assignment, others already debating what concept they’ll choose. Someone lingers near the door for a second too long, clearly hoping to eavesdrop, before sighing and leaving.

Then it’s just you and him.

Anaxagoras exhales softly, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders before turning to face you fully.

"I’m altering your assignment," he says.

You blink. "What? Why?"

His lips quirk slightly, but there’s something intent in his eyes. "Because the standard prompt is beneath your abilities."

You swallow. He says it like it’s obvious. Like he’s been paying attention.

"Your mind doesn’t just follow logic," he continues. "It challenges it. So I’m giving you something worthy of that."

You exhale, half-exasperated. "Fine. What’s the twist?"

Instead of answering right away, he steps past you, picks up a book from his desk, and flips it open. When he finds the page he’s looking for, he turns it toward you.

It’s a diagram. A branching structure of choices, converging and diverging like neural pathways.

"Your peers will be arguing for or against metaphysical forces." His voice is measured. "You, however, will go one step further."

He closes the book, meeting your gaze.

"Instead of proving or disproving their existence, I want you to model one."

Your breath catches.

"What?"

His smirk is subtle, but there. "You heard me."

"You want me to… what, exactly? Build a mathematical model for something physics doesn’t even acknowledge?"

"Why not?" he challenges. "If intuition exists, quantify its mechanism. If destiny is real, define its parameters. If the soul endures, find the equation that governs it."

Your fingers twitch at that.

That’s—

That’s significantly more difficult than the original prompt. You’d have to rethink everything from the ground up. 

The soul?

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "You really don’t like making my life easy, do you?"

His smirk deepens. "Where’s the fun in easy?"

You hate that he’s right.

And worse—you hate that you like that he knows you well enough to give you something harder. Something that will actually make you think.

Your pulse is an uneven rhythm as you meet his gaze. "Alright," you say.

He nods once, satisfied. "Good."

For a moment, neither of you move.

"You’re dismissed," he says, voice softer.

You hesitate. Then turn, heading toward the door.

Just as you step through the threshold, his voice reaches you, quiet but deliberate.

"Don’t disappoint me."

You don’t look back.

But you do smile.

-> next.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom (send an ask or comment to be added!)

[angelpuns]

Deep deep fear that one day all my friends are gonna decide they just don't wanna talk to me anymore for whatever reason and unfortunately, I won't get the memo and will keep trying and that'll just make them hate me more :(

[jadecantcreate]

i wanted to write a quick 3-chapter fic for day 4 of loa shiptober (how they met i think) and i (a fool) was like. yeah. i could totally write 3 chapters in a few hours. i was wrong. SO wrong. haven’t even finished kremy’s (the first one).

so instead have a maybe-past-kremy design that im conflicted about compared to his current design, as a peace offering

[theworstcreature]

I never get why people always talk about being scared of the dark when perfect silence is like ten times as terrifying. Lock me in the darkest and emptiest void, and I’ll be fine as long as there’s like fan or wind or rain noises or something. Put me in a bright and anything-but-scary, well lit room and make it dead silent and I will be startled by even the slightest new noise and feel watched or that something’s going to Appear

[thebirdandhersong]

:'))))))

[fatelcved]

tldr for the below post/vent is i may or may not be away for a few more days! we’ll just see, and thank you for being patient with me as always 💜

maybe i’ll wait a few more days till i really come back? i dunno if that’s really the solution bc i just feel a weird distance from everyone rn, and that’ll just get worse if i stay away, i feel like. but i can also tell i’m probably at my worst as far as hormonal mood spirals go, and i really don’t wanna subject myself or y’all to that. it’s a rock and a hard place bc no matter what, i’m gonna feel bad to some extent — just if i stay away, i can maybe manage it a lil better. i really don’t know, so we’ll just see how the next few days go.

sorry to be so up and down, and thank you for being patient with me ;v; i really do hope all of you are taking care of yourselves and having good days!!

[j9-l]

I wanna talk to people abt my day but I’m also afraid that no one fucking cares !!!!!

