#but it's still an interesting legal question
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Strasky glanced at Rook then back to Peter, they were nearly the same person if not for a few minor differences. Strasky knew he couldn't do the same type of work Peter was, nor would he be comfortable with it, but he had a feeling that was just due to his personal experiences. "Sometimes it feels more like I attract troublesome things, but I can live with that." He felt nothing would ever live up to what he'd experienced on PATHOS-II, so he was fine with whatever mess he found himself in. "And there's nothing wrong with being friendly, that's the best way to meet very interesting people." Or in Peter's case it was androids mainly if the home's residents were anything to go by.
But neither Strasky nor Peter felt like speaking on the subject with each other as they both still found it odd and a little unsettling to think they were practically the same person. And Peter had made it clear to Strasky he wasn't ready to approach the subject with how quickly he'd brushed it off and found something to busy himself, something he recognized as a tactic to prevent any possible thoughts on the subject by means of a distraction that took most of his attention.
"Shouldn't be too hard to reformat them so they can operate on an android's brain. I'd just have to see the one first." Peter paused as he noticed Strasky react to what he'd said, something which he felt was a little concerning but he wasn't going to comment on it yet, not until he had more information.
"But I have worked on enough custom and limited release androids to say that building one from scratch wouldn't be an issue." He had managed to get his hands on the equipment necessary to build custom parts for androids, so thankfully he wouldn't have to rely on any outside help from any former Cyberlife employees for the parts.
Dan and Peter both turned to look at Nines when Willow mentioned the authorities, the RK900 glanced at them before his LED turned yellow and his eyes took on a far away look. The LED returned to a calm blue after a moment as he refocused on the two looking at him. "I have found no law that prohibits what is being requested. So the work would be perfectly legal." Nines responded to the unasked question, knowing that was the reason they'd turned to look at him.
"Even if it wasn't, it probably wouldn't be the worst illegal thing I've done." Peter giggled as he turned his attention back to Dan who gave him a knowing look. "Tricking a Cyberlife employee and buying an android at fourteen is probably way more illegal then sticking a digital brain into an android." He smiled at Dan as he hugged the PL600's head, the android gently patting his arm in response.
"He really means a lot... How come?" Strasky asked, he decided it was time he asked as the relationship between the two was clearly familial, but he couldn't figure out just what role Dan fit into in Peter's mind.
"Well, I may call the androids here my friends, I only call two my brothers. Dan is one of them, basically the older brother I didn't know I wanted." Peter answered happily, showing he really didn't have an issue with putting an android into such a special role as most humans would. "Sure, Dan's only four years old, but he's way more of an older brother then a younger one."
Strasky nodded, he knew there was more to the story of how and why Dan was acquired, he just wasn't sure if anyone else cared to know so he decided not to press further. But after all he had seen with the relationship between androids and humans, he was happy to see one where both felt like they were equals.
"Cyberlife has already done something kinda like what you're probably thinking anyways. GV200 looks exactly like Kamski's half brother Gavin, his entire existence was basically being made in the hopes of Gavin running into him and getting upset about it. Which never happened before the company that owned him had him junked, turns out Gavin doesn't travel by plane like Kamiski thought. But I fixed him up, with Kamski's help as the parts were custom and that was my first time dealing with that." Peter sneered at the mention of working with Kamski, Dan had a similar reaction which made it clear the man hadn't made a very good impression with them.
"Getting accused of being the one to make him was not fun... Thankfully, Gavin believed me when I told him who had actually done it so he's only gone off on me for it the one time. Guess I should've known something was up when Kamski showed up after I placed the parts order, but it's hard to tell what the face of an android with no skin looks like until you turn them on." Nines smirked a bit at Peter's mention of Gavin's behavior, showing he had some level of experience with it.
Well, it was good to know they were going to meet even more androids by just being in Peter's immediate vicinity. At least so far only one seemed fine attacking strangers on sight, even though Bishop wasn't too keen on trusting Nines' either after the poor state he showed up in.
And knowing there was another nearly identical more deranged android around they hadn't met yet didn't please Bishop either. So he stood back with his arms crossed, keeping an eye out in case somebody else felt like joining them.
"It's funny, isn't it? You meet a whole new guy, but it's still you!" Rook said while giving Strasky an encouraging pat on the shoulder, "It looks like you guys have a thing for getting in trouble. But it's clear you're good at making friends too."
"Rook is something of an expert on the topic. However, we have more pressing matters to tend to." Willow chimed in, "To answer your question, it will indeed be custom work, but fortunately time isn't a concern."
"Yeah. We just want to know if you can put a construct into an android so they won't be stuck being formless entities anymore." Rook said with a shrug, "Those guys could really use having bodies again."
"You would be paid accordingly, both for the work itself and for the risk of taking part in such a project." A possibly illegal one, though Willow simply glanced at Dan instead of mentioning it out loud, "And we'd be thankful if none of this was mentioned to the authorities, or to Cyberlife, lest they start having more ideas they would come to regret later on."
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you got used to running away from the consequences of your actions, but it turned out to be incredibly difficult when the consequences are your coworker and their name is spencer reid.
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!baureader, canon typical violence and topics, season 1/2 reid, GLASSES REID, queen elle greenaway herself, gideon being a little creep (as usual), reader clearly ovulating lmao, mention of a trauma connected with drowning, mention of one night stands of the reader, inspired by taylor swift song "the bolter", dominant reader (mostly), spencer being awkwardly sweet
𝐚/𝐧: i should be doing my history assigment now instead of writing another freaky long fic but here i am
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 10k
Fuck, you thought the moment you realized you’d woken up in someone’s arms.
Double fuck, you added as it dawned on you that this wasn’t some random guy you met at a club, the kind who’d bought you a drink, whose name you hadn’t even tried to remember, and whose life you could easily disappear from without a second thought. Instead, you were lying in the bed of a coworker—a teammate you saw almost every single day.
Triple fuck.
Maybe even quadruple, because of how much you liked it. That is, lying next to his bare skin. In a position where one of his arms was wrapped around your body, his face buried in your hair, in the curve of your neck. His breathing steady, occasionally tickling you. Pleasant. It was pleasant.
You were up to five fucks already, and you hadn’t even left the bed yet.
There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to do it. By the time Spencer Reid opened his gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, you’d already be gone. Long gone, behind the wheel of your car, speeding at the maximum legal limit with the window cracked open, despite the icy gusts of winter air rushing in.
You’d been perfecting this strategy for years. First, you’d lose yourself in strangers’ sheets with moans and gasps, only to slip away in the early morning, filled with a thrill even greater than what you’d felt just a few hours before. Why? A very good question. You wished you had the answer to it.
This situation shouldn’t have been an exception, though theoretically, it already was. After all, you’d never even considered doing this with people you knew so well. People you couldn’t just ghost without consequence. People you—leaning over to check the clock on the bedside table—were supposed to see again in less than an hour!
You rubbed your sleepy face with your hand, silently cursing yourself. If only you’d been drunk the night before. People dodge the consequences of far worse actions than having a sex with a coworker simply by blaming it on alcohol. But no—when all of this started, you’d been completely sober and fully aware. Incredibly turned on, it’s worth mentioning.
Before the memories of the previous night could start ambushing you, you scrambled out of the bed. First, of course, you had to untangle yourself from the mess of limbs—carefully, so as not to wake him. You gently moved his arm aside and adjusted the blanket over his hips. Where this sudden care and tenderness came from was yet another very interesting question.
Tiptoeing around the bedroom, you gathered your clothes. Your panties and bra you shamelessly clutched in one hand, intending to shove them into your jacket pocket later. Before heading for it, though, you paused for a brief moment in front of the bed, in front of the still-sleeping Reid.
The blanket, pushed low, revealed the upper half of his lean body—his prominent collarbones and the smooth, even tone of his delicious skin. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hand resting in the spot where you’d been lying just moments ago. As if you were still there.
What a shame it was only a one-time thing.
Some people, looking at his innocent appearance, had no idea how much he had to offer. Their loss, you thought, leaving the apartment on shaky legs, feeling soreness in most of the muscles in your body. When you finally got inside the car and the wind began to cool your flushed face and cheeks, the guilt faded away. You didn’t feel as good as usual, your heart wasn’t racing, and the adrenaline wasn’t surging through your veins the way you craved. Strange. Did it have something to do with who your one-night lover was? You shook your head, trying not to dwell on it.
You’d had a really great time together that one night, but that was it. You were officially leaving it behind, forgetting it.
Just like you always did.
It wasn’t an exception, you told yourself, as you took a quick shower in your own apartment.
It wasn’t an exception, and the fact that you worked together didn’t change a thing.
It wasn’t an exception, you kept affirming, crossing the threshold of the office with still-damp hair and the buttons of your fitted black shirt unevenly fastened.
“Are we not greeting each other anymore?” someone’s question snapped you back to reality.
Lost in thought, you realized you’d passed your friend Elle’s desk without even nodding at her. She was sitting on the edge of it, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes seeming to pierce through your skull, sifting through your memories. She was sharp—sometimes, too sharp. With nothing more than a sly smile, she let you know she knew something was going on.
"Sorry. I'm still half asleep," you said, approaching her for a hug. You let out a chuckle. "Or maybe I'm completely asleep if I missed such a hot chick in my path."
Elle pushed you away by a finger’s length, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.
"You think you're gonna distract me with compliments? Better start talking—who's the guy?"
“What guy?” someone asked, surprisingly not you, but Derek, who stepped into the room with a massive cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he tried to greet both of you. You loved the laid-back atmosphere of the early mornings at work, when you had a moment to chat about whatever. “Well, good morning, ladies. From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you had a nice weekend?”
