#Rules maybe? Do I need rules? Probably not

[rosewood-multifandom-writer]

My long, nuanced answer to this poll about shipping:

I like to think about different possibilities of a ship regardless on if it’s canon or not canon, and the majority of my ships are not canon. Which I’m okay with because corpos sometimes tend to mess up canon couples anyway ESPECIALLY most LGBT+ couples, so that is why I am 100% content with say, Destiel not being canon. Don’t worry, I’m not using that Destiel meme that has been used very distastefully nor am I swearing with my whole chest until I run out of oxygen that Dean is bisexual in canon. You can take a breather. Specified ships aside, I like romance, and I love it even better when it’s well written and the couple has the best chemistry.

When it comes to others that love toxic ships, that is a whole different discussion for those particular shippers to have, and I prefer ships that have a lot of chemistry or potential chemistry over toxic ships, so I’m not the right person to discuss the nuances of toxic ships. So the toxic ship lovers can throw their opinions onto this reblog if they want.

I’ve also had ships where they were off-screen, and I was like, “but what if they actually did interact?” I always think about the personality traits that would make the characters compatible with each other. This is NOT a romantic ship, this is purely a familial relationship possibility that I have not seen anyone do yet: Jason Todd and Terry McGinnis. Think about it, people. Jason has a few similar traits to Terry and Jason would definitely find himself relating to Terry more than some of the other Batfamily members. Plus, it would be refreshing to see those two interact and have Jason not be constantly fighting with the Batfamily, specifically Bruce Wayne. I get that his opinions and views are very different from everyone else in the Batfamily, but it gets old fast. Like an old and hardened Jason Todd will probably incorporate some cool non-lethal wrist guns on Terry’s suit after testing it out and even sparring with Terry while (playfully) teasing him because that’s what older siblings do: annoy and taunt their younger siblings. With love. Seriously though, I think Jason and Terry would have the best brotherly relationship out of the Batfam. Or maybe I’m just alone in that teeny tiny minority lol. Call it a rare BROTP.

Fanon in shipping is a mixed bag, because on one hand, I go, “yeah, I can definitely see this happening with Character A,” but on the other, there is like OP said, mischaracterization. I like most ships even if it involves a character who is canonically spoken for or has explicitly shown attraction to only the opposite gender with another character with ZERO cheating, because I don’t need ships to follow canon. And when cheating gets involved I’m thinking, “yeah no, given the loyalty this character gave in canon, this is out of their character, so skipping!” That is where fanon comes into play. But if I dislike the fanon, then I create my own.

Shipping has no rules, except just respect other people’s boundaries, so I’m not gonna tell people “ew gross, why you following canon,” or “Blegh, why do you like this fanon, it’s so blah blah blah!” My opinions on canon vs fandom are nuanced. Canon can sometimes give us some cute pairings (like Kiara and Kovu from Lion King 2, my GOATED OTP) but canon also gives us icky ones or messes up a fairly nice couple (like Gambit and Rogue from the latest X-Men cartoon from what I heard and saw clips of). There are also non-canon ships that have made me scratch my head, made me feel indifferent, or I’m just like “I don’t get why anyone would ship this, but whatever.” And again, shipping has no rules, except just respect the boundaries of other people. Canon or not, have some fun with your ships. Let’s not start wars over ships and making non-shippers think that ALL of us act that way.

Hey, I wanna talk about how we do fandom! I've come to realize that I, personally, tend to differ from many others in that I highly prefer to only engage with a text as it's written, so I don't tend to really like fanon/extremely ooc characterizations and I find it hard to get invested in ships that aren't canon. My way of doing fandom isn't better or worse than anyone else's, but I am curious about how much of a minority I'm in! So:

*We've all seen ships of characters not from the same media and stuff like shipping the concept of ennui with the color blue, okay, I'm asking what you, personally, find compelling!

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Three-Month Rule.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: The first time you decide to skip the celebration and go to bed early, and the first time Spencer decides to drink and open his heart to you after knowing you're leaving for three months.

Words: 5,5k (very long).

TW: fem!reader. spencer from the first seasons with glasses meow (my fav)+also he is a little drunk and lovesick puppy. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: These two are probably one of my favorites, this felt so warm to write and before you ask, yep, I've been thinking about a part two (maybe even more, who knows).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

I. Moonlight ⏾

The night after closing a case with a positive outcome often involved celebratory drinks and lengthy discussions about everyday topics. For you and your colleagues, it was a rare opportunity for relaxation. It was a way to temporarily distance yourselves from the challenging situations you had encountered. A great way to relieve stress.

Typically, you would choose to remain in the chair situated in the center of the bar and sip your drink at a leisurely pace, allowing it to last all night as you chatted and shared lighthearted banter about various topics, though you would never discuss work. You were always smiling, as if nothing unfortunate had ever happened. And you always looked beautiful, so distant and impossible to catch.

Spencer always looked at you, biting his tongue to keep from sputtering out all the words that struggled to come out every time his eyes fell on yours. He didn't even take a sip of the drinks that were offered to him. As a rule, he didn't drink alcohol at all, and he liked it even less when he knew it could affect how he saw you. So clearly. So real. As if you were the most amazing work of art he'd ever seen, even if he wasn't very familiar with art.

Tonight, sadly, everything was different.

He had not been able to indulge in that particular pleasure of admiring you because you had chosen to return to your room rather than stay with the rest of the team at the hotel bar. It was a lie to say that it had not caught his attention. You had always stayed, even for a glass of water. But now you were...away from everyone. And then he was too.

The time passed rather quickly after he had a couple of sips of different fruity cocktails, which he didn't think would have any effect. Spencer was very mistaken. He found himself walking to the elevator before he had a chance to think things through. It didn't take him long to reach your hotel room. His footsteps were soft but urgent enough to go to the outside of the door. He just wanted to see you, needed to see you, and was already anxious about the reason why he wasn't allowed to do it now.

His knuckles knocked softly on your door with a certain caution, as quietly as possible, but just loud enough for you to hear, as he did his best to keep everyone else from hearing it as well. His hair was slightly disheveled, his glasses were out of place, and the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his collarbones underneath.

“It's me. Reid.” He spoke just loud enough to be heard through the door, his voice slightly raspy but still as soft as ever. “Can I talk to you?”

The sound of his call echoed too loudly inside the empty hotel room. Everything in the place was silent, still, with no lights or air conditioning. The room was almost dark, except for the streaks of city lights filtering through the curtains that ran over the large windows. You had been lying quietly and staring at the ceiling for no more than a minute and thirty seconds, your eyes blank and fixed on the ceiling after waking up so suddenly.

You gradually rose to a seated position and proceeded to the door. Without hesitation, you opened it to find his eyes filled with concern.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” Your voice was a little hoarse, and your eyes were still adjusting to the bright light in the hallway.

“I'm fine,” he replied, barely looking at your appearance. Your hair was a mess, and you looked sleepy. He hadn't realized how late it was. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you?”

Yes, of course. It was two o'clock in the morning.

You couldn’t hide the frown of confusion. It was late—far too late for a casual check-in—and yet here he was, standing before you with an air of unease that was so unlike him. “Don’t worry. What’s up?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe, trying to mask your concern.

Thousands of ideas crossed your mind at that moment. Maybe there was a new case, some new clue that would have reopened the four-day investigation that had just ended a few hours ago, or who knows what. The job was as unpredictable as your coworkers.

“I…” Reid’s words faltered before he even began, as if his thoughts were racing far ahead of him. His eyes flitted between you and the hallway, but he couldn’t seem to find the courage to make sense of his feelings, let alone speak them aloud. The alcohol was doing little to help his clarity of thought. It had been a few small sips; he had convinced himself, but now it was doing its work on his resolve. He was here. And he couldn’t walk away. “I was just…that.”

That's when you noticed something: he seemed a little off-balance, with a subtle flush on his cheeks and a lingering smell of alcohol. “Are you under the influence of alcohol, Dr. Reid?”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

If he was surprised to see you so sleepy, he got even more surprised by that question and by how close you've gotten to him. His eyes slightly widened at the close proximity between you both, his mouth slightly agape, and his brain almost completely frozen for a moment, before he shook his head quickly as an attempt to pull himself together. He cleared his throat before speaking, his words stumbling and incoherent.

“What? No, no, I’m not drunk.” He stammered, shaking his head as though trying to convince himself. “I just took a sip.”

Just a sip, two or three, after mentally rereading that ridiculous article about love he had read in one of the magazines in the lobby. The one that made him think about you and how you made him feel, the same one that revolutionized his emotions and his rational part to the point that he drank out of the wrong glass all night long.

“I see.”

Your gaze seemed to linger on his disheveled hair, unbuttoned shirt, mismatched glasses, and the subtle hint of color in his cheeks. You arched an eyebrow in response and took a small step forward to examine his face more closely. This was a version of him you were not entirely familiar with because Spencer Reid wasn’t a drinker.

“You seem a little nervous and flushed. Are you sure you're not drunk?” You asked with concern, noticing his demeanor.

Reid had to suppress a shiver when you moved even closer, nearly reducing his entire nervous system to a puddle of goo. He was incredibly aware of your proximity, like his brain had suddenly become hyperfocused on your existence and every move you made.

“Ah…y-yes, I'm s-sure I’m not-” He stuttered the words, feeling like a complete mess of nerves.

Something feels wrong…different.

You stepped forward, your eyes narrowing in on him, still uncertain but unwilling to leave him in such an odd state. “You’re sweating,” you observed quietly. “Come in. Sit on the bed. I have water.”