[bereft-of-frogs]

the high republic keeps giving me these odd 'just left of canon' AU ideas that really don't make that much sense and don't go anywhere but there are all of these voices floating around in my brain about it

'just do what you used to do pre-'being able to finish anything' (c. 1998-2018), write the parts you want to read to exorcise them from your brain and keep them in a document to read later, just for you, you don't have to put work into 'plot' or whatever'

'I don't know, some of them you could reshape into something that DOES make sense, like your idea for an expansion of the sort-of-rushed path of deceit horror ending'

'girl you had a to do list for today, what happened to editing 'the station', you need to focus up'

'and anyway, look at all the other AUs that don't make any sense, why are you so worried about your 'but what if Jora lived' AU when there are so many high school AUs (*gritted teeth* and time travel AUs) that also don't go anywhere, just do it, have fun, who cares'

'also GIRL, you have your plate full with WIPs, what happened to being happy you found the discipline to commit to long term projects, why do you think you have time for any of this...'

these are the wolves that live inside me.

ok I REALLY have to go edit now...but maybe as a reward...later....we can just work a little bit on the silly AUs that won't go anywhere?

[lucihens]

Hi. I just want to somehow make catharsis about the whole Chenford break up going on and listen other takes on it.

Maybe Im just a girl going through Mercury Retrograde being delulu not wanting to aknowledge they are over. Having said that:

I just know this is not the end for them. But not for plot reasons that we are all speculating. I mean sure for plot reasons is necesary for Tim to get his shit together before taking the next step with Lucy (Eric said in his interview that Tim loves her and its seen in the lie detector scene and all the Tamara moving out storyline that has been going since last season they are sure heading to moving together). Also sure Lucy has suffered many things and is interesting to see her next steps.

But I just know this is for marketing reasons. They need the show to be renewed for another season and a massive cliffhanger like this one when there's a 3 weeks break between episodes where they know people will be engaged on it is a good way on getting that renewal.

They know people still watching the show because Chenford. They have stated they are endgame. But they are producers and writers and plan things ahead in order to keep the show going. Is just trust the process and the fact that they work on this and know what they are doing. I have seen many shows (most of them from ABC) to know they give the fans what they want bc in the end is a product that is sold and know that not doing something your target audience wants equals not product to be sold.

Also, even though Melissa and Eric had said that there are some things coming on Tim and Lucy on the season finale and blah blah blah. They are putting a lot of effort on the breakup promotionally speaking. The interviews released the second the episode finished, the TikToks from Melissa, the whole ice cream promo with letters to the cast about the breakup and they laughing and making jokes (also like the ig account still saying Chenford stan account) is more clear is about making the people engaged and furthermore, making the network renew the show for season 7. They are actors and know they must keep a good relationship with their fans (I mean if you make something that upset your fans then how would you keep getting called to act if you dont have people watching them for you and other actors can), what Im saying Is they are laughing and all of this because they know how it ends and know they end in a place where fans will love it, if not they are basically bullyng us lol.

So long story short: just keeping my peace of mind knowing it is just marketing. By the interviews we know somehow the season finale lets them in a good place, so if season 7 comes maybe we got time to see them making up with more time and development (things this season had been rushed bc the strike, not only here but in most shows) and if there's not season 7 it will end up with Chenford with a sort of an open finale where all points to them giving it another chance in their inmidate future.

Hope i made myself clear. Just wanted to vent haha. And lets chill and cross fingers for season 7 and an Oscar for Melissa and Eric because that break up was so CHEFF KISS like girlll I have felt that pain too.

hello dear anon! thank you for being my very first ask!

i hope you won't regret venting to me because this response ended up....well...extensive. i have many many things to say and a lack of adhd medication to contain them.

i would also like to note that i'm not at all experienced with writing think pieces on the internet. but even though i haven't written an essay since college, i can sure yap. and even though i'm a genius /s, this may not make sense to anyone. so here's what my chronic fatigue and i were able to conjure up:

