#doctor sleep analysis spoiler

[reiding-writing]

hiii, i hope you're well! i saw that you are taking requests for spencer and i really like your angst fics so i was wondering if you could write one with unrequited love?

preferably bau!reader who has feelings for him but he doesn't and she watches him get with someone else and everybody knows how she feels about him but he is oblivious, ending is up to you but i love me a sad ending heheh 😸

transgression [ s.r ]

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. He’s in love with somebody else.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MAEVE ARC, LOTS of misunderstanding, Spencer is kind of a bad friend, lots of arguing, major character death

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 8.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: sorry for the delay, but i did warn you it was gonna be long so- also i listened to ceilings on repeat whilst writing this so take that as you will 🫶

did i bend the maeve arc to my will for this fic? yes. yes i did.

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @babyspiderling @marsxoxo2 @vytvyvy @hpstuff244444 @frostooo @ohmysw33 @radioactiveinvisible @devilsadvcte @the-local-pendeja @kakashis-formal-simp @robinswrld

You suppose you did it to yourself.

Spencer’s migraines had gotten increasingly worse over the last few months, and after a few consecutive days of hounding him, he’d finally decided to go and see a medical professional about it.

You’d expected him to come back with news about how his brain stem was too active from how hard he was working himself, or that he’d managed to raise his blood pressure to an unhealthy high from all the stress he was under.

Instead he’d told you that they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him and that he’d been referred to a geneticist to check if the cause of his sudden mind-numbing aching was due to an underlying condition that might have been passed down from his mother.

He’d come back and forth to you for weeks about his phone calls with the doctor.

How she was helping him with his sleep deprivation.

How she was helping to manage his diet.

How she loved classic literature.

How she and him had spent four consecutive hours on the phone debating over the logistics of a novel they both enjoyed.

You could see the change happening before your eyes, and you weren’t the only one either.

“Pretty boy’s chipper this morning,” Morgan joins you at the kitchenette, his eyes following Spencer as he takes a seat at his desk with all of the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy who’d been let off his leash for the first time.

You hum with a nod, focusing your attention on the two cups of coffee you were making, heaping tablespoons of sugar into Spencer’s Doctor Who mug to satisfy his insatiable need for sweetness. ���They’re reading a book together,”

“Really?” You respond to Morgan’s raised eyebrow with a short nod and another hum.

“Thoughts in Solitude by Thomas Merton, apparently she finds the religious analysis ‘fascinating’,” You can’t help the small contemptment that seeps into your tone as you reiterate what Spencer had told you to Morgan, and you can practically feel his pitiful gaze as he watches you make your coffee.

“I’ve heard of that book before from somewhere,”

“I tried to get him to read it a few months ago,” You take a sip of your coffee at the end of your sentence, barely able to taste it over the scolding water but not finding the mind to care.

You leave your conversation with Morgan at that, taking the two mugs in your hands and walking back into the bullpen, placing Spencer’s mug in front of him and walking around the cluster of desks to reach your own.

He’s sure he doesn’t need to verbalise it, but Morgan feels increasingly sorry for your situation, noting how you skirt past Spencer’s “thank you” without a response as you bury your head in your files.

he can’t imagine how much the fact that Spencer had seemingly formed a crush on his geneticist ripped you apart.

And the worst part? He’d never met her in person.

All scientific laws of attraction be damned, Spencer Reid had fallen in love with someone he’d never met in the span of three months, and you we’re resigning yourself to sit on the sidelines and watch as the man you had been in love with for six years find the happiness that you longed for with somebody else.

How you managed to keep up your facade you didn’t know.

You’d offered him change for the pay phone he’d call her from when he was running short. You’d let him rant to you about her opinions on a novel that you had failed to get him to read. You made excuses for him to leave the office early so that he could spend his time on the phone with her.

You were the one that sent him to the hospital and caused him to meet her in the first place.

He never hesitated to remind you of that fact, thanking you vicariously every time he relayed his conversations with the doctor back to you.

As the weeks progressed he stopped calling her that. She wasn’t ‘the doctor’ anymore. She was Maeve.

He didn’t call you by your first name and you’d known him for ten times longer that he’d known her. He didn’t even call Morgan by his first name and those two were practically brothers.

And that part was probably what hurt the most.

Maeve.

A name of Irish origin meaning ‘intoxicating’. How fitting.

Apparently the Irish goddess of love and desire was named Maeve. You could see the glimmer in Spencer’s eye that told you his Maeve was just as important as the mythological goddess he was describing.

His Maeve.

“So why haven’t you two actually gone on a date or anything?” You take a sip from the mug in your hands, swivelling your chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot. “You’ve been talking for what, four months now? Surely it’s about time you actually met her in person,”

“It’s complicated,” Spencer sighs as he collects the loose papers he was working on in a pile. He didn’t want to divulge Maeve’s issues without her permission.

“You’ve been saying that for the last six weeks Spencer,” You roll your eyes as you discard your half-empty mug on the table. “If I didn’t know any better i’d say you’re putting it off,”

Spencer shook his head adamantly at your suggestion. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He did want to meet her. Desperately. He’d wanted to meet her since the end of their first phone call. But he also wanted to keep her safe.

How do you meet up with somebody who’s hiding from a stalker without endangering them?

“I do want to meet her. It’s just- she’s dealing with something personal and it’s put a rift our plans, that’s all,”

“So it’s her not wanting to meet up with you then?” You raise an eyebrow at him over your desks.

“Look it’s- You don’t get it okay? It was a mutual understanding from both of us.” You can hear Spencer’s tone become more defensive as you spoke, and you raised both of your hands in surrender.

“Okay, i’m sorry for prying-” You ended your apology with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite feeling your heart deflate in your chest at the way the friendliness his his eyes fizzled out the longer you looked at him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer’s late to work this morning.

It’s 8:06 when he finally walks through the glass doors, the coffee you made him stone cold after sitting lamely on his desk for the better part of twenty minutes. He doesn’t so much as offer an apology as he picks up the mug and makes his way over to the kitchenette to pour the coffee down the sink.

You follow behind him in a mix of intrigue and a want to refill your own mug, swilling it out with some water as you watch Spencer load a coffee pod into the machine. “Phone call last longer than you expected?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah, we were discussing the literary analysis of Annabelle Lee,” Spencer’s demeanour seems to brighten immediately once he’s given an opportunity to discuss the details of his phone call with Maeve, although the beginning of his ramble is quickly cut off by the beeping of the coffee machine.

You wait patiently for his coffee to finish before you begin making yours, raising an eyebrow as Spencer pulls out a regular teaspoon instead of the usual tablespoon he’d incorrectly use to load his coffee with sugar.

Your intrigue only heightened when he pulled a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Not even normal milk. Soy milk.

“Since when do you drink coffee like a normal person?”

His eyes flickered from his mug to your face as he tipped a single teaspoon of sugar into his drink before replacing the bag back where it came from. “It’s a part of my managed diet, Maeve thinks that my increased sugar intake might be one of the risk factors for my headaches,”

“Did she tell you to put soy milk in it too?” You don’t know why you have the urge to be petty, Spencer had long since needed to change his coffee drinking habits for the sake of decreasing his sugar intake and Maeve’s suggestions were beneficial for his health.

It was just the fact that it was her that ticked you off.

“She did actually, it provides the same amount of riboflavin as cow’s milk, which acts as a soothing agent whilst also helping constrict inflamed blood vessels, but without all of the excess fats in regular milk that might make my migraines more frequent, it’s genius really,”

He thought that her ideas were genius. Him. Mr ‘I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187’, thought someone else’s ideas were genius.

You’re sure that he already knew the benefits of milk alternatives, and yet he attributed the ‘revelation’ of what they could do to Maeve. Of course he did.

“When was the last time you made a decision for yourself?” The question comes out much harsher than you intend it to, and you can tell by the way Spencer furrows his eyebrows that he’s taken offence to it.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” No it didn’t. “I’m just a little surprised that someone as independent as you is so… willing to follow blind instructions,” Your attempt at saving yourself half-works, that wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears and you can see that the glimmer in his eyes is returning slowly.

“She’s a doctor, of course i’m going to follow her suggestions,”

You give him a soft nod as you pick up your mug from under the coffee machine. “Yeah, no, that makes sense, it’s just a little surprising is all,”

You don’t give him a chance to respond to you before you’re walking away from the kitchenette to retake a seat at your desk, fearing you might say something out of pocket if you continue the conversation any longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were really pissed off now.

You’d arrived back in Quantico three days ago, and you were still piled up to your neck in paperwork.

Maybe you would’ve had it finished by now if Spencer would stop talking about the fact that he was “-finally going to meet Maeve in person,”.

You had half the mind to snap and tell him to just shut up, although by the saving grace of Morgan you thankfully didn’t have to.

“Reid, give their poor ears a break man,” Your thankful for Morgan in times like this. He knew you were knee-deep in your feelings for Spencer, and he knew that every time Spencer so much as spoke Maeve’s name it carved another hairline fracture in your heart.

You were close to shattering, and Morgan could tell.

“Oh- right, sorry,” Spencer offered you an awkward smile which you mirrored back at him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” You shake your head in a polite dismissal of his apology before turning your head back down towards your files.

“I take it you’re nervous then?” Alex’s voice cut through the beginning of an awkward tension between the two of you as she entered to bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Well- I mean- you know…” Upon being unable to find a sufficient response, Spencer resorts to shrugging into his chair. “I just don’t want to ruin anything,”

“But aren’t you curious what she looks like?” Alex raises an eyebrow with concern like Spencer was he son going on his first ever date.

“it doesn’t matter what she looks like I mean- she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me it’s just-”

You don’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.

You sudden upheaval from your desk stops Spencer’s sentence as his eyes follow you across the bullpen and out of the glass doors, followed shortly by Morgan as he jogs after you.

“Hey- Wait up a minute-” Morgan catches your arm before you have a chance to get in the elevator, and as you turn your eyes towards him he can see the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..”

