#and like re-explaining it all over again sometimes just gets exhausting???

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Does anyone else ever worry that you have this unreciprocated want to know what’s going on in your friends lives??

[jinlias]

tally - rosé

— songwriter!, musician! rosé, paparazzi

i say fuck it when i feel it, cuz no one’s keeping tally i do what i want with who i like

rosé was exhausted, she hates this cycle. of sneaking around and hiding under dark clothes when you’re in public, of hiding her lockscreen and the polaroid on her phone case from appearing on photos or videos, she hated being unable to talk about you to everyone, she hated all of this, loathed it.

but she always kept you around, even if you had to ride with crew most of the time, for when she was away from you too long she would start to hear her own heartbeat more than she’d like. you were peace to her. rosé was exhausted, but mostly, she was furious.

and i ain’t gon conceal it, while you talking all that shit, i’ll be getting mine

it was a thing of time, that everyone started noticing the same feminine silhouette around her even when none of her crew was. fans kept up with her management team, everyone even knew her re-ocurring friend group, they just couldn’t pinpoint where u fell, yet, you were always there.

don’t apologize for my behavior, if you’re offended i don’t care.

she never fit in the usual korean mold, the delicate, educated and always quiet women she shared the industry with because they valued their dream career more than their own freedom. controversy is what made her stand out, it’s how she blew up, it’s expected no one was too surprised when she started a soft launch of your relationship. pictures of the two bowls of food, tangled hands, two shadows on a crosswalk, small, private, intimate photos like these easily gave away it was not just one of her friends.

sometimes i like to go play dirty, just like all of the fuckboys do, that’s my choice and there’s no one i’m hurting, when that’s not girly.

but rosé has always been open about her private life, she’s never hid behind dark clothes or hats, at least not until you. she was a weekly topic on social media, everyone took out the time to discuss her possible hook ups, like that was of important matter to anyone else.

that’s why everyone else was so observant now, because all of the sudden she stopped running out of models’ apartments at three am with tousled hair. instead, she was seen hiding behind her clothes and around a becoming familiar silhouette at restaurants, movie theaters, parks, at houses and parties of families who no one’s ever seen before, which was the ideal, but people would just not stop watching her. and you.

everybody tells me to play nice, everybody judge but looking twice, but my body don’t belong to none of them though, and i’m not going to change cuz you say so.

she was tired of playing nice, of laughing it off when men asked her about her love life, when the woman interviewer asked about any special boys in her life. she was tired of everyone assuming and deciding which one of her friends she was dating today. why couldn’t they see she loved you? why couldn’t they just move on? she wasn’t theirs to play around with, she just wanted to do what she loved, surrounded by people she loved. surrounded by you.

warned me to make the rules, or play the fool, it ain't that hard to choose

“rosie, this could make or break your career” you really wish it wasn’t this hard, you wish you could just love each other and live contently. without anyone else interfering.

“i don’t give a fuck anymore. i need you to do the same” she’s cried, she’s given up. but she’s angry, she wants this over. she wants you two to be free. “will you walk the red carpet with me? please” she asks again, begs, her eyes are telling you all of the above. how she can’t take this anymore, if she has to pretend she doesn’t know you for one more night, she might just explode.

rosé can’t ever explain to you the amount of bliss she felt when you agreed, she had been given an ultimatum since the beginning, play the fool or break the rules. play the fool because it could save her career, break the rules because it could save her. she’s finally brave enough to choose for you. and she chooses to be immensely happy, publicly

i say fuck it when i feel it. cuz no one’s keeping tally i do what i want with who i like.

that night, hell broke loose. so did the internet, the photo of her kissing you at the red carpet had millions of fans publicly giving up on her, but so many more expressing their gratitude and pride for her. regardless she couldn’t care less about the numbers, the money, all she cared about was you, her, your future together, and how it was finally possible.

[multisstuff]

My own sleeping beauty (Chrollo-Fluff)

Today is just a day where you don´t want to leave your bed, where simply getting out of bed is a horrible task, where brushing your teeth seems impossible, where the thought of eating breakfast makes you sick because you'd have to get out of bed first.

And you know you have to get up because it´s not healthy to let your depression wash all over you again and chain you to your bed to rot. But you just can't help it. You really can't. So to tune your negative thoughts off, you simply turn to the other side and shut your eyes for another dreamless nap. You already know that it´ll leave you even more exhausted than now.

After some time, you´re being woken up by your boyfriend, who is gently stroking your hair and calling your name. Lazily, you turn to your back to look at him while mentally scolding yourself for spending the whole day sleeping.

"Good morning, my dear," he chuckles. "Or should I say good evening?" You can´t help but feel guilty for doing nothing productive today. Starting to hate yourself for being like this then hating on yourself again for feeling so much hate for your own brain, which is a never ending cycle of growing hate towards you.

"Sorry, I should have made dinner for us since you´ve been working this whole week while I´ve been at home doing nothing." You slowly sit yourself up and try to rub the sleep out of your eyes, feeling ashamed. "I just don´t know what´s wrong with me. I can´t even say that I´ve rested well," you feel the tears welling in your eyes as you explain yourself to your boyfriend, "I dont know why this keeps happening to me like last week I've been doing so well but now I have this urge to isolate myself and rot away in my bed... I'm sorry."

Chrollo knows that you sometimes struggle with your mental health which worries him a lot when he's not with you. Thinking and researching of ways to help you like buying you a nice bullet journal for to-do lists or hiding little self-written poems so that when you do something like cooking you'd find it inbetween the plates. But even those are sometimes not enough.

Now that you´re sitting he lets his hand slide down to cup your cheek and says"My love, there is nothing to feel guilty about. I won´t judge you for you are only human too" He then grabs you gently by your waist and pulls you onto his lap so that he can embrace you. "Even if you were to sleep all year long I´d not leave your side," he whispers while rubbing your back. "You are like my own sleeping beauty, who only awakens with the gentle touch of true love".

His words never fail to fluster you, leaving you wondering how he can still be in love with you even though you can be such a mess sometimes. Overwhelmed by his statement, you can´t find the right words to say something back, so you just sigh and lean your head in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly he stands up with you in his arms "How does a bath together sound to you, my dear?" Without waiting for your answer he proceeds to walk to your shared bathroom and put you down on the closed toilet so that he can prepare the bath. While the tub is filling up with water, Chrollo gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead and instructs you to wait there for him.

While he was gone, you forced yourself to stand up and brush your teeth then to throw a bath ball into the now full tub. Chrollo enters the bathroom again with fresh clothes for you and him in his hand and smiles lovingly as he sees you. He puts the clothes on the washing machine and helps you out of your pajama.

After helping you into the bathtub he takes off his outfit as well and puts it with your clothes in the basket. Chrollo then sits down behind you in the bathtub while grabbing the sponge and gently cleaning your back. "My beloved, I´m so proud of you" he whispers, "Despite your own mind turning against you, you have not given up. And I admire you for that, my love," he puts the sponge away and starts washing your hair with soft and gentle motions.

"For most people, waking up with energy and self-love is a given. But not for you - you have to struggle with your own thoughts and mind everyday." He takes your jaw into his hand and slightly turns it to him so that he can give you a soft kiss on the temple, "But my dear, you are still standing strong and fighting. So I can´t help but be proud of you, my precious angel."

♡♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡♡

[simpingforblackfire]

Platonic Yandere Dick Grayson x reader x Platonic Yandere Starfire Part 5: Starfire Focused

A/N: Yo so it's been over a year I'm p sure and I plan on POSSIBLY re-writing this whole little series that have so far technically worked as one-shots I think, but here's something I wrote last year that I just never published.

Once you’ve slumped over in exhaustion and are in a humiliating heap of misery after having lost yourself to an unrelenting frustration that you had no outlet for. Then Starfire would begin to take pity on you. 

Her anger will usually quickly fade away upon seeing you so distressed so it really depends on how upset and pitiful you look that determines whether or not she’ll make you explain why you reacted as you had and then go back to the original conversation or if she’ll save that for another time.

She may sometimes leave the room in order to calm down if she’s that’s upset at you but otherwise if Dick isn’t there to reason with her that she should give you space and time to yourself before confronting you again then nobody can stop her from scooping you up into her arms and squishing you against her. 

Kori does feel bad for making you upset afterwards. She hates seeing you cry. Seeing your face scrunch up into a portrait of utter devastation aches her heart. She hates seeing you upset. She especially hates being the cause of your upset. So she’ll quickly seek your forgiveness whether you like it or not. She won’t regret her actions even if they were harsh because she believes that they were necessary. She’ll explain to you that she cares about you a lot and that she worried for you. She doesn’t want to see you upset and she doesn’t want you to be afraid of her. But she needs for you to listen to her because the world is dangerous and in order to protect you from it she needs you to trust her and listen to her. 

She’ll hold you against her while stroking your hair tenderly for a while and soon her repeated apologies will turn into a loving silence as she just sits in your room with you tucked in her lap and your head laying against her chest. She’ll only let go once she believes that you’ve calmed down enough. 

If Starfire had left any bruises on your arm then she will take it so much worse than you ever could. She won’t feel guilty for her anger but she will drop underneath the weight of guilt and shame if she sees she’s marked your skin. She knows you’re weak but in the heat of her anger she doesn’t realise how much pressure she’s applying to keep you still. She’ll put an ice pack on your bruises and insist on pampering all while feeling torn or whether or not she should give into her shame and leave you alone or if she should give into her protective instincts and embrace you. 

 Starfire will insist on ‘bonding time’ which will usually consist of sitting you on her lap in the living room so you can both cuddle under a blanket while watching films if it’s cold. If it’s too warm for that then after a non-negotiable cuddle she’ll sit you down in front of her so she can run her fingers through your hair gently. She’ll like to brush it with her fingers until it feels as close to silk as it could possibly get underneath her fingers. While that might not necessarily be possible for your hair she will be determined to make it feel soft underneath her fingers. 

She’ll fuss over you and make sure you’re constantly hydrated because she knows humans need to be hydrated constantly because of how fragile they are. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you because of her negligence. She just cares for you so much.

She hates making you upset. But it’s okay because she’ll know you’ll always forgive her.

[myfandomrealitea]

Ahh I think the second ask I sent responding to your "how are you" got eaten. I actually don't know how often that happens, but I didn't want to leave you hanging.

But! Home renovations! I have very little experience with that (as a younger teen thru my parents), so other than cost of labour I always imagined it as great fun but now I see that's a pretty dumb assumption to make, I don't think I'd enjoy having to go through all that on my own with my own finances 😬. However in my country homes are built with cinder blocks and cement and stuff. I heard most houses in USA are wooden?? I have a feeling that makes home renovations even worse and my heart goes out to you, hope recovery is treating you right after all that stress lol.

And thank you for asking! Ah, I've been doing pretty I think not-great? For a while. Mostly because I just don't understand how other people are able to live life and carry responsibilities and complete tasks and do hard work instead of procrastinating, I don't know how to put my phone down, I don't know how to force myself to put my book down when I have work to do; and sometimes I end up just running away on the deadline. Pretty infamous for it atm, wondering if I'm just not cut out for adulthood and should just spend my life under my parent's thumb, they're pretty overbearing.

Ah but life is hard you know, we get by the way we can. I also just got into Star Trek through one of their newer series and am Very Excited to be a new Spock/Kirk shipper!! Can't wait to participate in a community built by ppl so infuential to fandom!!!!

Hope you have a spectacular day, Tea<333333333 in fact, can I ask. What's your favorite ship dynamic, if you have one! I'd be happy to know and listen if you wanna talk extensively about it :D

Home renovations can be fun, its definitely not a 'it sucks always everytime' situation, but unfortunately in my case it went from 'I just need to fix this door' to 'my entire house basically needs to be gutted and re-done' and on a very tight schedule because, y'know. Christmas. Nobody wants to me playing hopscotch over exposed floorboards on the day of merriment.