Without giving him the chance to refuse, you turned and walked into the room, leaving the door open for him to follow. He didn't even have a chance to react before he found himself inside your room, feeling like he was in a whole different world. Even though he was familiar with the space, as his room was exactly the same, somehow yours felt more comfortable and cozy.

Spencer followed you to the bedside table, still feeling a bit shaky. The scent of your perfume and the quiet of the room made him a bit nervous, but before he could say anything, you offered him a glass.

“Thanks.” He said, taking the water and sitting on the edge of the bed.

As he sat down, the bed sagged slightly under his weight, and he felt a surge of nervousness. Being alone with you in your hotel room suddenly felt incredibly intimate, and he found himself taking small sips of water to keep himself grounded. The drink was refreshing, but it didn't do much to calm the pounding of his heart in his chest. He avoided looking at your figure standing in front of him, focusing instead on the glass in his hands, fidgeting and nervously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, I have to ask now. You showed up at my door out of nowhere, looking like you'd just run a marathon, flushed like a tomato, and reeking of alcohol to boot.” You said, sitting down on the bed next to him. “So what brings you exactly here?” Your voice seemed to ring in his ears.

You. Only you. Forever you.

“I, uh, I came here to...I came here to...talk. I wanted to talk.” He managed to stammer, his eyes fixed on the glass of water.

“To...talk?” You repeated, your voice bringing back his attention. He suddenly felt tongue-tied, like he forgot everything he wanted to say right then and there. “About what?”

You, again.

Reid fiddled nervously, bouncing his leg up and down, and he suddenly felt the urge to pull at his shirt, feeling his skin too warm and overheating under his clothes. Why did it suddenly feel so hot in there, in your hotel room? He found himself unable to maintain eye contact again, but this time he found bravery in the depths of his mind and he managed to speak.

“I, uh…” He paused for a moment, his words becoming shaky. “I just...I just wanted to talk about you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that answer. But before you could say anything, Spencer spoke again as his thoughts burst out unfiltered.

“You’ve been quiet. I mean, since the case, and you left the bar early. You’ve been...different, sort of...I mean, not different-” His stammering was cut off by a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. He was rambling, and he knew it; he could feel how warm he was under the heat of your gaze, but he couldn’t stop his words from coming out. “I heard about the job offer in New York that you've accepted.”

In that moment, you frowned, confused by the drama that perhaps the influence of alcohol in his system was bringing. The job offer was more of an internship than anything else, something temporary, just for three months, not a permanent change of scenery. But for some reason, hearing his words made your heart sink.

You hadn't really expected anyone on the team to be so affected by your leaving for a while; everyone seemed too wrapped up in their own business to wish you anything more than a good trip. After all, the world didn't stop spinning, and serial killers didn't stop killing because you weren't around. You didn't consider yourself that indispensable.

“I just, I don't know...” He mumbled, rubbing his face again, tired of his own thoughts. “I just...I feel like...I might miss you a lot.”

His eyes closed for a split second in fear, but then he looked at you and saw that you were smiling.

“You really drank quite a lot today.” Your tone was gentle as you carefully adjusted his glasses and took the empty glass from his hands. He hadn't even noticed that he had already finished all the water.

The feeling of your fingers on his glasses made his brain buzz for a moment, and he found himself wishing it would last for just a few seconds more. But then the glass was gone, and he was left there fidgeting with his hands.

“I know.” He muttered weakly, feeling the heat and alcohol taking a toll on him. His mind felt foggy, his thoughts swirling around and getting more tangled by the second. “But that’s besides the point.”

“Spencer, you’re being impulsive and emotional.” You said it bluntly, leaning forward slightly. “You were drinking earlier; you're all sweaty, and you're rambling. That's what alcohol does to you…you get overly reactive.”

His gaze shifted to the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed as he let out a shaky breath. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I am being impulsive and stupid, but…it doesn’t make it any less true.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you. There was a vulnerability in his tone that caught you off guard, like he was peeling back layers you hadn’t seen before. You studied him for a moment—the disheveled hair, the flushed cheeks, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under some invisible weight. This wasn’t the person you were used to—the analytical, composed genius who always seemed to have an answer for everything. This was someone raw, someone caught between logic and emotion, struggling to make sense of it all.

“I’m sure you’re incapable of being stupid,” you offered lightly, your tone tinged with a gentle tease, hoping to pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts.

His head lifted, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “I think I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a single breath, unpolished but heavy with sincerity.

Your heart stopped for a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “Oh.”

His confession hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the words settling like a weight in the room. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing the enormity of what he’d just said, but there was no taking it back now. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he awaited your response, his vulnerability laid bare.

“You can be stupid, then.” You say it in a kind of joking tone, trying to process.

Does he love you? The same person you were afraid to touch so much for fear of making him uncomfortable. The same one who looked at you funny when you tried to fall asleep on the jet after drinking too much tea and said incoherent things. The one who always questioned your words with his statistics and exact data. Does he really love you? Can he do it?

It was impossible. Completely impossible.

“You’re a little too drunk to be saying things like that now,” you added gently, a note of concern creeping into your voice.

Carefully, you stood up, moving closer to him, your heart softening as you saw the way his fingers gripped the bed. He looked like he was already treading on the edge of something, but you weren’t sure he was in the right state to navigate it.

His brows furrowed slightly, a conflicted look crossing his face. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though his words slurred slightly, and his eyes seemed unfocused. He shifted slightly but his balance was off, and his hand wavered as he reached for the glass that had once held water, only to stop and let it fall back onto the bedside table.

“No, you’re not,” you said softly, taking a step closer and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His warmth was comforting, but it only made you more aware of how fragile he seemed at that moment. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve had too much to drink. You need rest.”

He tried to look at you, his gaze unfocused and blurry. “I don’t want to sleep…not yet. I want to…I want to stay awake with you.” His voice faltered, as if the words were fighting to stay coherent. “Forever with you.”

Did you hear that right? He said…? Really?

“You’re not going to stay awake all night,” you say, talking firmly but kindly. You could see the drunkenness in his eyes, and you knew he needed more than just a glass of water or a few minutes to collect his thoughts. “And you’re staying here for sleep.”

His lips parted in confusion, but you didn't give him a chance to argue. You led him to the bed, supporting him as he swayed slightly. He was too drunk to protest in that moment. Then, you helped him lie down, adjusting the pillows behind him so that he was comfortable. And you also took the time to remove his glasses and shoes, placing them on the bedside table and the floor.

“I’m fine,” he murmured again, but this time it was barely audible, and his eyes were fluttering closed as he relaxed into the bed, his breath evening out. He was fighting sleep, but the weight of his exhaustion was too much for him to push back any longer.

After a brief period of reflection, you sit on the edge of the bed and observe him as he moves slightly. His face appears relaxed, and the tension from before seems to have dissipated. However, there is still a subtle vulnerability in his demeanor: open, unprotected, and exposed in a way you had never seen him before. This only serves to deepen your desire to care for him.

You gently reached over, tucking the covers around him and brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. “You’re too drunk to be making big decisions tonight, genius,” you whispered softly.

His eyelids fluttered open for a moment, his bleary eyes locking onto yours with a faint sense of clarity. “I didn’t…mean to make you uncomfortable,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “I care about you.”

A small smile appeared on your face, your heart aching as you brushed another strand of hair from his forehead. “I know,” you whispered.

His hand reached up weakly, grazing your wrist before falling back to the bed. He blinked a few times, his words coming slower now, as though the weight of sleep was already pulling him under. “I care about you so much,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, as though he were fading away in the middle of his confession.

You let out a gentle sigh, your thumb brushing his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “I care about you too,” you said, your voice calm but filled with warmth, though you kept your tone soft to keep him relaxed. “But right now, you just need to rest. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about all of this, okay?”

Spencer nodded weakly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay...” He murmured, his breathing muffled even more as his body relaxed on the bed and his gaze rested on you, on every feature of your face. “I think you're very pretty, and not just physically by genetics...you're very, very pretty. I could look at you forever, even if, technically, forever doesn't exist for humans.”

At any moment, your heart would leap out of your chest, or you'd probably vomit butterflies. It was too much sweetness in a Spencer way.

You remained by his side, sitting on the edge, keeping watch over him for a few moments. It felt strange, being so close to him in this way. You hadn’t expected this moment, hadn’t expected his confession.

But for tonight, all you could do was let him rest and let him find peace in his sleep. You brushed one last strand of hair away from his face, then, with a soft sigh, you stood and pulled the blankets up around him.

The silence of the room enveloped you as you settled into bed, careful not to disturb him. You remained seated for a moment, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his features softened by sleep. In the darkness, Spencer seemed different, more fragile, more human. His usual confidence in every word that came out of his mouth, the brilliant mind that made him so formidable, gave way to something more tender.

You cautiously stretched out your legs and leaned against the headboard. Sleep still seemed a long way off, even though the fatigue of the long case closed in the afternoon weighed heavily on your body. But your thoughts refused to calm down and leave you alone for a moment. His confession kept repeating in your mind, driving you and your heart crazy.

Not knowing what else to do, you let out a long, slow sigh, your fingers brushing the edge of the blanket wrapped around him. He stirred slightly, moving closer to your side as if subconsciously seeking your comfort and closeness. He tilted his head in your direction, a faint smile on his lips, and the sight brought a pang to your chest.

“What am I going to do about you, Spencer Reid?” You murmured to yourself, with a curious sensation in your chest.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling as the questions began to tumble one after another. What if he hadn’t been drinking? Would he still have said those things? Did he even fully realize the gravity of what he’d shared, or was it just a moment of emotional release brought on by the late hour and the relief of a solved case?