Morgan can do nothing more than pull your head into his shoulder and wrap his arms tightly around your back with a soft mutter of your name. “I know kid, I know…”

“He thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” You turn your head up from Morgan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, a single stray tear cascading down your cheek, illuminated under the florescent lights. “How am I supposed to compete with that..?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Incidentally, Spencer’s date with Maeve didn’t end up happening. Conflicting work schedules or something, you weren’t really listening.

Maybe all of your subconscious thoughts had leaked into reality and finally gave you momentary release from the crushing defeat of having Spencer go on a date with someone else.

Maybe it was them punishing you further by forcing you to sit through him rant about the book she’d left him at the front of the restaurant.

It didn’t help that you already had a headache that made it feel like your eye sockets were being kicked by an annoying kid sat behind you on an aeroplane, leaving a dull ache in it’s wake and making you just want to bury yourself in a hole and hibernate.

“And right at the back she wrote ’Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another’ it’s a quote from-”

“Thomas Merton. Yeah, I know.” You dig the knuckle of your left thumb into cavity of your eye socket over your closed eyelid, hoping to relieve some of the tension that’s lingering there and disrupting your thoughts.

“Thomas Merton’s ‘Love and Living’ specifically,” If Spencer noticed your discomfort he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s a collection of his essays on the importance of love to live, so for her to have written it specifically knowing that I would read it means-”

“Reid.”

Your tone stops him from continuing any further, and he blinks at you with that sweet puppy-dog expression that would usually have you weak at the knees.

“No offence, but I don’t care about your over-the-phone girlfriend or the quote that she wrote in your book.” Your tone carried a harshness to it that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing from you. It was cold and detached and not like you at all.

“Are- you okay?”

“No, Reid, I’m not, and if you’d bothered to ask about my life every once in a while instead of using me like a human diary maybe you would’ve realised that already.”

You practically slam your file closed as you speak, pushing your chair out from your desk and leaving him sat in shock at your sudden change in attitude.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After a bit of introspection, Spencer did realise that he hadn’t been treating you very fairly. He hadn’t asked you how your life had been in 3 months and 26 days. Four of those days he’d spent in damn near radio silence. He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

He missed you.

It was a bit ironic considering you sat directly opposite him for almost eight hours a day five days a week, but after you’d snapped at him last week, he truly realised just how much of his day he spent socialising with you, and just how much he missed talking to you.

So he decided that he was going to apologise.

And what better form of an apology for being dismissive of your feelings than putting a personal effort into something for you.

He walked into the office that morning with a leather bound copy of The Parasite by Arthur Conan Doyle stored cautiously in his messenger bag, pages scrawled with annotations from Spencer’s own reading of the novel that he hoped would be insightful to you as you read it yourself.

He’d remembered you saying how much you wanted to read the novel a few months ago, so he figured giving it to you as a personalised apology would show that he really did care about you and had listened to what you’d told him.

“Are you busy?” Spencer asks, though he already knows the answer to the question.

He’d been watching you from the other side of the room all morning, hoping for a moment or two of eye contact to see if there was a possibility of a conversation. A look from one to the other; even a smile would’ve been enough to make him feel validated and content. And he would have been willing to settle for that.

But you never looked up. Not even once.

"Mhm," You continue to not spare Spencer so much as glance as he speaks, turning over the page of the file you were working through.

“Can I take a minute of your time?” He tried to catch your gaze again, only to be met by your continued focus on your work. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your work routine, but he also knew that he needed to talk to you sooner rather than later.

“Please,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, exasperation written clearly in your expression as you leave your pen as a page marker to close the manilla folder on your desk. You turn your head upwards, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands to agitatedly indicate for him to continue.

You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt being so openly cold towards Spencer, but you’d reached a breaking point, and you couldn’t bare sitting idly on the sidelines and letting him tear your heart to pieces anymore.

Spencer was relieved that you’d granted him your attention, but the look you directed towards him was enough to make him wince. You weren’t looking at him through a lens of indifference but rather cold, hard disappointment.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather the right words for what he had to say.

“I’m sorry,”

He seemed almost breathless as he spoke, like he’d just finished a tangent about something without taking the time to breathe. “I know that I’ve been spending too much time talking about Maeve and not enough paying attention to you.”

"You don’t say," You mutter the words under your breath to yourself, but your sure that Spencer heard you based on the way his eyebrows knit and the small gleam of hope in his eyes dwindles to barely a flicker.

He was trying not to react to your snide comment. Spencer knew that your tone didn’t leave any room to deny your meaning. He’d been selfish in talking exclusively about his relationship and hadn’t realised how it was affecting you.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeated. “You mean so much to me and I haven’t been showing that.”

"Thank you," Your thanks are polite but dismissive, like you were acknowledging his apology but choosing to not actually consider it as one, and it left Spencer with an expression of clear frustration.

He was used to being able to read your facial expressions and emotions in the past, but now you were just an unreadable wall of disappointment. He had hoped the apology would've been enough, but it was clear that you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

Time to pull out the last resort.

He bent over and fumbled with his bag for a few moments before pulling out the novel he’d brought with him face up.

“I uh… got you this,” He holds out the book towards you. “You said you wanted to read it right? So I uh.. annotated it for you to make it more enjoyable,”

You take the novel from him with a raised eyebrow as your eyes scan the cover, a clear flicker of confusion in your expression.

Spencer noticed your expression and furrowed his own brow in confusion. You didn't seem to recognise the book. In fact, the look on your face made him wonder whether you even knew this book existed at all before this moment.

“I hope you… like it,” he said nervously. “I was going off what you'd talked about before. You mentioned the book was a classic?”

"I… have never seen this book in my life,”

“B-But…” Spencer knew this was going to be awkward at some point, but he'd hoped not this early into the conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, and it was only getting worse as he searched your face for an answer to this awkward situation.

“I… swear I heard you mention it once.”

You give him a short shake of your head and a pursed smile of awkward thanks as you put the book down on your desk.

Spencer looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. He hadn't even been able to deliver an apology properly, let alone make you feel special like he'd originally intended to.

How had he gotten it wrong? He had an eidetic memory for god’s sake.

When you put the book down on your desk, his eyes flicked back to the book. He'd spent almost 4 hours annotating and researching it and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.

If you hadn’t mentioned it then who had? Someone must’ve. Someone he obviously equated with you to the point where he’d somehow managed to override his eidetic memory to mix the two of you up.

It takes him a few moments before you hear him whisper out a name under his breath, the palm of his hand dragging down the front of his face at the realisation.

"Maeve…"

The mention of her name had your eyes flickering away from the leather cover and right back to Spencer’s face, awkwardness completely rid of your features and replaced with a mix of negativity that Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into.

"Are you serious?" Your words come out less questioningly and more accusatory, and you hold the book up so that he can see it once more, the gold embossing on the cover glinting under the overhead light as if to only taunt Spencer further for his mistake.

“You apologise for continuously disregarding me for your girlfriend by giving me a book that she showed interest in?”

You could see Spencer's face fall as your words sink in.

He hadn't even taken the time to think over what he was apologising with. It was almost as if his brain automatically just reverted back to his girlfriend's interests as an escape from dealing with his own guilt and sadness.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. And in that moment he realised he'd just committed the biggest crime someone could make when trying to apologise.

“Like you constantly flaunting your relationship in my face verbally wasn’t bad enough.”

"I'm sorry I-" he says again, voice teeming with sincerity and guilt.

"You are truly and utterly unbelievable Spencer Reid." Your words didn’t carry anger as much as they did disappointment, and he could see the astoundment in your eyes as you pushed your chair backwards to stand, dropping the book straight in the trash bin by your desk before walking off.

It’s where it belongs; Right alongside the small sliver of respect you still had for him.

Spencer could've said so much more: he could've admitted how ashamed he felt for his careless actions and he could've apologised again and again a million times if it meant you'd stick around and give him a chance to make it up to you.

But you had already made it clear that you weren't in the right state of mind to discuss this matter further.

The best thing he could do now was give you space as he watched you walk away, a deep pain in his heart that slowly ate him alive from the inside.

He’d well and truly fucked up.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were bordering tears by the time you reached Garcia’s office, unintentionally interrupting her lunch break with Alex in the process, though the two seemed to care less about the interruption and more about the fact that you liked like you were about to cry your eyes out.

You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you try to tape together the cracks in your composure, although with every one you seal three more seem to appear in it’s place.

“I-” You can barely get the first word out before the tears start rolling down your face, and Alex immediately stands from her seat to guide you to sit in her place.

“Hey, you’re alright, slowly,” Alex’s hands find your shoulders and rub reassuring circles against your shirt. The slow breath you take in doesn’t stop the flood of tears that’s blurring your vision, and you only manage to get out a single word, but it’s all the two need to understand what’s got you so overwhelmed.

“Spencer-”

“I swear I am two seconds away from smacking that boy over the back of the head,” You can hear the clear frustration in Garcia’s tone. “Surely he’s got to realise how much he’s hurting you by now,”

“He does… I lashed out at him and then left to come here…” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand alongside a small sniffle, trying to rid your vision of it’s blurriness from your tears.

“Good, the boy deserves to have some sense knocked into him,” You appreciate Garcia taking your side, but you can’t help that small lingering feeling of guilt that invades the back of your mind.

“He’s just in love, it’s not his fault…” The words almost physically pain you to say. The verbal acceptance that Spencer Reid was indeed in love with somebody. Somebody who wasn’t you.

“That doesn’t mean that he should be disregarding you though sweetheart,” Alex’s tone is soft and almost maternal, and your sure that it doesn’t help how emotional you are.

Garcia’s right hand reaches forward to straighten out the collar of your shirt, unintentionally crumpled as you try to wipe your face of your emotions. “You’re his friend, and you have been his friend for longer than he’s known this girl he’s talking to, it’s not fair for him to completely push you to the side,”

Garcia was right. It’s not fair. Nothing about how Spencer had been treating you since he’d started speaking to Maeve had been fair. And you were done making excuses for the boy just because you knees deep in your feelings for him.