The worst thing about home renovations is when there are larger jobs where you really need appropriate knowledge and experience to do and do well, and its not really something you can afford to keep re-doing to get to the point where your attempt is Good Enough. Installing flooring, for example. A lot more complicated than many people expect. Especially when you're spending $300 on floorboards and there's not really that ability to just throw another $300 at it if the first go comes out wonky. But you also can't afford the $700 professional instillation, so.

But, ultimately, the majority of the renovations were pretty easy. Stripping and re-painting wood gloss, for example, very easy to learn and very easy to do if you actually have the right materials and prepwork done.

And the end result of all this stress is, of course, I have basically a brand new house for Christmas! Nice new flooring, super smooth walls, shiny new gloss everywhere, ect ect. And devil permitting, I won't need to do any of that again for at least another 5+ years.

Onto you, though, my first advice (assuming you're open to it) would be to first address any possible medical causes for feeling overwhelmed, exhausted and extremely de-motivated. Poor diet, poor quality of sleep, stress, deficiencies, dehydration and many other causes can result in these symptoms or outcomes. Its definitely not a catch all, but addressing the big MC (medical causes) is always beneficial as a first step.

But, those aside, that's actually a pretty normal way to feel when things are getting Too Much. Its not really normal as a permanent state of existence, but trust me when I say that pretty much everyone will go through periods like this. Life has a habit of stacking up and stacking up, and I like to explain it in terms of weight. At a certain point, you start to struggle with carrying it. And beyond that point, it becomes crushing and impossible to move or breathe.

There are a lot of different ways you can work through this and combat it, and its going to be extremely unhelpful of me, but ultimately its something you personally have to trial-and-error to see what works for you.

There is no 'right' blanket way to do something or function as an adult. There are simply ways that work for you and ways that do not work. And while its ultimately true that now and then we have to do things we don't want to, or complete tasks in ways we don't like, we do not actually have to fully live that way if its not something that is over-all conducive and beneficial.

For example; if you like to listen to music while you work but often find you get distracted by 'going to change a song' on your phone and then finding yourself 'just checking Tumblr quickly' or 'just answering this massage' and then two hours later you're still on your phone, buy a cheap solo music player like an old MP3 or an older iPod which physically doesn't have all those distracting other features. Leave your phone in another room and just listen to music on that device.

If you're putting off calling the doctor or dentist to make an appointment because you don't really know what to say, write a script. There are even pre-written script templates available online for calling for the doctor, dentist, a job interview, ect. Rehearse it a few times. Think about what questions they may be likely to ask you and pre-prepare your answers.

Maybe you're someone who does things in a staggered process, or someone who would benefit from just chunking out a day or a few hours to getting things done. Personally, I'm the sort of person who swings between them depending on what all needs to be done and what my motivation is like in the moment. Some days I'm like an animal weaponised with disinfectant and laundry pods and the next I'm putting away half my laundry and getting the dishes done and then falling asleep at 4pm like I'm actually 90 years of age and retired.

Having motivation only for things we find pleasing or enjoyable is not uncommon, but it can also be a sign of burnout. You may need to take some time to just have a break and 'de-adult' or you may need to find ways to incorporate and balance personal enjoyment and personal obligations.

For example if you enjoy reading, you might want to try audiobooks while you clean or work. I personally don't use audiobooks because I'm a very fast reader and I often quickly get frustrated with how long some of them take just to go through one page, but audiobooks work well for a lot of people, especially people who enjoy reading but may not have the time or ability to sit down with a book itself.

Structured plans and lists might work better for you than just winging it as you go. For example; you could write out a table of all the things you need to do and order them in terms of urgency and/or effort.

Putting the dishes away is generally a low effort, low urgency task. Whereas something like a work deadline could be a high urgency, moderate-high effort task.

All in all, unfortunately, other than offering suggestions and examples like above and attempting to help you understand any contributing possible causes to your de-motivation, support and encouragement are really the only other things I can offer.

Adulting can suck, but there's definitely ways to make it suck a little less. A lot of people don't even recognise when they're in a slump, so honestly, you're doing great already. You're a step ahead of a lot of people.

As for a favorite ship dynamic, I do love 'psychotic feral dog and controller.' Its a pretty 'out there' dynamic which not a lot of media really explores in a lasting or overt way aside from being a by-produce of 'villain x other' dynamics, but god. I just love feral people. Give me a raging little psychopath who'd stab someone over the last slice of toast and the person who points and says 'kill.'

I also love amplifying the feral aspect of characters who aren't canon psychopaths/similar. Billy Hargrove, for example, and Kai from Fermat's Cuisine. Its just such a fun, spicy dynamic to play with. I've actually recently got into Black Butler and shipping Sebaciel, although at the moment in full transparency I'm struggling with a lot of the recent fics for it not really being appealing to me, or being written in ways I don't enjoy.

Spock and Kirk is a fun ship, though, and probably one of the ships where there's a relentless and infinite amount of content, so 10/10 choice I'm excited for you to start diving into it! Lots of fanart and fics and fun meta to explore.

[flipping-the-coin]

[Patient Report: OP-7845-91653]

[Authorization Requirement: Alpha]

[Document Status: Sensitive - 94% preserved]

[Listed Authorized Individuals: Primal Steward Ratchet]

[Overseeing Medical Personnel: - Primary Physician: CMO Ratchet - Secondary Assistant: First Aid]

[Session: #004]

═════════════════

Orion was a decent enough patient this session. No serious deviations from what I’ve recorded. Through medication he has begun to return to awareness without any serious side effects. He’s still very unstable, but he is improving bit by bit. He hit me with his field again when I got too close, but that is to be expected. He's still very sensitive to anything and everything. 

Megatron loomed over me as usual. He tried incredibly hard to get a rise out of me, but unfortunately for him, I was wise enough to take a low dose of sedatives before arriving. They kept me calm at the cost of awareness. I worked in a daze, but it wasn’t as if I needed to be on my best behavior when Orion was too unsettled to even let me closer than a foot away without Megatron holding him. Orion may need to be issued ration tickets for the time being. He’s too thin and Megatron is exhausted caring for him. To my knowledge, Orion should have a sizable inheritance. As soon as he is aware enough to come and claim it, I will give it to him and he won’t need to live the way he does.

It is the least I can do. He’s entitled to his inheritance, and with Alpha Trion currently MIA, there is no point leaving a bunch of shanix and assets to rot in a vault. The banks are nearly open again. I might be able to pull some strings and give Orion access prior to his registry as a citizen, but I can’t get Megatron access when their conjunxing is unconfirmed. Slagging policies. I’m sure Megatron blames me for a lot of the issues we are dealing with globally. Primus, I wish I could show him just how chaotic things are. No matter how hard I try, files fly under my radar and sneak past the correct authorities and worm their way into legalization. I’m just one mech. I can’t do everything.

Sometimes I detest the fact that Optimus left this role for me in his will. But I know he wasn’t in his right mind at the time. It wasn’t like he trusted many of us anyway. 

Orion muttered strange things. Lots of pleas to be released and all sorts of nonsense about Bumblebee being ‘their’ sparkling. I don’t give a frag about a lot of it. The arrogance is startling. Still, I got some information from him through a few pointed questions. Megatron almost punched me for it, but I asked about Optimus again. I got a scrambled answer and a field attack in response.

I don’t have all the pieces to this puzzle, but I am beginning to put things together. I know that Orion and Optimus shared a frame throughout the war due to the Matrix. I know that the Matrix seemed to have… made Optimus. I have no clue what process allowed that to happen, but that’s what I’ve gathered. Orion was locked within the Matrix throughout Optimus’s functioning, which explains why he is the way he is. They appeared to have been able to communicate, but based on what Orion has muttered, there was a severe miscommunication issue or Orion is delusional.

The way he talks about Optimus… you would think my Prime was murdering sparklings in their cradles. War did lead him to have to make some tough calls, but everyone suffered during the conflict. Orion isn’t special in that regard. The Primus forsaken slagger really seems willing to die on the hill of Optimus being the worst thing since the Quints. 

Frag him.

I gave Orion a new dose of sedatives and left before I could get hit again. Orion Pax makes me angry. Far more than I care to admit. He was my friend. My closest companion before the war. But… I didn’t choose for it to be that way. Maybe my old fears are re-emerging. Having Optimus around made it impossible for me to think about my past. The circumstances of mine and Orion’s association were irrelevant. I didn’t want to be there and I would have been punished if Orion deviated, but I like to think we took comfort in one another.

Then he just had to fall for that mongrel Gladiator. I really shouldn’t have helped by giving him the train ticket to Kaon, but he was just so very broken. He had something he finally loved and I didn’t have the spark to deny him. I was trapped in the constraints of my deal, but he could enjoy himself a bit if I covered for him. 

So many vorns later… that decision still haunts me. I should have stopped him. I should have refused to let him go to Kaon. My biggest fear at the time was that Alph- my sponsor, was going to kill me. Who could have imagined that the end of our entire civilization would have come about instead. I was worried about vanishing mysteriously when I should have really been paying more attention. I don’t like to think about all the times I considered going to Alpha Trion. It brings back bad memories. The war made it all seem so small.

Slag, I honestly believed I was trying to court my best friend. 

I still haven’t processed that fact. How am I supposed to process that? I firmly believed that Optimus was just Orion given a new form. I thought I knew him. But now that I am Orion’s doctor and now that Optimus is gone-

I don’t think I knew either of them.

It doesn't matter anymore. I’m old and memories are difficult for me at times. I don’t want to think about any of it. I have more important things to do. I can’t allow myself to lose control. I can’t be angry with Orion. I need to stay composed. Once I put the pieces of this messed up story together, then I can decide how best to act. I don’t have enough information.

Patience. That was Optimus’s best trait. I just need to emulate him.

So long as I am patient, I will get through this. I can get the frag out of being Orion’s doctor as soon as the clinics are operational. I can get away from all of this. These slagging memories that I don’t want to recall.

═════════════════

[Assistant First Aid Report:

Everything was delivered without issue! I managed to come inside and clean up a little bit for Mr. Pax, which was nice. I got everything all picked up and I even managed to give Mr. Megatron a care package without seeming rude. At least, I hope it wasn’t rude. 

However I think there is something that should come to your attention, Doctor. I think your pill dosage was a little high this time. I know mistakes happen so please don’t take offense! I was just looking at the pill case and noted a few too many in there to be healthy. I don’t think it would have killed Mr. Pax thankfully. But it would have been very painful for him. Luckily for all of us, I removed the excess pills before anything could go wrong.

I just thought you would like to know. You have some serious jitters sometimes, so if you would like, I can count out pills when you need it, Doctor.]

[matan4il]

Hello Alice,

it’s miya again :) I hope all has been well with you. I really loved your meta this week & it made me realize the reason I appreciate your analysis so much. You write about buddie but you write about them as buck AND eddie and not like they are one combined single unit. buck and eddie are their own people with different personalities and i think people forget that sometimes when it comes to talking about them together.

I love how the focus of your analysis was eddie and his clear childhood/adolescent trauma dealing with traditional parents who believe in only one way of doing things. I feel like people kinda missed that when talking about eddie & his performing. i know people interpreted the performing line as literal but it’s much deeper than that and you pointed that out very well. it all goes to show you we look at things through so many different lens but i love your focus point so much. you honestly make me want to get better at my own writing and analysis for this two lovers.

I wanted to ask you though on your thoughts about buck downplaying his brush with death. He never has explicitly said out loud “i died” & I do think that moments coming soon. I just found it interesting that everyone keeps reiterating that to him & i wonder if he’ll snap the next time someone says it. Buck has not processed or accepted that his trauma happened. him referring to him literally dying as “an accident on the job” breaks my heart cause you can tell he wants people to stop making a big deal of it, despite it being very serious. he is suppressing his trauma which i understand as someone with ptsd. anyways sorry for my rambling. buck is my favorite & character i connect to the most so i tend to babble a lot lol. hope you have a lovely rest of your day/evening/night whenever you see this ❤️

Miya, you darling! :D I'm always so happy to hear from you! I've had a very challenging week (which is not yet over... when you read this, I'll probably be recovering from another double shift), but the feedback on everything that I was most stressing out about has been amazing, so I'm exhausted, but very satisfied! How are you? Well, I hope!