And then there was your own reaction. The warmth in your chest, the protectiveness that surged when you saw him looking so vulnerable—it wasn’t new. You’d felt it before in smaller ways: a fleeting moment of connection during a case, a shared glance that lingered just a little too long. You’d always chalked it up to admiration or friendship, but now…

Now it felt like the beginning of a bridge you weren’t sure you were ready to cross.

Another sigh escaped you, and you tilted your head to glance at him again. His hand had slipped out from beneath the blanket, resting loosely against the mattress. Without thinking, you reached out and let your fingers brush against his, barely touching. His skin was warm, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question.

II. Sunlight ☀︎

The first thing you noticed when you woke was the soft warmth of sunlight spilling through the blinds, bathing the room in a quiet, golden glow. It was a still moment, the world outside almost silent, save for the faint hum of traffic far below. For a second, you weren’t sure where you were. The unfamiliar bed, the softness of the sheets, the absence of noise..it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp.

But then you felt it, a slight weight on your arm. You turned your head slowly, your eyes softening as you took in the sight of Spencer still asleep beside you. His face was turned towards you, half-hidden by the pillow, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. His hand lay just a breath away from yours; his body curled slightly, seeking warmth and comfort. The usual lines of stress and guardedness that creased his features during the day were gone, replaced by a peace you rarely saw. He looked unguarded, almost childlike in his vulnerability, and it made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain.

For a moment, you just watched him, your mind replaying the events of the night before. Especially the way he’d reached for your hand, even in his half-conscious state, like it was instinctive and natural.

And now, here you were, lying next to him, watching him sleep like it was normal and meant to be.

You shifted your position slightly, being careful not to disturb him, and sat up, propping yourself up on your elbow. The room was silent, except for the faint hum of traffic. That stolen morning moment felt intimate to you, and you found yourself wondering how much Spencer would remember when he woke up.

Would you regret it? Would you want to go back and erase it all? Would he stop talking to you forever?

But then, it was almost as if he was meant to give you all those answers because he stirred. His hand moved, his breathing changed, and slowly but surely, his eyes opened. At first, Reid was dull and unfocused as he blinked in the morning light, feeling a sharp headache. Then, as he realized where he was, you saw his expression change: confusion, a flash of concern, and finally recognition.

“Morning,” you said softly, trying not to startle him.

He blinked again and frowned, feeling a twinge in his head. “Morning,” he replied, his voice groggy. He glanced around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, the tangled blankets, and then you.

You were sitting on the bed next to him—the first thing he saw when he woke up and the first person to greet him. It was just like the kind of dream he'd been having lately—only this time he wasn't asleep.

A brief silence fell as the pieces seemed to click into place in his mind. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Wait,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Last night…”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though your heart was racing, unsure of what he might remember, or worse, what he might regret. “You remember?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady.

His hand came up to rub his forehead, trying to shake the lingering fog of sleep. “I think so,” he said slowly. “We finished the case. We went to the bar.” His voice faltered, and his eyes dropped to the bed, as though searching for something solid in the scattered blankets to steady him. “I came here and said…some things, didn’t I?” His words hung in the air, filled with hesitation and a growing sense of discomfort. His cheeks flush, and he quickly looked away from you, almost embarrassed.

You tilted your head, your smile softening. “You said a lot of things.”

Spencer’s cheeks deepened in color, his hand dragging down his face as if that could somehow shield him from the weight of the moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

You frowned, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for talking to me.”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching your face for any hint of reproach or discomfort, but all he found was warmth. Still, he hesitated, his fingers playing nervously with the edge of the blanket. “I was drunk, and that’s so embarrassing,” he murmured, his tone tinged with self-reproach. “I don’t even know if what I said came out right.”

“It came out right,” you assured him gently, reaching out to cover his fidgeting hand with yours. The touch stilled him, his wide, uncertain eyes locking onto yours. “And it was just the alcohol talking…I know, don’t worry.”

He stared at your hand covering his, his throat working as if trying to form the right words. He didn’t pull away; if anything, he seemed to steady himself in your touch, though his voice wavered when he finally spoke. “It wasn’t just the alcohol,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “I don’t want you to think that it made me say something I didn’t mean. Everything I said was true.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the vulnerability in his eyes made the words catch in your throat. He held your gaze, his fingers unconsciously brushing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment.

“I’ve felt this way for a while,” he continued, his cheeks still faintly pink but his voice growing steadier with each word. “I didn’t know how to tell you. And then last night, I guess…I couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

His honesty was like a punch to the chest, leaving you breathless and unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected this level of candor, not so soon, and certainly not first thing in the morning. You pulled your hand back gently, needing space to think, though the warmth of his touch lingered like an echo.

He really meant every word.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice cracking. You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “I don't know what to say. It was all so sweet and nice to hear, but I'm not sure I'm ready to find out what this means, especially not with–”

“The distance,” he finished for you, his voice soft but resigned. He looked down, nodding slightly as though he’d anticipated this. “You’re leaving for New York soon.”

You exhaled slowly, relieved that he understood but also pained by the way his shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly. “It’s just three months,” you said gently, though the words felt hollow.

“I know, since I found out I did the math, and it's three months and four days.” He pointed out, almost not noticing that your cheeks had flushed slightly. “What I need to know is if you...if you have feelings for me, as more than friends.”

“Yes, I do.”

At that moment, it seemed that after almost a year of hiding his heartbeat for your sake, he could finally let his heart beat as much as he wanted.

But then you talk again.

“But it’s not fair to either of us to make any big decisions now, when I have to leave soon. I don’t want to risk ruining what we already have if we…if something doesn’t work.”

He looked at you, his expression serious. “But what if it works well?” Reid asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was no despair in his tone, only quiet hope. “What if it's so much better that we have between us now? Isn’t that worth the risk?”

His question settled between you, heavy and unanswerable in the moment. It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was simply Spencer, laying his heart bare with a quiet hope that made your chest ache.

“I'm not sure,” you replied, your expression thoughtful. “Three months is a significant amount of time,” you added, striving to acknowledge his feelings while maintaining a degree of caution.

“I can wait if it's for you. I can.” He replied without hesitation.

The unwavering certainty in his voice and the calm patience he offered you were more than you expected. Perhaps even more than you thought you deserved.

“You shouldn’t have to wait for me,” you said softly, your gaze falling to the sheets. “It’s not fair to ask that of you.”

Spencer shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he replied gently. “This is my choice.”

“What if the distance changes things? What if we lose this…connection?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady but kind. “Like I said, it’s not like I haven’t done the math before. Three months isn’t forever, and if what we feel is real, then it won’t fade.”

In that moment, it was like a light bulb went off in your head, and the perfect solution just came to you.

“Exactly.” You pointed out with a small smile. “You know the three-month rule?”

Never before had you seen Dr. Reid confused, denying knowledge of any subject. It was as if the alcohol of the night before had caused a circuit breaker in his brain, or else you had no explanation for having to explain something he didn't know, and you did.

“A few weeks ago, I was drinking coffee and overheard a woman at the next table talking about how the first three months between two persons are enough to indicate whether they have a future or not.” You began to explain quickly, feeling a bit strange at how the usual roles between you seemed to have been turned upside down. “You know, if they're going to make it as a couple.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your words. “You mean…is like a trial period?” he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of nervous energy coursing through your entire body. “Yes, that's exactly it. So we don't have to put a label on it right away or rush into it. But we could call, text, talk, maybe visit...just see how it feels. And when I officially come back, we'll know if it's something we really want to pursue.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying yours as though weighing the sincerity in your suggestion.

“Okay,” he said, his voice soft but resolve. “Three months. We’ll figure this out.”

Relief flooded you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. “Three months,” you repeated, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “And we’ll talk. Be honest. No expectations and the assurance that we can be friends again if we want.”

Spencer’s smile grew a fraction, and this time, when his hand reached for yours, it was deliberate. “Honesty,” he echoed, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “I can do that.”

For the first time that morning, the tension between you eased, replaced by a fragile but undeniable sense of hope. It wasn't a resolution, not quite, but it was a step forward, a promise to try. And for now, that was more than enough.

Because night before, you'd gone to bed early, thinking you didn't have much of a future at the BAU. But now you had Spencer with you in a way you'd never thought possible, and everything feels right.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Heartache ⭑

Masterlist

Request: Yes, this one

A/N: Had to tweak it a teeny tiny bit but hope you like it anon!

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a bit of fluff, mentions of trauma

Summary: Once best friends now turned against each other, will their betrothal mend their rift?

Word count: 5k

6 years before, early days of summer

He shouldn’t be doing this, every muscle in his body had a mind of its own. But rage and shame that moved like a storm within him drove him further. Breath caught in his throat when he heard the faint roar of a dragon down below. If he was caught he would be in so much trouble, but that wasn’t going to stop him now. If he wanted a dragon, he was going to have to work for it, that much was clear.

His feet shuffled further and further down and his thoughts wandered off, were there even any unclaimed dragons in the dragon pit? He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t change his mind now. He was so close, what would you think? Would you treat him differently if he came back with a dragon? Maybe you would at least finally stop pitying him, your brothers would stop bullying him. Maybe Aegon would finally leave him alone. He was never going to find out though if he didn’t round this corner. 