You didn’t deserve to feel guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel bad for lashing out at Spencer for apologising for not showing interest in your life by further proving just how little he’d actually payed attention to you. You didn’t deserve to cry because he was the most stupid genius to ever live and couldn’t see that you were hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t deserve to suffer by his hand.

It wasn’t fair.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maeve’s been kidnapped.”

You have to consciously suppress the small voice in the back of your head that celebrates the possibility that she might not be a part of Spencer’s life for much longer. It’s a horrible thought. You should never wish ill upon anyone, no matter how much you internally despised them.

Still, that part of you that was still petty, that was still infuriated with Spencer and Maeve, wanted you to tell Spencer straight to his face that you weren’t going to help him find her and that it was karma for how he’d treated you.

But you weren’t a bad person.

As much as you might hate her, she was still important to Spencer.

“I have a wealth of knowledge i should be applying to this case, but- i can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time… which makes me the dumbest person in the room-” Spencer’s eyes are full of desperation as they scan across your teammates.

“So please help me… Please help me find her…” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, the remnants of tears staining his face as he explains the context of the situation through broken sentences.

“We don’t have an official case, so we’ll be working on personal time,” Hotch’s voice is much quieter than you’re used to. Softer, more considerate. “Does anybody want to leave?”

You can feel his eyes linger on you as he asks the question, and you subconsciously purse your mouth into a tight line to stop yourself from impulsively pulling out of the investigation.

You might be detrimentally frustrated with him, but you did want to help. Even if it ultimately resulted in your downfall.

Hotch gave you a short nod before turning to the rest of the team. “Good, let’s get to work,”

It didn’t take Garcia very long to track Maeve down, mostly attributed to her unique name and specialised job.

Dr. Maeve Donovan, a professor at Mendel University who took a sabbatical leave 10 months ago.

The group split into different groups once they’d found her, JJ and Morgan heading off to a loft her parents owned, Alex and Rossi heading to the lab she used to work at, and you and Hotch, accompanied by Spencer, going to speak to Maeve’s parents.

“Reid,” Garcia’s tone is soft as she looks over her laptop screen towards him as he begins to stand from the conference table. “I have a picture of her, do you want to know what she looks like?”

“No,”

Spencer’s answer is immediate, joined by a shake of his head.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You and Spencer watched from behind the one way mirror as the interview progressed.

They’d last spoken to Maeve five days ago. Her mother had cancer. She was also a geneticist. They were suspicious of her ex fiancé Bobby.

Her fiancé?

You can see Spencer’s face drop at the words despite the low lighting in the room, and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows yourself.

She had a fiancé?

Spencer practically storms out of the office after the questioning is over, and Hotch has to remind him to calm down as they reach the apartment of Robert Putnam with Morgan and Rossi in tow.

When the door opens the five of you aren’t greeted by Robert, but rather a girl, a girl who looked very confused.

You invite yourselves inside at the girl’s recognition that Robert was inside the apartment.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Diane, his girlfriend,” She raised an eyebrow as the five of you looked around, confusion cut short as Robert rounds the corner questioning the sudden voices coming from his living room.

“Hey babe what’s-“

“Robert Putnam, FBI we’d like to-” Spencer’s voice cuts him off harshly as he rushes to speak, although he stops his sentence halfway as a flicker of recognition falls across his features and his anger turns to dread.

“Hey, I know you,” Robert doesn’t have the time to say anything else to Spencer before Hotch forces him out of the room, shutting the door behind him to speak to Spencer privately whilst you Morgan and Rossi remained inside.

Hotch returned a few minutes later. Spencer didn’t.

You end up taking Hotch’s place as you push yourself out of the apartment with a small “excuse me,” to follow after Spencer as he walks out of the apartment building.

“Spencer- wait up a minute-”

He doesn’t stop at your call, and you’re practically running down the stairs by the time you get to him, already out of the front doors of the apartment building.

“Hey-” You take a second to catch your breath before turning your eyes back towards him again. “Are you alright?”

You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he met your gaze.

The last time you spoke to him you threw away any remnant of your friendship with him in the bin alongside the book he’d given you, and now here you were, chasing after him to make sure that he was okay.

“Why did you agree to help?”

Your face falls from concern to surprise at his question, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I know that you don’t like her, so why are you here?” You could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, clearly overwhelmed with how the investigation was going.

“She’s important to you Spencer. Like her or not I care about you. So therefore I care about her,” You don’t think as you speak, words spilling out of your mouth with no conscious filter.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer’s apology elicits a sigh from your mouth, and you shake your head softly at him.

“Forget it, let’s focus on getting Maeve home safe alright?” He obliges to your request with a purse of his lips and a small nod, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“What’re you thinking about?” His eyes fall on yours once more at your question, round with confusion and glistening with the starts of tears. “I can see it in your face, you’re calculating something in your head,”

He exhales through his mouth in a small laugh. You’d always been able to figure him out, and not just because you were a profiler.

“2,412 hours,” His tone is uncertain, mixed between gratefulness for you observance and something far more upsetting. “That’s how long Maeve and I have contacted each other counting letters and phone calls…”

“That’s what-” You take a second to do the calculation in your head. “100 days?”

“100.5…” He runs his hand backwards through his hair, pressing his eyes closed like he’s afraid tears will spill from them if he doesn’t. “What if that’s all I get?”

“It won’t be Spencer…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes Spencer, I do,” You have to consciously suppress the sigh that threatens to leave your mouth, pushing your lingering distaste for Maeve down with it. “She is going to be fine, I promise,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Turns out Maeve’s ex fiancé wasn’t the stalker. In fact, he was being stalked himself, and whilst JJ and Garcia were looking over the images posted to Robert whilst him and Maeve were still together they discovered something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.

Maeve’s face had scribbled out in eyeliner.

You and the team spent the next thirty minutes rebuilding the profile from the bottom up.

“Celebrity stalkers are usually non violent,”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon Rossi?” Spencer looked up from his lap towards the group at the table, having separated himself from the group to sit on a sofa lining one of the walls so he couldn’t bias the profile.

It wasn’t going too well.

“What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him?” Spencer stood from his seat, anger flaring in his nostrils. “‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided’,”

You could hear the rise in his tone as he worked himself up the more he spoke.

“Spencer-“

“Maeve is somebody. And this- bitch is a nobody.”

“Spencer.”

Spencer caught your gaze, and immediately fizzling out of his eyes and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry- I can’t be very helpful right now I should leave-“

“Yes you can Reid, you have 100.5 days of communication with this girl and a recall everything verbatim,” Morgan’s gaze is entirely concerned with Spencer’s outburst.

“There’s too much of it, and I can’t sort through any of it clearly-“ Spencer is clearly on the edge of breaking, and you can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his composure for much longer.

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through it with you,” Hotch leaned his elbows against the table, his voice again portraying that soft, parental tone that said he knew how overwhelmed Spencer was getting.

Spencer didn’t even say anything, his eyes just silently flickered over to you and you knew you couldn’t refuse him.

You return his silence as you get up from your seat and pat your hand on his shoulder for the two of you to exit the room together.

Time to torture yourself for the sake of Spencer’s wellbeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Diane Turner, a research assistant working for her PhD in the same lab as Maeve. A student who had her thesis rejected because it contained a heavy sample bias that included both of her parents.

It took a while, but Garcia eventually managed to track down a loft that was owned under Diane’s parents’ names, less than 10 minutes away from Maeve’s apartment.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Diane’s voice is harsh through the receiver attached to the front of the building, and Spencer’s eyes flickered up from the silk blindfold in his hands to the metal box.

He doesn’t question the orders as he immediately begins stripping the vest from his torso, dropping it and his gun on the floor.

“Now come in alone.”

“Spencer.” You call out to him as he reaches for the door handle, and he gives you that look that makes your stomach do flips in your torso. Except this time it’s not that pleasant fluttery feeling, but instead an existential dread at the fact that he might not walk out of the building alive.

“I’ll be okay,” He gives you a nod of reassurance as he pushes the door open, and you find yourself clenching your hands around your gun to stop yourself from following after him.

The six of you wait outside for what feels like hours, and you lean back and forth on the balls of your feet as you become increasingly restless with the situation.

Then, a gunshot.

And a second.

And your heart drops in your chest.

You’re not entirely present as you rush into the building with the team following behind you, gun raised at your eyes.

Spencer had to be okay. He had to. He was going to be fine. You were going to walk into that room and he was going to be perfectly fine.

You hoped Maeve was alright too. As much as she was unintentionally causing you literal hell, you knew that she meant everything to Spencer.

You knew that he’d choose her over anything. He’d choose her over you.

And right now you don’t care. You just want him to be okay.

You force the door open to the loft with your foot, gun pointed straight ahead at the first person you see.

“Stay back-“ Spencer practically shouts from where he’s half lying on the floor, right hand clutching tightly at his left bicep, trails of blood cascading down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Stay back stay back don’t shoot-“

You let out an audible sigh at the fact that Spencer wasn’t critically harmed, although upon a whimper of his name from further across the room you turn your eyes up to the noise.

And you finally meet the girl that’s caused you ten months of hell. Held at gunpoint.

That small voice in the back of your head tells you that this might be your chance to finally rid her from your life, to let her succumb to whatever Diane had planned and leave Spencer to you.

But you take one look at the desperation in her eyes and any loathing that remained in your mind immediately fizzled out.

It wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. She was just a girl that happened to be in love.

“Diane,” Spencer pushes himself to stand, and you can see the pain in his face as he does. “There’s still a way out of this,”

“You never wanted me. Never!” Diane pushes the gun she’s holding hard against Maeve’s neck, and you can see her eyes squeeze closed as she attempts to keep herself from crying. “You lied!”

“I didn’t.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, and you glance over at Hotch as you spread across the back of the room, guns raised in Diane’s direction. “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it,”

“Me for her. Let me take her place,”

You only have a view of the back of Spencer’s head now, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that his expression is a pure display of desperation, one that you’re happy you can’t see because you’d lose your composure in an instant.