"From that huge cup of coffee, I’m guessing you did too, if you need that much caffeine. Partying on a Sunday night, you should be ashamed," you replied sarcastically, eyeing your coworker.
His eyebrows shot up.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he whistled.
"She's just trying to change the subject," Elle informed him. "I was just interrogating our little bolter.
You rolled your eyes at hearing that nickname again. They’d started using it a while ago, as soon as they found out how you handled things with guys. There was nothing judgmental about it—they just really liked to tease you.
It took Morgan a moment to piece together what was going on. When he did, laughter burst from his lips.
"Is that why your hair is still wet? You left in such a rush you didn’t even have time to dry it?"
"She was afraid the sound of the hair dryer would wake the guy up," Elle snorted. "And, heaven forbid, they’d actually have to talk to each other."
“Oh, screw you both,” you muttered, aiming to act your age—in this case, by flipping them off. Before you could, Derek caught your hand, stopping you from spinning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.
“You know,” he said, suddenly a touch more serious, as if the question genuinely intrigued him, “I can’t help but wonder why you actually do it. For me, personally, waking up next to a lovely lady who made the night worthwhile is kind of the best part...”
"Are you asking about the psychological aspects behind it?" You raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elle tilt her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "I don’t know. Something from childhood, probably. Everything stems from there, doesn’t it? Or maybe the reason is something else," you lowered your voice to a near conspiratorial whisper, leaning in closer to their faces as if about to reveal some great secret. "I simply enjoy it. As they say, you don’t pry into people’s bedrooms or wallets."
"That rule doesn’t apply to our friendship, sweetheart."
You chuckled at the remark; sometimes, you really did share a lot with each other. In any case, your response had nothing to do with modesty or shame on those topics. You chose to answer evasively because you didn’t feel like describing how addictive that feeling of escape was, how much control it seemed to give you. How your heart would race in those moments, and how all your fucking lives seemed to flash before your eyes then.
It was sick, many people have already told you that. Still, you couldn't stop.
"Good morning, everyone." Suddenly, JJ burst in, clutching a briefcase the size of an encyclopedia under her arm. "Hotch wants to see us all in five minutes, we have a new case. You'll find out everything in a moment, but I’ll say right away that it looks like a little trip is in store. Bring warm jackets."
"Mercy, not another case from Alaska..." Morgan started, rolling his eyes.
"Not this time. By the way, has Reid already arrived?"
Elle glanced around and shrugged.
"I don’t see him. Besides, if he were here, he’d already be telling us everything about the weather conditions in Alaska."
"Strange," Derek muttered under his breath. "I can’t remember the last time he was late."
You fixed your gaze on your shoes, as if there was something fascinating about them.
"It’s not like him," JJ agreed, a little worried. "Maybe I should call him..."
"He’s definitely stuck in traffic," you interjected quickly, forcing yourself to sound casual, though you tensed up involuntarily. The thought of confronting Spencer slightly scared you, though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. "I’m almost 100% sure. Anyway, shouldn’t we be heading out?"
You changed the subject, nodding toward the exit with your chin. And then, by accident, you made eye contact with Elle.
Elle, who knew you better than anyone.
Elle, who always, always knew when you were lying or hiding something. And whose eyes widened when she realized.
Feeling the blood rush to your ears, you subtly shook your head, silently pleading for her not to speak. But she, to your horror, opened her mouth.
"You two, go ahead," she directed at Morgan and JJ. Then she fixed her intense, demanding gaze directly on you. "We’ll join you in a minute. I need to have a word with our girl, privately."
Barely were you alone when she exclaimed:
"Did you sleep with Reid?!"
"Goddammit, Elle, could you say it any louder?" you hissed, glancing toward the door where your colleagues had just disappeared moments ago.
"Why not? So, you had sex with Dr. Spencer Reid...!"
"FOR GOD'S SAKE..."
"...our genius boy and a member of the same team?!"
"I’m fucking sure even Strauss heard that in her office," you sighed. "But yes, I did it, I regret it, and most importantly, this has to stay between us. Not a word to Derek, JJ, or Penelope, understood?"
To your surprise, Elle burst into laughter and raised her hands in a defensive gesture.
"You know I wouldn’t tell anyone without your permission. I was just playing around Anyway..." she sighed. "I find it hard to believe. You two? Honestly, there’s always been something between you…”
"No," you interrupted her sharply. The words left a ringing in your head. "There was nothing between us."
"So, you decided to sleep together just like that, out of boredom?"
"We need to go, Elle. The rest is probably waiting for us."
You moved forward, your friend trailing right behind you, like that little voice in the back of your mind urging you to order pizza at midnight.
"Oh, one more thing. You said you regret it. So, what, our genius didn’t meet your expectations..."
"End of discussion..."
"Last thing, you told me not to mention it to Garcia, Morgan, or JJ. What about Hotch? Can I tell him?"
You couldn’t keep up the seriousness any longer and burst into laughter, joined by Elle.
"Tell me what?" a voice called from behind you.
Fuck multiplied by twelve thousand seventy-nine.
Somehow, your boss appeared in the same hallway, probably heading to the same room where you were going to be briefed on your next case. You noticed how all the amusement disappeared from Elle’s face. You both exchanged a look, like teenagers caught smoking a cigarette by their parents.
You both turned, silently negotiating through eye contact—arguing, really, over who should speak up and save the situation. It fell to you.
"Um... we were wondering... if we should tell you... that we absolutely love your tie. It's so... red and... long..." It was only then that you noticed it was a gray tie. "Not that one. Another one. Absolutely stunning. And I’m actually looking for a birthday gift for a friend. He’s... a huge fan of... ties."
You tried not to look at Elle, fearing she might burst into laughter. She already seemed like she was suffocating inside. Improvisation was never your strong suit; you always had to say too much.
"So, I hope you don’t mind me asking where you bought it. That’s exactly the kind of tie I’m looking for. Red..." You bit your tongue before you could say long again. "Good quality. One that you’d just want to untie..."
Hotch’s completely stoic expression didn’t help.
"Oh." Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t even greeted him. "Good morning, boss. Are you having a good day?"
"Average," he replied, completely ignoring your whole tie spiel.
Silence fell. Elle stared at the floor, and the corners of her mouth twitched dangerously.
"Let’s get to work," Hotch suggested, clearing his throat. He extended his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead. As soon as you turned, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. "I got it from Hailey," he spoke to you in a quieter tone, opening the door to the room where the rest of the team was already gathered. "But if you really care, I can ask her where she bought it."
Sometimes you had a hard time figuring out if the guy was serious or just messing with you.
"I’d be greatly appreciative," you managed to say, quickly passing him and taking a seat at the long table.
You heard Elle whispering to Morgan something that started with "You won’t believe this…” and contained a combination of the words red, long, and untie.
Actually, saying that all the team members were inside wasn’t entirely true. One of them was missing.
"Reid’s late?" Penelope wondered, just as your gaze fell on his empty seat.
"Let’s start without him," Hotch decided. "This can’t wait. JJ?"
She handed out the case files to everyone and moved to the screen, where the most important details and photos related to the case were being displayed. Before he could even say a word, a late Spencer burst into the room.
"Sorry, really, sorry..." he said frantically. "I know this never happens, but I overslept..."
He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes met yours. It felt like he might as well have shouted, Hey, you know we had sex last night? and it would have been less suggestive. Or maybe it was just your inner paranoid voice talking.
"You could’ve informed us you’d be late," Hotch said.
Reid was still desperately trying to catch your eye, even though you were determinedly focusing on everything except him. It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized Hotch had said something to him, and he sighed in surprise, snapping back to reality.
"Oh... yeah, I should have. Definitely. Actually... I actually sent a message to y/n."
At that moment, all eyes turned to you. You furrowed your brow. There was no way he had written or called you — you would have heard it… which, of course, didn’t mean you would have replied. Your hand went to your pocket…
"I forgot my phone."
Only then did you look at Reid, your expression should have given him the message you intended. I left my phone at your place...
“I’ll look for it for you,” he offered. He immediately panicked, probably realizing that you'd rather keep your night together a secret. “I mean, I’ll help you look for it. If you want…”
“Reid, please, sit down,” Hotch stopped him from completely humiliating both of you. At that point, you had a burning desire to bang your head on the table. “And close the door.”
“Right…”
He followed the order and took a seat next to JJ, across from you, sending a small, uncertain smile. You didn’t react, your face remained unreadable, even irritated by how much he was giving away about what had happened between you.
Still, seeing his slightly wrinkled shirt, the same one he wore the previous evening when he opened the door for you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Those small imperfections in the fabric were, of course, from how hastily you had removed it and tossed it to the floor, where it had stayed all night…
The first time you had met outside of work, as two ordinary friends and not colleagues, was a few weeks ago. You had to drop by his place in the evening to pick up some documents you needed for the next day at work.
“Thank god,” you sighed as the door opened. “Elle isn’t picking up at all. I have no idea what she’s doing or where she is, and I seriously need this. If I don’t bring it, I can pretty much say goodbye to BAU.”
Only then did you lift your gaze to the man standing in front of you, too absorbed in your panic over the missing papers to actually take a good look at him. One hand rested on the doorframe, dressed in a sweater vest with the collar of a shirt peeking out beneath it.
“I’m glad I could help,” he replied. Thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, which he only wore occasionally for work. It was a shame because they suited him well. “But I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t throw you out just for being one day late.”
“I’ve been putting it off for three weeks.”