Awww! Yes, that's exactly it! I think I even explained it in one of my earlier weekly meta posts, that I'll be writing about Buck, Eddie AND BuckandEddie. So I'm glad that's something you not only noticed, but also enjoy! ^u^ Thank you SO MUCH for the kind words! And I'm particularly please to learned you liked my POV on Eddie in my 614 meta. I know I've spoken to a very perceptive friend of mine back when... I think it was still s3 airing? Or possibly start of season 4, and despite how smart and insightful she is, she had missed the bit about Eddie's conversation with Bobby back in 217. So yeah, I think a lot of people might have? We all miss something, since 911 serves us with so much goodness. And I'm glad if in this case, this is something I can add to the table.

I fully agree with you, Buck is not really coping with what happened, given the fact that he's not yet said it out loud, and other characters have to remind him of it repeatedly. I also wondered this week if his PT scores being low is also a reflection of him still struggling with the lightning strike and how to recover from it. Because remember in 301, when he was coming back from the fire truck crushing his leg? He still aced his re-qualification exam. Even after he also suffered a pulmonary embolism during that very same period of time AND survived (and rescued others during) a tsunami, we never got any indication that his physical ability to bounce back had been diminished. So that suddenly changing? It could be a sign of the gravity of the matter, and how this is different, and Buck has to wrap his head around it, but because he hasn't yet, his full recovery is also stalling. I don't wanna get too much into spoilers, but based on the little that we do know about the finale, I feel like if this isn't addressed before the end of the season, then it should be in its very last ep. The themes seem like they would easily lend themselves to it, in any case. I hope that's what happens! If it also leads to some breakthrough with Eddie, one of them finally, finally ADMITTING what the other one means to them, I would be ecstatic, but I would absolutely take the win if we simply see Buck starting to actually face the trauma he had just been through.

Thank you again for your wonderful ask! I hope you're having a great day. As always, my ask tag. xoxox

[lilacastar]

KDA 19: Meantime

"When you became different," 5K began.

His breath paused, holding the smoke in longer than he would have normally.

"I knew something- I..."

Kalrick waited patiently, not rushing the stumbling words. 5K looked down, away from where his dark eyes stared.

"Do you remember Allison?"

"Your sister, yeah." She'd graduated before all of them, so his memory wasn't especially clear. But he seemed to remember her dropping by every once in a while.

"Yeah, she died."

"Oh." He re-situated the red cup in his hands, but it didn't help with any tension. "I'm so sorry. This probably isn't your first time telling me."

"It is actually. It happened when you started getting really busy, and those symbols got inked on you." He nodded at Kalrick's wrists. "You were really distracted and not around often. Didn't really have the time or emotional energy to bother you."

"I wish I could have been there for you, though."

"It is what it is." He shrugged. "But you know me. I've always had... Substance ish- issues. Allison had a blood clot we didn't know about. She hit her head and killed her pretty much instantly, nothing we could do about it."

"But you can control what goes in your body." Kalrick could already feel where it was going.

"Yeah," He nodded. "I've had addiction issues since- fuck, I don't even know how long. I started using in middle school but it didn't become a problem till later. I felt in control of the coke, acid, ecstasy. I guess her dying was all it took for it to- to go out of control. I picked up heroin."

Kalrick couldn't make eye contact with him any longer. If he had been there, been present... But he wasn't. He could've helped pick him back up. No one was there to care for him.

"I blew all my money but even that didn't stop me."

"What did?" He gestured back at him. "I mean, you're ok and still here."

"I died, Kalrick. I overdosed, and it flat lined me for over 5 minutes."

He couldn't tell if it was the smoke or the weight of 5Ks words that made his head dizzy. If he had just been there, but he wasn't.

"My brain got derived- deprived of oxygen and gave me anoxic brain injury. The dose that kicked me was laced with fentanyl, and I have permeant brain damage. Mostly just gives me tremors and concentration problems. Sometimes I lose my words."

"Damn, I don't know what to say. I've sort of jumped back in and made everything about me. If I can help at all just tell me what."

He shook his head. "You don't need to do anything, promise. Just time will help. They say you can recover for years now, when they used to think it was in the first 6 months."

"Man, but I feel like if I was around I could have gotten you help sooner."

"Don't say that, I did some disappointing things to get better. You're the one who deserved better, cause I'm the one who got help in the end. I got rehab, and you got taken advantage of"

"Then lets not think about it. We're here after all, might as well be present now."

"I can second that."

The door knocked, disrupting their conversation.

"Come on in!" 5K shouted.

Randle entered, shuffling through to where they sat.

"Smells like a hotbox in here," He coughed. "Kalrick, how did you even get here?"

"Teleported." Kalrick nodded.

"Then why can't you teleport to wherever it is you need me to take you?"

"Cause it's exhausting and thought it'd be a great bonding experience. I also can't go places alone and don't ask me to explain but only certain places are teleport-able."

"Is this what you do all day?" He gestured to 5K. "I don't think I've ever seen you go to work, which is where I just came from."

"I'm on disability, not that it's any of your business." 5K rolled his eyes.

"You're right, it's not my business. I'm just tired."

"You don't have to help if you're tired," Kalrick said. "I just thought we all were in this now. And I don't know, it feels good to hang out again. We used to research this type of stuff all the time."

"We did," Randle gazed reminiscently. "I haven't picked that stuff up in a long time though."

"There's nothing you practice? Or I don't know, work with or research?"

"Not really. Kal, I like astrology. Like, reading my horoscope or getting my palm read. Demons, spells, tarot- I liked doing that with you specifically."

"Oh."

Kalrick found himself unable to fathom this information. It seemed like that stuff was all they did together. It always seemed like Randle was having a good time and enjoying himself.

"Well," Randle crossed his arms, looking down at them. "Are we going to follow your lead or keep smoking weed on the couch?"

"I could smoke some more." 5K remarked.

"Let's get started," Kalrick gathered his bag.

"Where did you have in mind?" Randle asked.

"Honestly, I don't know which tattoo place I hit up. I was just going to go to all the nearest ones until I found the one someone named Valery works at."

"Why not just call them and ask?"

"Oh. Uh, I guess I didn't think of that."

"I guess you still have use for me after all."

"I've always had use for you. I like being around you."

He turned to the door. "Let's just get going."

But Kalrick could've sworn he saw the edge of a smile.

[sugarcoatedcherry]

void state progress and success!!!

I'm updating every day privately (now public) hehe

(scroll down and read pink highlighted paragraph for success story I had started attempting void much earlier than this)

day 1: tried but eventually fell asleep

day 2. did an extensive reasearch, like all day, read ton of success stories, got insane inspiration. believed void was real and manifestations are instant. I tried and got into hypnagogic state. but fell asleep

day 3: re read all the success stories again and again whole day and became more confident, I made mental notes on common symptoms I'd have, affirmed little. all night I played subliminals, binaural beats etc but got tired and fell asleep

day 4: still motivated, angry but persisting, I am affirming, made more mental notes on how I should go about void, did more reasearch on Hinduism interpretation on void, read about void on reddit, YouTube, explore astral projection and sleep paralysis video's comment section (they had similar symptoms just like void) became even more confident with void, tried methods but eventually i got exhausted and fell asleep

day 5: MADE MY OWN RULES. YES, no notes or anything, it's my way baby, it'll go how I want it to go, when I want it go. no more sending asks to bloggers, no more doubting, no more worrying the process. Just believing it will happen. not worrying about the circumstances. I'm very confident that today IS THE DAY 💅

day 6: I couldn't enter, i slept lmao

day 7: I got to the vibrational stage but my thoughts were distractibg and I slept

day 8: I learnt about sleep paralysis and tried that

day 9: last night didn't work, but I'll persist

day 10: i just slept, void is messing with my sleep schedule

day 11: spend A LOT OF TIME researching about void in Hinduism and got a lot of confidence but didn't enter

day 12: AGAIN SPENT A LOT OF TIME RESEARCHING about void in Hinduism but didn't make it

day 13: I'm getting closer to something very important and I need to enter void on a time crunch. I cried

day 14: everything is exhausting, but I still tried entering void but rolled over anf slept

day 15: i drank coffee to stay awake and I'm doing the meditation sitting up so that I don't roll over and fall asleep

(UGHHHHHHHHHH GOD )

day 16: I found a subliminal that made my body vibrate within first 2 minutes of listening?? and I looped it overnight but fell asleep sometime while listening but I'm still hopeful.

day 17: stupid exams

day 18: studied for my next stupid exams

day 19: I am so tired I didn't attempt I wanted to sleep peacefully

day 20: Literally my entire life is on hold because I am trying to get into void, I do realise this is unhealthy but at the same time I am so much confident that I can do it? I don't know how to explain this confidence but I know I will enter the void.

day 21: more exams and didn't attempt

day 22:

I DID IT GUYS I DID IT OMGGG THIS FEELS SO GOOD OH GOD JDKEODJDJDN I LOVE THIS FOR ME I FEEL UNSTOPPABLE I CHANGED MY ENTIRE LIFE THIS IS SO BIG TO ME Y'ALL DON'T HAVE A CLUE AHHHHH. I'M GONNA CRY. I HAVE EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED JSBSJDKDODKSNSN

quick thanks to all loass bloggers on Tumblr and Sammy Ingram (she shitted about void but it's okay lmao is her limiting belief but I'm thanking her for introducing the law to me) my fav bloggers are @rosellesworkshop @fleurlx @blushydior @stargirl-kira @multiversebaddie @zen-shu @prettymindset111 @luvforend @sa777urn @aphroditeapprenticee @gorgeouslypink @littlemissprettyprincess @sirensplayhouse thanks for answering my asks.

ANDDD all the anons who posted void success stories and thanks to @voidsuccess for compiling them!!! (i used to obsessively surf her blog day and night until day 10 lmaoo)

[pastelpendant]

The Long Overdue Update

Hello again everyone! I hope you guys still remember who I am at least a little bit

In case it’s difficult to recall, I received some pretty distasteful messages from a blog that blatantly ignored my pinned post and all of my limits to try and push their fantasies onto me. When I didn’t accept that, they decided to attack me with further gross imagery and accusations, and all of those words greatly affected my mental state.

I was already in a pretty...Fragile spot, with this account. Being Pen used to bring me a lot of joy, but there are also many times where I was exhausted by how people would approach me and treat me, whether we had a long-term dynamic or it was someone looking to become part of the Garden.

I’ve had to answer the same things over and over again, despite making an FAQ answering those questions. I’ve had to re-explain my personal processes and views an exhausting amount. I’ve had my limits pushed even by my more regular playmates, and I’m admittedly quite a people pleaser even as a Dominant so I unfortunately would choose to either go along with it or avoid things altogether.

When those asks came into my inbox, it was the lighter to my already shortened fuse. I basically exploded with stress and had to pull away from it all.

I’ve always seen this tumblr account as a reprieve from the stressors of my real life. I don’t have a lot of autonomy or control, so I seek it out here. But when even this place becomes a source of stress, I start to run out of outlets pretty quickly.

So...I chose to just leave, instead. It was better than being here. Anytime I would check the dash, I’d get this pit in my stomach and feel completely overwhelmed. I’d have to close it after reading maybe 4-5 posts. I’m not enjoying it like I used to.

Where does this leave us? That’s a really good question.

I’ve been thinking about it because I would feel bad going into the ether without saying anything. I feel like I should either close my askbox or my DMs, and if I choose to close neither then I will probably be much more strict with who I interact with and when, as well as locking certain kinds of interaction behind a paywall.

I’m very tired. I still have a lot of thinking to do, I wish I could’ve had a more concrete update. But sometimes you just can’t have all the answers on hand.