“You would do that?” Diane’s question is angry and accusatory, tears rolling down her face as she presses the gun against Maeve’s neck once more.

Spencer nods with no threat in his tone. “Yes,”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

You practically feel your heart stop.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve’s voice is almost exactly as you imagined it to be. Soft, smooth and, as Spencer had called it all those months ago, ‘dipped in honey’.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane’s tone contrasts Maeve’s tenfold, pitchy, uneven and overrun with manic anger.

“He knows,” You can see Maeve’s eyes flicker, and you assume that they meet Spencer’s as his shoulders drop. “He knows.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane shakes Maeve in her grasp as if to intensify the urgence of her question, and you tighten your grip on your gun in instinctual response. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve’s voice is confident and defiant despite the clear tears in her eyes.

Thomas Merton could’ve been something between Spencer and you.

“No.”

You can see a clear change in Diane’s expression at Maeve’s words, and she lowers the gun from Maeve’s head only to hold it up against her own, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes.

“Wait-”

Spencer barely has time to shout the word before the gun fires, and you flinch at the sound as you watch Maeve and Diane both drop to the floor, dark red blood pooling around the two.

You can feel the tension in the room as everyone computes what just happened, guns lowering slowly as their eyes lock onto the two women on the floor.

You’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the tightness of Spencer’s shoulders as he takes sharp breaths in and out of his nose.

The way he seems to forget about the bullet wound in his arm as his legs give out underneath him.

The way a sob that leaves his mouth despite the fact that he tries to muffle it with his hand.

The way that Spencer broke.

He's crying. Big, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs.

His shoulders are trembling.

His hands are shaking.

His head is hanging downwards so that his hair is covering his face.

You approach him slowly, kneeling down at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes slowly shift from Maeve, his sobs only seeming to amplify as he meets your gaze. His eyes are red and closely with tears, his cheeks running hot and his lips trembling.

You don’t speak, knowing that you’ll break if you do. Instead, you guide his head into your shoulder and let him crumble in your arms, grieving the loss of the love of his life.

You’re sure you’re going to cry yourself to sleep when you get home, but right now, you needed to be strong. For him.

“I’m so sorry-“ Spencer speaks through broken sobs as you hold him, the rest of the team moving to secure the scene.

“Shh,” You shake your head against his softly, rubbing the palm of your hand up and down his back as you let him cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“I treated you so horribly-“ He pulls away from your shoulder to look into your eyes once more. “I’m so sorry- Please don’t leave me…”

You purse your lips into a line, your expression full of so many emotions Spencer can’t distinguish any of them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You pull his head back into your shoulder, leaning your head against his. “I promise…”

[deuxcherise]

Rebirth

Spoiler Warning!!! Written as of Update 4.7 in Genshin Impact (game) C/w: Unhealthy behavior, mentions of death, mentions of resurrection, definitely OOC Dottore (?), yandere Dottore, gender neutral reader A/n: So I decided to write something a little… experimental (hehe pun intended) with this, but I will say that I’m not that knowledgeable about the character. I did a little research and read some character analysis and like… could I make him romanceable? Welp, I guess this is my take on him hehe. So basically, a certain doctor is too obsessed with you to let you go… Masterlist

“(Y/n)! Please… you can't…”

His voice… Those were the last words you heard in his voice, raw from screaming and choking from tears, before your vision blurs to black…

…..

…..

…..

For those who dare to pledge their ultimate allegiance and abilities to the Tsaritsa and the Fatui, they are made aware of certain oddities they must keep in mind, specifically regarding the Harbingers.

Pierro “The Jester”, the no. 1 Harbinger, tends to sport strange red marks on his neck every so often. If you happen to notice, do not question it.

Il Dottore “The Doctor”, the no. 2 Harbinger, tends to head off to experiment in his secret laboratory. Curious or not, do not question it.

Columbina “Damselette”, the no. 3 Harbinger, is known to either be sleeping or singing. If her eyes are closed, do not question it.

Arlecchino “The Knave”, the no. 4 Harbinger, tends to respond to “Father” rather than “Mother”. If you have the urge to ask if you can call her “Daddy”, don't.

Pulcinella “The Rooster”, the no. 5 Harbinger, happens to possess a pet rooster. Don't bother asking about its name.

The no. 6 Harbinger has been vacant for hundreds of years, either out of respect for the original Harbinger who occupied this position or simply because no one has bothered. Don't question it.

Sandrone “Marionette”, the no. 7 Harbinger, has a vendetta against the no. 11 Harbinger. She won't answer why.

The no. 8 Harbinger is dead. May she finally rest in peace, for she has endured tragedy upon tragedy for far too long.

Pantalone “Regrator”, the no. 9 Harbinger, unfortunately, does not possess a vision. Question it and he shall see that you and your kin and your kin's kin will forever waste away in poverty.

Il Capitano “The Captain”, the no. 10 Harbinger, conceals his identity entirely. Though his beautiful blue eyes may prompt curiosity, no, he will not take off his helmet and no, he will not answer any questions about whether or not his foot size does indeed correlate with his–

Tartaglia “Childe”, the no. 11 Harbinger, has a thirst for battle 24/7. Even if you do question it, you still would not understand and you might also be pulled into one of his deadly spars. Ask at your own risk.

Call it fortune, if you will, for you had never had the chance to meet any of these Harbingers– Except for one. A long time ago, before he was inducted into the Tsaritsa's special forces.

He was called many names during his youth. A lunatic. A heretic. A madman. A monster.

At that time, he simply questioned whether or not it was possible for a human to create a god. Or if it was possible to elevate humans to the level of god? How could they not see the potential humans had? Was their visions so narrow?

Undeterred by naysayers and resistance, he conducted his research and found reliable results. Sure, the experiments may be unethical, but what research is truly ethical? Ethics are but human constructs, and the further his research reaches, the more they would understand.

Would they not?

No, they wouldn't.

And so, he was chased out of his hometown. While it seems tragic since his exile was most likely due to his unforgivable crimes which involved strangulation which caused death, lying about the cause of said person's death, could you call it a tragedy if it led him to meeting you?

You, some ordinary traveling merchant who happened to find him on the side of the road, hungry and cold. Despite knowing his crimes and his terrible thoughts and his horrid experimentation, you took him in anyway. Together, you both traveled to all kinds of places. Although, he itched to get his hands on a proper lab and begin experimentation again, he strangely found himself content in watching you.

Your goods involved herbs and potions, small medications. To his amazement, you could remember all kinds of remedies in your head without requiring a written word. And somehow you could cure anyone who came across your path, no matter what ailment was afflicted on them. Even those with supposedly incurable diseases. A doctor, of some sort.

“What you doing, sitting here dilly-dallying? Shouldn't we be going? There's many more clients to heal!”

With your eyes closed, you wave at him to come sit beside you on the grass. He acquiesces, though he continues to prompt you.

“There comes a time in everyone's life when they must take a much needed break,” you answer, with a smile and a hum. “Even the most brilliant minds.”

He scoffs. “If the most brilliant of minds took a break, we would not have advanced as far as we have, now would we, (Y/n)?”

“Hm… that's true. But it would eventually happen one day, no? One day, we will find a way to travel all over world with just a tap of a button. One day, we will find a way to travel past the heavens. One day, we might even find a way to travel, say, another world! A world completely different from ours.”

He looks up at the sky, covered bright blue with a couple of fluffy clouds. “One day, I will find a way for humans to become gods.”

“Heh. I have complete faith in you,” you say nonchalantly. “And I will patiently look forward to the day that happens. Good things come to those who wait after all, right? For now, won't you enjoy this lovely day with me?”

He didn't know why he was so… infatuated with you, but there was a time he had once thought, with a god of healing such as you existing in this world and by his side, perhaps… was there any need for him to find a way for humans to become or create gods? Ever since the moment he confessed his feelings, you had blessed him with kisses and hugs and so much more…

A heaven-sent angel, he used to sweetly call you. A sweet-talking liar, you used to sweetly call him.

Wasn't the world perfect just the way it was?

No. It never was.

One unsatisfied client meant one bad review. It happens. It's normal. A merchant like you could only apologize and move on to the next. You weren't a miracle worker, just someone who gets lucky most of the time.

One unsatisfied client with large connections and a large temper, however? Failure is out of the question, and unfortunately you had failed to heal them.

And unfortunately, he wasn't there to save you.

It was only in your last moments he was able to reach you, as you lay on blackened ground burned by flames. He watched as the light faded from your eyes. He listened as you exhaled your last breath. He felt your body turn cold in his very arms. As he clutched your corpse, he looked to the skies which were dark and grey, heavy with rain that day.

He laughed a laughter that echoed in the vast space of the middle of nowhere where your body had been dumped, his voice devoid of emotion.

What kind of gods would allow those disgusting creatures to take you away from him?

No. No, there no gods in this world. Only fakers. Fakers out for their own selfish motives.

Not like you, a true god. One who had accepted him when no one else would.

These humans who took you away from him– 

No. No no no no no.

You’re merely… asleep. Yes. Asleep. Those humans were just unenlightened beings, who believed they had the strength to kill you but- but- but- but really all they did was release you from your mortal vessel.

All he needed to do was create a viable vessel for you to settle back in, yes?

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Tsssshhh.

The mechanical door to the lab hisses as it opens, allowing the owner to step in, and the door closes behind him. He walks towards the center of the room, where a naked body lays on a slightly tilted upward bed. Wires of all kinds are connected to the arms and limbs, hooked up to machines meant to capture vitals if the person was alive. Many areas of the person’s skin have been replaced with modifications, so as to preserve their beauty as he remembers.

Dottore reaches up and caresses your cold cheek. Other than a few square patches of unmatching skin and the lack of movement in your chest, you look at peace with your eyes closed, as if you are merely asleep.

Every time he touches you, he hopes you would awaken, open your eyes and gaze at him lovingly as you once did. Every time, you never do, laying as still as that day many years ago.

“I know you have waited for so long, but finally have the Dendro Gnosis in my possession, (Y/n),” Dottore utters with a shaky breath, his manic smile the only thing visible with his mask.