“That definitely changes things. Are you coming in? I need to... check if I have everything. “I’m really sorry, but you actually called just a moment ago and I didn’t manage to…”
“Don’t worry about it,” you waved a hand reassuringly. “I should’ve reached out earlier and not bothered you at this hour. But since you’re inviting me, I’m coming in. I’ve never been to your place before.”
“You’re not bothering me at all,” he assured you as you both walked further into the apartment. The lighting was dim, creating a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.
You stopped in the living room when a familiar sound reached your ears—a melody you knew all too well. Without a second thought, you followed it to its source.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you huffed in surprise, coming to a halt in front of the glowing TV screen, its bright light cutting through the dim surroundings.
“What?” Spencer finally noticed you had wandered off and joined you a minute later. “Oh, sorry. I was watching it earlier and forgot to turn it off…”
“No!” You stopped him before he could reach for the remote. “Don’t you dare. History’s Mysteries is my favorite show.”
Spencer looked at you as though he expected you to burst into laughter any second and admit you were joking. But no, you genuinely, wholeheartedly loved that program. Especially the episodes about extraterrestrial life—deep down, you’d always been a bit of a nerd.
You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be annoyed.
“What?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You think just because I’m hot, I can’t have any intellectual interests?”
He widened his eyes, shaking his head.
"Don't put those words in my mouth. I’d never say—or even think—something like that."
"That I’m hot?"
"No! What? I mean… I wouldn’t assume you couldn’t have intellectual interests just because you’re…"
"Hot," you finished for him, letting out a laugh. "Relax, Reid, I’m just messing with you. By the way, you have a really nice apartment. Honestly, I kind of expected, I don’t know, a lab or something."
"Well, so far, you’ve only seen the living room," he replied.
"And I'd love to see the rest of it," you announced, rocking slightly on your heels. "But I haven't seen this episode yet, and I'm very curious about what it's about."
You noticed him hesitate, clearly unsure how to respond.
"Unless, of course, you don’t want me to stay. Maybe you're expecting someone. A girl or a guy?"
"No, no, I’m not expecting anyone," he replied quickly, swallowing nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—barely noticeable, but it was there. "You’re absolutely not bothering me. Actually, it’ll be... it’ll be nice to have you stay. But, um... the documents. I should—I'll go get those ready for you. Would you like something to drink?"
"...Four bodies were retrieved from a hole in the ice of a completely frozen lake. All the victims were young girls, aged thirteen to nineteen and each of them was involved in prostitution."
You were brought back to reality by JJ's words. You felt someone's gaze on you, surprisingly not from the direction you had expected. It was Gideon, and you were sure he had noticed the strange tension between you and Spencer. That was likely the reason behind his scrutiny. You had always thought he was a solid guy, but at times, he scared you. He looked at people as if he could see their original sin, not just theirs, but also that of five generations back in their family.
You shuddered, but for another reason. The subject... frozen lake, bodies pulled out... even though so many years had passed, and you could barely remember the event, the chill still crept down your spine, and your heart raced like you were running away.
"Wait a minute," Derek said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "How thick could the ice be on that lake?"
"Given the current almost extreme temperatures, probably around 50 inches. That's thick enough for even cars to move safely on it," Reid explained without hesitation.
You sighed, trying to hide a fleeting smile. You just... sounded like a fetishist, but you couldn't deny that it was a little exciting when he did that. He delivered long, flawless explanations, all while looking genuinely fascinated by the topic. It didn't matter what you were talking about.
Elle raised an eyebrow. You decided to ignore her.
“Doesn’t it make you wonder how he managed to cut a hole in the lake, in such thick ice, without anyone noticing?” Morgan continued.
“Actually, he didn’t have to do it personally,” Reid replied again. He took off his glasses and thoughtfully turned them in his hands. “Under different weather conditions, we might consider that, but these were most likely holes made for other purposes. Fishing, mostly, but also to test if the ice can support vehicles, for example. The unsub could have simply shown up, discarded the body, and that’s it.”
You all started the discussion on the topic without your input. You should have stayed focused, but you couldn't help but keep glancing back at his long fingers, holding the glasses...his touch so delicate and skilled…
The door opened once again, just like every Sunday, when the two of you caught up on the weekly episode of the show. After you stayed over at his place once to watch it together, it simply became a tradition. An unspoken one.
With each meeting, you talked less and less about work. It was still kept in a purely friendly atmosphere—otherwise, you wouldn't have shown up. You weren't looking for a committed relationship, but lately, the usual physicality wasn't enough, and you needed a new conversation partner on a deeper level. The range of your topics was vast, from casual chatter to deep analyses of the content you watched (you could talk for hours about conspiracy theories), or serious yet comforting conversations about life and the world.
"Where's my pillow?" you asked, pointing to the spot on the left side of the couch where you always sat.
"I spilled coffee on it, by accident. It's in the laundry. Sorry."
"Did you really just apologize for taking your pillow from your own apartment?"
"Sorry, It’s just my thing”
You both burst out laughing, sitting side by side on the couch.
"I miss something to rest my head on," you complained after just a minute. "I’ve got neck pain from sleeping on the jet."
"So, you should definitely sleep on a flat surface," he teased. "See, I took the pillow out of concern for you."
"Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid before you. The man who will always find a scientific reason to make your life harder. Maybe I should just sleep on a bed of nails instead of a mattress, huh?"
“I just suggested a slightly flatter surface! Where did the nails come from?”
“That’s the same to me. I need softness.”
Spencer shook his head.
“I can bring you a pillow from my bedroom.”
“The episode is starting.”
“I’ll be back in a second…”
“Oh, and then you’ll complain you can’t talk about the plot because you missed the first minute, and so much probably happened,” you stopped him from getting up, grabbing his wrist. “Sit. I’ll survive the neck pain. Or… or I’ll just lie down here.”
Saying this, you simply rested your head on his lap, settling comfortably on your side.
“What did the autopsy reveal?” Elle asked. “Did the victims die from drowning, or were their bodies just dumped in the water with a different cause of death?”
You should have focused on the case at hand, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort this topic caused you. No wonder your thoughts kept straying to more pleasant places as you tried to distance yourself from it. Still, you read through the case files, knowing you had to stay focused to solve this. Lives depended on it.
“They were all alive when they were thrown into the water,” JJ said with tightly pressed lips. “And each of them suffered a heavy blow to the head.”
“That’s how he abducts them,” Derek summarized. “Knocks them unconscious with a strong hit. Maybe he pretends to be a client, and once they leave with him, he strikes.”
“The question is, why specifically the lake’s ice hole?” you mused, tapping your nails on the table in an anxious gesture. “Is it purely practical? Did he think it was the easiest place to dispose of the bodies?”
You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos of the drowning victims—it felt like self-inflicted torture. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid staring at you differently than before. Once, you’d told him a story about something that happened to you as a child, more like a casual anecdote than a heartfelt confession. Even so, you thought you saw some worry etched on his face.
For the first time since he walked through the door, you met his eyes directly, responding to his desperate attempts to catch your gaze. Surprised that you finally looked at him, he froze, his slightly parted lips emitting a short sound as if he wanted to say something but forgot what it was at the last second.
"No... I don't think so," he finally said, drawing out the syllables absentmindedly. The slight furrow in his brow suggested he was deep in thought. "Bathing in water symbolizes cleansing from sin in many religions, both physically and spiritually. For example, in Christianity, baptism washes away original sin. Prostitutes are often the targets of serial killers who believe they’re purging society in some way. Since we’ve ruled out a sexual motive, maybe this is where we should focus our attention."
"That’s a good lead," Hotch agreed, as the rest of the team considered the analysis in silence. "In that case, we’re likely dealing with a religious fanatic. Such perpetrators often believe they’re acting in the name of God or some higher good. Worse still, they see their actions as morally justified, which means they feel no remorse."
"And that, in turn, means they won’t stop killing until they’re caught," Gideon concluded.
"Then there will soon be another victim. We need to move now," your boss decided, quickly straightening his papers against the table before tucking them into his briefcase. "See you on the jet in fifteen minutes."
Throughout the meeting, you'd laid out the victims' photos in front of you, studying them closely. Preoccupied with gathering them up, you could hear everyone heading toward the door, convinced you'd been left alone in the room.
But when you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Reid. Your breath hitched for a moment. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but you'd worked so hard to push the thought of it away…
"Hey," he greeted with a small smile on his lips. He seemed almost excited about the conversation. "I just wanted…to ask how you're doing."
You shrugged, forcing indifference.
"Fine, I guess."
You finished sliding the photos back into the case file, closed it, and pressed it to your chest.
"We should get going. Hotch gave us fifteen minutes, but the sooner we leave, the better..."
"You don't even want to talk to me?" he asked unexpectedly, shaking his head slightly in genuine disbelief. He swallowed hard and added, "About last night?"
You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You hated this—hated it with every fiber of your being. That awful moment when you had to tell someone you'd spent the night with that it didn’t mean anything to you, that you didn’t want to keep seeing them, let alone get involved. And it was so much worse this time. This wasn’t some random guy. This was Spencer—your friend, someone you genuinely cared about, whose friendship you couldn’t afford to lose, especially since you worked together.
Your body was conditioned to run, to escape. Waking up in someone else’s bed always signaled an immediate sprint to the finish line. But this time, it felt like you’d tripped over an untied shoelace barely a meter in.
"There’s nothing to talk about," you replied. The strange tension of being in the same room with him again, just the two of you in this small space—so much like last night—settled over you. "Actually, wait. There is. I think I left my phone at your place, though it might’ve fallen somewhere in the car. Could you look for it when we get back?"