He was at last down in the caves, hiding behind a stone wall as he listened to a dragon rustle close by. He pushed the thoughts out of his head and carefully peeked around the corner, flashes of a big blue dragon caught his eye, Dreamfyre. If he ran further down now he had a chance of not getting burned alive by his sister's dragon. So he counted down 3…2…1, go, he hastily rounded the corner but in his hastness his fabric covered shoulder got caught against the rough stone wall, making him trip and fall. 

Dreamfyre’s big eyes turned to him and she let out a piercing roar, her fire almost burning him as he quickly scrambled to his feet, almost tripping again in the sand, as he made a run for it. He thought he could get away with it and pretend it never happened, but as he ran up, back to the arena of the pit, the dragon keepers stared at him in fury. “Skorkydoso dare ao jikagon against se rules, nyke jāhor report bisa naejot se dārys!” How dare you go against the rules, I will report this to the king! Tears filled his eyes, how could he have cowarded away, he wanted to prove himself but instead all he proved was that he was weak.

‘The Pink Dread’ stared at him as he passed the pig, the dragon keeper dragging him firmly along by his arm. All he could mutter was a meek, “Iksan vaoreznuni.” I’m sorry. He knew his mother would lose her mind over this, it wasn’t the first time he was caught and it was certainly not the first time he ran away from the dragons like a coward. Once he was back in the Red Keep, he luckily didn’t run into his brother or his nephews and when he reached his mothers bedchamber door he couldn’t stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. And he was proven right, his mother was furious.

When he left his mothers chambers, his tears had dried and all that was left was fury. How could he be shamed like this, time and time again. All that consumed his thoughts was ‘What if his egg had hatched?’ ‘Would Aegon still have made fun of him?’ It was almost supper time but he still let his feet guide him to the inner courtyard. There was no one there, just like he suspected. He lowered himself to the ground and hiked his knees up to his chest, he needed silence, needed to think. The big tree looming over him.

A soft rustling of feet pulled him from his thoughts, not that he had any good ones to begin with, he didn’t know how much time had passed. Then he saw her figure in the corner of his eye, lowering herself next to him, joining him on the ground. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn’t look at her. If she hadn’t already heard from her brother’s, she would’ve probably heard it from the whispers around the castle. “Aegon is cruel, my brothers are young and don’t understand. I...I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble. My brothers certainly didn’t, I heard your mother is furious though, for what they did.” You noticed he didn’t really respond, which was odd. Usually he would at least talk to you about it.

You were his only friend, even though it was discouraged by his mother. Who often called even the eldest, silver haired and purple eyed daughter of Rhaenyra a bastard. He liked to pretend you weren’t, and that your Valyrian features proved it but of course he couldn’t be certain. After a few moments of you staring at him, he spoke, “I’m fine, I just needed to think. Clear my mind.” You nodded at his words but you knew that it was more than that. “You missed supper you know? No one spoke a word but I’m pretty sure everyone knew what happened.” He sighed and looked down at your words, great, he just gave his brother and nephews more material to bully him with. 

His eyes widened when he suddenly felt your small warm hand grasp his. He at last looked at you and saw your soft smile. “You’re not lesser than us just because you don’t have a dragon, yet. The day will come, I promise.” Your words usually soothed him and most of the time he genuinely believed you but something about today, made him break. “Easy for you to say, your dragon actually hatched.” He mumbled irritated, everytime you would tell him he would have a dragon, he rolled his eyes. You didn’t know what it was like, wouldn’t know what it was like. Even a bastard could have a dragon but he could not.

In the late days of summer the shocking news arrived, Laena Velaryon had died. Even though there was a rift in the family, the horrible news of the by everyone beloved Laena had brought them together. But of course tensions never left the air, even as they stood together, they were divided. Aemond saw how her lips thinned at Vaemond Velaryons words, even though he felt justified that at last someone dared to speak up, he still felt bad for her. She was the only one that didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve the cruelty the gods had gifted her. 

The somewhat draining ceremony had concluded but there was still a remembrance feast for the lady Laena. Not that anyone was eating. They were surely drinking though, especially Aegon. He too nursed on a cup of wine as he let his eyes wander the crowd, Laenor hadn’t been seen after the ceremony, no doubt that he was destroyed by grief. His eyes finally found her dressed in black figure. His heart tensed when he saw you hug both the Velaryon girls, comforting them. You were only ten years old but you were more mature than his sixteen year old brother Aegon. 

His mind wandered as it so often did, drawing out Aegon’s nagging about Helaena. Would you comfort him like that if his mother or father died? Finally hold him as he so desired? He hoped so and wondered if he should offer some words of comfort, it would certainly please his mother. Even though he had been punished enough after that night he still felt ashamed and hurt more than ever, even you couldn’t calm the storm inside him. Vhagar’s distant roar snapped him right out of his thoughts. Seven Hells, of course, Laena is dead, the rider of Vhagar. She was free to claim, the largest dragon in the world, if that couldn’t prove how worthy of a Targaryen prince he was, nothing could. 

It would certainly impress you, wouldn’t it? You could even fly together, your dragon was big enough now and you had your first flight mere weeks ago and were now often seen in the sky alongside your mother. Warmth spread through his body at the thought, it was a dream he wanted so badly to come true, so bad he was climbing through the dunes. If he failed this time, it was over, for good. He would never recover if he did not succeed now. He was determined, no one and nothing would stop him, he would claim Vhagar. In the dark it was a bit hard to see but the moonlight then revealed her ginormous body, resting in the sand. 

His breaths came out in short pants, he had never felt this scared in his life. Everything in his body was telling him to run, that it was a mistake. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, he had to do this. And so he had reached her, his trembling hand touched her rough skin, his heart skipped a beat as her eyes snapped open, her low growling echoing through the night. Her head lifted and her giant jaws opened ready to burn him where he stood. He quickly held up his hand, “Dohaeras! Dohaeras Vhagar! Lykiri! Lykiri!” She seemed to calm somewhat at his words and at least closed her jaws. A new power and determination flowed through him as he grasped the ropes hanging from her body, making his way up to the saddle. When he sat, he loosened the reins among the horns of the saddle, “Soves!” Vhagar looked at him for a moment and he repeated, “Dohaeras Vhagar! Soves!” 

Her giant body moved, shaking the ground beneath her, finally taking to the sky. Aemond almost fell off but he held on thight and made his way back in the saddle. He was sure his screams could be heard back on Driftmark and he was right in a way. Both the girls leered out the window as Vhagar’s body rose to the sky. You were comfy in your bed, telling Luke for the tenth time to stop snoring so you could finally get some rest, but when he had at last shut up, the door opened and Baela and Rhaena entered the room. Awake already, you quickly rose at their words, someone had claimed Vhagar. You knew it was Aemond, who else could it be?

You, Jace and Luke followed the two sisters down to the caves, where Aemond had just appeared. He took note of the disappointing look on your face, something he didn’t expect. Weren’t you proud of him? He finally had a dragon, why weren’t you happy for him? “It’s you.” Baela spoke up, “Yes it’s me.” You looked down at your feet, even though you knew he had every right to claim Vhagar for himself, you couldn’t help but feel bad for Rhaena. “She was mine to claim!” Rhaena said angrily, Baela standing next to her. Next thing you knew vile insults were thrown and so were hands. You tried to stop him, you really did, but Jace bumped into you while getting pushed by Aemond and took you with him. It happened so fast, Aemond bent over in pain clasping at his wound, blood pouring in the sand. You hadn’t realised you screamed.

You hid behind your mother as the king sneered angrily, you were terrified, terrified when the maester proclaimed his eye could not be saved and even more terrified of what would happen to Luke. But the king surprisingly did not take action, Aemond seemed to accept his sacrifice for a dragon but Alicent did not. Once again screams echoed through the room and your mother held Alicent in a tight grasp. You didn’t understand how, but all of a sudden everyone stood still, silent. Then you noticed the blood dripping from your mothers arm on the floor. Even though you all got off easy for such a grave accident, the actions completely ripped the family apart, and you feared it could never be mended. 

Present time, early days of fall

Tension was high in the air as your mother told you the news. After years of leaving King’s Landing, your ‘father’ dead and Daemon now taking his place, you were to return to King’s Landing. You had mixed feelings over your betrothal to Aemond, he was once your best friend and you his. But after that night, everything changed, the two of you had not spoken after the incident and you already knew it was going to be hard seeing him again. He was now eight and ten years old, you five and ten. 

Alicent agreed to the betrothal desperately made by your mother to somewhat mend the family, it seemed like a good idea, to her. Jace would marry Baela and they would one day rule, Luke was to marry Rhaena and then rule in Driftmark. And you, well you would serve as a wife in King’s Landing, more like serve as a peacekeeper. A reminder that the family ‘was one’. The journey was not a long one since Dragon Stone and King’s Landing were fairly close and a short dragonflight away. The household would follow on ship, you, your mother and father, Jace and Luke would take to the sky. 

The day was still quite early when you all made your arrival to the Dragon Pit, a large coach already waiting to take you to the Red Keep. Once you were inside, the coach started moving and you noticed small folk scattered around in the city, cheering. Were they happy about this union? Did they even know of how divided this family was? Perhaps not, it would actually be a good thing if they thought all was well, otherwise it would create doubt and that would be bad. 

You were greeted only by lord Caswell, questioning looks being passed. Someone of your mother’s station being greeted this way was rather offensive. But you were quite happy to have this small audience, nerves were eating away at you at the thought of seeing Aemond again. But you also reeked of dragon and wanted to clean up before meeting anyone. And so you were brought to your chambers, a hot bath waiting for you. To the servants surprise you sent them away, all you wanted was to lower yourself in the hot water and relax, think and calm yourself for the supper that would occur tonight. The supper that would officiate the betrothal in front of the king, in front of the whole family. 