TL;DR: Activity will be greatly limited as I rediscover my personal wants and limits within this space, including but not limited to introducing paid content.

[the-ghost-king]

I feel like Will during the battle of BoO was so OOC for no discernable reason other than Rick having an "oh shit I've just realized how traumatized Nico should be and it's not appropriate for the audience the books are marketed to" moment...

Nothing that happens in the whole "oh look Nico is overreacting" conversation(s) lines up with anything seen expressed in the books previously about Nico, and it doesn't line up with the behaviors we'd previously seen Will showcase and it barely lines up with the behaviors we see Will or Nico exhibit later on?

There's the scene where he doesn't tell Nico information to try to keep him safe but they have a healthy disagreement about it and Will does admit and acknowledge he was wrong once Nico reassurts boundaries so to me it's less "Will's an ableist asshole" and more "he's a traumatized kid with limited exposure to relationships"

People point out he told Apollo about Nico's mental health as well but 1) We don't know what Nico has placed boundaries on in terms of comfortability 2) the moment exists as foreshadowing and a plot device and 3) even if it's against Nico's wishes than is it not again just "silly kid with limited exposure to relationships fucks up" that could be corrected with some healthy communication

Which isn't like "this is okay behavior" but it's also "this is forgiveable behavior" (at least to me) to me it's just ignorance which is not the same as mal-intent... knowing something is bad and doing it anyways vs not knowing something is bad and doing it

We also (imo) need to have a conversation about whether or not it's "correct" to read Nico as having a physical disability, and I don't mean this in terms of morality but in terms of how people internalized the text because I've read it differently at different points in my life.

I've definitely read Nico's exhaustion and experiences with his powers as being a result of his powers, but I've also read Nico as being already overly exhausted and then his powers amplifying this. Which I know I've just communicated that so horribly so let me try to re-explain, some people are reading Nico as "he doesn't know his own limits and pushes himself too far" rather than "his limits are smaller/less than other characters" and others are reading it opposite. I think an important conversation the fandom needs to have is that these ideas can coexist.

At the same time even the people who are reading Nico as "he pushes himself too far" and not as "Nico has a lower tolerance for these things" should be listening to disabled people and their thoughts, because even though they've interpreted the text a different way they can still be ableist even if they're not interpreting Nico as physically disabled. I think personally that it's a good thing if such different interpretations of the text could coexist healthily alongside one another.

Could you argue I'm cherry picking a character for certain traits? And I mean yeah sure but isn't that what tons of content in fanon is? And I'd hardly be the first person to make a biased argument, but if you compare what Will is like before that one BoO scene the scene reads like such an outlier and the scene absolutely seems like "oh shit I've hurt Nico too badly I can't let kids see how bad it was" so it feels less like the Will we've seen previously and a lot more like Riordan trying to pull the cover over readers eyes and using Will as a vessel to do that.

And look I get why other disabled people and allies keep pointing to that scene and how awful it is, like yeah I've been in situations where I've had to deal with all kinds of shit like that and yeah sometimes (often) it does happen from people you're close to/caretakers/etc and like it fucking sucks to say the least.

And tbh, yeah it can be abusive especially when there's a power inbalance (and here's the important conversation about "Will is Nico's doctor and this is a problem" goes) but I do also think it's important to note that Will is not Nico's sole provider or caretaker, Nico is passed off to Dionysus for mental health care. In canonical text we've never actually seen or heard anything about Will being Nico's doctor outside of "emergencies" and look I love Gatorade as much as the next physically disabled person but "giving person who's body is fighting them Gatorade/KitKat/Gum" is not much different than "giving someone who is sick soup" there's the distinct difference in what, why, and how often, but the general intention behind the action is the same.

Yes, we don't know what happened during the 3 days in the infirmary, we might not ever know, or maybe we will learn during the next book but for now we can only speculate and headcanon and that makes everything fanon (is there an issue with the weird romanticization that goes on in a lot of the 3 days fics? Yes.)

I'll be honest and say I don't really know how to close everything I'm saying up and I don't personally have all the answers and I won't pretend to.

I think there's no denying that Nico is neurodivergent (and that fandom treats this horribly), but I think how someone reads the text can really determine if someone reads Nico as physically disabled or not and I don't think either one is inherently more correct and I've had both beliefs at one time or another and even stepping back now to look at the text I'm not entirely sure I could select a "correct" answer.

Even if someone doesn't read or interpret Nico to be physically disabled they should still listen to disabled people about how to best represent him when it comes to his health. Personally I don't think Will is intentionally ableist and I think it comes from his own trauma and I said before this doesn't okay anything he's done but to me it's forgiveable/he's a narrative device/etc but other disabled people are allowed to have their own opinions.

For now I'll say we have (imo- as someone who is nd and physically disabled) a situation in which Nico is both physically disabled and physically able bodied, equally. The text holds both interpretations equally and doesn't confirm anything, so at the same time either belief is both canon and fanon in equal parts.

I think the nuance of this issue + the nuance of the issue in regards to the homophobia and commodification Solangelo faces as a ship makes it a complicated topic to discuss and really encapsulate fully into a single cohesive thought.

(Also I'm going to get shit for this last bit especially, but in addition to being subject to homophobia Nico is also subject again and again to femmephobia and it's not even me agenda pushing)

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Vanilla Chain 1

Prompt: Ghost remembers each time they died and that’s how they’ve progressed through challenges most bugs wouldn’t even dream achieving. However, no one else seems to remember and instead they wonder why Ghost reacts badly to simple casual touches.

By @ink-of-void

A dull drone of rain pattered down across the cool stone below. The rain had only served as a buffer to the dull, passive steps of the bugs in the city, or the ever so gentle wing beats in the distance. Occasional creaks and groans would whine from the structures of the city, begging for maintenance or to finally be allowed rest. Each sound, each moment only served to further cement itself in the cacophony of white noise. A symphony of empty sound that echoed into the city's ambience.

It had been hours since the Ghost had stopped in front of the statue. Its small head tilted upwards to face that of the stone, carved to the likeness of its sibling. The inscription below spoke of sacrifice. An Eternal sacrifice. It was almost ironic. How the one forced to suffer was put on display at the apex of the ‘City of Tears’.

Memories began to rise, welling up and bubbling in its shell. They could remember their sibling screaming. How the sound of their cries echoed on deaf ears, or that easing their pain meant rending their own flesh in a desperate attempt to stop the torture. It was a waking nightmare.

They had failed their sibling. Try as they might, time and again, they could not bring it upon themselves to strike that final blow. The cries of the ‘Hollow Knight’ screeching into the black egg as they faded away from consciousness for the umpteenth time. A pang of discomfort manifested in their shell.

Slowly Ghost’s mind went from just their sibling to all the other bugs. Each one of those who slaughtered Ghost without mercy, killed with reckless abandon, or just proved to best them in combat. They were the ones it had defeated in the past. Bugs that had caused them to relive the same ritual of failure repeatedly before finally earning that place of victory. Every misstep, every badly timed jump, every poorly executed attack, It all ended in the same punishment over and over. 
CRaCK.

The pain was almost palpable just thinking about it.

It felt just as new as the first time they were ever defeated. A cold sting of its shell cracking, body being torn limb from limb, crumbling beneath them like old stone. Void spilling from its head and pooling into a free floating shape among those lost to the sickness or those who simply proved superior. Though, the empty feeling of losing its corporeal flesh paled in comparison to what came next.

It was like floating up into an entropy of empty space and confusion. The dark land was void of any life or warmth, disorienting all that passed into its wake. Yet every time, it would be waiting to welcome the vessel back again and again into its crushing, desolate embrace. It felt itself being split in two, one being given back to the world, while the other was forced to remain in limbo until it was saved. But it wouldn't matter, as they would re-awaken only moments later, sitting patiently on a bench back where they started.

The overwhelming sense of exhaustion and dissonance took a toll each time they came back. Missing half of their being and having to fight themselves just so they can regain the broken piece back. All the while, no one else seems to take notice, or even remember what had happened prior. Hundreds of failures, hundreds of deaths, and Ghost could never seem to get used to it. It truly was a burden, one that Ghost often sought refuge from by simply resting a while longer at the bench.

It was a dance with death that always ended in what could be considered a ‘mercy’. The lack of claim to its shade, allowed them yet another chance. But perhaps mercy wasn't the right term. Having to battle your own face, a fragment of your own being… it hardly seemed kind, or fair. Even after returning the shade to its rightful place, the fight wasn’t over. Most of the time, it was only just beginning. There would be no rest. There was never any rest.

However to the spider in red, this tiny bug formed of the void and pale, felt nothing as it cut down everything from vermin to gods. Acting as if death was simply part of a long list of chores, they made it seem effortless. So when she first responded to Lemm’s call, she would be lying if she didn't find it the slightest bit odd that Ghost was simply standing idle. She reached out to them, barely grazing their back with her fingers. “Ghost?-”


Without another moment passing, the vessel whipped around, nail in hand. The slash was quick, the sharp song of the blade ripping through the air as Ghost’s reaction went into motion. Time seemed to slow for a moment, its blind attack not revealing the consequence of its actions before it was far too late. Ghosts cloak finally revealed the bug into its immediate view. Upon seeing the figure, their body tensed, hanging onto the blade with an iron grip. 


Hornet didn’t even realize what happened until she glanced down at her arm. Seeing the deep blue blood dripping from the new slice in her shell was telling enough. It was nothing more than a surface wound if she was honest. Easily fixed with time and bandages. But that wasn’t her concern at the moment. Letting her hand close, she looked over to Ghost with a worried expression.

The vessel stood ready, both hands on its nail as it simply held the weapon in place. A tiny shake was visible at the end of the nail it was brandishing. Their face held no expression, yet its body told Hornet all she needed to know.

“Little Ghost?” She asked quietly, holding up her hands to show she wasn't a threat. “Are you… alright? Lemm asked me to come check on you. He says you’ve been here for hours now.”


Ghost paused for a moment, clicking its head towards Hornet. Realization struck them, causing them to slowly lower their weapon. Their gaze fell to the floor as the nail hit the stone sidewalk with a light clink. Their blade’s shimmering reflection bounced back to the vessel's sockets. Part of it was stained with the blood of their sister, obscuring some of the brilliant reflection. The water occasionally dripped down and cut the image in two, washing away the blood as it did.

Hornet sighed, going over to them and gently knelt down.

“Is something the matter, little Ghost?” the spider chimed softly, going over to touch their shoulder. Ghost recoiled, pulling their shoulder away in a rather aggressive manner. Their head didnt lift, turning instead to focus on their path. They put their nail on their back and began their leave. The spider stood up after a moment, bowing her head with a little shake as Ghost began to disappear


“Even you need to rest sometimes, little one. Please I’m, try to get some.”

-------------------------------

By https://twitter.com/Hell_Yena

-------------------------------

By @nonbinary-ghost​

Rain patters down against your shell like thousands of tiny, icy stones. The drum of it inside your mask and the prickling of it against your small body would normally be unpleasant enough as to be overwhelming; but lost as you are in your thoughts and the twisting waves of emotion trying to drown you, the rain is scarcely enough to ground you. You feel disconnected and distant, as if you aren’t really in control of your body, merely being carried along by the steady movement of your legs.

You gradually realize that you have been wandering like this for a while now. How long, you can scarcely guess, but long enough that your cloak is soaked through, and any scrap of warmth has left you. Dirtmouth had been celebrating the first twelve span of being free of the Infection, and while you had been just as happy as the next bug about the recovery of the town, the celebration had filled you with a nameless, twisting dread. And then all the lights and the sounds and the smells and the touching had left you reeling and sick. So you ran.

It could have been hours since then. You have no way of knowing. You don’t quite remember deciding to come to the City of Tears either. You just let your thoughts blur into a black haze, pointed your mask to the ground, and let your feet carry you wherever they wanted to go. You hadn’t expected to find yourself standing before the statue of your sibling. You simply realized that you were staring blankly at the inscription along the statue’s base.