He didn’t respond. You weren’t sure why, but you kept your gaze fixed anywhere but on him—his shirt, the space behind him, anything to avoid his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should look directly at him, let your words carry the weight they were supposed to.
Spencer suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh, filled with shock and maybe even… sarcasm?
"Did it really mean so little to you that you can't even look at me?"
You gave in and lifted your gaze. His head tilted slightly to the side, his brow furrowed. He looked somehow hurt even though hurt seemed too strong a word.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean how you disappeared this morning. I thought maybe you were in a rush or didn’t want to wake me, but when I got there, you barely even looked at me. Sorry—actually, you looked at me only once”
"What did you expect, that I’d throw myself at you and kiss you?"
"No, I expected that we’d talk about it like normal people."
"But there’s nothing to talk about. It happened, and that’s it. I don’t see any reason we should have to debate about it..."
Spencer wasn’t angry, like others might have been. He was simply stunned.
"I don’t understand this," he finally confessed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. It was as if they suddenly became a bother, so he adjusted them again, then, after a moment of hesitation, took them off. "Do you regret what happened?"
“No,” you answered quickly, it was the first honest thought that came to your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to find the right words. “Well… I don’t regret it in the way you might think. It’s just… I’m not sure what you expect from me now. We spent one night together, it was amazing, but I don’t have anything more to offer you.”
“I don’t want you to offer me anything,” he said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice, though it didn’t seem to be directed at you. “The only thing I want is… to understand where we stand now. Look, we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, I thought you liked me…”
“Because I do like you,” you interrupted him mid-sentence. "Let me be honest with you, Reid. I don’t do relationships. And just so you know, I don’t usually sleep with my friends either, but it happened, and I can’t undo it, nor would I want to. Because I enjoyed it, I like you, and I have a great time when I’m with you. And up until now, I’ve really enjoyed how things have been between us. I don’t want anything to change."
You summed up what had been weighing on your heart, hoping with all sincerity that he’d understand. Spencer leaned his hands on the back of an empty chair, turning his body slightly toward you.
"So," he said, letting out something between a chuckle and a pained sigh. "Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed with me."
"Listen, sex doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical act, it doesn’t affect our friendship in any way."
"Do you really believe that?"
“Yes, I do,” you insisted stubbornly, refusing to let yourself even blink. Spencer turned his face toward you, looking for signs of a lie or uncertainty in your expression.
He wouldn’t have been able to find any, even if he tried with all his might. Because you were a brilliant actress. And it wasn’t that you hid your feelings so well. It was more that everything about you was so contradictory that it created a whole range of possible interpretations. And Spencer, with his deeply rooted need to hurt himself and test his own worth, chose to settle on the one that would guarantee him that.
“Well, good for you,” he finally replied, before leaving the room completely, not even turning back over his shoulder.
For a moment, you stood in silence, unable to identify what you were actually feeling. In truth, your earlier words had been honest. You cared about your friendship, the connection, the conversations, and the time spent together. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that he simply attracted you. Just yesterday, you had convinced yourself it was probably just curiosity. Sometimes people wonder what it would be like to try something with a friend, they do it, and then all those similar thoughts fade away.
But was it the same for you two?
Your head and shoulders had been resting on his lap for a while, your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh, and the glow of the TV occasionally lit up your focused face when something brighter appeared on the screen.
Spender seemed tense about the position for just a minute, then, for the next five, he was simply surprised. Although you focused your attention on the program, you could feel his gaze falling on your figure from time to time, stopping on it for a moment. After ten minutes, you were both lying comfortably, with mutual ease, and after an unknown amount of time, one of his hands was resting on your side.
Every now and then, you spoke to each other, exchanging short, often sarcastic comments about the episode. During one of these interactions, something caught your attention.
"Where are your glasses?" you asked. You turned onto your back, resting the back of your head on his lap instead of your temple and cheek.
You could look up at him from that amusing, lower perspective, from which everyone looks particularly unflattering. You smiled at his expression when he tilted his head to look at you.
"Oh, I have them here," he replied, lifting the glasses he must have set on the couch.
"But why aren’t you wearing them?" You could swear that when you started watching, they were on his nose. You had noticed because you really liked how he looked in them.
He shrugged.
"You’re straining your eyes. Put them on," you asked.
Spencer moved his hand as if he wanted to reach for them, but at the last moment, he hesitated.
"I... I don’t exactly like how I look in them," he finally confessed.
After those words, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, then pushed yourself up on your elbow, almost aggressively. His eyebrows shot up at that.
"You must be joking."
"What?"
"I said, you must be joking. You look great in them. They really suit you," you assured him, sitting up. "You know, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to wear glasses. I even envied the girls with poor eyesight."
"You know, I’m fully aware you’re saying this just to get me to wear them?"
"True, you got me. Did it work?"
"Not really."
You bit your lower lip, thoughtfully considering a certain idea.
"Okay, give them to me for a moment," you asked, extending your hand. "I’ll tell you something that will convince you to wear them. From now on, you’ll even sleep in them. Well, maybe especially sleep in them."
He tilted his head, trying for a moment to read your intentions from your face, but he couldn’t. He sighed and handed you the glasses.
"Don’t..."
"Don’t grab them by the lenses, I know that," you finished, rolling your eyes. "I’m not some animal."
With his glasses in hand, you changed your position on the couch, kneeling so that you were more or less facing each other.
"I’m waiting for your arguments," he said, his voice sly, to which you raised an eyebrow.
"Well, this will be an argument combined with a little presentation," you clarified. "Have you ever heard of the glasses theory?"
"Is that an actual concept in human psychology, or something you just made up? If it’s the latter, I’m afraid I haven’t”
Listen, it’s very simple, but you’d better focus on me," you demanded, ignoring his previous remark.
"I’m focused."
Indeed, he was. His gaze was fixed on you with such intensity and engagement, as if you were about to deliver a speech that could change the fate of the universe. Or maybe it just seemed that way because you were so close to each other.
"Forgive me for the unacademic language, Doctor, but I don’t like to complicate things too much. This theory says that with glasses, you can only look one of two ways: smart or hot."
Spencer had already chuckled, ready to jump in with a sarcastic comment, but you pressed your finger to his lips, moving even closer.
"Don’t interrupt me for now, I’m not done yet. This theory also says that your look in glasses will always be the opposite of your usual, everyday look. So, if without them you look like the typical intellectual who knows the meaning of every word in the dictionary, then in them…" You paused, tilting your head to the side. Up until now, your finger had been resting on his lips, which it had landed on by chance, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing it along his chin and jawline. He didn’t take his eyes off you, which only made it harder to stop. "In them, you look really, really attractive. Like, you know, sexually attractive”
You felt his chest rise. You felt it because one of your hands was resting on it as you sat on his lap, though you had no idea how you had ended up there. Spencer had been entirely focused on your face until now-on your speaking lips, not on how your bodies were positioned in relation to each other. He exhaled, loudly, far too loudly for comfort, the breath he'd been holding in. The sound escaped as you settled your full weight on his lap instead of just hovering above it.
“Do you really mean that?”
Yes, you wanted to respond briefly, right into his ear.
“That’s the theory. And I… I agree with it. I even have another example. You won’t deny that I’m hot, right? It’s just something people think when they see me. A statement of fact. So… when I put on glasses…” Saying this, you slid his glasses onto your own nose. Your entire field of vision blurred slightly, making it hard to see his reaction. You could only feel how his body responded..“Well? How do I look?”
He didn’t answer. His breathing grew deeper, his pulse quicker. You knew this because your hand, which had been exploring every corner of his face, had already made its way to his neck and decided to stay there for a while.
“Spencer,” you prompted, “I asked how I look.”
He lowered his head, the top of it brushing against your sternum, lingering there for a moment. When he straightened again, his eyes were in constant flux, like those of someone torn by too many desires at once.
“Smart,” he replied, his voice barely audible, the word catching in his throat. “Now you look really smart.”
You shifted higher on his lap, drawn to him by the pull of his voice.
“Smart,” you repeated with a laugh, your tone edging toward a whisper, slipping between the two of you and filling the small space like liquid poured into a vessel. “That confirms the theo—…”
You broke off when his lips finally surged toward yours, impatient and pushed to the very edge of restraint. His jaw pressed against yours, forcing your entire body to tilt back. You swayed on his lap, both of his hands falling tou your hips, his fingertips pressing firlmy into your skin to hold your body at the same place, right next to him, close, closer.
The kiss, born of desperation, quickly transformed into the release of a long-hidden hunger shared by you both. It was equal on every level, matched in intensity and force.
In the midst of it all, you lost your breath, repeatedly pulling your lips away from his to gasp for air, only to reconnect moments later. One of those brief pauses drew a wretched, urging whimper from him.
It was around then that you felt the pressure, growing stronger against your core.
An involuntary smile spread across your lips, breaking the kiss, during which you briefly took control, tilting his neck back for better access. Pulling away by barely an inch, you managed to notice that his barely open eyelids were still fixed on your lips, glistening with saliva and flushed with desire.
“Spencer? What is it? “
After asking that question you pressed yourself to his hips, pointing to the obvious hardness. His eyes widened, as if all the previous actions had taken place far beyond his body, to which he had only just returned. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping your body firmly and decisively as if trying to slide you off his lap. Something in the intensity of his touch and his attempt to take control only made you cling to him more.