You hoped you wouldn’t suffer a similar fate to Helaena, for you knew how miserable her marriage to Aegon was. You could luckily only imagine what being married to a drunk like him would be like. The bath calmed you somewhat and you were nice and clean by the time servants came back to dress you in a beautiful gown. But they didn’t bring one of your own, one of the servants nervously looked at you as she clasped the green gown in her hands, two dragons seemed to be embroidered on the corset, your dragon… and Aemonds. Did Alicent do this? You hoped it wouldn’t start another fight in the family but you reluctantly let them dress you anyway. 

Supper was getting awfully close and a servant started to work on your hair, a typical Valyrian braided hairstyle, with some emerald pins keeping it in place. Even though the colour green was pretty much forbidden by your mother on Dragon Stone, it still looked beautiful on you. Your stomach started to hurt, like it usually did when you were nervous. You dreaded this entire thing, of course you wanted to see Aemond again but the way the circumstances have changed everything made it so difficult to pretend. Your feet shuffled behind your mother to the dining room, it was decorated beautifully, something you decided to focus on to keep the nerves at bay. 

Then you saw them, Otto, Alicent, your grandsire, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond. All standing to welcome you, however you felt like you were going to throw up. They did not look particularly happy, except for the king of course. He was delighted to see his daughter again, he could barely stand even with his cane but somehow still managed to hug his beloved daughter. Then the king shifted his eyes to you and then to Aemond, a bit of a forced smile now on his face. “What a joyous occasion today, joining our families as one. My son and granddaughter binding their ties. Let us celebrate, please take your seats.” He almost panted out, he could barely walk or talk anymore, everything costing too much energy. 

You let your eyes shift over Aemond’s figure, he was so much taller now. Towering over you by at least a head. His eye patch covering the dark past between you. And even you had to admit he had become a very handsome man. Aemond gestured next to him as he sat down, you didn’t even realise you were the only one still standing. You took a deep breath and made your way over to the empty seat the servant was holding back for you. And so you sat next to Otto Hightower and your betrothed. You could barely listen to the king’s speech when Aemond was so close, he smelled nice, must’ve used perfume oil in his bath. His now massive hands rested on the table. When you noticed him looking you quickly diverted your eyes. 

Supper was incredibly draining and of course ended in a fight, surprisingly Aemond pushed you out of the way to safety when things broke loose, and Otto Hightower himself put his arm in front of you, ensuring you wouldn’t go near the danger. Even though things ended somewhat amicably, you still veered towards Aemonds chamber. You still remembered the path well, the light of the moon shining through the halls of the Red Keep. You had to talk to him, really, talk to him. None of that polite and stiff small talk during supper. 

The dark wooden door seemed so much more imposing now that it was in front of you but you lifted your hand anyway and knocked three times on his door, something you used as a code when you were kids. His eyes snapped from the fireplace at the sound of the knocks. No one ever knocked three times on his door, no one but you. He swiftly rose from his seat and made his way to the door, before he opened it he took a deep breath. He couldn’t appear weak now, not after all this time, not in front of you. He opened the door and it revealed your figure. 

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” You spoke softer than you wanted. He didn’t say anything, instead he stepped to the side and gestured for you to come inside. He was quieter now that he had grown older, something you had noticed during supper as well. You both sat down on his settee in the room. Since he kept quiet you decided to kick the dreaded conversation off. “I never… I never got the chance to talk to you… after what happened. I’m so sorry Aemond. I wish I could’ve stopped Luke, if only Jace didn’t take me with him as he fell down-” 

“Stop.” His low voice cut through the room, through your sentence. You swallowed hard, was he mad at you as well? “We don’t need to do this.” He urged. His gaze was on the fireplace again, not even looking at you. “Aem-” Aem, a nickname he hadn’t heard in years, a nickname which once brought him joy now hurt him deeply. He felt betrayed and angry, that even you left him behind. “Do you hate me now?” You asked, if he didn’t want to talk you had to force it out of him, which you could only do by being direct. 

He sighed before he spoke. “I could never hate you, I know you wish no more for this betrothal than I do.” His words cut you like a knife. Did he actually not want you? Did he also see you as a bastard now? “What? Aem-” He stood from his seat and walked to the door, opening it. “I think it’s best you leave.” You shook your head in disbelief, the Aemond you once knew was gone and this hardened, cold man replaced him. “No, you can’t just kick me out. We have to talk about this, we are getting married! Please, let’s just talk, like old times.” He looked down at the ground, still not looking at you. 

You stormed over to him and grabbed his jaw, hearing the slight gasp in his breath. “Why won’t you even look at me!” You yelled now. He couldn’t bear to look at you, he wanted to be angry, to push you away like you had him and he knew that one look at your beautiful eyes would make all that anger melt away. Reluctantly he finally let his eyes find yours, and right as he predicted, all his anger melted away. Desperation took its stead, he was desperate for you to touch his hand again, to comfort him again. 

His head then hung low and your hand let go of his jaw. He closed the door and walked back over to the settee. “You don’t have to pretend, not in front of me.” You said making your way back over to the settee, joining him again. “What do you mean by that.” He grumbled. “Oh please, you know what I mean, you used to be sweet and kind and now you’re colder than the north.” He looked at you with disdain. He couldn’t believe what you were saying, anger bubbled in his gut again. “You mean the night your bastard brother took my eye? And then not getting punished for it? Or do you mean the years of bullying I’ve endured, suffering by Aegon’s hand even after I claimed the largest dragon in the world?” He snapped. Now standing again, pacing the room in frustration. 

Seeing you and your family made it all come to the surface again, for a year or four he had some peace again, but that was all shattered when he got betrothed to you. You looked at him with confusion, had Aegon continued to bully him after you left? You stood as well and walked over to him. “It doesn’t need to be like this, we can go back to what we once had, please.” Aemond’s resolve seemed to crumble a bit, the idea was so tempting, yet he still showed some restraint. You noticed it, the battle going on inside him, so you stepped forward, closer and closer to him. You noticed his widened eyes, then you wrapped your arms around him. You hadn’t hugged him in years, the last time being the whole situation with ‘the pink dread’. He completely tensed up at first.

But as you held him longer, his arms found his way around you, hugging you close. The wall around him seemed to fall the longer you held each other. “I missed you so much Aem.” You mumbled against his chest. Tears welled up in eye as you spoke. He couldn’t believe it, he had you in his arms again and you were to be his wife. Before you left that was his dream, having a dragon and you, and now it was to become true. 

One year later, early days of summer

Vaemond Velaryon asking for a petition for Driftmark was a grave offence to your family, you had been married to Aemond for a couple of months now and finally mended the rift between the two of you. In that time, you had gotten to know him again, he still studied history and philosophy, still trained with the sword and still lacked affection. You were horrified when he finally told you of what Aegon did to him after you left. The pain you felt for him went beyond words and after that night, when he told you while laying against your chest, you went above and beyond to make him feel loved. You felt like it was the very least you could do for him and so now here you were, about four times a week Aemond would have a bath but it wasn’t the servants that washed him, it was his own lady wife. 

The water splashed softly when you dipped the sponge in again, carefully washing the dirt of skin. He felt his entire body relax under your touch, letting his head rest against the edge of the tub. His eye patch somewhere discarded in the room, he didn’t need it when he was alone with you. The realm had profited greatly from your marriage with Aemond, everyone seemed calm and happy. But you could feel the storm coming with the petition on the morrow. Your family had already arrived today and you told them how happy you were and that seemed to do well for now. 

When you finished washing his body, you kissed the top of his head before moving on to wash his long hair. He hummed softly when your fingers massaged his scalp, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly. He loved the way you cared for him, it's all he wanted his entire life. You kissed his head a few more times while washing his hair, then you helped him dry off and get back into his breeches. Making him sit down, you grabbed a comb and started to carefully comb through his silver locks, making sure to braid it before bed.

You had already prepared yourself to sleep, so now the both of you crawled in the sheets, and as he layed in your arms, falling into a deep slumber, anxiety of what could happen on the morrow clouded your mind and sleep evaded you. The morning soon came and you walked next to Aemond as you entered the throne room, Aegon and Helaena in front of you. Your family already stood to the right, the Velaryons to the left. Everything had gone so well these past few months, why did Vaemond have to ruin it?

The petition started as bad as you expected, you gave Luke and Jace soft comforting smiles through the ordeal but when your mothers turn to speak came, the giant doors opened and the king dragged himself in, stumbling to his throne. Of course you knew of the Hightowers conspiracy with Vaemond, it was quite plain to see but you held your tongue, you didn’t want to ruin the bliss you were in after all these years. But when the king had spoken, Vaemond’s sneer was a clear sign of what was to come. The horrible insults that left his lips, shattered your dream, you looked at Aemond with tears in your eyes but your stomach turned when you saw the small smirk on his lips. 

Your lips parted and gasped when Vaemond’s head was cut off by Daemon. Aemond then stepped in front of you, holding you back and protecting your eyes. But that did nothing to erase the memory of him smiling at Vaemond calling your brothers, including you, bastards. Hurt consumed you and you wanted nothing more than to take to the sky on your dragon and leave, what Aemond just did could not be easily forgiven. Supper was even worse, if the last time you all had supper was any indication this could only go wrong but you couldn’t care less, the knife in your back only seethed deeper as you saw Jace and Baela laugh, even Rhaena and Luke were having a good time. 