“Through its sacrifice, Hallownest lasts eternal.” Something hot and prickly bubbles up inside of you at the words, making your shell itch and crawl like when you fall in acid. Hornet had once explained the feeling as anger. Why are you angry? You puzzle over it for a moment, resisting your initial urge to strike at the plaque with your nail and scratch out the offending inscription. Instead, you read over it again, feeling the anger boil deep in your belly.

Sacrifice. That’s the part that makes you angry. Sacrifice implies choice. Hollow had no choice in sealing the Radiance. You hadn’t had any choice. None of your siblings had any agency over anything that happened to them. No, none of you were giver the choice to make sacrifices – you were the sacrifice. And for what? Hallownest still fell. So many bugs died, so many cultures were consumed by the plague and lost to dust and rot. All of your siblings, but Hollow and Hornet especially, still suffered and struggled. Yes, you had eventually killed the Radiance, but that hadn’t been part of the Pale King’s plan. He didn’t even know about Godseeker, didn’t even consider that there might be another way that didn’t involve condemning his child to an eternity of suffering. No, your “Father” had expected all of you to “sacrifice” yourselves to the seals and suffer in silent mystery to keep the Radiance contained. How dare he imply any level of choice in what happened to your siblings.

“Ghost?”

The soft question yanks you painfully from your thoughts and you feel as if you slam back into yourself. You are suddenly very aware of the rain hitting your mask, of your hands clenched into fists.

Of the dark shadows that had begun to flicker like flames around you receiving back into you. You spin to find Hornet standing on one of the nearby signposts, her red cloak so damp it nearly looked brown and her needle poised as if prepared to zip away at any moment.

“Are you alright?” Her stance relaxes somewhat as the shadows fade. You don’t know how to answer, so you simply turn away. You look up at your sibling’s likeness looming over you, proud, regal, poised. Not at all like the desperate, brutal Pure Vessel you were forced to fight in Godseeker’s Pantheons. Not at all like the sick and injured bug that you freed from the black egg temple after killing the Radiance.

“Do you need to be alone?”

You shrug. The happiness and celebration in Dirtmouth had been overwhelming, and you had wanted to be alone then. But now, a part of you mutters discontentedly. You’re lonely, and maybe Hornet of all people could understand these feelings. She was the only one besides Hollow who might. “I’m angry,” you sign, pointing at yourself and making a sharp gesture with both hands. Hornet has slowly been teaching you and Hollow the sign language used in the Hive, but none of you are all that good with it yet. It often requires body language and facial expressions for certain distinctions between similar signs – a difficult feat to accomplish when your face is a mask. Hornet follows your gaze and hops down to join you.

“About the statue?”

You point to the inscription.

“We didn’t have a choice,” you sign furiously. “We failed. And now what’s left?”

You stop, a dawning realization creeping through you. That was why you’re angry. Why you’re discontent even though by all accounts you had succeeded. You defeated the Radiance, ended the Infection, freed your sibling, and even survived channeling the Void Entity. You are free to do whatever you want now, but you slowly realize that this new freedom is what has you feeling so distant. You and your siblings were all created with a purpose, and now, with that purpose gone, you have nothing left. You have no other skills but fighting. No passions, no home, no culture to rebuild. You and Hollow are free, but now what is left for you? Your Father had sacrificed your futures, not just your lives, and now you are feeling lost and separate from the bugs around you. They had all suffered through the plague, lost loved ones and homes. But they had passions and dreams to guide them and give them hope. You only have nightmares that keep dragging you into the past, making it impossible to look forward to the future.

“Who am I supposed to be, now?” you finish limply. The anger is gone, replaced with a choking sorrow. Your breathing feels thick and heavy. Hornet holds out a hand, hesitating before touching you to make it an offer, and you lean into it, letting her hand rest lightly between your shoulders.

“What the Pale King did, what he demanded of all of us, was unjust,” she said at last, an ember of her own rage warming her words. “There is nothing that can change that. You and Hollow and all the others deserved so much more. But Ghost,” she kneels so she can look into your mask with such honest ferocity that your breath hitches in your chest. “You are so much more than what our Father made you. You are not just a weapon or a tool. You never were. There is a future for us now, because of you. I know it will be had. It will be scary. Change always is. But we have each other – you, me, Hollow, all of Dirtmouth – we are all here to support each other. We are all learning and growing past everything that happened. I promise, none of us are going to leave you behind again.”

A tightness forms in your throat at her words and your vision blurs as that heaviness in your chest tightens. That promise to not be left behind again stirs a confusing blur of emotion that you can’t make any sense of. It doesn’t feel good, but it doesn’t feel bad either.

“Can I hug you?”

You nod and lean into her touch, the weight and warmth of your sister’s arms doing more to ground you that the rain. For once you feel … safe. Something inside you cracks, like an old shell you’ve grown too big for, and suddenly you’re crying. For everything you went through, for everything you lost, for everyone who didn’t survive to see the same light of freedom. You sob, clutching at Hornet’s cloak.

You finally let yourself mourn everything that brought you here.

And tentatively hope for everything that might come to be.

-------------------------------

By @brimal-baspid​

-------------------------------

By @martin-ftw​

The rain pours heavily in the city of tears.

The knight walks up to the fountain square. They look upon the fountain, where the Memorial to the Hollow Knight resides.

The knight inspects, "In the Black Vault far above. Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal." as Hornet dashes in with her needle.

"Again we meet little ghost." Hornet started, "... seek the Grave in Ash and the mark it would grant to one like you."

After finishing her guidance for the knight, she added, quietly, "Are you, perhaps, even a little, afraid?"

The water flows through the fountain endlessly, yet the knight remains emotionless.

Hornet giggles to herself, "hmmhmm, that's right, no voice to cry suffering, best of luck to your journeys little ghost."

After a few seconds of silence, Hornet raised her needle and hopped onto the ceiling.

The knight pauses, and dashes right to the opened door, leaving only the sounds of rain splashing the water fountain and flapping of wings from the lumaflies.

At the front door of the Pleasure House, the knight inserts the simple key and opens the door, walking in as Hornet follows. With the beautiful singing by Marissa, the knight goes on the long elevator ride as Hornet clings onto the elevator.

“About to learn your troubled past, aren't you little ghost?" Hornet asks inside the hot spring, while the knight sits on the bench.

The knight nods while opening their map and picking off one of those scarab markers, moving it to the bottom right of the map.

"Though I have underestimated your power, do you think you've got what it takes? To preserve the future of hallownest?" The knight does not know how to answer, they stand up from the bench and pack up their map.

"Exit's on the right, break the wall down to King's station," Hornet says while thinking to herself, could this one succeed? The knight swings their nail at the wall, breaking it open with a loud crack, and heads downwards.

Hornet sat in the spring by herself.

Guarding the cast-off shell is her job - she knows she has to fight the knight one more time, to ensure the knight is ready to finish their quest even after seeing their conception and past. She sighs, all rested, and stands up; knowing she's much faster than the knight in traversing the Hallownest, she raises her needle and swings out of the pleasure room, down to the Kingdom's edge she goes.

“Perhaps this one would be strong enough. They made it so far, don't fail me now little ghost" She quietly mumbles, before pointing her needle towards the entrance of the arena,

"So you'd pursue the deeper truth? It isn't one the weak could bear. Prove yourself ready to face it. I'll not hold back..."

With the wind blowing harder and louder in the edge of the world, the fight begins, the sentinel of a fading land and the vessel to save Hallownest.

-------------------------------

By @potentialforart​

-------------------------------

By @starstress​

They crouch, body full of tension, and they stare on ahead at their target. The platform is right there, waiting for them like a pedestal.

They jump.

Soaring through the air, quick and steady, they reach out, claws stretched and yearning.

There, they think. Right there.

And as the edge comes right by them, confidence blooms inside their chest, sure that they'll reach it. Their outstretched claws brush by a single tiny pristine leaf, one in a dozen, green and lush. It bounces right back into place as they are claimed by gravity.

They fall onto the lower platform, the moss softening their landing. They look up, and disappointment is a small bitter ball in their stomach, but they brush it aside. The stone edge they were aiming for now looms above them unforgiving. They will not let it discourage them, they will try again.

They want to know. They need to know. Who that red-clothed bug was, and why they felt such a pull to her.

----

Through stretching lush highways and seeming ceilingless and bottomless caverns, they push onwards. They’re spurred ever on by glimpses of rushing red, pale horns and swishing silk.

They would have expected the constant green to become monotonous by the time they reach a bench locked behind a gate, guiding them ever higher, but the shrub and moss-covered land surprises them still. From keeping them on high alert constantly and mercilessly, to undeniably charming them through towering leaf-embroidered architecture and statues, simple but beautiful blooms filling the air with glittering pollen, and soft chimes of birdsong, Greenpath has carved a spot in their heart that they can’t believe can ever be topped.

Still on they go, for though they wish to properly explore, they know that that can wait. They heal themselves, fill in the map with all the paths and twists and turns that they have crossed, put on the few charms that they have gathered, and stand up. They look ever upwards and hope they’re drawing closer to wherever the red-clothed person might be leading them.

----

There--

They rush forward, into the air and off the moss-covered stone ledge, eyes locked onto the red figure. Behind them, a gate slams closed, but though the sound echoes in the small clearing, they pay it no mind.

They land on steady feet, leaf softening the sound of their fall.

There she is--

They've found her.

The red-cloaked bug, in all her stern and decisive figure.

She is encompassed by engraved and moss-covered pillars of stone, but still she towers over them, despite only being about twice their own height.

Her dark eyes, but not as dark as theirs, no one with as dark as theirs, never, track their every move, ready to act, ready to cut down. They stare at her and she stares at them, a contest of wills.

She raises her blade - her needle - and they rush to mirror her.

Soft light streams down, from in between greenery, though they not know not its source, and halos her in pale light.  And though this is their first proper encounter with her, the red bug feels familiar, like they know her mask, the shape of her eyes, like they once gazed, even briefly, upon those features in a past life.

Nevertheless, her stance is rigid and unforgiving.

No further, her eyes scream even before she deems them worthy of words, no further I will allow you, until you prove yourself.

They tighten their grip upon their nail, and shove back into their void all pangs of sadness. This is a fight for their life, and, more than ever, a fight for their existence.

Maybe, after they defeat her, they can ask her why she feels like family - lost, but found again.

-------------------------------

By @dovalore​

-------------------------------

By @jonsilverstone​

https://soundcloud.com/jachym-hajek/vanilla-1-july-21-jon-silverstone-hornet-v-hollow/s-8IcY8UIzrtg

-------------------------------

By @alaska-ren-works​

“Do you want to just fulfill the wyrm’s standards or do you want to make me proud, Princess of Hallownest?”

Hornet tightened her needle’s grip and lowered her stance. Heart calm and mind steady, she didn’t feel the rise of a subtle smirk on her face. This was her moment she had trained for in the Hive. Not to be the pale wyrm’s spawn, but to be the Daughter of Deepnest.

“You will see my answer soon, Mother.”

Weavers and bugs alike stood in solemn excitement as Herrah, Beast and Queen of Deepnest, circled the princess. Her white mask hid her emotions, but Hornet could more than feel the queen’s wide grin. Herrah twirled her own needle in her hand, a feat that impressed Hornet to no end as that very needle was longer than she was tall.

“Very well.” With a final step, Herrah faced Hornet with her needle at the ready. “You know the rules and so do I.”

Hornet nodded. As the lower-ranked of the two, Hornet must make the first move. Everyone and everything turned still. Watching. Waiting.

With a resolute bang of a drum, Hornet yelled, “Garama!”

The crowd roared with the start of the duel, but Hornet only heeded her opponent. She speared her needle forward and as Herrah jumped away, she reeled it back. Herrah dodged the attack and closed in on Hornet. The young spider darted away right before Herrah’s needle slashed through the space she just left.