“Didn’t expect you to be that hard after a kiss, but maybe it’s my fault” You muttered a joke under your breath, your lips briefly marking the space along his jawline, chin, and finally his lips. In the meantime, while one of your hands remained firmly on his neck, the other decisively reached its target. Then, griped it through the fabric of his pants. His lips parted, b loout no sound came out; it seemed to have been swallowed by his surprise. “Do you want me to take care of it?”
Your hand remained still, waiting for an answer. At first, he was silent, focused on his own breathing, not looking at your face, which you found quite unsettling.
"Spencer, I want you to answer me."
When he hesitated again, you gently brushed your lips against the lobe of his ear. But before you could repeat your request, he unexpectedly pulled both of you to the side, positioning you beneath him.
You gasped, surprised by the shift in dynamics.
“I want this” he whimpered into your ear, covering it with his mouth along with the space around it. “I really, really want this, please…”
But was it the same for you two?
You repeated the question in your mind and recalled how, arched like a bow, you placed the glasses on his face, wanting to see him wear them as he made you come.
You stood there in the empty room, replaying that moment in your head, well aware that you should join the rest of the team, but not so sure about the answer
*
"Please don’t tell me that those fifteen minutes when you were alone..."
"Disgusting, Elle, you’re just disgusting."
Your friend, sitting across from you on the jet, smiled as if you’d just given her a compliment. The rest of the team either engaged in conversation with each other or reviewed the case files once more, looking for new clues. Reid belonged to the latter group, though his absent expression didn’t suggest he was deep in thought about the case. But you made an effort not to look at him, feeling a bit guilty for how things had unfolded.
"What exactly did you tell him?"
"That I don’t date and I’m not looking for anything serious."
"You just told him that?"
"What was I supposed to do, draw him a picture?"
"It’s not about that, it’s just..." Elle hesitated, unsure of what she wanted to say. She didn’t seem as cheerful as before. "I guess you didn’t say it that directly, right? Don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of... cruel."
Her gaze briefly shifted toward the subject of your conversation, looking concerned.
"Would you have come to that conclusion if it were any other guy you didn’t know?"
She sighed.
"Probably not, and that’s why I think I’m having some sort of moral crisis."
You fell into a bit of an unpleasant mood for the rest of the flight. Unsure of what else to do, you decided to think a bit about the case and the murders. You even came to a conclusion and were about to stand up to discuss it when it hit you that you wanted your conversation partner to be...Reid. You sighed and stopped halfway, not knowing if he was ready to talk to you again.
Soon enough, you arrived in the small town where the murders had taken place. Naturally, you headed straight to the site where the bodies were discovered. Bundled up in thick down jackets, the crunch of deep snow underfoot accompanied your every step. You busied yourself talking to the local police, deliberately keeping your distance from the lake. The vast expanse of frozen water seemed to glare at you, challenging and mocking, as though daring you to come and play. Every glance at the ice awakened an inexplicable urge to sprint to its center, to feel the chills coursing through your body and surrender to a reckless exhilaration.
Rain drummed against the bridge like a barrage of tiny bullets, sharp and unrelenting, as if determined to pierce straight through you. You stood huddled beneath an umbrella with Reid, but both of you were already soaked to the bone, shivering from the relentless cold.
“Where the hell are they?” you asked through chattering teeth.
As part of your investigation, you and Reid had been sent to a nearby high school to interview the teachers of a missing teenager. The rest of the team had been assigned different tasks, and someone was supposed to pick you up at the agreed-upon spot and time so you could regroup and share your findings. But the wait was dragging on far longer than expected.
“I’d just like to remind you that you laughed at me when I took this umbrella, saying there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and it definitely wouldn’t rain,” Spencer remarked, switching the umbrella from his red, cold hand to the other one he had been keeping warm in his coat pocket.
You looked at him with envy. Your jacket didn’t even have pockets, and you started wondering why you’d even bought it in the first place.
“This is not the time to point fingers at me,” you retorted. “This is the time to make sure I don’t die of hypothermia. Come closer. And don’t stand so close to the railing.”
“We’re nearly two meters away from it,” he pointed out, but still followed your request and stepped forward. You took the opportunity to shove your hands into his coat pockets for even a momentary bit of warmth. His coat smelled like rain, and your nose accidentally brushed against it. Your hands touched his in one of the pockets.
“Jesus, it’s like touching an ice cube,” he muttered.
“You still have feeling in your hands?”
“Still do, but I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time,” he replied.
“They’ll freeze and have to be amputated. We’ll be the only two handless FBI agents. Hotch will never send us on an assignment together again,” you joked.
He chuckled softly and shifted the umbrella to his other hand once again. For a moment, you both stood in silence—him staring at the river flowing beneath the bridge, and you gazing toward the direction where you hoped your rescue would arrive.
“Can I ask you a question?” he broke the silence, looking down at you.
You were standing so close, your hands buried in his coat pockets, that you had to tilt your head back significantly to meet his gaze.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Are you afraid of water?”
You stared at his face, taken aback by the question. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and for some inexplicable reason, you felt a sudden urge to push it back.
“Why do you ask?”
He shrugged.
“It’s just something I noticed today—though, of course, there’s a possibility I’m wrong. But we’ve been standing on this bridge for twenty minutes, and you haven’t looked down once. And you keep telling me to step away from the railing.”
“I’m just looking out for your safety, klutz,” you teased, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t wrong about the water, and it surprised you that he had even picked up on it.
“When I was six, I almost drowned in frigid water,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.
Spencer’s brows furrowed with concern.
“At least, that’s what I’ve been told,” you added before he could say anything. “Apparently, my dad took me and my sisters to a lake to go ice skating. He used to go there as a kid with his siblings, and the ice was always thick enough that no one even considered it might break. But that was twenty years earlier. He didn’t account for climate change. The ice cracked right beneath me.”
“God,” he sighed. “You know… maybe it’s for the better that you don’t remember it. At least not exactly.”
“Maybe. Apparently, I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, but I don’t have a single memory of that. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I shudder at the mere sound of water.”
“Your body must remember what your mind suppressed. But wait, didn’t you have to pass a swimming test to get into the FBI?”
“I did. But it was in a pool, where the water was calm and not trying to kill me. Hey, do you see that car? Isn’t that for us?”
After a few hours, you began to appreciate living in a state where winters were mild. Your hands were even colder than they had been that time on the bridge, despite wearing leather gloves. The hood over your head muffled the sounds around you so much that the first time Hotch called your name, you didn’t even hear him. You only approached him when you noticed him waving in your direction.
Something in his expression made you quicken your pace.
“We have the unsub’s identity,” he said before you could open your mouth to ask what had happened.
The rest of the team had already gathered. Reid’s cheeks were red from the cold, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He wasn’t looking at you, so you avoided looking at him.
“What?” you blurted, surprised. “How?”
“He abducted another victim, but this time he wasn’t as careful, and one of the cameras caught him. Using the footage, Penelope tracked down his information. She also found out that he came from a very poor family, and his sister turned to prostitution at the age of fourteen to support both of them.”
“I don’t understand. Then why does he kill young girls, just like his sister, who sacrificed herself for their survival?” Elle asked, suddenly appearing behind you.
Her question echoed in your mind.
“He thinks that by drowning them in freezing water, he cleanses them of the sin of prostitution—a sin he believes was unjustly forced upon them because of poverty,” you said suddenly, the chill biting into your body far more sharply than before.
“The unsub might even think he’s doing them a favor,” Reid added, animated, picking up your line of thought. “That he’s their savior, granting them a departure free of that sin.”
His eyes met yours, a flicker of admiration glinting in them. But then, as if reminded of everything, he quickly looked away. You felt like sighing. So this is how every single one of your interactions was going to look from now on?
“We need to catch him before he drowns another victim. We don’t have much time; it’s getting dark,” Hotch issued commands quickly. “Gideon, me, JJ, and Elle will head to one lake, Morgan, Y/N, and…”
“I should go with you,” Reid interrupted. “Elle can go with Morgan, and…”
“This is not up for discussion,” Hotch replied in a firm tone, a flicker of surprise crossing not just his face but everyone’s. When it came to time, his decisions were final. You all knew that. "Go," He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Before you knew it, you were in the speeding car. The tension and sense of mission always left you silent, focused, and most of all, determined.
“He’s here. Do you see him? He’s dragging her toward the hole in the ice!”
Throughout all of it, not once did it cross your mind—the obvious fact that you’d have to set foot on the frozen lake. Before you even had a chance to react or fully realize it, Reid unexpectedly grabbed your sleeve, pulling you toward him. He seemed surprised by his own action, his eyes darting with adrenaline across your face.
“The ice won’t break, do you understand?” he said, not letting go of your arm. “It’s thick enough that cars can drive on it. “It’s safe, trust me. And if you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,”
His voice was surprisingly steady, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t expected. You listened, almost stunned, not just by the care in his advice, but also by the fact that he was even speaking to you at all.
You didn’t have time to respond or even nod; the car came to a stop, and every second counted. Somewhere deep inside, though, you felt a surge of gratitude for his gesture and words. Because as soon as you set foot on the ice, it was as though your senses vanished. All that mattered was the water—cold, sinister, and waiting for you deep beneath the blue surface.
Morgan and Reid moved ahead of you, with the latter turning his head over his shoulder. You saw it, even as the darkness quickly closed in around you.
“If you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” echoed in your mind.
But you couldn’t just stand there and watch while the victim’s life was hanging by a thread. Focusing entirely on his words and voice, you moved forward, gripping your weapon tightly, yet with a steady hand.
And it was your shot, fired in a moment of desperate resolve, that brought the unsub down, giving Morgan the chance to catch the unconscious victim in his arms and rush her to the shore as quickly as possible.