Aemond just had to ruin it. He tried to reach out, caress your hand on the table but you pulled back and ignored him when he gave you a questioning look. Then he noticed Luke smirking at the scene. He lost it. He raised his cup and made sure to give an even worse speech than last year. Only this time, swords were drawn, you didn’t care to see how this ended, instead you left. Your steps were hurried as you made your way back to your shared bedchamber, slamming the door behind you. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you sat on your bed, all you had was ruined. It went so well and it just had to get destroyed. You knew your marriage was fragile but you didn’t want to believe it. At last Aemond returned.

He too slammed the door behind him and stormed over to you. “Why are you acting like this? You humiliated me!” He seethed. You only looked at him with red eyes, you only now realised what a selfish person he was. Of course he went through so much but so did you and you didn’t deserve his anger. “I humiliated you? What about Vaemond humiliating me?! Insulting your own wife in front of you and you smiled! Smiled! How could you do that to me?! And that speech, just to further humiliate me!” His face fell at that, he never even realised he smiled, never realised that his wife was still Rhaenyra’s child. “My love…” He started but you didn’t want to give him the time. “I want to join my family on the journey back to Dragon Stone. I’ve barely seen them and wish to spend time with them, to think.” You stated, you left no room for argument.

You saw how his face turned to panic. “No. No no no, I’m sorry, I never realised. I never meant to hurt you my love please. Please don’t leave, I need you here.” You shook your head. “You made your bed, now lie in it.” His eye teared up, and pleaded again. “I need you, please don’t leave me, not again. I can’t go without you again. I’m begging you.” You shook your head again, “Some time apart might do us good, maybe you’ll realise how much I do for you and how little I get back.” Words couldn’t describe how his heart broke at the sight of you boarding the ship, no kiss goodbye, nothing, his life was empty yet again. He could only hope you returned soon.

[raayllum]

Analysis of the cube scene

Because it's like 0.2 seconds and I still have thoughts, so here we go.

First things first, I want to talk expression change, since we see Callum while speaking when you heighten the exposure on the clip's beginning that his eyebrows are a lot more raised, and then it hardens not quite into full-on anger maybe, but resignation.

We can also see the tip of Callum's hand gloves as he apparently holds the cube up. It's not absurd for him to hold the cube in his hand, as he has done many times before, but it seems more likely now in S7 that it's a reference back to this post from his pawn intro.

As for the background, whereas last time Callum being corrupted in the trailer featured Finnegrin's office (hence it + the overt framing of Aaravos) made it clear it was a nightmare, this background is a little more ambiguous. In my big trailer breakdown analysis, I noted that maybe the group would try to collect their allies, and the mushrooms look like the big ones we see near Zubeia.

So if Callum is standing or on sitting up on eye-level with some, that makes sense. His background also looks a little like the entrance to the Pit of Despair for the smooth blue shape, but it doesn't have any of the red mushrooms, so I'm ruling that out and putting it closer to Zubeia.

There's a few reasons we could be going to get Zubeia! We could be going to get her for her help, or mushroom salves if the Sunfire elves decide to try and purify Lux Aurea / themselves again in order to thwart Aaravos' plans if he needs both Sun and Moon to be actively corrupted (it does seem like Lux Aurea becomes safer later on in the trailer). Callum could be having a nightmare on his way to the Mushroom mage for that purpose, brought about by the knowledge that Aaravos is out, or Aaravos messing with his head again.

His nightmares previously seemed more induced by the corruption/Aaravos' hold on him (6x01) and his direct worry about it (6x03) when he knew being possessed was an option, as it is no longer, but they could retread ground from S6. Janai is seemingly receiving nightmares from Aaravos despite having no connection with dark magic, so it's certainly possible even if it I think it's less likely (more on that in a bit).

I've also wondered about what the "darkness and corruption will overwhelm you" would look like. Is it instantaneous, or is it slow-going? If it's the latter, Callum could be on his way to the mushroom mage in hopes of purifying himself before it takes over him completely, and has the vision of the cube going dark magic-y red during a night of fitful rest.

One of the things that makes discerning whether this is a dream or reality especially hard is that we know that dark magic dreams can be prophetic (the rune cube in Callum's in 2x08 highlighting ocean and moon, highlighting that he would use dark magic again in S5 Ocean and for his Moonshadow elf; little Claudia saying she's following in Viren's "footstep" (singular) or walking out into the ocean; Aaravos seemingly revealing information to Janai for whatever reason).

So Callum's 2x08 dream with the cube could reference the cube itself being corrupted somehow, and turning Aaravos' book into the ultimate guide to dark magic rather than primal magic. Perhaps the whole screenshot is based in reality.

The other thing that's tricky is that we know that dreams and reality can be blurred, tying into the prophetic aspect from before.

So aspects of it could be a dream / nightmare (Callum sees the dark magic cube, we do a wide cut to see he's corrupted - though he can't see it, maybe he could feel it?) or it could be fully reality, or a mixture of the two. I'm probably leaning towards the mixture option unless we discover the cube itself can be corrupted (which it presumably is tied to primal magic if not deep magic, so conceivably it Could??).

I'm also deeply curious about the context of Callum's "however dangerous, however vile". Unlike Viren or Claudia, it's not a refrain he's said before in a dream or otherwise, nor would he presumably have ever heard any of them say it. Perhaps he and Aaravos have a conversation, and Aaravos taunts him with the phrase or brings it up? Or he could hear Claudia say it in their duel in S7.

And there's our 500-ish words on a split second scene, what do you think is happening in it?

[foolishaetherguardian]

“… and be sure to report any further unusual tectonic activity. Dismissed.” Bats finally finished the report. Why was he here? Right the first five minutes had been about the possibility of magic having been used. This really should have been an email he just ignored or left Zatanna to deal with. Bunny girl was better at feigning interest than he was after all. “John, Zatanna if you would both remain.”

Damn the brat. Why did the inter dimensional brat decide today to bug him? John knew he could pop up at literally any point in time like it was normal. It was revenge. For what offense he didn’t know. Or maybe he hadn’t even done it yet. Stupid fifth dimensional traveling.

“… stantine. CONSTANTINE.” “Bugger off.”

“John.”

Shit. Okay first names were bad with the cape. Like find a new existence and disappear off the face of the planet bad.

“Right sorry mate just, distracted.”

“The fact that an eldritch horror from who knows where was hanging off you like a scarf actually had some effect on you? You must be getting sentimental in your old age.”

“Love we both know that if it was weighing on me I wouldn’t be around to talk. You wouldn’t be either.” John had some respect for Zatanna. She was a good mage. Understood the proper importance of a cigarette and a blokes need to keep up appearances. Usually at least. “Got a cig?”

“Those will kill you someday.” The disapproval and sarcasm rolled off her tongue as smooth as the honeyed lies the lass would use with magic. John wanted to quip back but settled for a death glare as the big bad bat threatened to perfect his own death glare on him. Why did the bat have to be such a stickler? Rules rules rules. Rules don’t save lives when they shackle you from good. Damnit. Why were all the big dogs so damn… good?

“Hrm.”

Right the bat. The bat that right now probably wanted to string him up by his ankles and let the archdemons sort out how to cut him into nice even thirds if his damned rules didn’t stop him. Why did he have a cigarette?

“Uh bats?”

“Hrm.”

Just as loquacious as always that cape. Keep that thought inside. Definitely keep the thought inside. Especially as you take that stupidly expensive cigarette.

“Thanks. I could really…” The cig was hard. It was candy. The bat almost had an actual expression under the cowl, there was the slightest tightness of the lips. A smirk. He was smirking. ”You know what? Fuck you.” The fake cig crunched in his mouth. It actually tasted pretty good. Not that he was going to ever let anyone know that. “I’m going home. Hopefully to eat my leftovers. The brat isn’t a threat. If you want to know just ask the lass about the between or the Infinite. Or better yet go ask Grundy about The Protector.”

God he needed a drink. And a smoke. And maybe another drink. John was pretty sure that his food was gone too.

“How old is he?”

Dammit lass. Why did you always know just what to say? “14…. I think.” John replied stopping at the door to the stupid tech magic tubes that Supes had insisted on. “He’s some other world’s hero.”

The lass had to think on that one. Not every day you meet an alternate. “Is he… okay?”

“He’s doing alright. Insists his parents couldn’t understand though, so he always carries it alone. Protects people that way, or so he says.” John finally let himself laugh. It was a fitting description of most of the capes who worked with the league. And himself. If he was generous. Pity he couldn’t afford to be generous with himself anymore. “I’m just his fallback. And debit card.”

“It would do him some good to meet others. If you can invite him to the next picnic.”

John blinked slowly. Then turned. The Bat had a smile. A proper smile. Soft and understanding. How? The man was almost certainly just a mass inhuman muscle and brains with the bare minimum speech capability bundled into a bat suit. “I’ll make sure to offer it. But he’s still weird about his… abilities.”

“I’ll get him added to the budget.”

“Budget?” Now this was sounding promising. While the league did pay it wasn’t much more than rent for the closet he used to access the house.

“For young heroes or metas under league guidance. One of the points Bruce Wayne insisted on when he decided to find us officially. So they have a safe place.”

“I’m a safe place?” John’s incredulity was finally outweighing his paranoia. A hefty feat considering even he considered himself to be 90% paranoia by volume.

“Sure sounds like it mate.” Only the lass could say something so damning like it was a good thing.