When it came to brute strength, Hornet would lose in an instant. But she was smaller, faster, and more agile. If she could avoid a direct hit, she might have a chance at winning this.

Hornet rolled away as another strike whistled too close for her liking. She slashed her needle upwards, forcing Herrah to jump back. Taking this, she jumped into the air and released a storm of silk.

When her feet landed, Herrah slammed into her. Her breath wrenched out of her chest as she flew then skidded on the floor. It was a miracle she was still on her feet. With her head bent, she did not see the pride glimmer in her mother’s eyes before the queen composed herself.

Herrah’s head turned when the ravelling of silk sounded above her. The whistling of an incoming needle alerted her and the Beast parried Hornet’s thrust.

In Herrah’s moment of distraction, Hornet covered the arena in sticky silk traps. Now, this was where Hornet shines. She darted between the silk

strands and rushed at Herrah, the bigger spider now pressed for space. Strikes and slashes were landed and blocked, and Herrah growled. The next second Hornet rushed in, Herrah took hold of her and used her momentum to throw her far. Hornet flipped in the air but stumbled on her landing. Looking up, Herrah’s needle swung in a wide arc, destroying the nearby threads.

Mother and daughter studied each other from opposite ends of the arena. Hornet felt fatigue settle in her bones and her lungs struggled with big gulps of air. Herrah stood tall and her giant nail held steady, but Hornet could see her chest moving quickly.

“What do you think about heading over to the hotspring after this, huh?” Hornet’s eyes widened at Herrah’s invitation.

“Y-yes, Mother!” Hornet reddened at her stuttering voice. She cast out her exhaustion and readied her stance.

Herrah grinned as she raised her needle once more. “Then let’s make this worth it.”

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

hi! i love your blog! i was wondering if maybe you could write something where y/n and harry just had their first baby and they finally get some time to themselves and she's a little insecure about their first time after the post partum and nervous about her body or how it gonna feels like? thank uu💖

omg thank you 🥺🥺 I'm so sorry this took so long! i hope you like it :)

a very romantic bath for two

warnings: body insecurity, body image issues

word count: 2.8k

You sighed as you inspected your body in the mirror, running your fingers over the raised lines on your tummy and hips. Many of them were new; they had popped up sometime during your second trimester. At the time, you had been too busy worrying about the new life growing inside you and preparing to bring her home to focus too much on what was happening to your body. Even during the last few weeks of your pregnancy when you felt huge most of the time, Harry made sure to remind you constantly how much he loved you and your new body. He would rub your belly all the time, leaning down to kiss it and talk to your baby. He insisted it would help them develop faster once they were born, but you weren't quite sure where he got this "fact". You both knew he just liked being close to you and your baby.

He really hadn't left any room for you to be insecure during your pregnancy. He reassured you every day that you were more beautiful than ever, and he was always showing you how much he liked your new body. He could never keep his hands off you, always wanting to touch and hold you. It even got annoying at times, but mostly you appreciated it, and you were glad he never let your hormones get the best of you. Then, after Stevie was born, you were too busy and exhausted to even think about your appearance. You and harry were barely getting any sleep, and all of your time was devoted to caring for the newest member of your family. It wasn't until now, when Stevie was a little over 3 months old, that things started calming down a bit. She slept through the night most of the time, and you were finally coming out of that sleep deprived haze you had been in. Unfortunately, this gave you time to really look at yourself in the mirror. You had just gotten out of the shower, and Harry was with Stevie in the living room. You tilted to the side, looking at how much bigger your stomach was than before you had Stevie. The skin there was dimpled and soft, much more squishy than it used to be. And the stretch marks. They were everywhere, and much more prominent than they had ever been. You weren't sure if you would ever be able to get back to normal. Your negative thoughts were interrupted by a short knock on the door. You quickly wrapped a towel around yourself before you called, "You can come in!" Harry peaked his head into the room, smiling softly. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm out of wipes. I think there's another pack under the sink?" "No, it's okay, i was done," you smiled, reaching under the sink to grab the package. "Is she okay?" "She's fine, lovie," he smiled softly. "You don't have to feel bad being away for her for half an hour." "I know," you sighed. "But i still do. I hate not being next to her all the time." "Me too, i just want to hold her and never put her down." You nodded, sighing internally at how much you already missed your baby. "Why don't you finish up in here and then we'll make some lunch?" "Sounds good," you said, smiling at him in the mirror. Once the door was closed, you dropped the towel again. You really tried not to be too upset about how you looked, but it was hard. You knew if you told Harry he would just say the same thing, that it was normal and he thought you were beautiful. You didn't think that would help much. So you pulled on your old t-shirt and sweatpants, running a brush through your wet hair before making your way out to the kitchen. "Hi, baby," you smiled, picking Stevie up from the play mat on the floor. "I missed you." She snuggled against your chest, her head leaning on your shoulder as she let out a content little sigh. You leaned down, grabbing Stevie's rattle and putting it back in the toy box before you made your way into the kitchen. "How does spaghetti sound?" Harry asked. "Sounds good," you nodded, settling into one of the chairs at the dining table. you were about to pull off your shirt to feed Stevie, but the image of your prominent stretch marks made you reconsider. "Can you grab me one of the blankets?" You asked, but kept your eyes on Stevie. You knew if you looked up, you would see that sad and confused look on his face as he wondered why you suddenly wanted to cover yourself around him, and you really didn't feel like explaining your newfound insecurities right now. Thankfully, he didn't press for answers. "Sure, love. It's in the nursery?" You nodded, fiddling with the collar of Stevie's onesie to look busy. "Okay, I'll be right back," He gave a small smile before he left the kitchen. "What am i gonna do, hm?" You asked Stevie. She just blinked in response. Harry came back with the blanket, draping it over your shoulders from the front. "Thank you," you said quietly, adjusting the cover so you could pull your shirt up. "Of course, love," he replied, going back to the stove. "I wanted to ask you something, actually." You

hummed questioningly, eyes fixed on Stevie under the blanket. "Well, we just haven't had any time alone since Stevie was born, and my mum is dying to spend some more time with her, so do you think... I mean, only if it's okay with you, maybe we could have my mum take her for the weekend?" You hesitated, your heart suddenly beating much faster. Being away from Stevie for more than a day... of course you knew she would be safe and happy with Anne, but still... the thought made anxiety spike in your chest. Then there was the matter of being alone with Harry. You probably should feel guilty for not wanting to spend time with him, but with the way you had been feeling about yourself lately, you couldn't bring yourself to care. But you also knew refusing this would cause all sorts of problems. It would make both Harry and Anne feel bad, and you really didn't want to upset anyone. So, taking a shaky breath in, you nodded. "We can do that. I just... i don't think I can do more than a day or two." "That's totally fine," Harry reassured you. "I don't want to be away from her for that long either. I was thinking we could drop her off Friday after lunch, then pick her up Saturday evening. Or sometime Sunday if they're really having a good time," he laughed. "They'll have all sorts of fun together, mum might not want to let her go so soon." You smiled at the thought of the pictures you knew Anne would send you. Stevie and her in the garden, Stevie in the stroller as they went for a walk, Stevie in the high chair while Anne baked cookies. "Okay. After supper we can get her stuff together." Harry beamed, coming over to kiss your forehead. "Thank you, baby. And if it gets to be too much, we can pick her up early. We can do whatever you need, okay?" Despite Harry's constant reassurance, you felt no less anxious the next day. You checked and re-checked Stevie's bag, making sure she had enough clothes to last her a week. "Lovie, she's only gonna be there for two days," Harry reminded you gently. "No, I know, but what if she spits up a lot? Sometimes she spits up a whole bunch and then she'll need to be changed, and what if-" "Hey, hey," he cut you off, placing his hands on your shoulders and speaking in a soothing tone. "It'll be alright. She's gonna be fine. She has enough clothes, and everything is gonna be okay." You nodded, taking a deep breath as you looked into his eyes. "Right. She's gonna be fine."

-----

"And the milk is here-" you held up several plastic bags- "I'll put this in the fridge. And to heat it up- wait, you already know how to heat up milk," you laughed nervously. "Um, and her onesies are all in the backpack. I have extras in there- a lot of extras, because sometimes she spits up a lot. And then her diffuser is in there too- we usually put a few drops of lavender oil in there, it helps her sleep. And diapers and wipes and diaper cream are all in the bag, and... oh! Her stuffed bunny. It helps her calm down if she's fussy. And I think... that should be everything," You exhaled, trying to smile at Anne. Harry put his arm around your waist. "Y/N, she knows how to take care of a baby. Look how well i turned out!" Despite how nervous you were, you managed to laugh. "Right. I'm just... I'm sorry, I've never been away from her." "It's alright," Anne smiled reassuringly. "I understand how scary it is to be away from her for the first time. But you can call or FaceTime, or if it's too much you can come pick her up." "Thank you," you sighed. "We should probably get going before i change my mind." Harry nodded, unbuckling Stevie from her carrier. He hugged her to his chest, kissing the top of her head. "I'll miss you so much," he said. "But you'll have so much fun with your grandma. And we'll see you soon, okay?" he kissed her one more time before handing her over to you. "Be good for your grandma, okay? I love you," you kissed her just like Harry had. "I love you so much." Before you could start crying, you handed her to Anne. "Thank you so much for this, Anne," you said. "We really appreciate it." "You're a godsend," harry agreed. "Thank you." "Of course, I'm happy to have her," Anne smiled. "Now shoo, so i can spend some time with her!"

-----

"It's so quiet," Harry said as you walked into the house. "I'm not used to it." "I know," You laughed. "There's no cartoons or baby shark, it's crazy." "Can't say I miss baby shark, though," he shook his head. "I think we need to find a new song for her." You nodded. "It got old really fast." "It did," he laughed. "And now... we can enjoy some peace... and quiet." He stepped closer to you, smiling as he heard your breath hitch. "I was thinking maybe we could have a bath together?" Your heart started thudding faster in your chest, and not for a good reason. "No," you said quickly. Too quickly. Hurt and confusion flashed across his face, and you immediately wanted to take back your words. "I just- I can't," you said quietly, stepping back. "Is there... did something happen?" he asked gently, eyes softening when he realized how close to tears you were. "What's the matter, love?" "Harry, I just can't," you shook your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm trying but I just can't get back to normal. I look terrible and I have all these stretch marks and everything is just wrong," you cried, bringing up your hands to cover your face. "Baby..." he whispered, moving closer and opening his arms. "Come here." You did as he asked, walking into his arms and leaning against him as you cried. "I just don't want you to see me," you sniffled. "Your body isn't wrong," he shook his head. "Not at all. It might look different than it did before, but that's because it went through something amazing. It gave us Stevie! It- you are perfect. Alright?" You nodded against his chest. "I just... i really don't like the way i look anymore and i don't think you will either." Since your face was pressed against his shirt, you didn't see the way his face dropped. You didn't see how much it hurt him to hear you talk about yourself this way. You felt him inhale a shaky breath before he hugged you tighter. "I'm so sorry you feel this way. I had no idea how much it was bothering you. I want- I want to show you how much I love you. Will you let me show you?" "How?" you said quietly. "Do you trust me?" You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He smiled, pulling back and taking your hand. He lead you into your bedroom, closing the door behind the two of you. He crossed the room to stand in front of you again, his fingers gripping the hem of your shirt. "Can i take this off?" he asked quietly, keeping his eyes on yours. He must have sensed your hesitancy, because he dropped his hands down to his sides. "It's just me," he reminded you. "We don't have to if you don't want to, though." "No, it's... it's okay," You decided, raising your arms. He smiled gently, tugging the soft material up and over your head. You kept your eyes on him as soon as the shirt was off your head, too apprehensive to look down at your body. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. He hooked his fingers in the elastic of your sweatpants, looking at you again for confirmation. You nodded, allowing him to pull the rest of the clothing off your body and taking his hand to step out of them. He lead you over to the bed, keeping his eyes on yours the whole way. "Lay back," he instructed quietly, watching as you did what he said. He climbed into the bed behind you, settling himself between your legs to meet your eyes. "You're amazing," he smiled. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." he brought his hand down to your stomach, and you cringed immediately when he brushed over one of the marks. "It's okay," he soothed. "There's nothing wrong with these. You know what they are?" You shook your head. "They're little marks that remind us of Stevie. They show how strong you are for carrying her, and keeping her safe until she was ready to come out and meet us. And they show how someday, you'll be able to have another baby, and keep him or her safe just like Stevie. Right? That's all they are." He moved down, leaning his head closer so he could press a soft kiss to one of the marks near your hip. "I don't want you to change anything