You say nothing, as expected.

“I have yet to tell the Tsaritsa what I plan to use it for. But there is no reason to, is there?” He brings out the green chess-like piece from his pocket. It glows with the Dendro element. “I've sacrificed so much for this. And now… now… HahHahahaHhaha!”

The doctor gets to works immediately, leaving your body to turn on all of the machines. Electricity travels through exposed coils, lights flash with on and off as energy strange liquids pump through the wires and tubes connected to your body. He comes back to you and holds the gnosis. His eyes land on the middle of your chest, marked with black ink for precision.

Although this particular process of inserting a gnosis into one's body is slightly from how he had successfully inserted the Electro Gnosis into that kabukimono brat, Dottore just knows this will succeed as well and places the gnosis against the middle of your chest, which it then magically gets absorbed into your body.

For a moment, it seems to be proceeding as planned.

The next, everything starts to fail.

Coils shatter and electricity dances! Red lights flash all over the lab! A blaring alarm whines over and over! The machines beep uncontrollably! Your body convulses terribly on its metal bed!

Horrified, Dottore rushes to shut everything down. He rips the wires and tubes from your body, despite how badly they burn off his gloves and the skin of his palms. Your body comes to a stop, but nothing moves except for smoke and sparks. The Dendro Gnosis was absorbed, but it did not return. And neither did you.

“NO!” Dottore shouts. “NO NO NO NO NO!”

He falls to his knees and slams his fists against the floor, crying out “NO!” over and over until his voice is raw and cracked. His current form was not made to be able to cry, but if he could they would have drowned his eyes underneath the mask. 

He grips his hair and grits his teeth to the point they make a jarring noise like nails on a chalkboard.

What did he do wrong? All of his calculations were on point. He’s a doctor! He’s supposed to be able to heal you. Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you come back?

…..

…..

…..

After what seems like a while, a message arrives from the Tsaritsa via a knock on the laboratory entrance. The Doctor has no choice but to answer. He stands up, looks at you with emotionless eyes. He’ll have to deal with your corpse later.

He takes several steps backwards and pulls a rope, releasing heavy curtains that block the sight of you from view before he answers the door. The unfortunate Fatui messenger has the misfortune of being the first person to meet with a very, very disgruntled Doctor. May the gods protect that poor soul from his wrath…

The Doctor had indeed made a mistake in his calculations. All good things must end, yes, but it is said that all good things come to those who wait. 

In the darkness of the lab, shrouded by smoke, a glowing green mark of the Dendro element lights up in the middle of your chest. Light green lines begin expanding all of your body, leaving trails like circulating blood in your arteries and veins. Once the lines have reached the edges of your body, they suddenly disappear.

Beep… … … Beep… … …

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin dottore #genshin impact dottore #il dottore #yandere dottore #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn reader #deuxcherise writes

[paris-in-space]

I need to get the thoughts I’m having about Doctor who out because if they just stay circulating my head I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to sleep it’s been 2 hours and I’m tired but my brain is refusing to shut down.

So, Dot and Bubble spoilers beware. Also these thoughts will be in the order I think of putting them down not in the chronology of the episode.

Weird place to start but one thing I got caught up on was the style of makeup that the majority of finetime characters had, like it was heavy and unflattering but in a way that seemed like maybe they were trying to go for a more natural look. And I’m sure there is something to be taken from this about the way people present themselves online but I’m too tired to do proper analysis it just struck me early on that I didn’t like the makeup. (It did feel fitting though)

I literally went “OH SHES BEING RACIST” out loud at the end. I do admit that although I did notice the weird vibes in Lindy’s responses to the doctor I didn’t pick up the exact meaning until that last scene, but then so many things clicked into place and made sense once I understood that fully. Like when she responded badly to the doctor appearing on the screen a second time I took it as irritation at his persistence, didn’t even think for a second that she didn’t realise it was the same guy.

Lindy deserves to get eaten by a slug.

Ricky September you deserve so much better.

(Not going to lie I didn’t think he was as attractive as everyone was making him out to be no offence to the actor I think it was a case of the weird makeup strikes again)

The lack of human connection is another thing that really stood out. This is the second episode this series to feature the concept of people never being hugged, albeit in different contexts. Just everyone being so focused in on themselves that basic human connection isn’t present in their society is such a sad thought, no wonder it turns out people like Lindy with no value for the lives of others and understanding of cultural differences if she has no meaningful relationships in her life at all. Just. Hug your friends guys (as long as they’re comfortable with it I know some people struggle with being touched)

The Doctor failing is such a rare thing, like of course there are tons of occasions where the Doctor can’t save everyone but they always try and almost always save at least someone. But these people cannot be saved, and it’s not the slugs that they can’t be saved from, it’s themselves. I think the lack of explanation into the detail of what actually was going on ties into this, because this time the Doctor doesn’t get to do a little “Here’s what’s been going down I saved you look how clever I am!” Because even the Doctor, the most caring wonderful being in the universe can’t save people who refuse to change and accept his help just because he’s different. The unfinished downer feeling feels totally intentional. Like, these people suck, the Doctor doesn’t get to experience a conclusive win, so neither do we as the audience.

The fact that this episode took place in the future too, they really said, just because time passes and things look like they’ve developed, societal issues have not disappeared and are still prevalent (I am white just so you know that’s the perspective I’m coming from) I think it’s a much more powerful way to address racism by putting it in a future setting than in the past. It’s very easy with historical settings to look at a piece of media and be like okay so the racism is awful but that is how it was, it’s uncomfortable but we can sort of look around it because everyone was doing it back then. But you put it in the future and you can’t look around it anymore because it should not be happening, should no longer be culturally acceptable. I’m struggling to put into words exactly what I mean, but it’s the difference between oh times were different back then it sucks but that’s how it was and times are not that different there’s still a massive issue to address here we can’t just sweep it under the rug of the past if we actually want things to be fair for everybody. It definitely made me think a lot more than a similar situation in a historical setting probably would have (not that that wouldn’t make me think but this has more impact)

On a more lighthearted note, the Dot flying around reminded me of the baubles from Runaway Bride. This is Doctor Who you cannot escape the floating balls.

Ruby doing the hair tuck seeing Ricky… she’s so real for that.

Overall I really love the concept of everyone so caught up in their own little world that they fail to see the horrors right before them. And it all comes back to the importance of human connection and understanding.

This has got to be the most thought provoking episode in a long time, and I’m sure there’s more thoughts I’ve had that I’ve forgotten to mention here.

[sihayadunee]

Sleeping Beauty in Mayfair Witches

Finally getting to my Aarne-Thompson-Uther folktale analysis, inspired by @allgirlsareprincesses. This first instalment will cover the ATU type 410, aka Sleeping Beauty or the Search for the Lost Bride. Future posts will cover ATU type 425, aka Beauty and the Beast or Search for the Lost Husband.

A fair warning, this post will cover some spoilers for Deirdre’s storyline. Rowan’s story potentially has some similarities to a tale variant called The Nineth Captain’s Tale, but I will save that for another time when we cover the Animal Husband motif. For more of a focus on our protagonist Rowan, you can check out my mythic symbolism series: Part One, Part Two. If you wish to watch the show first, Anne Rice’s Mayfair Witches is available to stream on AMC+ as well as purchase physically on DVD and Blue-Ray. Now let’s jump right in!

The tale type 410, or Sleeping Beauty, is related to Snow White, and other such Lost Bride tales. Typically a princess is the subject of a warning or prophecy, before succumbing to a cursed sleep either by consuming poison or being pricked. She is then awakened by a prince.

In the first episode, we open with an overgrown and desolate house in New Orleans. Much like the hidden castle overgrown with forest and thorns. This is the Mayfair House, and we follow Dr. Vernon Lamb as he makes his first house call to his new patient Deirdre Mayfair, who exists in a medically induced catatonic state. Dr. Lamb is the first of three characters who fill the role of the “prince” in this tale.

BEFORE THE SUN SETS ON HER 16th BIRTHDAY, SHE SHALL PRICK HER FINGER ON THE SPINDLE OF A SPINNING WHEEL — AND DIE!

The pricking of Sleeping Beauty’s finger, is a phallic symbolic of sexual awakening, first blood and transition out of childhood. This is represented a number of ways in the show. In our flashbacks, we see Deirdre as a young women at the age between childhood and adulthood. Her Aunt Carlotta and the local priest, constantly warn her against indulging “The Man” who we learn is called Lasher.

In her room she has a snow globe depicting the Eiffel Tower, a phallic symbol, which represents her yearning to escape from her overbearing aunts. Interestingly, she will actually cut her self on this broken snow globe at some point. She also longs for a relationship with Lasher, which she can’t have while she is a child.

When she sneaks away to her Uncle Cortland’s party, he secretly arranges for a handsome youth to sweep her off her feet and deflower her. Here Deirdre physically crosses that threshold into maturity.

Later after a great trauma, her Aunt Carlotta arranges with Deirdre’s doctors to give her Thorazine shots. This is the first of many terrible procedures which eventually cause Deirdre to become catatonic in adulthood.

*trigger warning for mentions of sexual assault in the following section*

It is revealed later in the season, that the night Deirdre had her first sexual experience, she is also raped. Her Uncle Cortland has his own ulterior motives, and wants to ensure she gets pregnant before her aunts lock her away forever. So after the young man leaves, and while Deirdre lies sleeping, Cortland puts on a mask and forces himself on her. She is still in a dream like state during this so does not know, and afterwards regardless of who it was, Deirdre becomes pregnant. This is something we often see in variations like The Sun, Moon, and Talia. A passing king or prince raping the sleeping princess, after which she becomes pregnant.

*end of trigger warning*

FROM THIS SLUMBER YOU SHALL WAKE, WHEN TRUE LOVE’S KISS, THE SPELL SHALL BREAK

When Dr. Lamb sees how young and otherwise healthy Deirdre is, he reviews her file and decides she is in danger from her Aunt Carlotta. He decided to pretend to give her the Thorazine shot, intending to help Deirdre wake up and be free. This is similar to the accidental removal of the curse, such as in The Sun, and Moon, and Talia where her child sucks the flax from her finger and she awakens.