yes, tv shows are primarily for an audience, whether writers and directors do accept that or not, that's what i'm guessing producers have in mind. tv is literally built 'for your viewing pleasure', and with this show in the past, and by past i mean season 5 especially (and the shock and surprise of 4x22), they (whoever they is) have been manically hitting that red button titled 'DO THE THING THEY WANT' just so they can say they did it and you as an audience can't complain. so yes in my experience, shows very often, if not always, write for an audience, otherwise the creators would just be giggling at themselves in their own private screening room at their custom, personalised tv show made only for them. when you give a show to the masses, it is, in certain ways, their's now. so going against everything an audience wants is certainly an interesting move, and since i have a common disease called 'being absolutely befuddled by the varying degrees of human nature' i don't know particularly what their aim is, what they're hoping this will provide an audience, as well as the show as a whole. what i do know however, is that there is not just one kind of audience, within the watchers of the rookie, there is obviously an abundance of angst lovers, an array of fluff lovers, complex think piece people, and apathetic 'this is what i fill the void of a tuesday night with' people (which is potentially what makes up a good portion of the viewers (?), not just the dedicated fandom we see on social media). with this in mind, the creators, the writers, are evidently incapable of satisfying every single diverse/contradictory demographic. so it's unclear which demographic they want to make happy at a given storyline. is this to give the angst lovers what they want? is this to give the comfortable fluff lovers a kick in the rear? or is this just to keep the average viewer interested in this ever-appealing show? i can't speak for them at all so i couldn't say which, but i also haven't a scooby doo. maybe others could give their opinion on which of these they think the creators are aiming for, because i couldnt tell you. then again, maybe it's all of them. maybe we let the rest of the season play out to completion, and we may know for sure. but marketing a show goes hand in hand with keeping the general audience as well as potential new viewers: 1. happy and excited, 2. interested in investing their time into the show. and given that season 6 is a short season: yes, i'm sure the marketing the break up is one of their best bets at keeping ratings up and viewers in, whether it comes directly from outrage or intrigue. and given how some other storylines seem to fall kind of flat (wink wink nol–), especially compared to last season, the initial lucy storylines and the now tim storylines are what is keeping up the hype for such a small season. and i'm sure (hoping) the other characters will have something to add to the s6 plate to further the impact of such a small season and the plots within. but for the most part 'chenford' is such an electric word. drop it in anywhere and the millions(?) who have ever laid eyes on the show just got a shock. and they know that, so of course they'll use it to their advantage in anyway they can.

and with this rambling: one thing i'm sure of, the only thing i'm sure of, is that yes: THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. and not just a slight admiration or a tinge of care. actual undying love. incomprehensible love. i don't know a lot about this topic but i definitely love to aggrandise the concept of love, and especially unto something harmless like fictional characters. in the real world, loving someone isn't always enough for sure. but not loving someone at all can also having no bearing in the upkeep of a relationship (i know this from personal experience). so whether or not two people end up together in real life, has no distinguished rule of 'do this and feel that and you'll be together forever'.

but this is fiction! WE make this stuff up. so we can do whatever we want! we can link A to B and say these characters love each other so they must end up together, and still be flawed along the way, because they are not real. so in my opinion the various ideas like "real relationships have people breaking up", "real relationships have people never getting back together", "real relationships have people never breaking up", and to follow, the incessant "real relationships have good communication!" don't matter anyway because ideas based reality have absolutely no impact in this fictional realm. yes bring in realism, be realistic if you want, but don't let reality dictate your fiction entirely (as well as the inverse). nor should you let reality make you want your fiction to be completely unreal. both fiction and reality have complexity in personality and characterisation. people have personalities and characters have characterisation. the one commonality is imperfection. but just because they are similar doesn't mean they have to be the same. it doesn't mean chenford are realistically doomed. and with this the plot that may unfold could be one unexpected, one unreal, or one completely real. tim and lucy could work through their own storylines, flaws and complexities separately and i'd be glad to see it.

i had a lot of issues with how fan service esque the initial 'canonisation' felt and maybe this is not just to market their show, but to finally listen to the majority of the audience, the particular audience that literally helps them market the show. aka the social media citizens. the ones who talk up a storm about what they love about the show and literally rope others into watching it. maybe they'll finally write them with more specific intentions this time, maybe this is what this is for. not just for drama but to give us what we wanted to watch in the first place but heavily missed out on: pining, feelings, dramatic reconciliation. who knows. we won't. not until the season is over and s7 inevitably comes (it's guaranteed).

i know many become angry with this show about what it does and doesn't do but one thing that helps me survive is this: it doesn't matter, the episodes exist anyway. they will continue to exist even if they don't have what we want. all we can do is feel every feeling this show evokes because that's really what it is to be entertained, at least for me. we're not the creators at the end of the day, no matter how much we've created. if something happens we don't like, we don't like it and we talk about how we don't like it. if we do like it, we talk about how we like it. and we praise the actors anyway, for the characters they bless us with. and the creatives, who gave us the masterpiece that is season 2.

and with that, i conclude. this definitely got away from me like the runaway train in my adhd brain. i wrote this sleepy and fatigued and i think i might be brain dead so if there are contradictions or things that make not a bit of sense feel free to call me out on it! especially those who are more experienced yappers, i'd definitely like to know what you disagree with or think has no place in this piece.

anyway, fin. thank you anon and TLDR; chenford will be fine and the show will always favour exploiting the most loved characters for marketing but with every PR box of ice cream sent and every article written brings in one more viewer to our beloved show and at least we'd stand a chance of a season 10.