about yourself," he said, moving his lips over the lines on your tummy. "I love you just the way you are." Tears were welling up in your eyes again, but this time they weren't from anxiety or fear. This time, they were because you felt overwhelmed by your love for him. "Harry..." He looked up, his face falling when he noticed the tears in your eyes. "No, please don't cry," he said, moving back up to hover over you again. "I'm sorry, please don't be upset," he frowned, wiping one of the tears away with his thumb. You shook your head. "That's not why- i just love you so much," you said, trying your best to smile. "I love you too," he smiled back, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your cheeks, and finally, your lips. "I love you so, so much, and I will show you every day if you'll let me," he sighed, moving off you to lay on his side. He kept one hand on your hip, helping you turn over to look at him. "I want you to tell me if you're ever feeling like this again, okay? I want to know so I can help you." "Okay," you nodded, still sniffling a bit. "Thank you." You leaned against him, tucking your head in his neck. "Thank you." "Of course, lovie." He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. "I want you to always know how loved you are. It doesn't matter how many times I have to remind you; i don't ever want you to feel like this and not tell me. I love you way too much to let you be this sad." "I will," you promised. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." "it's okay," he soothed, running his hand up and down your back. "Do you think... it's okay if you're not ready yet, but do you think we could try taking a bath?" This time, you barely even hesitated before answering. "I think we can try," you nodded. "We can even turn off the lights if you want, just light a few candles," he mused, his face pressed gently against your hair. "It's more romantic that way anyways." "That sounds good," you laughed. "Come on then," he said, sitting up. "One very romantic bath for two, coming right up."

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: epilogue (reader)

Summary: An early morning, a doctor’s appointment, a new beginning.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: pregnancy (including like… probably incorrect math and science but my degree was in English and this is fanfiction okay)

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: I’m actually so emotional don’t look at me thanks ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

The sound of Spencer’s ringtone pierced through the early morning quiet, shrill and disconsolate. Y/N hummed against his chest, shifting as he clumsily reached across to the bedside table to answer it. 

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still smothered in sleep. “Mm... When?” He paused, and she could almost make out the answer on the other end. “Got it. Yeah.” 

He carefully set the phone back on the bedside table, and then his arms came around her shoulders. He let out a long sigh, the one she’d gotten quite used to over the last year and a half— the one that meant he had to go. She squeezed him around the middle and let out her own sigh. “Case?”

“Yeah.” He ran light fingers down her arm. “Jet’s taking off in ninety minutes.”

She glanced at the bedside table to the alarm clock that read 4:57am. They both knew he needed to leave within the next half hour if he was going to make it on time, but neither one made any effort to move. Instead, they breathed together in the pre-dawn stillness— a single moment of peace before the world and all its ugliness could crash through the fortress they’d constructed around their space and around each other.

“I don’t wanna go,” he whispered. 

“I know.” She pressed a kiss over his heart through his t-shirt. “I know.”

“I’m gonna miss everything,” he lamented. “Appointments, and milestones, and firsts, and I— I’m gonna miss all of it.”

She lifted her head at the tears in his voice. “Hey.” She shifted in the circle of his arms to prop herself up on his chest. “You’re not gonna miss all of it. You’ll miss this one appointment. And it’s— it’s not even an important one,” she assured, gentle fingers swiping away the lone tear that had managed to escape over his lash line. 

“Yes, it is.” He shook his head. “They're all important.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile, leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips before sitting up and deciding to reassure him in the only way she knew how. “Okay, doctor. Eleven weeks. Tell me what we’re gonna find out today.” 

She pulled him up out of bed, interlacing their fingers and pressing their shoulders together. As she led him to the bathroom, he explained, “Dr. Layton will do the first ultrasound, and Baby will look more like a baby now. At around ten weeks they made the transition from embryo to fetus. They’ll be about two inches long.” 

She handed him his toothbrush and turned to grab his toiletry go-back from the linen closet, stifling a yawn. “Mmhm. What else?”

“Did you know they’re breathing now?” he asked, and she smiled at the way the excitement crept into his voice. “Between weeks ten and eleven, the fetus starts to inhale and exhale small amounts of amniotic fluid, which aids in the development of their lungs. It’s kind of like they’re breathing underwater.” 

“I didn’t know that,” she admitted, turning back to set the bag on the counter. “That’s pretty amazing. What about the heartbeat?”

He nodded vigorously as he applied toothpaste to the bristles of his brush. “We should be able to hear it, although sometimes it’s too early— depending on the accuracy of the estimated date of conception.”

He ran the water over the toothbrush before popping it into his mouth. She kissed his shoulder and then moved back into the bedroom, shuffling into their closet for his go bag. She checked it over on her way back to the bathroom, ensuring it had been fully repacked after the last case. She set it on the counter and placed his toiletry bag inside, leaving it open for him to pack his toothbrush and then sitting on the closed toilet lid. 

He rinsed his mouth and put his travel cap over the head of his toothbrush, gesturing with it and then dropping it into the bag. “They’ll do some routine lab work to test for things like gestational diabetes, and we can also choose to do additional screeners for chromosomal abnormalities and possible complications.” He looked at her then, and she saw the despondence creeping back in. “I should really be there, just— just in case.”

“Honey.” She stood and held out her hand to him, smiling a little when he accepted it with a squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

He let out a breath and pulled her into his arms, and they held each other in the silence, the soft light from the vanity washing over them. His phone buzzed with an incoming message, and she knew he needed to get on the road. Still, she held him for a second longer, and then they shuffled through the door and into the bedroom together. 

Y/N made her way back to bed, scooting down under the duvet to preserve the last remaining notes of his body warmth. She watched as he dressed silently, pulling on trousers, socks, a button up and cardigan. He skipped the tie in favor of coming to sit on the bed, bringing his hand to rest lightly over top of her belly over the covers. 

She covered his hand with her own and laced their fingers together. “Maybe you could ask Luke if you can FaceTime with his phone. You can probably take twenty minutes, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Maybe I should just upgrade my own phone.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I see how it is. Couldn’t upgrade for me, but once a baby comes along you’re ready for an iPhone.” 

“That’s not— you— you shouldn’t have to do all of this alone,” he huffed, and she realized her joke didn’t land when his voice cracked at the end. 

“Spence, I’m— I’m just teasing.” She lifted her hands to his face, pulling him closer and meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry; you’re upset, and that wasn’t nice.” 

She leaned up to kiss his forehead, letting her lips linger and breathing him in. “But I’m not alone. With you, I feel— the opposite of alone.”

“Irritated?” he offered. 

“No,” she laughed. “Supported, and cared for, and loved,” she corrected with a smile. “You’ve been all of that since day one. And I know that’s not going to change, whether you’re physically present in that doctor's office or not. Right?” 

When he nodded, she continued, “I love you. The most. And you are easily the best baby daddy on planet earth. Okay?”

The term of endearment dragged a smile from him, as it always did. “Okay.”

She leaned forward to press her lips to his, both sets upturned and a little dry from sleep. “Now, you need to go, or you’re gonna be late.”

“I know.” He kissed her again, long and slow, and then pulled back to lean their foreheads together. He hesitated for another ten seconds before standing to grab his bag from the bathroom. 

When he re-emerged, she reminded him, “Ask Luke about the FaceTime thing. I’m sure he won’t mind, and we can trust him to keep the secret. The appointment technically starts at 1:00, but I probably won’t be seen until at least 1:30.”

He crossed to give her another kiss. “I love you.” He crouched to press a kiss to her tummy. “And you.”

“We love you, too,” she smiled, fingers tangling in his curls. “And we’ll talk to you in a few hours.”

She kissed him one more time— couldn’t help herself. And then his warmth was gone from the bed, and the house was suddenly much too quiet. She snuggled back down under the duvet, her head on his pillow and the scent of his shampoo shrouding her senses and easing her mind.

Spencer really was supportive— endlessly so. Not overbearing, but interested and involved in every moment: reading all the newest research, bringing home her favorite treats, writing out a color-coded timeline of all the appointments and milestones. She wasn’t lying when she called him the best baby daddy. He was always there for her. So much so that the apprehension she’d had at the beginning of this surprise journey was nowhere to be found. 

As she drifted back into sleep, there he was again— she could almost hear the jangling of his keys in the bowl in the entryway, his feet on the stairs, the rustling of his pants and sweater being discarded onto the floor of their bedroom. 

And then she felt the warmth of his palm low over her tummy, coming to rest over the barely-there bump. She felt his lips on her shoulder and his chest pressed against her back. When she went to cover his hand with her own, her exhausted brain registered that it wasn’t a dream at all.

She turned her head, blinking her eyes open to see him smiling at her and drew her brows together. “What’s going on?”

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, snuggling even closer and rubbing his thumb along her belly. “I’m, um— I told Emily I’m gonna consult from home on this one.”

…

“Okay, Mom, this’ll just be a little bit cold.”

Dr. Layton smoothed the gel over Y/N’s lower abdomen, and Spencer moved to thread their fingers together, shifting to stand even closer to the examination table. The ultrasound machine gave off a low hum as the doctor adjusted the wand over her tummy. She felt Spencer press a kiss to her temple and turned to smile brightly at him before turning back to the black and white screen. 

At her first appointment five weeks ago, she’d been by herself— alone and uncertain and terrified— and she’d declined the option of the ultrasound. It felt wrong to see the baby before Spencer even knew about them. Now, together with him, with her soon-to-be husband— she was more than ready to see their baby for the first time. And she could practically feel Spencer’s excitement next to her, his body nearly vibrating with it. 

“Ah, here they are. Hello, Baby Reid.” Dr. Layton pointed to a small, white figure on the screen. “Okay, right here, you can see their big ol’ head— perfectly normal size for this stage of development,” she assured, eyes deftly scanning the image in front of her. “Everything looks great! Now, I’m just trying to find…” 

She adjusted the wand over Y/N’s tummy, and suddenly a wub wub wub came over the tinny speaker of the machine. “There we are,” Dr. Layton smiled. “Very strong heartbeat.”

Spencer squeezed Y/N’s hand, and she felt the drop of a tear on her shoulder. She brought her other hand over to cover their tangled fingers, rubbing her thumb along the skin of his wrist and kissing his arm. 

Dr. Layton made a slightly perplexed humming sound, moving the wand again and losing the sound of the heartbeat, only to pick it up again— this time slightly faster. Y/N’s own heart stuttered a little as the doctor moved the wand again twice more, and then cleared her throat. “Is something— is everything okay?”

She turned to Y/N with a kind smile. “Yes, yes,” she confirmed, and then she raised her eyebrows. “Just— do you hear the difference?” 

Spencer tilted his head in consideration, drawing his brows together and straining to hear. The doctor shifted the wand once more, allowing them to hear the two distinct patterns. 

Two distinct patterns, Y/N realized. 

Dr. Layton pressed the wand a little more firmly into her abdomen, moved it just slightly. “Those are two different heartbeats.” She pointed to the screen. “And those are two different babies. There’s a matching set of Baby Reids in there.”

Y/N couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “Is there—” She turned to Spencer incredulously. “Do twins run in your family?”

He shook his head silently, eyes wide. “Yours?”

“Nope,” she squeaked. 

“This obviously changes things slightly,” Dr. Layton explained, cleaning up the residual gel. “I’d like to see you every three weeks rather than every four. Then at twenty eight weeks, we’ll see how we feel, okay?” 