You stood there, breathless, still holding the gun high, completely unaware of it until someone gently touched your hands, guiding them downward.
“It’s me,” Reid said quietly as you flinched. Only then did it start to sink in that you were standing on the ice. Your imagination began to feed you the feeling of the bone-chilling cold, the water pressing against your body with all its might. After all these years, still so vivid. You grabbed onto his arms tightly, your legs suddenly slipping beneath you. Why hadn’t they slipped before?
“Hey, careful. The ice is thick, remember? It won’t break,” he reassured you.
He held you tightly, offering you support as you both made your way to the shore, taking small, uncertain steps. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, a question loomed in your mind, one you were desperate to ask: why was he even still with you? Why hadn’t he just left you there, maybe for some internal satisfaction?
Finally, you were on solid ground, no longer gripped by panic. Still, your breath was rapid, every cell in your body shaking in spasms, but not in that teasing, playful way it had when you played the role of the bolter.
“Why did you do it?” you asked, still holding onto him like a lifeline. “I thought you were mad at me.”
Before answering, Reid studied you in silence for a moment.
“I could be furious with you, but I wouldn’t leave you there, alone and scared,” he said.
You opened your mouth, a warmth spreading across your chest, something that felt almost like a comforting embrace. But before you could say anything, the rest of the team reached you, with Elle hanging onto your shoulder, her voice full of concern as she asked how you were feeling.
In the darkness and the flood of emotions, his face blurred, along with the faces of the others. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering completely.
It was only then that you began to calm down, though it would take many hours before your hands stopped shaking.
*
You nervously paced around the office, two pairs of eyes watching you with clear amusement.
"Do you think he called me in because of that whole tie incident?" you asked, nervously biting one of your nails. "Shit, it’s definitely about that. It was so inappropriate, he’s probably going to fire me."
"Calm down," Derek said to you, the corner of his mouth constantly rising and falling. "First of all, if Hotch were going to fire you for every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth, you'd be gone after a week. Second of all, it probably has nothing to do with that. Knowing you, it’s probably some overdue paperwork..."
"You’re not helping," you said, raising a warning finger.
Elle’s laugh mixed with her yawn.
"God, I’m exhausted from this day. I’m out of here. Call me later and let me know what this was all about," she kissed your cheek as a farewell.
You briefly hugged her with one arm.
"Keep your fingers crossed," you asked them as they walked away.
Both of them raised their hands, making the gesture.
It was evening, and you had just returned to the office after closing the case. You had hoped to head home and sleep off all the emotions from the day, but then you found out that Hotch had called for you. And you had no idea why.
Before opening the door with his name on it, you crossed yourself in your mind.
"Listen, Hotch, about that tie, it was really just some messing around," you blurted out, before even fully stepping inside.
The man sitting at his desk raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t alone—across from him, in a chair, looking like a student called to the principal’s office for punishment, sat Spencer, looking just as confused as you felt.
"Did you want to see me now? Or did I mix up the time or the days...?"
"I wanted to see both of you," he replied, pointing to one of the two chairs next to Reid.
You exchanged a brief glance with your colleague. Since your last interaction on the frozen lake, neither of you had spoken a word, but the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as before. That didn’t, of course, mean that everything between you was back to normal.
"Listen, I’m just as exhausted as you, but I need to have this conversation with you now so we can resolve it as quickly as possible."
You shook your head in confusion.
"Resolve what?" Reid asked.
"Whatever happened between you two," Hotch started seriously, his gaze moving between your faces. "Any argument, I don’t care what it was about or how serious it is, it cannot affect your work or professional relationship in any way."
You couldn’t help it and let out a laugh. You imagined Elle’s expression on the other end of the phone when you’d tell her the real reason behind this summons…
"Hotch, there was no argument," you assured him, maybe not entirely honestly, but in an attempt to wrap up this somewhat, let's be honest, embarrassing conversation as quickly as possible.
Spencer nodded enthusiastically.
"Absolutely none. Never."
"I'm not blind or, as you’re both well aware, stupid," Hotch continued, his gaze shifting between you both. "I can see what's going on, and I’m telling you now—I don’t want any conflict in my team."
You let out a snort.
"So what are you going to do?" you asked challengingly. "Force us to shake hands and make up? If we do that now, can we finally go home?"
He met your gaze, his expression as stoic as ever, but you were certain—absolutely certain—that deep down, he was amused by it all. To your surprise, he suddenly stood up from his desk.
"No, I'm going to do something more effective," he declared. "I'm leaving you two alone for ten minutes. No one leaves this office. When I come back, everything needs to be settled. Understood?"
"Isn’t this some sort of elementary school method of discipline?" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw that beneath his amused expression, there was also a hint of concern.
"Exactly how it sounds," you agreed, briefly meeting his gaze before shifting it to your boss with a pleading look. "You're not our father, Hotch. We're adults, stop treating us like children..."
His hand landed on the doorknob without a moment’s hesitation.
"Then stop acting like children and talk to each other," he said, glancing at his watch. "I’ll be back in ten minutes."
You could’ve sworn there was a subtle smile playing on his face as he left.
You watched his figure disappear in disbelief.
And then, you turned to Spencer, who was already staring at you.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds smut#spencer reid criminal minds#bau team#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#dr spencer reid#criminal mind#dr reid#spencer reid smut#aaron hotchner#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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Re: posting your ko-fi or whatever on AO3 (don’t do it), I’m lucky that I’ve never been in a position where I needed to crowdfund my rent (I’ve been broke, even for extended periods, but never zero dollars broke), but also, if you accept money for fanfic, you’re opening yourself up to so much legal trouble. Fan art is just different and that sucks for those of us who can’t draw, but that’s how it works.
Anyway, you’ve never seen a leiascully ko-fi and I hope you never will. I do this for the love of my blorbos and for kudos. When I write an original book, you can buy that :)
#chitchat#the commodification of fandom is so poisonous to me#capitalism is a plague#i'm glad that some people are able to feel better about accepting help because they exchange fanworks for that support#but the accessibility of fandom is incredibly important#it's not a playground for everyone if you put it behind paywalls#i don't think fanfic is any less important or meaningful just because it's derivative#most of literature is derivative in one way or the other#and playing with someone else's toys is part of the fun#because you get to do it ~right~ when canon fucks up and make them kiss etc.#but it's still an interesting legal question
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Also gonna jump in and add a couple things
Disclaimer: I’m not a system, I just got an autistically-fuelled interest in DID/psychology of trauma so I encourage corrections/constructive criticism :)
Specifically some stuff regarding the previous reblog by OP
“Yes, you can be diagnosed as a minor. But like I said, they cannot have fully developed inner-worlds and alters.”
As was also said by the others, the development of one’s inner world is a focus of therapy which may occur as a minor or an adult
Additionally, alters can exist as fragments and therefore by definition are not ‘fully developed’.
OP’s definition seems to be suggesting that DID is only legitimate when a system only consists of fully developed alters. However, the level of ‘fully developed’ that OP describes is typically is achieved through time and therapy.
Therefore, there will be plenty of systems with an adult-body that do not fit this definition BUT they are still legitimate systems.
This in general is kinda getting into questionable territory. For instance, under these parameters, when the body is legally defined as an adult but the alters/inner world aren’t completely ‘developed’ (according to how OP is defining development) does this mean they aren’t a system? (The answer is no although regardless it’s not something OP or the VAST majority is qualified to determine)
Essentially you can’t really consider an ‘un-developed’ inner world or alters to be what legitimises a system because that is dependent on a wide variety of circumstances and the degrees/definition of ‘developed’ are also largely dependent on the system.
Although looking at OP’s profile makes me doubt explaining this as she seems to have political views which indicate limited open-mindedness or understanding of wider societal circumstance (ex. Queer and disabled but STILL a republican and pro-trump??? Wild.)
Also that’s she’s pro-israel makes me question OP’s empathy and the reliability of any ‘research’ that might have been done lol
You can’t be a system if you’re still a minor.
And you can’t be endogenic and say you’re a system.
That’s not how it works, and y’all know that.
#dissociative identity disorder#did#dissociation#psychology#trauma#birdiebats thoughts#disability rights#alters#did osdd
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Jackie realizing she’s gonna have to take care of shauna and jeff’s ghost baby
#🐇#yellowjackets#truly it’s so interesting to me how much better this season is than the first that literally never happens for me#the current timeline is finally getting interesting. Jeff is still the best part#love how fast misty took to being a cult that is so her™️#Jackie liking poppies is interesting to me both in the Jackie is gay camp and also you know the whole thing with wizard oz and her death#the ending was so fucking depressing I need a nap now#like I’m so happy they didn’t eat the baby that would have been so incredibly cheap but glad to finally have answers#like do we think shauna was dreaming or had she temporarily crossed over because like where was Jackie and the French dude#I’d say it would make sense that Lottie could be there somehow#idk it reminded me a lot of Jackie’s death of course so I have many questions#I will say the cop story line is pretty stupid like no fucking way is any of this legal and also let’s kill that creep cop shauna#I will help you girl I will drive the get away car#I was also like wondering awhile ago if Lottie’a camp is near where the plane crash was#and my best friend and I were like no there’s no way and then they tell us it’s in New York so like possibly close to the boarder?#I tried looking up cherry hill but I couldn’t find anything idk it’s probably totally unlikely and they just also happen to be in the woods#I didn’t get a preview for next week is there a preview? idk#my complaint this week is where is Jackie lmfao where is her ghost why wasn’t she in sex ed give me something I’m not ready to move on!!!!