[decaf-mother]

Someone explain to me how I unintentionally created a bunch of hero OCS in my head. I am not active enough in those types of fandoms to warrant this. What do I do with these guys. They are just kinda hanging out in my brain lookin' all cute and like- dude. I have nothing for you to do. LMAO

[angeltism]

omg I just got angry (more angy than angry , if that makes sense) for the silliest reason (bpd it's 100% the bpd) and then managed to giggle about it after realizing I was being dramatic and that it's just me being . well . the grudge-holder like-or-hate being I am .

[bladeofthestars]

my pastimes include imagining the most ridiculous but technically still conceivable outcomes for a scenario and shaking that fantasy in my jaws viciously and lusting after it and generally drifting in a haze thinking up slight variances of this outlandish idea for weeks until the event that could theoretically spawn the outcome comes and passes. and then i hyperfixate on the small details that i got right and how what actually happened could conceivably lead to this other outlandish outcome-

[an1malcannibal]

(Starts overthinking horrifically abt my relationships) I think I hauve Covid

[stellatenuem]

:(

[reidrum]

castling | s.r.

A/N: another deeply self indulgent hurt comfort angst who’s surprised…i wrote this kinda fast so if it’s messy and cheesy sorry :/

cw: gn!reader (pls lmk if i missed something that doesn’t make it gn), hurt comfort, mentions of depression, ambiguous sadness, trivialization of chess, inaccurate chess jargon?, spencer is a darling

summary: in which reader finds it hard to open up and communicate their feelings with spencer, so he comes up with an idea to help

wc: 1.4k

not proofread sry

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

_______________________________________________

It started during a game of chess, when Spencer was showing you different special moves.

“It’s called castling, the idea is that you move the king two spaces towards the rook and then switch their places to allow more protection for your king than if it was in the center.”

“Why would you want to move the king towards the outside, that seems counterintuitive.”

“Smart girl, that’s a good question,” he says fondly, “It’s kind of a last ditch effort in a sense, the rook is essentially expendable but the castling moves the king out of the line from key pieces like the other king and queen.”

“So, it’s like a rescue mission.”

He smiles, “Like a rescue mission.”

You smile back and continue with your next move. Spencer watches you in earnest as you deliberate the best plan of attack, even though he knows he’s gonna let you win by the end anyway.

“How was your day today?” He watches your demeanor change quickly, your shoulders sagging slightly and your eyebrows furrowing. He knew the answer, he’s a great observant and even more so when it comes to you.

“It was…fine.”

“Just fine?” he challenges, moving his bishop.

You nod and move your knight. You’re waiting for him to move his next piece when you realize he’s not looking at the board anymore.

Looking up you see hazel eyes staring right back at you, “Sweetheart,”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He sighs, “You know,” he moves his pawn, “this isn't the first time that you’ve had a hard time communicating with me how you feel.”

A deep sigh leaves you now, it had always been a struggle for you to show emotion so openly to those you love, mainly Spencer. You just didn’t want to worry him with the throes of your mind, and while Spencer appreciated the sentiment he reminded you repeatedly that he’s there for you through it all and just really wants you to take advantage of that.

“I just want to help you, angel.” he says softly, “I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong, just that something is wrong.”

Tears well up in your eyes, “I know Spence. I—It’s just, saying out loud that I’m—whatever—makes it real. A—And then you get so worried and I get more anxious—“

“Hey. It’s my job to worry about you. Because I love you,” he places his hands on yours, “But, I was thinking what if we had a code word or something, just a single word, and you can say it or text me or anything and I’ll know that you’re not feeling well.”

Your face softens at his proposal. The irony you face is that your brain has convinced you healing can be done alone, that if you’re the one who fucked up the road you should be the one to repair it. While you know logically healing is more effective when you have support, it doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept the help you need, that Spencer feels you deserve.

“I think…that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” he replies, “Do you want to pick the word?”