While there isn’t a formal awakening kiss, the power of true love component presents itself through Lasher, who is technically trapped with Deirdre inside her mind. He helps coax her awake, telling her to take control again. So she does.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE: THE LOST BRIDE TALE

Unfortunately for Deirdre, like Padmé in the Star Wars Prequel Trilogy and Eurydice before them, she meets a grim fate. No pun intended. Lasher is bound to each Designee of the Mayfair bloodline, and Carlotta Mayfair often found the most suitable means to suppress his power and keep him at bay, to be killing his witches.

As they pass on to the next life, Lasher’s only connection to them is through the other Designees. So with each death, he feels each loss. But Deirdre is particularly representative of this Lost Bride myth, because she was already in a death-like sleep which he was trying to save her from.

Even before Dr. Lamb arrived, it’s clear Lasher had been trying and failing to get through to Deirdre, thanks to the Thorazine. Once the doctor stops her dosages, Lasher can finally find her. Just like Orpheus, it is his voice that leads her back to the realm of the living. And just like Orpheus loses Eurydice at the last moment, so too does Lasher lose Deirdre.

[bunglegaydogs]

listen its another dazai theory im sorry but he occupies my brain and i cant get him to leave

this ones a bit of a fucking mad one today lmao however, i was re-reading the fifteen light novel and i decided to look deeper into a query i'd always harboured towards one specific part of it, and that's the relationship between dazai and the old boss, so yk, let's get into it lmao

First of all, go check out this post:

it's a really good post, and it makes so many good points! Of course, my point does differ, but that doesn't matter, the quality and content of the post is amazing! Go show some love <333

This post ^^^ is the one that low-key kind of inspired me to make this theory. Anyways, onto the actual post lol.

So, the Previous Boss. A character that we know virtually nothing about, other than the fact that he was assassinated by Mori with Dazai as a witness, he was a savage leader and later became bedridden, to which his orders became chaotic and disorganised and ruthless. This is all that we know so far. So, not really much to go on. But that's why this is a theory :)

To be honest, it's a theory that's kind of canon in a way? Eh, anyways.

One of the number one things that stands out to me that makes me go "Ah! They're connected further than just a witness!" is in Fifteen, where this is said; (SPOILERS FOR FIFTEEN LIGHT NOVEL)

A distorted, crimson haze emerged from the other side of the subspace, and a figure appeared. "There… There is a nostalgic face. Hey, brat… Are you in good health? Have you been bullied by the doctor?" It was the old boss floating in the air, wearing a traditional, black robe. "Hey there." Dazai smiled stiffly. "It's been a while. How's your back pain? Your complexion is looking nice. Wasn't it a good thing you died? Boss—no, previous boss."

?!

Like, hello? Ahh, it really gets me going fucking feral when Asagiri throws shit like this in. Love you king <3 So, this is clearly like... something, right? I don't know, maybe I am just pure rambling about nonsense this time. I probably don't make a lot of sense, I'm very much quite ill right now and I didn't get to sleep until like 8am, and even when I did I woke up like 3 hours later. I am very much running on fuck all. Anyways!

Let's go more in depth I guess.

"There… There is a nostalgic face. Hey, brat… Are you in good health? Have you been bullied by the doctor?"

"There... there is a nostalgic face." - Excuse me? Now, I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that when Mori killed him, he was fucking bedridden and probably clinically insane fr. He was not right in the head or the body, and he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Once again, I'm no expert, but something tells me that he couldn't see Dazai across the fucking room, hiding in the fucking shadows. Fuck, we didn't even see him until the panel of him just... was there. Jumpscare fr. And again, as well as him being pretty hidden and quite a ways away, the Previous Boss was very ill, mans probably had fucking cataracts or something. My point is, there's a diminutive chance that he saw Dazai in the room. Plus, his remaining focus was on Mori, who was also basically obstructing Dazai from view. Suspicious much? Sorry sorry, lmao. Anyways yeah, it's just the "there is a nostalgic face" that gets me.

nostalgia

noun

noun: nostalgia; plural noun: nostalgias

a sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past."I was overcome with acute nostalgia for my days at university"

(ofc nostalgia ain't always good like in this case lmao)

Honestly, one can only assume that Dazai and the previous boss had a connection before all this. The theory that appears to be most prominent is that Dazai is either the "rightful heir" to the Port Mafia and the previous boss' son, or that he was adopted by the previous boss. Both are very interesting theories, and I've looked into them and they have strong evidence tbh. They're pretty plausible :)

However, here's me with my bullshit theories that for some reason derail from what everyone else thinks.

I honestly don't think that he was the previous boss' son, however he very much could be, but I do think he had affiliations with him, whether that be his actual parents were affiliated with the Mafia, someone he knew, other distant family members, etc. However he was involved with the mafia, he was. (I'm not saying he was, I'm saying that any way you can think of would probably work lmao)

My point is that I think that Dazai has already grown up surrounded by this environment of violence and bloodshed and exploitation of others to get what you want. When Mori first meets him, he's already a cunning, enigmatic and manipulative child. Where on fucking earth could he have learned that, if not from the people he grew up with, whoever that may be?

Dazai's past will always be one of my top things to think about, because once we get his past, so fucking much might be revealed and explained, and honestly, I need to know fr. (I'm so sorry but 'Killing in the Name of' just came on and I must say, very fitting-) But yeah, sorry, getting off-track. My theory is that his past somehow links into the old boss somehow. Whether they knew each other for ten years or just one before Mori first met Dazai, I think that they definitely did know each other.

Also, another thing of importance to note is the fact that Dazai is still in a suit when he tries to kill himself and gets sent to Mori. Also, I don't know whether the bandages were because of the suicide attempt, or whether or not they're there from before he even attempted it. Personally, methinks it's the latter, but hey, that's not what we're talking about here. Another thing to mention is the fact that Dazai gets sent to Mori, a shady, underground doctor who's clinic is a neutral zone for any fighting and little wars going on between underground rings and gangs, and because at this point the previous boss was going on his rampage, it was sure to be a neutral ground from the mafia. Now, why was Dazai sent here? I've always theorised on this, but my newest one only just blossomed today lmao. One theory I had is that he was found somewhere by a gang member who took him to Mori because he was just like "Oh, a kid, take him to Mori or something." this one I guess is kind of plausible? More plausible than some others lmao. Another one that I had was that whether it was his family or not, the people he was with did not want any suspicion arising around them should they go to a normal hospital with Dazai or they just know Mori's a shady doctor that'll sort him out quick I guess. Another mad theory I had was that Dazai was raised in an orphanage and they didn't want anyone questioning why a child under their care ended up trying to kill themselves on the grounds of the orphanage, so they took him to Mori. (I have more theories on orphanage Dazai, it's one of the least plausible ones but it actually made a lot of sense when I looked deeper into it)

EITHER WAY, sorry, it's clearly suspicious and seedy that you'd send a 14 year old to an underground doctor who is known for being shady and underhanded. Just saying.

God, this got a bit out of hand. Anyways, the newest theory I had for this was that Dazai was under the "care" of the previous boss and had tried to kill himself, Mori got wind of this and took Dazai as his patient, knowing his relation with the previous boss and saw his opportunity to assassinate him, using the fact that Dazai is an acquanitance of the previous boss to his advantage, and the fact that he's his doctor (the previous boss'). Does this make sense or am I actually mentally unwell and just chatting shit?

Well, whatever lmao. Going more in depth into the little extract from Fifteen; "Are you in good health? Have you been bullied by the doctor?" Now, whatever the fuck this means I guess? I'm going to do a separate post about the second half of what he said, because what the fuck. Lmao, but for now, I'm mainly going to focus on the "Are you in good health?" I feel as if this is him not only mocking Dazai, but himself. Asking Dazai if he's in good health, because he's not because he was assassinated by Mori whilst Dazai watched, and he was bedridden towards the end of his life. And, he's mocking Dazai because just a couple days (weeks, months, idk the timeframe lmao) before he died, Dazai obviously was hospitalised because of his suicide attempt, plus the fact that Dazai is just... unhealthy anyways. He's underweight, covered in bandages, mentally unwell and just doesn't take care of himself and throws himself into dangerous situations and has very self-destructive tendencies, PLUS the fact that (not at 14-17 I'd hope lmao) he also drinks, like, that mf is not in a good state. So, I feel as if it's just taking a jab at that, as well as him holding resentment for being murdered when he was ill. Does that also make sense? Maybe not. Sleep-deprived bullshit, my bad. But, as much as it's him poking fun at the situation and the people involved (also it could be bc yk Mori's a doctor, haha funny joke, yk? lmao) I think it's also quite familiar? Like, you know, you see someone that you know, and ask if they're okay, if they're in good shape, especially if since when you last saw them they're very much not. It honestly should come across as a caring remark, but obviously it's not in this situation.

Lmao anyways, another snippet from Fifteen because holy shit;

The true form of the silver flash that cut Dazai was a long scythe as tall as a human being. The old man holding the handle of the scythe gave a muffled laugh. "Cruel… Truly heartless. The day has come where the kid will be beheaded by this hand." The old boss said with a hoarse voice. "But before that, I'd like to talk about my memories… You're an enemy to me even in this body." "Boss. You're no longer a human…" Randou told him gravely. "I used a formula to recreate your memories and personality from when you were alive to insert into my ability… You are simply my ability. And your mission is… to take Chuuya-kun's corpse while stopping Dazai-kun. With that scythe." "Ok, I understand. This soul is a piece of torn paper clinging to your ability. This body is an automatic doll with no interior or self consciousness… But, it's an incredible feeling." The old boss raised the scythe. A black cloth emerged from thin air and wrapped around him… like an old, western grim reaper.

This one got me rabid fr.

Let's go from the start.