“{Guess so}” Why did he understand the grunt? Are the grunts some secret dad cape speak? Why was he suddenly qualified for…. Nope. Nope. He’s going home. Sleep liquor and maybe a bit of tele. No he wasn’t tearing up. And no one could see his face to tell you otherwise.

Danny has met Constantine.

Constantine has a coat.

Danny regularly pops out of it to say hi or when Constantine calls him for something.

Nobody in the JL knew this, so when Danny popped right on out in the middle of a meeting.

Well.

[mac-ann-cheese]

Again with fur coats

I'm sorry for irregular posting, I've been snowed under with my uni work lately ( Ó⁠╭⁠╮⁠Ò )

Nevertheless I'm always grateful for your support!!!!! ( ⁠＾⁠ω⁠＾)

Under the cut lots of thoughts on current manga arc (I've got no one to talk about it,...)

I like to imagine that in gangsta au they still use flip phones. But it got me thinking about how that universe works,... Are there any transnational corporations? Is history in general the same just with criminal elements?? Like there should be some sort of grand gang bang I and II if the United Districts organization exists (the analogy to the UN, of course). And the Big five is just the security council.

Moreover, in the same strip, the fall of the USSR is brought up as the permanent members of UD discuss whatever they should keep or kick out newly formed Russia (or district 7. It's cute that they call each other after the first number of the nation's phone code. One thing bothers me with this fact. What were the districts called before the invention of telephones? Countries received permanent telephone codes only in the mid-20th century. Or in terms of au the actual number of the district isn't connected with phones and just a number?? Another bit of useless info: Kazakhstan also uses +7; will they be [I doubt that they would make an appearance in au, but let me DREAM!!!] also a part of the whole district 7 like NA bros with district 1???). Buttttt I was talking from the perspective of our history being pulled over on the lore of gangstatalia, cause we don't have those events described in canon, which IS interesting!!!!!

Also, the sputnik was mentioned, which means the whole cold war (or at least the space race period) had happened... Um. Do districts own nuclear weapons? It's just a theory. a MANGA theory!

Considering in that the characters aren't probably immortal anymore (well, I can make that conclusion only from the panel with young Alfred literally saying, "oh so you're the representative of the 86th district? I'm the new representative of the 1!", it means... that there was someone before him ruling the district.............), the timeline of parallel events shortens.

Therefore, the events are closely packed together; there aren't gaps of decades between them, but more likely a couple of years.

How does this world work? Judging from the map, the districts are on a Pangaea-like continent. Or are they districts of some bigger country...?

Is there a ruler over all districts? Who is it then? Flying mint bunny? Tony? GRANPA RO-

Was there always the gangster's paradise in the regions, or was the government more authoritarian before??????? WHY IS CRIME THE NORM? Why did they decide to regulate everything with the help of playing cards?

And lastly. The electric collars. How? How did the idea even cross Alfred's mind? If I'm not mistaken he is, well, not the creater, but the person who suggested wearing them. "Let's fry our brains to crispy nuggets!!!" Haha. Fun.

And others in the big five agreed to it. Like that isn't totally bucknutty. Not at all. Electric chairs would be much better...

Oof my head hurts just thinking of it

Maybe I'm not the first one to ask these kinds of questions, but still. I need answers.

[all-pacas]

a list of all the times foreman and chase actively shaded one another in s1-3, because i think it's very funny,

histories:

PATIENT: [Foreman] doesn't like me. I can tell. CHASE: That's okay. He doesn't like me, either.

sports medicine:

CHASE: House says you were lying. I believe him. FOREMAN: …What’s that? You got a little wet smudge at the end of your nose!

control:

CAMERON [to Chase]: He’s not gonna fire you. FOREMAN: I’d fire you. Bye bye. CHASE: If I screw up, the patient dies… I’ll never get another job. FOREMAN: So go stick your head between your legs and lick your wounds in Gstaad.

mob rules:

CAMERON: Chase has a big mouth. FOREMAN: Yeah. He's probably the one who ratted to Vogler. [of note: Chase did obviously rat to Vogler, but Cameron spends these same episodes defending him and sure he isn't the rat; Foreman immediately jumps to "fire Chase"]

heavy:

PATIENT: I’m thirsty. CAMERON: Just a little bit longer [with this procedure], and you’ll be done. FOREMAN: Like Dr. Chase.

[later, House asks who Foreman would fire:]

FOREMAN: Chase. HOUSE: What — because he screwed up an angio a month ago? FOREMAN: Anyone can make a mistake. HOUSE: Right, it’s the money. You resent it, but you’re going to tell me he doesn’t need the job. FOREMAN: He doesn’t appreciate the job. HOUSE: He was ready to go three rounds with Cameron for it. FOREMAN: He wants the job. He just doesn’t appreciate it. There’s nothing wrong with just wanting to hang out, but this is not the place to do it.

babies and bathwater:

FOREMAN: [under his breath] Here, pussy, pussy, pussy. CHASE: I didn’t do anything. FOREMAN: Exactly my point. CHASE: You wanted me to yell at him? What the hell would that have achieved? What, is he going to jump into his time machine and fix everything? FOREMAN: When a dog dumps on the floor, do you pat its head and call it a genius? No, you smack it in the nose with a newspaper! CHASE: Dogs can learn things, House can’t. FOREMAN: Coward. CHASE: Child.

acceptance:

FOREMAN: If someone asks you to describe me to them, what’s the first thing you’d tell them? CHASE: Insecure.

tb or not tb:

CAMERON: I wrote your people a check last month. PATIENT: Oh, well… write us another one. FOREMAN: Talk to Chase, he’s rich. CHASE: My dad, not me. [i think offering chase's money to a stranger counts as shade]

the mistake:

STACY: Why did Chase screw up? FOREMAN: Because he doesn't give a crap about patients. STACY: He always gets positive patient reviews. FOREMAN: Yeah. He smiles all 84 of his teeth, tells them his tonsil story. STACY: It's a nice story. FOREMAN: He still has his tonsils! As soon as he's out of the room, which is as soon as he can be out of the room, he starts in on the trash talk. Thinks not giving a crap makes him like House. Like it’s something to aspire to. Am I going to have to testify? STACY: I… won't be encouraging them to call you.

failure to communicate:

CHASE: Even if he fell, drug use is far more likely. I’m ordering a tox screen. FOREMAN: Chase, we're not done with the differential. CHASE: You're not my boss. FOREMAN: I'm House's boss, House is your boss. The math is pretty simple. CHASE: Are you signing my paychecks? Are you hiring or firing? FOREMAN: This is not about that. CHASE: The only thing you've been asked to do is supervise House in case he does something insane.

distractions:

FOREMAN: Plug it in. CHASE: You plug it in. FOREMAN: Fine, give me the cord. [under his breath:] Wuss.

who's your daddy?

[during a procedure] HOUSE: Chase, high right atrium, please. CHASE: Her heart’s fragile after that last attack. The chances of tachycardia – HOUSE: You have my permission to blame Foreman at any negligence trial. [chase does as he's told]

cane and able:

CHASE: How could I screw up a simple bleeding time test? FOREMAN: Maybe you were abducted; lost time. [later:] HOUSE: So you’re saying Chase did screw up. CHASE: Or Foreman screwed up. FOREMAN: Big hand points to minutes. Maybe you got them mixed up? [later:] CHASE: We’ve had three results that haven’t been consistent. One of them must be wrong. FOREMAN: Or two of them.

fools for love:

[house is trying to bet foreman on wilson's new girlfriend. foreman hasn't accepted the bet:]

HOUSE: We could spend all day arguing whether we bet or not. Give me the hundred bucks. CHASE: Come on Foreman, pay up. He won! Or we could just never finished the DDX.

[later:]

HOUSE: Aha! Brochure to a jazz festival in the Poconos this weekend. CHASE: Wilson likes jazz. Foreman, pay the man.

[later:] CHASE: If [the patients] can live here without killing each other, they must really be in love. It’s tiny. FOREMAN: Then how come it’s taking you so long to search it? CHASE: Box of condoms in his jacket. FOREMAN: I know you’re poor now, but buy your own.

[later:]

CHASE: Hey, Foreman, can you wear the beeper for a couple hours this weekend? [off his look:] What? FOREMAN: We just destroyed two peoples’ lives. CHASE: I’m not allowed to run errands any more? FOREMAN: I’d like to see some sign that it affects you, or that you recognize that it affects other people. CHASE: So are you going to wear the beeper or not?

finding judas:

CHASE: I wasn't kissing his ass. FOREMAN: It just looked that way from our angle. You on your knees, House bending over. CHASE: He predicted the pancreatitis. CAMERON: It's his dad's fault. CHASE: My dad was an ass. CAMERON: But you did everything he wanted you to and, in return, you got everything you wanted. CHASE: Yeah! It's that simple. CAMERON: His strategy worked. Dad got him a cushy job, paid for his cushy life. CHASE: Cut me out of his cushy will. [cameron looks surprised/apologetic here; foreman continues:] FOREMAN: I told you, just his nature. Poor guy's hardwired to kiss ass.