You think about it for a few minutes. You don’t want to do a silly word like banana or chicken, you want something that maybe doesn’t sound serious but would still convey the intent of the code word.

“Does castling work?” you offer softly.

Spencer’s face morphs into something you can’t quite decipher, but to him it’s a mix of adoration, love, and pure empathy for you. He’s just so touched by the fact you want to use that word, after just discussing the significance of that move. It’s an honor that you trust him enough to be your protecting rook.

“Yeah, that’s perfect angel.”

You give a small nod, “Check.”

___

You knew he wouldn’t judge you, that’s the whole reason you came up with this system. It felt like an emergency contact, which it was, but in a “How bad is too bad before I call?” type of way.

Laid down in your bed, you stared at the glow of your phone with your messages with Spencer open. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, daring you to make a move.

Nothing even really happened today, it was just one of those periods where you were in a funk. The voices that lingered in your brain fed you disguised truths and cynicism, and it was hard to feel afloat with support when you couldn’t even tell what was pulling you down.

It didn’t matter though, your tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes amongst the disarray of your room which satirically matched the chaos in your mind were proof enough that maybe, you weren’t okay.

In this moment it would be stupidly easy to ignore it all and wallow in your own sorrow—Spencer was away on a case and you didn’t know when he was coming back.

So in a leap of faith, or perhaps a lapse in judgment, your thumbs twiddle a message out and press send.

castling

You toss your phone aside and try to avoid thinking about it. He’s probably busy, they’re on a case so he’s probably drawing out the geographical maps or maybe he’s on a raid or maybe he’s—DING.

Cautiously grabbing your phone, you slide the notification.

I’m on the plane, going to land in about an hour or so. I need to make one stop and then I’ll come straight to you, okay?

You stare through the blurriness of your eyes caused by your tears, the words blending together. Before the guilt of texting him and making him aware of your depressed state sinks in, another text comes through.

I love you. See you soon, angel.

Another choked sob releases from your throat, and you put the phone down before any more emotions try to infiltrate you. At some point you end up falling asleep on the bed, your body curled in on itself from the lack of warmth a nice blanket or Spencer could’ve provided.

You’re only stirred awake when you feel a soothing sensation on your head, long nimble yet intentional fingers sifting through your hair. You attempt to open your eyes through the thin crust it’s formed from crying so much, and you’re squinting for the first few moments of vision before registering the human in front of you.

“Hi honey.” Spencer whispers softly as you come to.

“Spence…when did you…”

“Just a couple minutes ago,” the hand in your hair comes to rest on your jaw, “How are you feeling?”

Tired eyes finally meet his brown ones and find nothing but reassurance and concern.

Oh. You’ve worried him now.

The last string of resolve snaps as your face crumbles in and you mutter out apologies mixed in with sniffles and sobs. Spencer moves from his knelt position in front of you to slide in next to you on the bed. He gingerly gathers you in his arms and tucks you into his side whispering it’s okay and you’re safe and i’m here.

After a few long minutes your breathing evens out. “You came.” you sniffled.

He pulls back to look at you with watered eyes, “You called. I’m so proud of you.”

You mumble under your breath, “I didn’t even do anything.”

Spencer shakes his head and tucks you right back in place, feeling the floppy fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, “I know a version of you that would’ve held it all in by yourself. Thank you for letting me be here for you.”

You turn your head into his chest further, letting the hot tears and snot stain his nice button up. His hands rub trails up and down your back, his head bent down to your ear whispering sweet nothings to you. With Spencer delicately taking your defenses down maybe you can finally admit to yourself that you were just too soft for all of it.

“Where did you have to stop by?” you wonder.

He smiles and readjusts you against his body, “I picked up Thai food,” “And some candy, sour of course. And there may be a Snoopy stuffie as well because it reminded me of you.”

You feel a different weight on your heart, not one that’s constricting but one that’s embracing, comforting. In a life where you’ve rarely felt taken care of, or even being worthy of that care, you know with certainty that Spencer would never let you go a day without knowing how much love and care you deserve.

[lovelyunholyc]

you'd let it slip that one time, when he called you at the time of day he usually does to check in, you'd let it go to voicemail just to be able to save it and conjure up his voice whenever you pleased while he was away.