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it is literally not about legality, if you’re in your late 30s literally what are you hitting up 21 y/os for. Don’t you have investments to make.
#Astonishing number of people will jump on the ‘but it’s technically legal!’ defence#But will not answer my question of whyyyyyy. If your date sounds like PTA night and you need to parent your girlfriend#you have an age gap! And! You are the lamest loser on earth; that is fact; hope this helps!!#(Okay. Lowkey? I shouldn’t be thinking about this STILL. Given it’s been like a MONTH since#But I feel a lil let down and betrayed and I think I’m still kinda processing that… but I#I confided in my bestestest friend that an older man was creeping on me. And I expected her to have my back 100%#And idk— I think she’s just had worse experiences with men and has a higher tolerance to bad behaviour than I an asexual person do#But her response was along the lines of ‘you’re an adult; there’s no problem with it really;#can’t blame him for shooting his shot; it’s not really a weird age gap’#And worst of all— ‘maybe he just has an age kink; maybe he gets off on you being younger’#I have to say. I don’t care. The point is that I discouraged it several times and was getting increasingly uncomfortable with it#I feel like in that situation the thing to do is side with me especially when I’m telling you all this.#And like. Sigh i don’t know. I still love her with all my heart but it’s feeling a lil awkward rn#I’m still thinking about that and obviously I don’t want it to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had#But it’s feeling a little forced right now. I expected her to have my back and for some reason her brushing this aside did make me#Feel completely invalidated and like I should just stop feeling weirded out and man up and discourage this man in words—#When the thing is there was NEVER any hint of interest. I don’t feel like I should have to dignify his behaviour in terms of interest or#Attraction. Because! I just don’t think you should be that forward with strangers repeatedly!! and if I think that’s weird then I’m sorry i#It won’t work with me! I don’t like it! I think that’s grounds enough to stop oh my god.#I’ll be seeing my bestie in a couple of weeks. Flying all the way out to England for her. I don’t want this to be awkward…#but something in me is just a lil heartbroken. Like I feel the girlcode was broken. We’ve always told each other#Not to let men affect our self worth or alter our boundaries. I feel like that was violated.#(ik she said that bc her bf at the time was 30 but like. Listen to my individual situation no? This one wasn’t about you I came for advice)#Rant
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"When did you have your last abortion? Until you know everything that goes with it, don't you dare lecture me or anybody about–" "I know what goes with it! Obviously I haven't experienced the physical part, but I know the overwhelming emotion that goes with it. I know the sense of loss, I know the doubt, the guilt, so please, don't–" BOSTON LEGAL 5.08 "Roe"
#this scene guts me like a fish#alan AND shirley shouting at each other on the verge of tears. why are my parents fighting#and watching this whole episode post-roe is so....... ugh#james spader#alan shore#boston legal#*#this whole season is the most overtly political and there are fantastic nuanced debates VERY current to the times like. down to the week#and alan the Democrat (as a proxy for liberalism) usually* comes out on top (though maybe that's a matter of perspective)#but this ep is especially interesting bc abortion is suuuuch a divisive issue they still come down relatively conservatively.#blegal pushed many envelopes on network TV in the bush era and the abortion eps went further than most but not too far#and notice there weren't any fourth wall jokes about getting letters in this ep. but I bet they did!#ANYWAY my polisci degree and characters as proxies for political parties aside. back to the boston freak#you could say it's a cop-out OR that it's realistically complicated but I like how alan balances his feelings#he feels the weight of the procedures he's been part of personally he has questions but he will fight to the bone for the legal right#fine upstanding gentleman. principled supportive man <3 I want him to get me pregnant#we'll keep it!
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Bucky was supposed to show up in Daredevil before the script got rewritten and now that they’re filming, I wonder if he’s still gonna be in it
#also raises a lot of questions ab why he was gonna be there in the og version#I’ve been thinking about it a lot ever since that was leaked#like is he showing up in combat context or is it something legal or what#also interesting bc he supposedly wasn’t living in New York anymore but being in daredevil obviously proves otherwise#I wanna know what it was so bad but then again the og script was apparently horrible so it coulda been a trash cameo#but still I’d love to see him in the new version#bucky barnes#daredevil born again
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wait hold up you're telling me I can just. edit what my name is on my uni systems by myself without having to scary convo or scary email someone. what. huh. this uni goes wild
#it's only for the uni systems as well so I wouldn't have to worry about ¿ letters to my house and stuff being sent with my name ¿#this is...really quite cool and useful and interesting. I will think on this. because I am very very tired#or I can just make the brave decision now and do it. It's been bugging me specifically today I guess#it's just. the group project. everyone adjusted to calling me my name really nicely actually#so it feels weird that my legal name is plastered all over the thing still because it kinda has to be because that's my name in the system#but tbf I also don't know if I would be allowed to put my name on my assignments still even if I did do that?#and also my student ID card idk if that has to be my legal name as well?#still some outstanding questions I guess. it's a start. whatever this is tho#:}#android.txt
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Just a curiosity! Why do you reply to the asks mostly via tags?
Nothing wrong with it of course I just found it curious!
if i post a response that's more than two lines long i'll feel like an eighteen wheeler in a bike lane does that make sense
#snap chats#tbh im surprised its taken like six years for someone to ask this VJALKJVA but hi. i'll actually explain now#like unless it's an ask outright prompting me to type a lot- like asking for analysis or something of the sort#then i just feel better doing most of my talking in the tags since. i talk a lot LOL i dont wanna post a wall of text every time#thats just- how you say. A Lot VLEKKJ i want people to be able to scroll quickly if they aint interested#and yk with my rambling it is True And Honest Rambling cause i dont even be on topic for like half the tags sometimes#so if i can Generally answer something in the main text then im happier doing that: short and sweet and to the point#but yk. then if you do wanna read my extra thoughts theyre always down here and not five miles long by default#its also just a sense of. im always 'shy' about my personal thoughts LOL#like obvi i have em and ill post em down here but i dont wanna 'talk too much' yk what im saying#there's always the Read More button but that still feels too much like putting all my thoughts on the main post if that makes sense#in any case. i hear my cat meowing so i legally have to bother her now#my eldest sister's going. SOMEWHERE so we're cat sitting for the weekend- just in time for me to visit For The Weekend LOL#but yeah thanks for the question !!!!!! that is why i chat down here as opposed to the main body#the main body's always like A Header or Intro i like to think for my text posts but anyway. adios :]
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Montross and "You'll kill them all, Fett."
Just before mission on Korda VI (Jango Fett: Open Seasons, issue 2):
Jango: "Jaster will do what's right for the Mandalorians. He always had." Montross: "Let's hope we can say the same about you."
After Jaster Mereel's death:
Montross: "Is that what you want? A child leading you? You'll kill them all, Fett."
Sidenote: Jango was 14 years old when he became leader of True Mandalorians.
Eight years later, Galidraan (Jango Fett: Open Seasons, issue 3):
"Mandalorians, open fire!"
You killed them... you killed them all. We're all dead...
#star wars#jango fett#montross#mandalorians#true mandalorians#montross is a bastard no question about that but he still had some right in assuming that jango - driven by his devotion to jaster -#will lead true mandalorians to their death#jaster and tor brings a lot to the story as opposite ideals / leaders#but montross too gives some interesting insight about Jango#sadly just because he is bastard he is rarely included#galidraan is a trauma for mandalorians sure but jango could at least try talk with jedi first before opening fire if he already knew vizsla#was involved and TM were legally hired#also the way jedi cut myles in half so brutal scene but also the whole frames? such a great storytelling#anyway i can talk about JF:OS non stop if you didn't notice yet
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hold on. hold on im shifting into vocaloid mode. hold on
#sorry spent too long listening to music sung by japanese singer Lia#and one Lia led to an IA and i started thinking too much about like#Lia and Miriam Stockley being like the singers of my childhood (Tori no Uta and Perfect Day respectively)#and how they both were voice providers for a vocaloid at one point#and then about how their vocaloids sound so different from the singers#(miriams being honestly largely because of the limitations of vocaloid 1. i think if they made an updated bank with like a falsetto version)#(because miriam stockleys voice is interesting with those HIGH high notes but also these really rich midtones)#(i think she might be able to get more qualities from her voice provider)#(in IA's case its largely because most people use her higher range LOL you can really hear the resemblence to Lia in her lower ranges)#(although i do like how different she can sound in all the different ranges its neat)#and now im longing. to play with utau again#i havent had a change to use it since i got a new computer (messing with locale changes too much can like)#(mess up my computers OS or bios or something so I wanna be careful lol)#i still gotta see if i can fudge something with a virtual machine but im too lazy to set one up JHFDSJFDs#pray for me....someday i'll do it#you know its funny. ive played with other vsynth programs#(couldnt get deepvocal working)#(synthv is pretty awesome. that voice bank koharu with the automatic intonation stuff is INSANE)#(like when u use her mid and lower range she sounds like straight up a PERSON its nuts)#(and ahem. i have. played with the big boy. the big V. the voc of loid edit her. maybe through means of questionable legality. cough)#but i always wanna go back to utau for some ungodly reason JHFKLDSJFkds#LIKE its clunky and every other program is so much more versatile and smoother to use and everything#but like. utau is so like. solid#like its so tangible in a way i cant describe fjdsklfds#maybe i just like changing voice quality by typing in a bunch of random numbers and letters in the flag section
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Alright US mutuals, if you are interested in, morbidly fascinated by, or anxiously doomscrolling through AI news, including Stable Diffusion, Llama, ChatGPT or Dalle, you need to be aware of this.