The old man holding the handle of the scythe gave a muffled laugh. "Cruel... Truly heartless. The day has come where the kid will be beheaded by this hand."

Right. Right right right. Not only does he laugh after he slices the bitch, what I find interesting is the "Cruel... Truly heartless." Now, he could be referring to a plethora of things, so I'll go ahead and mention a few of them.

One of them could be him calling Dazai cruel and heartless, which is honestly how a lot of people see him and what he does sometimes come across as. He's calling him this because he stood by and watched him get murdered by his doctor, the one who was supposed to be taking care of him. (Again, this is all assuming that he knew Dazai was there, which apparently he did, but how?)

Another thing could be that he's saying it's cruel and heartless that he's having to murder a child. Maybe. But, as we know, he's a ruthless and uncaring man who would not hesitate to fucking deck a kid, so like.

Another thing could be just him being sarcastic about his next sentence, once again mocking and kind of belittling Dazai and making fun of him, because he's in an unfortunate predicament, much like he was.

Now, with a few of those out of the way, moving onto the next sentence which fucks me up.

"The day has come where the kid will be beheaded by this hand."

Now you old on just a fucking minute.

One thing I'd like to say is that typically, a beheading is used as a form of execution. (Also parallells Dazai's betrayal of the Mafia later. Could be me absolutely clutching at straws frantically but I like to make connections and stick to them lol.) And, of course, an execution is a form of punishment for someone betraying or going against any form of law or hierarchy. It's strange to me that he'd use this phrasing. Maybe he's saying this because he feels that Dazai should be punished for not stopping his assassination, and he is to execute him for betraying the Mafia by standing by and watching him die. But Dazai wasn't with the Mafia at this point. Once again returning to my point of their connection and that they knew each other, it could be his way of holding some bitter resentment towards Dazai for betraying him personally, and it's not just revenge he's hoping to get on him. The next bit that also gets me is the "The day has come" as if he's been waiting for this specific day for a while, since before he was assassinated. Gah, it's all so confusing. Also also, the repeated use of the previous boss using words like "kid" and "brat" are also interesting to me. He's really the only one to refer to Dazai that way, bar Chuuya and that one GSS soldier, who was like "The Port Mafia are recruiting kids now?" and of course, Chuuya and Dazai calling each other "brat" "punk" and "kid". It just feels... off, the way the previous boss keeps calling him this. I don't know if he refers to Dazai by his name at all, which could also be a reason as to why maybe they don't know each other at all, because it's of course a plausible line of thinking, as we haven't been given anything that says otherwise. I don't know, it just irks me.

The old boss said with a hoarse voice. "But before that, I'd like to talk about my memories… You're an enemy to me even in this body."

Also forgot to mention the "hoarse voice" when he's saying that to Dazai. That's a big hmmmmm moment fr. Anyways. This part really is so intriguing to me. "But before that, I'd like to talk about my memories... You're an enemy to me even in this body."

Hm? What was that? This part's really fucking suspicious to me. "I'd like to talk about my memories..." So, clearly, there's something in his memories (PLURAL) that he'd like to discuss with specifically Dazai, something so important that the one thing he's been waiting and itching to do must be put aside for the time being. It's the middle of the battle between the previous boss and Randou and Dazai and Chuuya, like, can it not wait?

Irks me, and the fact that (like I said) it's plural. He doesn't say "there's a memory I'd like to talk about." it's just "Let's talk about my memories" almost as if it's fucking all of them.

Then, the use of the elipsis with the jarring "...You're an enemy to me even in this body." is unsettling. He declares Dazai, a 15 year old, as his enemy. Not only has he made fun of him, slashed him up, threatened to behead him and possibly called him cruel and heartless, but he's now stating that he is his enemy, whether he is a corpse or whether he is alive and well, alive and sick, etc...

It's all around a little bit suspicious, if I do say so myself. The next part, where Randou interrupts and stops him in his tracks, is also highly important.

"Boss. You're no longer a human…" Randou told him gravely. "I used a formula to recreate your memories and personality from when you were alive to insert into my ability… You are simply my ability. And your mission is… to take Chuuya-kun's corpse while stopping Dazai-kun. With that scythe." "Ok, I understand. This soul is a piece of torn paper clinging to your ability. This body is an automatic doll with no interior or self consciousness… But, it's an incredible feeling." The old boss raised the scythe. A black cloth emerged from thin air and wrapped around him… like an old, western grim reaper.

(Laughing at the "Randou told him gravely" because he's fucking dead lmao, L)

THIS. THIS. THIS.

"Boss. You're no longer a human..."

SOUND FAMILIAR, YEAH YEAH?

The fact that this specific line was used is just... there's got to be more to it. Why would Asagiri choose to specifically use that? And don't forget when Kunikida also said the same exact thing to Dazai in 55 minutes. (SPOILERS FOR 55 MINUTES)

"The hell are you talking about?! 'Finally managed to die'? You're no longer human! You don't deserve that right! If you really want to die that much, I'll kill you myself! How about this?! And this?! How about from this angle?!"

It just strikes me as odd, the comparisons. Obviously, Dazai's ability being 'No Longer Human', the phrasing Randou used is strange. I don't know. Anyways lol.

"I used a formula to recreate your memories and personality from when you were alive to insert into my ability… You are simply my ability. And your mission is… to take Chuuya-kun's corpse while stopping Dazai-kun. With that scythe."

"I used a formula to recreate your memories and personality from when you were alive to insert into my ability..." So, as we see here, he is just the same as if he were alive and well. He's not just saying all this shit randomly, he has sound reason behind it and he remembers. He has his memories, emotions, etc. (I also want to know when and how he took the body into his sub-space, that's interesting). I don't know why Randou stops after saying "...while stopping Dazai-kun. With that scythe." I don't know, maybe he's just clarifying lol. Hm.

"Ok, I understand. This soul is a piece of torn paper clinging to your ability. This body is an automatic doll with no interior or self consciousness… But, it's an incredible feeling." The old boss raised the scythe. A black cloth emerged from thin air and wrapped around him… like an old, western grim reaper.

And just like that, he's over it. Lmao.

I like the comparison of the old boss the the Grim Reaper, I think that's really important. Especially considering he got his own throat slit by his evil doctor, but.

I think what's so interesting to me about it is that, as we know, Dazai constantly seeks and craves death. He chases after it non-stop, longing for a life that's not his own, and wishing for that one fateful encounter where maybe, he'll finally be able to die the way he wishes. Whilst other people run from death and are scared shitless by the concept of it as they run from the Grim Reaper, harbinger of their fear itself, Dazai actively seeks it. He runs after the Grim Reaper, praying that this time, maybe, he'll die. But as we know, he hasn't yet succeeded (technically he's succeeded twice lmao.) and he still chases relentlessy after him. So, I feel as if the comparison of the previous boss to "an old, western Grim Reaper" is important to note. Once again, I could just be babbling wham. Also, the way he's about to "kill" Dazai is fairly important. The second he raises his scythe, he becomes clothes and adorned in black cloth, like an executioner swinging his axe. A lot is being alluded to in these passages (passages?) that are repetitive themes throughout.

So, this probably made no sense, but honeslty, I just needed to get my jumbled thoughts out there.

In conclusion, I do believe that Dazai and the previous boss have some sort of connection, and I hope it's brought up again, and it wasn't just a one off or a misinterpretation of the scene. It seems really intriguing to me!

A lot of theories that I have seen include Dazai being "heir" to the Port Mafia and whilst that could be a plausible way of thinking, I just don't think so, but who am I to say?

Yes, he was in the room with the boss when Mori killed him; who's to say Mori didn't just bring him with him and say "He's under my care." or something? Maybe it wouldn't be that easy if the room was heavily guarded, especially because it's the Port Mafia's boss and many people are wanting to assassinate him, but they'd never suspect that his doctor would be up to something shady, and so what if he takes a kid in there with him? What's a 14 year old going to do?

Also, if the chances are that Dazai was "adopted" in a way by the previous boss, of course they'd let him go in with Mori, if they knew who he was.

And also, people saying about how why Mori would kick Dazai out of the Mafia at 18 is also due to the fact that he is indeed the rightful "heir" and he knows it, or something. But honestly, I don't know if that has much to do with it. I don't actually think that Mori expected Dazai to leave the Mafia; I don't think he understood the true impact Oda had on Dazai, because Mori doesn't know who Dazai is really. Dazai is cold, and doesn't show much emotion. However, it was a completely different story with Oda and Ango, and I think Mori didn't truly understand the extent that the fondness between them all went to. I think he wanted to keep Dazai under his thumb, reign him in, make him more obedient. If he could take some rogue compnents out of Dazai's life, it'd give him more reason to be more of a... mindless slave? To the Mafia? There's better phrasing, but do you get what I mean? With Oda's sacrifice, Mori killed about 6 birds with one stone. He got rid of Mimic, he got the permit he needed, he (if we exclude my theory of him trying to make Dazai more controlled) got rid of Dazai who was a threat to his position, he got the upper hand on the Division, etc etc. He really hit the nail on the head with that one move. But, in other aspects, it was indeed the wrong move. He lost a lot because of it. He lost the trust of Dazai as well as Dazai himself, he lost one of the most skilled ability users and a phenomenal assassin, also lost quite a few men along the way, (he already knew this but) he lost Ango, a skilled and resourceful information store (lol), etc. Confusing situation lol.

Anyways, sorry, went on a rant, but my point was that kicking Dazai out of the mafia for being the rightful "heir" wouldn't have done much. Dazai could still assassinate him if he wanted to be the boss. Which is why I think he has some underlying motive for doing what he did. Also, the fact that he seems genuinely dejected and angry when the Guild is fighting with them and he mentions that if Dazai were still here, the Guild would have been no match.

Also, a good point that the post I mentioned made was when Hirotsu mentioned specifically Dazai when talking about understanding Mori's motives, which I think was very interesting.