"i don't have any voicemails of you," nanami had said with a troubled look on his face, and you'd found it so charming that you had to lean in and kiss him.

you'd shrugged, giving him a small, grateful smile. "you always answer when i call, kento."

you know him well enough to understand his logic; he'd never miss any of your calls, even when he's working (you were the only person allowed to contact him past his phone's 'Do Not Disturb' feature) - he couldn't ever risk missing it when you needed him, and you wouldn't think to disturb him for trivial things either.

of course your answer doesn't satisfy him, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. you can't help but laugh a little, kissing his frown away and changing the subject to save him from the stress.

the next day, at that time he usually calls during his break, he receives an ominous text from you.

don't call. and don't answer, i'm leaving you a present.

he worries immediately, but another text pops up once you see he's read it.

don't worry! you'll ruin the surprise! i love you ❤️

nanami tries his best, but he can't help it. instances of something going terribly wrong concerning you and him not being able to reach you in time flood his brain and nearly make him lightheaded. he does as you ask and doesn't answer when your contact pops up on the screen, his self-control waning quickly the longer he sees your photo.

he doesn't know how long he stares at the screen, even when his phone stops ringing.

and then, just a minute later, a notification for a new voicemail pops up, and the tornado of worries in his brain grinds to a halt when everything suddenly clicks, and he's reminded of the short, perplexing conversation you'd had the day prior.

and he feels a little silly.

you pick up on the first ring, as if you were expecting his call.

"my love," you greet, and even though the audio on his phone doesn't do your sweet voice justice, it soothes his heart all the same. "you're not gonna listen to it?" he can tell you're smiling, playful and lovely.

"i'll save it for my way home from work."

"hmm, how do you know it wasn't something naughty, then? what if you start blushing on the train, and everyone notices?"

"darling-" he starts, but uncharacteristically doesn't have a follow-up. he knows no one on his commute cares enough about anything else at that time other than coming home as soon as possible, much like himself, but he lets you have that, if it'll make you giggle like you are now. your laugh is deeply precious to him.

"i can just imagine it - but i wouldn't wanna ever miss seeing you blush." oh, he knows, and has suffered your inappropriate whispers in public just to get a reaction out of him nearly enough to get used to it. nearly. "are you blushing now?"

"no," nanami lies easily, heat crawling up his neck in that oddly pleasant way only you can seem to bring out of him.

you laugh just as easily, see through him just like that, as if he's right in front of you.

"i'm glad you didn't listen to me and still called," you say softly, traces of your sweet laughter still lingering in your tone. "i wanted to hear your voice, too."

nanami hums, doesn't tell you that that makes him smile way too wide for him having lunch alone. he tries to tone it down in case gojo somehow happens to stumble upon his carefully chosen, secluded spot.

"i miss you," you sigh, as if you hadn't seen him this morning and kissed him until he was almost late, like you usually do.

"i miss you, too, darling," he replies just as sincerely, as if he wasn't seeing you in just a few short hours and wasn't planning on holding you until you begged him to let you go so you could get dinner together, like he usually does.

"enjoy your break, handsome." the corner of his lip always twitches up when you call him that. "come home safe."

"of course. i love you."

"love you more!"

nanami knows that if he argues that, like he really wants to every time, you'd be too stubborn to let him win. so he just chuckles and lets you hang up.

despite what you'd teased him about, he does listen to your message on the train. and he does start smiling like a madman, his entire face glowing, lighting up with it, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about it when he's hearing your voice and he's only a few short minutes away from having you in his arms again.

"hi, handsome. i had to think carefully about how to get you to not answer your phone, but it didn't end up being that creative, huh?" you breathe a soft laugh, the gentle cadence of it carrying into your sweet voice. "anyway, here's your obligatory voicemail from me. i'm just kidding - i thought about it, and you looked so sad about it that i just had to make one. you know i'd do anything to make you happy, right? it's only fair, with how happy you make me, too... i hope this will suffice, i didn't really have anything special to say except that i think about you so much it's becoming quite concerning, and i love you so much i feel like i'm going crazy, slowly but surely. look what you do to me!... um, oh- i'm gonna run out of time soon! i can't wait to leave you a million more of these, it's almost as fun as listening to yours... actually, i'll tell you a little secret: i listen to yours every day when i'm missing you most, which is usually right after you leave for work. sometimes i wish you'd come right back even though it's a little ridiculous. um, anyway, i'll think of a more creative way to trick you next time. come back safely, i miss you terribly... i love you more than you know, kento."