The US Copyright Office has submitted a request for comment from the general public. Guidelines can be found on their site, but the gist of it is that they are taking citizen statements on what your views on AI are, and how the Copyright Office should address the admittedly thorny issues in rulings.
Be polite, be succinct, and be honest. They have a list of questions or suggestions, but in truth are looking to get as much data from the general public as possible. If you have links to papers or studies examining the economic impacts of AI, they want them. If you have anecdotal stories of losing commissions, they want them. If you have legal opinions, experience using these tools, or even a layman's perspective of how much human input is required for a piece of work to gain copyright, they want it.
The deadline is Oct 18th and can be submitted via the link in the article. While the regulatory apparatus of the US is largely under sway by corporate interests, this is still the actual, official time for you to directly tell the government what you think and what they should do. Comments can be submitted by individuals or on behalf of organizations. So if you are a small business, say a print shop, you can comment on behalf of the print shop as well.
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They also frequently threw queer cis women & trans mascs in psychiatric hospitals. Queer cis men & trans femmes would get sent to jail (or fined or placed under house arrest) and often chemically castrated for "deviant behavior", queer cis women & trans mascs would (usually) get locked in psych wards for their "delusions" instead. When ya know, they weren't just straight up murdering queer people for being queer. Because as pointed out above that was also very much happening.
I feel like some queer ppl & feminist allies who used to think wlw were (unlike mlm) never really oppressed (because they didn't receive the same level of vitriol, the erasure of their identities meant that anti-sodomy laws historically disproportionately affected men, ppl are less disgusted with female homosexuality etc.) only gained a surface-understanding of oppression (lesbians = oppressed because patriarchy) without learning anything at all about erasure and what it does to a community, and now that they struggle to understand transmasculine history & oppression it definitely shows.
#also i would like to point out that the 'sending someone to the psych ward for being queer thing' is very much still happening#and i don't just mean in countries where homosexuality is explicitly against the law either#i mean in the US (and I'm certain other countries as well) some families & communities are still doing this to their children#and yes i am certain it's still happening even to people from places where conversion therapy is technically illegal#children in the US have so few actual protections & rights#it is incredibly easy for parents to just send their gay kids off to a private facility in another state or country where it is legal#not to mention that religious schools & similar programs are incredibly poorly regulated in most of the US#like i've been listening to a podcast of stories of ex-anabaptists#and it's full of stories of people who were sent away or whose friends were sent away or who were coerciavlly medicated#for any sort of behavior that didn't align with the strict gender norms/roles of those communities#or for any sort of questioning of the church or independent thought#like this is very much a Problem in the US (and Canada) still today#it's just not the entirety of society#fundamentalist & evangelical christian communities are doing the same things#and i'm certain there are fundamentalist types in other religions as well engaging in the same sort of shit#i just happen to be more versed in christian fundamentalism bc of my own upbringing & current podcast interests
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I spent the evening looking into this AI shit and made a wee informative post of the information I found and thought all artists would be interested and maybe help yall?
edit: forgot to mention Glaze and Nightshade to alter/disrupt AI from taking your work into their machines. You can use these and post and it will apparently mess up the AI and it wont take your content into it's machine!
edit: ArtStation is not AI free! So make sure to read that when signing up if you do! (this post is also on twt)
[Image descriptions: A series of infographics titled: “Opt Out AI: [Social Media] and what I found.” The title image shows a drawing of a person holding up a stack of papers where the first says, ‘Terms of Service’ and the rest have logos for various social media sites and are falling onto the floor. Long transcriptions follow.
Instagram/Meta (I have to assume Facebook).
Hard for all users to locate the “opt out” options. The option has been known to move locations.
You have to click the opt out link to submit a request to opt out of the AI scraping. *You have to submit screenshots of your work/face/content you posted to the app, is curretnly being used in AI. If you do not have this, they will deny you.
Users are saying after being rejected, are being “meta blocked”
People’s requests are being accepted but they still have doubts that their content won’t be taken anyways.
Twitter/X
As of August 2023, Twitter’s ToS update:
“Twitter has the right to use any content that users post on its platform to train its AI models, and that users grant Twitter a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free license to do so.”
There isn’t much to say. They’re doing the same thing Instagram is doing (to my understanding) and we can’t even opt out.
Tumblr
They also take your data and content and sell it to AI models.
But you’re in luck!
It is very simply to opt out (Wow. Thank Gods)
Opt out on Desktop: click on your blog > blog settings > scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle
Out out of Mobile: click your blog > scroll then click visibility > toggle opt out option
TikTok
I took time skim their ToS and under “How We Use Your Information” and towards the end of the long list: “To train and improve our technology, such as our machine learning models and algorithms.”
Regarding data collected; they will only not sell your data when “where restricted by applicable law”. That is not many countries. You can refuse/disable some cookies by going into settings > ads > turn off targeted ads.
I couldn’t find much in AI besides “our machine learning models” which I think is the same thing.
What to do?
In this age of the internet, it’s scary! But you have options and can pick which are best for you!
Accepting these platforms collection of not only your artwork, but your face! And not only your faces but the faces of those in your photos. Your friends and family. Some of those family members are children! Some of those faces are minors! I shudder to think what darker purposes those faces could be used for.
Opt out where you can! Be mindful and know the content you are posting is at risk of being loaded to AI if unable to opt out.
Fully delete (not archive) your content/accounts with these platforms. I know it takes up to 90 days for instagram to “delete” your information. And even keep it for “legal” purposes like legal prevention.
Use lesser known social media platforms! Some examples are; Signal, Mastodon, Diaspora, et. As well as art platforms: Artfol, Cara, ArtStation, etc.
The last drawing shows the same person as the title saying, ‘I am, by no means, a ToS autistic! So feel free to share any relatable information to these topics via reply or qrt!
I just wanted to share the information I found while searching for my own answers cause I’m sure people have the same questions as me.’ \End description] (thank you @a-captions-blog!)
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on ao3's current fundraiser
apparently it’s time for ao3’s biannual donation drive, which means it’s time for me to remind you all, that regardless of how much you love ao3, you shouldn’t donate to them because they HAVE TOO MUCH MONEY AND NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.
we’ve known for years that ao3 – or, more specifically, the organization for transformative works (@transformativeworks on tumblr), or otw, who runs ao3 and other fandom projects – has a lot of money in their “reserves” that they had no plans for. but in 2023, @manogirl and i did some research on this, and now, after looking at their more recent financial statements, i’ve determined that at the beginning of 2024, they had almost $2.8 MILLION US DOLLARS IN SURPLUS.
our full post last year goes over the principles of how we determined this, even though the numbers are for 2023, but the key points still stand (with the updated numbers):
when we say “surplus”, we are not including money that they estimate they need to spend in 2024 for their regular expenses. just the extra that they have no plan for
yes, nonprofits do need to keep some money in reserves for emergencies; typically, nonprofits registered in the u.s. tend to keep enough to cover between six months and two years of their regular operating expenses (meaning, the rough amount they need each month to keep their services going). $2.8 million USD is enough to keep otw running for almost FIVE YEARS WITHOUT NEW DONATIONS
they always overshoot their fundraisers: as i’m posting this, they’ve already raised $104,751.62 USD from their current donation drive, which is over double what they’ve asked for! on day two of the fundraiser!!
no, we are not trying to claim they are embezzling this money or that it is a scam. we believe they are just super incompetent with their money. case in point: that surplus that they have? only earned them $146 USD in interest in 2022, because only about $10,000 USD of their money invested in an interest-bearing account. that’s the interest they earn off of MILLIONS. at the very least they should be using this extra money to generate new revenue – which would also help with their long-term financial security – but they can’t even do that
no, they do not need this money to use if they are sued. you can read more about this in the full post, but essentially, they get most of their legal services donated, and they have not, themselves, said this money is for that purpose
i'm not going to go through my process for determining the updated 2024 numbers because i want to get this post out quickly, and otw actually had not updated the sources i needed to get these numbers until the last couple days (seriously, i've been checking), but you can easily recreate the process that @manogirl and i outlined last year with these documents:
otw’s 2022 audited financial statement, to determine how much money they had at the end of 2022
otw’s 2024 budget spreadsheet, to determine their net income in 2023 and how much they transferred to and from reserves at the beginning of 2024
otw’s 2022 form 990 (also available on propublica), which is a tax document, and shows how much interest they earned in 2022 (search “interest” and you’ll find it in several places)
also, otw has not been accountable to answering questions about their surplus. typically, they hold a public meeting with their finance committee every year in september or october so people can ask questions directly to their treasurer and other committee members; as you can imagine, after doing this deep dive last summer, i was looking forward to getting some answers at that meeting!
but they cancelled that meeting in 2023, and instead asked people to write to the finance committee through their contact us form online. fun fact: i wrote a one-line message to the finance committee on may 11, 2023 through that form, when @manogirl and i were doing this research, asking them for clarification on how much they have in their reserves. i have still not received a response.
so yeah. please spend your money on people who actually need it, like on mutual aid requests! anyone who wants to share their mutual aid requests, please do so in the replies and i’ll share them out – i didn’t want to link directly to individual requests without permission in case this leads to anyone getting harassed, but i would love to share your requests. to start with, here's operation olive branch and their ongoing spreadsheet sharing palestinian folks who need money to escape genocide.
oh, and if you want to write to otw and tell them why you are not donating, i'm not sure it’ll get any results, but it can’t hurt lol. here's their contact us form – just don’t expect a response! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
#ao3#otw#archive of our own#organization for transformative works#ao3 is not your savior#and they don't need your money#otw finances
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