[later:]

CHASE: Tritter finally froze my accounts. FOREMAN: Really? CHASE: You surprised? Why wouldn't he? FOREMAN: I figured if he was singling you out, you must have done something different. CHASE: What? Like talking? FOREMAN: Yeah. And now that he's frozen your accounts, you probably will. You need the cash, right? CHASE: He doesn't freeze my accounts, I'm guilty. He does freeze my accounts, I'm guilty. [foreman shrugs]

top secret:

FOREMAN: House would do Wilson before you'd do Chase. CAMERON: No, you would do House and Wilson before I do Chase. Now can we get back to work? CHASE: She did me once! FOREMAN: [laughing] She was stoned!

act your age:

CHASE: For the record, Cameron's the one who broke it off. FOREMAN: Not interested. No masses in the hypothalamus. CHASE: I wanted more. She didn't share my feelings. FOREMAN: I feel like I'm in a similar position.

resignation:

CHASE: So, why are you leaving? Or is it just some sort of power play? FOREMAN: You can have my parking space. My locker. CHASE: Is it about House? FOREMAN: Let me get all sensitive and confide in you. CHASE: Why wouldn't you want to tell me? FOREMAN: I don't like you. Never have, never will. You want me to share some more?

the jerk:

FOREMAN: I'll do it. But I've got a job interview after work. Anything comes up later, you guys handle it. CAMERON: Need a peer recommendation? FOREMAN: Thanks. [he looks at chase, who sort of shrugs] CHASE: Cameron's should suffice.

[later:]

CAMERON: Foreman's interview in New York got screwed up. CHASE: I heard. CAMERON: Foreman thought it was House, House thought it was Cuddy. Cuddy thought it was Wilson, Wilson thought it was me. CHASE: And you think it was me? [chuckles] God… you think I… sabotaged Foreman? I don't even want him here. CAMERON: I know. CHASE: Then why would I do…? CAMERON: I think you sabotaged Foreman just to sabotage Foreman.

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic grell hc (Black Butler)

I have no seen/read Black Butler in years, so I apologize if this is short. I will try to write for Grelle the best I can. I will also be trying to refer to Grelle with She/Her pronouns.

I personally see her as a platonic yandere... but I'll see what I can do. I also made Darling a human.

Yandere! Grelle Sutcliff Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Delusional behavior, Romanticizing death (On Grelle's part), OOC Grelle (maybe), Forced "relationship".

Upon researching for Grelle, I had not realized how little time we get with her.

From what I've seen, Grelle doesn't get much time to be explored in the arcs she's in.

She's been depicted as flamboyant, impatient, ruthless, and impulsive.

She also appears to fangirl over crushes, her most prominent ones being Sebastian and William.

She's shown to be obsessive and often acts on emotions and desires.

Already unnerving yandere material, honestly.

Even worse is that she's a Grim Reaper, which means if her obsession is human, she can't really interact with them without a reason.

The last time got her in trouble.

In fact, her human obsession would cause so many issues.

Reapers are not allowed to mingle with human affairs and can only interact with humans on their list.

Which means you're untouchable for Grelle, much to her disappointment.

That doesn't stop her from watching, however.

Yes, Grelle has broken the rules before, but she's also aware if she does it again she'll be unable to see you.

So instead, Grelle tries to content herself with watching.

Although, she may sneak interactions with you through a disguise...

Can't get caught unless another reaper sees her, right?

Grelle gets very fixated on her obsessive crushes.

She knows she isn't supposed to kill humans, but she yearns to at times.

After all, she feels her obsession would be so pretty covered in blood...

The crimson would accent your beauty, you'd be such an adorable human.

In a way I feel she'd be dehumanizing to you due to her job.

She coos over you like a pet at times, even when she watches you from afar.

Her only obsessions have been a demon and a fellow reaper...

Her job is to judge humans before they die.

So, in a way I can see her looking down on you a bit.

You may not be on her list... but she wishes you were.

Just imagine how romantic it would be!

It gets her excited to think of being the one to take your soul.

You'll be so beautiful.

Of course, such things can only be fantasy to her.

It makes her quite upset, actually...

She only gets to watch you do mundane tasks.

Her fellow reapers often scold her for watching such a mundane human.

You're simply a new fixation of hers...

She can't be your reaper.

Grelle definitely feels death is... romantic, in an odd way?

She's definitely fantasized about your memories and how it would feel to use her scythe on you.

She's actually quite jealous of whoever your reaper is.

Maybe even possessive of you since she can't show you how much she adores you.

She certainly has odd fantasies about you that you're blissfully unaware of.

Oh, speaking of that, that's the scary part.

You don't know about her.

You're a human, just living their life...

Oblivious to the fact a reaper has fallen for you in their own twisted way.

Grelle knows she's supposed to behave and listen to the rules...

But how long do you think it will be before she acts?

Grelle doesn't bother kidnapping.

She'd be more fixated on being your reaper if you're human.

A reaper and a human... a pair not meant to be.

To Grelle, it's poetic.

To you, you're terrified.

Grelle would take you when it wasn't your time just to keep you to herself.

She knows she'll be suspended, but she needs this.

Your fear is adorable when she finally reveals herself.

She's been waiting a long time for this!

Her obsession is fast acting, probably developing within months.

Poor you only has a few months to live because of a reaper's obsession

Grelle would probably coax you to smile, saying how cute you are and how she's been waiting to properly meet you.

She acts like she's your friend, when her main goal is... well...

For you to die.

She may even succeed in her goal unless another reaper stops her.

Let's be honest... Someone probably will.

Other reapers no doubt have noticed her obsessive behavior towards this one specific human.

Considering her past and fascination with blood...

You may just be saved during your first encounter with Grelle.

Which... makes her throw a fit.

Her obsession over you is unhealthy, of course.

It's detrimental to you mostly as Grelle is obsessed with coating you in a pretty red.

If killing you doesn't work...

She may just kill humans around you.

Either way, Grelle's biggest fantasy and obsession is using the color red to make you pretty.

Traumatic for you, of course.

But Grelle praises you, cooing over how it all looks like a dramatic scene.

Grelle loves drama.

Even if she's stopped once... She'll come back.

Eventually she'll get that perfect crimson scene... with you and her as the centerpiece...

It's safe to say Grelle is delusional.

Her love for you is a twisted desire for something vaguely poetic.

Grelle purrs that she truly adores/adored you once she gets you how she wants you.

You'll be sobbing, covered in blood not your own... not yet.

Then, at the climax of her love for you...

She'll slam her Death Scythe down on you...

To her, this is how she'll keep you as hers.

Will she be punished? Of course...

But now no one else will love you like she loved you.

[kakusu-shipping]

You’re definitely not being annoying and it wouldn’t be weird at all! and especially since it would be your birthday gift! :D and tbh I would really enjoy sending asks just for the Ideal Polycule (I mean for last year’s F/o takeover event I was the anon that specifically sent an ask for them ^^) also you could still add Zen to the Polycule if you want to! I mean I don’t much about overwatch but he would totally still help you with food/eating even though he’s not a foodie and + his warm color palette goes with everyone else in the Polycule! :]

You guys are so nice to me for literally no reason you're both so sweet.

I've never held an event up for a long amount of time, I think the most I got was like a week? We're gonna see if I can hold out all of February, if we have enough content for it.

Thankyou both so much for your feedback! I'm looking forward to this now!! I hope it'll be just as fun for y'all as it is for me!

also lil bonus the real behind the scenes reason why Zenyatta isn't in the ideal polycule officially;

[mousemannation]

i don't really enjoy making statements about players mental health but like daniil is so clearly burnt out and the fact that he said it's been like that for 2-3 years???? Like that's crazy but it also shows that this issue is not results driven. That's what 2022 to now? '22 and '23 were some of his most successful years coming off the USO win and also becoming no1. For his mentality to have been this bad even for that??? Like that's get him to a psychiatrist level. That's im spiking his water with antidepressants level,,

[hplonesomeart]

You know I had to do my own rendition of this eventually. It’s just too good to pass up :))

Attached is just the still image version (not gif) and then some behind-the-scenes initial sketch without puzzle pattern. Also the car had a nose for some reason…glad that I went back to the actual reference material to change it because the Puzzlemobile ain’t got one <<

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[nguyenfinity]

Every time I draw Mamagi it does AoE damage (I am also in the area of effect)

Lighthearted bonus:

[autisticlee]

sometimes I think about how when I went to college for a year before I dropped out (basically failed out,) the counselors/dean told me they can't help me at all or give any accommodations unless I have an official autism/adhd diagnosis. that might sound logical at first, but when you think about it more, it's actually quite fucked up. if someone is struggling really bad, what's the harm in helping them? why do they require a paper to get even the smallest amount of help? people who don't need help aren't going to be failing miserably without help! even NTs could benefit from some adjustments to the horrible school system! (but changing the entire system is a whole other conversation that the school system isnt ready for)

but even if you do agree to jump through their hoops, you realize it's even more fucked up that the diagnosis process requires YEARS in most cases (in my case it took 4 or 5 years, can't recall exactly now, for autism/adhd diagnosis, which would have meant i finished school before getting it if i managed to mot fail out, or i wait that long before going back, which is a whole struggle itself) and they also tried billing me for THOUSANDS of dollars because of insurance issues!!

so you put a ton of time and money into this, and then get told the only accommodation they are willing to give you for autism and adhd is "a little extra time on tests"

....

my test scores were the best part of my whole class experience. that was NOT what I struggled with!!!!! those tests were all online and could be done in the comfort of your home where you can accommodate yourself and have plenty of time left over when you finish them because you are comfy in your own space, (and also, no one was stopping you from having your notes/books/google open to find the answers,) and you don't even need a time consuming, expensive diagnosis for that!

SO WHAT'S THE POINT!!!!!!!

[pocketramblr]

fae court but it's a legal court, changelings are fae they leave in place of human jurors during the trial because it's the best way to prevent the trial from just becoming a bunch of fairies trying to one up the best bargain for their vote with the accused

[otaku553]

Oc aged up? Redesign? Doodle