She smiled gently as Y/N and Spencer nodded dumbly. She removed her gloves and stood. “I’m going to give you two a few minutes. I’ll be back with your photos in a bit, and we can talk about any questions you might have.”

The door closed behind her, and the room was bathed in silence. Y/N sat up carefully and swung her legs over the side of the examination table. She looked down at her tiny, unassuming bump and felt a tear slip over her lashes. 

“Are you— are you okay?” Spencer whispered. 

She brought her gaze to his, found them teeming with barely restrained joy and yet the ever-present worry. “Well,” she started. “I, um— I always imagined two kids.” She brought her hands up to her sweaty cheeks and held her own face between her palms. “I guess this is— you know— just a quicker way to get there.”

Spencer immediately wrapped her in a hug, pressing kisses over her hair, her forehead, her shocked mouth. “Two babies. We’re having two babies.”

“Twins, Spence,” she breathed. “Twins.”

He replaced her hands with his own, cradling her face and kissing her sweetly, sighing all of his joy and adoration into her mouth. “I love you. So much. The most.” He lowered himself to press his lips to her belly. “All of you.”

She used gentle hands in his hair to tilt his face up, meeting his smile with a watery one of her own. “We love you, too, baby daddy.”

She could see the gears turning as he stood, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “About that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Do you, um— how difficult do you think it would be to get everyone together this weekend?”

She paused. “You wanna get married this weekend?”

“Yeah, that’s probably too soon, huh?” He huffed out a sigh, then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, what about next weekend?”

“That’s just as soon!” she laughed. 

He furrowed his brow. “No, it’s not. There's a seven day difference.”

“You’re really in a rush, huh?” she teased. 

“Well. I just— I figure you should really be on my insurance anyway,” he reasoned. “Especially now that it’s— now that it’s twins.”

“Mm, yes, I’m sure that’s the reason,” she grinned.

He let out a long breath, and she watched his eyes journey over her face— memorizing every curve and angle, every new wrinkle, every last inch of her. And she knew the reason. 

“I know it’s just a piece of paper,” he murmured. “It doesn’t really change anything, but…” He used gentle fingers to brush her hair back from her face. “I just… really want to be your husband.”

She took her own minute to memorize the way he looked in this moment: her fiancé, the father of her children, the best man she’d ever known, the absolute love of her life. And she knew her own reason. 

“The paper might not change anything,” she agreed. “But— you’ve changed everything.”

He squeezed her hips. “In a good way I hope.”

“The best way.” She brought her hands to his face, rubbing her thumbs along his cheeks. “The best way.”

He closed the distance between them to kiss her with all the honey and magic and reverence he always did. He broke away to lean his forehead against hers with all the warmth and devotion and love he always did. She sighed, and it was all joy and vulnerability and contentment like it always was. And she knew their reasons. 

She kissed him again, and then murmured against his lips, “You know I’m still gonna refer to you as baby daddy, right?”

The laugh erupted from his chest and wrapped itself around her heart, tying tight and secure— a shield, and a haven, and a refuge— keeping her safe from every terrible thing. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

…

O no! Love is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01  @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween  @spenxerslut  @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @enbyfaerie @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid  @elldell1204 @babyhoneystvles @lost-in-the-stars03 @reiding-recs @minervaonmars @radtwinkie @crimeshowtrash @dayho3​ @reiding-rainbow​ @archer561​ @maddievevo​

Permanent (sfw) tags: @mrs-dr-reid @eevee0722 @goldentournesol @froggybagels​

Series tags:  @uhuhuh @itsametaphorbriansblog @magenta145 @annesauriol @ampal98 @mggsprettygirl @ceeellewrites  @misshale21 @ilzieah @gublersbooblers @outcrbxrafe @andromedasstarship @reidspurplescarfs @hanniebee33 @nazdaniels @irisisonline @nazifa94  @laurnrnlds @outer-spacious @stupidcrazylittlething @princesssmooshie @luvspence @slaytherinthoughts​ @watermelonfanfic-recs​ @thatsmyfavoritewhiteboy​

Broken tags: @samanthareid06 (check visibility settings!)

[palestinianliberator]

To be Palestinian is exhausting

You will not find a single Palestinian who hasn’t had to endure all of the following and more:

Constantly having to prove our existence

[This is going to be a tremendously long post, but I implore you to read through what you can]

Constantly having to educate everyone around us on our history and people while we continue to be slaughtered

Constantly having to combat Israeli propaganda and dehumanization campaigns against us

Constantly having to combat liberal propaganda from those who simply cannot understand the pain and damage they are doing

Constantly having to defend ourselves from the overwhelming forces that stand in our way, from the Israeli forces to the global institutions that help support it to the structures in the US that mean that any Palestinian who dares speak out risk both their lives and livelihood

Constantly in fear of whether or not you’ll end up on another “list” as a result of daring to speak out

Constantly having to do it all again as soon as we’re back on the news

Constantly having to answer for all other Palestinians in a way that nobody else is expected to

Constantly being seen as the “crazy one” when trying to share your narrative, having to defend against an endless barrage of accusations of antisemitism

Constantly being put into situations by bad-faith actors who attempt to engage in “debate” or “discussion” or “dialogue” with talking points that demean and duhamanize you, all while being expected to maintain a smile and cool composure while someone literally debates to your face your own existence or how “actually it’s YOUR people’s fault you’re being slaughtered! Israel isn’t the bad guy here!”

Constantly being forced to choose between engaging in bad-faith debates framed in a way to make you look like the unreasonable bad guy while the person implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing is made to look like the “rational good guy” or looking after your own mental health, knowing that even refusing these “invitations” is itself a mark against you and your people

Constantly being told that you’re too “biased”, too “close”, too “emotional” about the literal slaughter of your people to be seen as a valid source, while Israelis and complete outsiders are given all the space they want to speak for us endlessly

Constantly seeing people being actively mislead and wondering if you have the capacity to reach out to them and attempt to share your narrative with them, knowing that if you don’t, they’re going to go on to propagate the same lies justifying your ethnic cleansing

Constantly having to combat GENUINE censorship throughout the media, social media, and society itself. It’s a fact proven by former Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Youtube employees that Palestinian voices have their reach censored in a way no one else does, which is why it’s so important to amplify and actively share Palestinian voices rather than just liking or indicating support

Constantly being told you don’t know your own history by people who’ve educated themselves on Youtube and Wikipedia despite having lived the reality yourself and dedicating your entire life to studying every single aspect of it

Constantly seeing those who have the courage to stand alongside you being shut down with accusations of antisemitism and seeing them lose their courage to stand by you out of fear of their own image and livelihood and having to rush to their defense as well

Constantly having to see photos of your people, sometimes even people you know, maimed, injured, murdered, or burned to ash by Israeli aggression but knowing you have a duty to share what’s happening and must stomach the images to show the world the true extent of the suffering we endure

Constantly having to worry not just for your own safety, but the safety of your family and loved ones who can be punished or targeted because of things you yourself say

Constantly wondering who you can actually trust, from new friends and acquaintances to professors to even other Palestinians because we’ve been so heavily infiltrated by Israeli intelligence looking to blackmail Palestinians using anything from their sexual orientation or even made up “evidence” meant to ruin their lives

Constantly having your heart sink every notification you get wondering if it’s news that a loved one has been killed

Constantly seeing the corpses of loved ones shared on social media and reliving the trauma all over again, yet again knowing that you WANT the world to see what’s happening

Constantly seeing the effects this has on your own family and feeling helpless to do anything

Constantly on alert for the FBI at your door as they often “visit” Palestinians who dare speak out, myself included on numerous occasions 

Constantly wondering if your advocacy for your people is going to result in the loss of your job, scholarship, license

Constantly being asked to “humanize” and “feel for” those who live their lives day in day out completely unfazed by your suffering despite living in a society that couldn’t even FUNCTION without our subjugation

Constantly being told “don’t blame regular Israelis, blame the government!!” as if the state itself wasn’t founded on our ethnic cleansing, as if it isn’t “normal Israelis” who make up the entirety of the Israeli Military and have actively brutalized you and your people

Seeing allies you fought for suddenly SILENT when it’s their time to speak up

Studying on a US campus where those SAME SOLDIERS WHO ENGAGED IN YOUR PERSECUTION AND ACTIVELY SERVED AS THE ENFORCERS OF YOUR OCCUPATION then re-enact the trauma against you and you’re meant to simply ignore the fact that THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO MURDERED YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY, and not being allowed to even be ANGRY at that

Trying to navigate this half-life in the diaspora where it’s a struggle to connect with other Palestinians given the distance between us and yet not being able to connect with anyone around because, again, they simply can’t understand

Constantly being expected to simply give up your time to those who demand you answer them and debate your existence and narrative with them, who them take you blocking them for your own mental health as a “victory” to be lorded over you when you simply can’t take it anymore

Constantly having to EXPLAIN all of this because nobody but other Palestinians can truly understand just how pervasive, overwhelming, and incapacitating this unique form of exhaustion is

Constantly seeing your erasure and ethnic cleansing defended all over the media, all over social media, throughout your academic career, while those ENGAGED in your ethnic cleansing have the audacity to claim that the media is biased against THEM

Constantly on guard with everything you say and write, knowing that unlike those promoting our ethnic cleansing, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or getting lazy in our writing and advocacy. One mistaken source, mistaken information, being imperfect is enough to discredit your voice entirely

The crippling obligation you have to share the narrative of your people, knowing that so many people will view you as the spokesperson of your entire people, knowing how unfair it is, but also knowing that if you DON’T speak out, nobody will on your behalf, and even the most well-intentioned, involved allies can simply never understand how it all truly feels

Seeing the entire world stand by and do absolutely nothing while your people are slaughtered time and time again

Seeing your history misconstrued by people implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism

Knowing that our parents have been through this and more, seeing them have to go through this yet again while still being forced to go about their daily lives and given no time to mourn or recover

Not being able to even share our culture without being attacked for it

Knowing that so many of your friends and family won’t ever be able to return to their homeland while foreigners from around the globe are flown into Israel free because it’s their “birthright”

A “birthright” denied to even my own parents, born in Jerusalem yet unable to enter it

Having even self-proclaimed “allies” question Palestinian resistance, policing our tone, never /really/ understanding our pain and anger and how they themselves contribute to it

Screaming from the moment you can about what’s happening to us, desperately trying to get people to CARE, and having it often fall on deaf ears

Knowing that if you’re not the source of information for those genuinely seeking to learn, they may find themselves mislead by sources that claim to be fair and balanced while imprinting subtle lies about Palestine and Palestinians on those they engage with

Not even being able to find the energy and ability to respond to genuine messages of love and support, which are greatly appreciated, and feeling bad about it because you don’t want to seem like you’re not genuinely happy to hear it

Feeling a sense of overwhelming exhaustion in times like this while at the same time being unable to sleep

Seeing the effect all of this has had on your people, knowing your people have among the highest rates of depression on the planet and yet we’re all suffering together with no way to ease the pain

Being constantly exposed to the ways in which your people are erased and questioning if you have the energy or sanity left to deconstruct such aggression to help outsiders understand the severity of it all

Seeing allies suddenly call for “peace” when Palestinians are finally fed up enough to rise up and fight back against an overwhelming military force

I could go on, but in case you it’s not already clear, I’m tired and exhausted

Always wondering if any of this is even worth it when the world has ignored your slaughter and ethnic cleansing for nearly 8 decades, knowing that nobody is about to step in to help now.

Constantly wondering if any of this is even worth it, and then feeling inspired by fellow Palestinians, our resilience, the fact that despite ALL of this and more, we continue to fight.

Despite all of this, I would never even consider or entertain the thought of being born as anything other than Palestinian

[reidyoulikeabook]

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

--

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

Permanent tagslist: @reidingmelodies @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187  @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reidsnose

(message/reply to this to be added or removed!!)