Now, this could probably be about anything, but it does seem like it's directed towards Mori assassinating the previous boss. It could also mean about sending Chuuya over to his location, kicking him out of the mafia (this is the one I low-key kind of think that he meant), etc. It could be a lot, but seemingly it's either only getting Dazai forced out of the Mafia or the previous boss' death. Interesting points all around and their analysis and theory is so so so good!!!

Anyways, this was a bit longer than I expected it to be, I hope it makes sense! Any questions, please please PLEASE feel free to ask! Because I have a lot more to say about this, but I can't write it unless prompted lmao.

Thank you for reading this far, my love <333

Have a lovely day/night! <333

[discoevsky]

The Blue Castle Chapter 1 Analysis

This is sooo late, but I didn’t have time till now!

Here are my chapter by chapter analysis/thoughts of The Blue Castle (separate post per chaper)

SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK

Chapter 1

Valency’s life is so empty that rain, the most mundane of all weathers in fiction, made an impact and brought change. Her life is so boring that her heart problems don’t scare her, but annoys her.

Valency also wakes up to dullness “Valency wakened early, in the lifeless, hopeless hour just preceding dwan”. There is no moment of happiness where her eyes are open. And her entire life, 29 years amounts to one sentence “One does not sleep well, sometimes, when one is twenty-nine on the morrow, and unmarried, in a community and connection where the unmarried are simply those who have failed to get a man”.

Despite her drab existence, Montgomery still shows the tiny bit of resistance she displays. Valency hopes for romance. For her era, women desiring love and romance was frowned upon. How dare you express emotions that border carnal sins. Romance and love were expected to thrust itself upon women. But Valency desires it, and eventually seeks it.

Montgomery also shows Valency’s resistance in her failure to be in her family’s good grace. Her lack of confidence in herself is built by those who see her has a failure. But the only reason Valency sees herself as such is because she isn’t interested in being the type of person her family expects.

Let’s talk about Valency’s room. It’s described to have e a yellow painted floor and a rug with a grinning dog on it. There is red paper on the ceiling and a lambrequin with purple roses. This room looks to be an aged child’s room. Valency, despite being almost 30, is stuck in a child’s room that both she and time have outgrown. Her room captures how her family also treats her. As a woman who is but a child because she is not married. Montgomery really highlights the importance of marriage for women during her time. It’s not that women want a happily every after, it’s that women want to be able to grow up and make decisions (as best they could for their society). Her room is also surrounded by family pictures. She cannot escape them, for they are physically there in photo frame context. They suffocate her even in the one place she runs to escape them. They even attempt to invade her physically space like a parent sharing the bed of a young sick child or spanking a child.

I love this line “Valency never persisted”. It’s a clever play on words for to persist can also mean to go on, to endure, dare I say, to exists despite all. Another play on words is with “She did not want anyone to know about her heart”. There is the physical heart with it’s anomalies and then, there her metaphorical heart with its blue castle and desires.

Valency’s family is also presented as no less interesting then her. So boring and drab, that their names and personalities blend into one another. Can you tell me you know each Stirling and their quirks by heart?

There is a line in chapter 1 that reveals the sharp contrast between Valency and Barney. Montgomery mentions Valency “had been poor all her life and knew the falling bitterness of it. So she endured [Uncle Benjamin’s] riddles and even smiled tortured little smiles over him”. Poverty plays a huge role why Valency’s mother insists on Valency catering to her relatives. Since her father is dead, Valency has no man in her life to provide any security, and so she cannot really be herself because she’s dependent on an inheritance. This is a sharp contrast to Barney who is open about being socially outcasted. Montgomery kind of hints in the first chapter that characters with bad characters, have little to loose. It also explains why Valency and Barney are different yet similar in kind. Barney probably would have been like Valency if he was poor. Another example is with Dr. Trent. Valency thinks of going to Dr. Trent. A doctor is someone well off, compared to Valency, and again, Montgomery shows us the ability to be impertinent and its relation to power and wealth. Dr. Trent told Cousin Glady’s that her neuritis was made up

Valency compares disloyalty to her clan as the devil, yet the irony is that her clan pushed her to the devil.

[kelandrin]

Mavrin

[Half-Elf Dark Urge Sorcerer]

He/him | man | bisexual demisexual

Character Analysis [Spoilers]

Mavrin was raised by a human couple in Neverwinter. One father was a doctor and the other was a wizard. They had found him as an infant on the road outside Baldur's Gate after a visit there. When no one claimed the baby, they took him as their own. He had a gentle childhood, comfortable with lots of love. His parents taught him compassion each and every day, weeding out any innate cruelty with affection and consideration. The only clue to his nature was the nightmares that plagued his nights often paired with sleep walking.

Nothing could have prepared them for the night the Dark Urge came to the surface. It came as swift as any of his other nightmares and for a while he chose to believe that is what it was. Of course that was until day broke and he did not wake and the bodies of his family had gone cold in their gore.

Sceleritas Fel collected him soon after but Mavrin was resistant for some time. He desperately held on to the feeling of love and tenderness he was taught. But time whittled that away and the Urge ate at those memories with each kill. He became a husk, the only love he was capable of receiving from Bhaal.

He would slip, if left alone. He would get glimpses of an alternative life with gentleness again. But he didn’t truly ever attempt to escape. By then his hands were too bloodied. Killing was the only thing he felt he deserved.

One lobotomy later and he has a real second chance. The urge is a nameless feeling which disturbs him but he refuses to let it control him for most of act one. After Alfira he is determined not to slip up and kill an innocent again. He is drawn to Gale, something comforting about the wizard. Perhaps it is his ready eagerness to help or his enthusiasm about sharing his knowledge. Perhaps Gale reminds him of someone from a lost, broken memory (*cough* daddy issues x2 *cough*).

To be continued…

FUN FACTS

He takes some levels in Wizard over the course of the game as Gale rubs off on him.

Children terrify him. He refuses to trust himself around them. He will actually cry if someone tries to leave him alone with a child.

He can’t remember but his last name is Krause.

He is a nervous puker. More specifically he tends to throw up when he has panic attacks.

[PLAYLIST]

[FANFICTION]

[thebrownssociety]

What’s New Scooby Doo - Character Analysis. Series 2, Episode 1.

What’s this? The ‘What’s New Scooby Doo’ Episode analysis no one asked for? That’s right! I’ll be analysing the gang’s interactions with each other to see just how close they are.

Obviously they’ll be spoilers for the episode, so just beware. 

First episode I’m doing - Series 2, ‘Big Appetite In Little Tokyo’. 

First of all the episode starts with Velma getting an award, with the gang cheering her on. Her invention is called ‘Dogbot’.So the gang gets to go to Tokyo to watch Velma presenting her creation.

When they’re getting a tour of Tokyo Shaggy has the misfortune to fall asleep. It’s Fred who tells the guide ‘Jet Lag. I’m afraid Shaggy doesn’t travel well.’ showing that the gang has travelled abroad enough together to become acquainted with one another's habits.

Now the spook of the episode. An old mystic tries to scare the doctor they’ve gone to visit, but Velma manages to divert the spell. Unfortunately it hits Shaggy instead. The crux of the spell is that the person it hits will become a giant monster every night and destroy Tokyo.

Funnily enough Shaggy doesn’t want to destroy Tokyo and so chains himself to his bed. [With an ankle lock] He declares he’s not going to fall asleep, but is so jet-lagged he immediately goes back on his word. It’s Scooby who literally tucks him in.

Next morning the rest of the gang - knowing Shaggy and Scooby were jetlagged - brought them breakfast in bed. Just then a lieutenant turns up to try and arrest Shaggy for destroying Tokyo. The gang respond by legging it.

They end up checking into a hotel. During the night however the gang see the 30-foot Shaggy for themselves and try and chase him. 

They find him - in his normal form - and wake him up to explain what happened. Shaggy declares it’s time to turn him in. The rest of the gang immediately shoots this down and Scooby even gives him a hug.

On the way to meet the only person who can get them out of this mess, Shaggy and Scooby inevitably end up nearly being arrested by the lieutenant. Shaggy asked Velma’s invention to turn into something that can ‘get us out of here’. While Dogbot does manage to turn into a chariot, there’s only one seat, so Scooby picks Shaggy up and puts him into said seat.

Well - trying not to spoil here - but inevitably they discover that Shaggy is NOT the monster, someone is trying to frame him. While doing this they come up against the 30-foot Shaggy and end up on the run from him.

There’s a scene when Shaggy decided - in his wisdom - to raid the refrigerator [he’s been not sleeping well due to fear, so I’m assuming this might be why.] Scooby notices this - grabs Velma’s invention, runs back to where Shaggy is, grabs him, carries him and legs it. Bearing in mind this means Scooby comes within an inch of being flattened himself. 

Of course they find out who did it. Velma gives Dogbot away and says that she prefers Scooby when asked if she’ll miss Dogbot. At the end the gang share a hug.

[goodluckclove]

HOO BOY HERE I COME

I don't know if this is spoilers for the last Songbird Elegy book, but I'm not sure if I'm going to do it yet so fuck it. I have a plan to end the last book with the obituaries of the main four. But like...in a nice way. It looks something like the following:

Scott and Edgar die first in their early seventies. It happens peacefully in their sleep about a month after Scott gets a pulmonary embolism. Edgar's heart stops shortly after. They knew this was coming and made every preparation. They were so fucking psyched to die first for reasons that'll become clear later on in the series.

Katy manages to avoid the complications of her years of binge drinking for another ten or so years. Doctors find her surprisingly accepting of hospice care. She spends her last days in her home, watching Tenzin paint and petting her cats. I'd like to think she lets go while listening to her self-appointed grandchildren bicker over how to prepare lunch.

Tenzin takes the best care of her health so she lives the longest - probably till her 90s. She eventually moves back to Bluerose, where everyone else is buried. She finally learns how to garden. She doesn't talk much, but she smiles often, and she's regarded amongst the youth as the best source of wisdom. She is awarded the Public Anthropologist Award for her book on birthright history and analysis - the first work on birthright culture directly approved by every remaining witch town.

She donates the small honorarium to the leadership of the new witch town being constructed in the South. Tenzin refuses a party held in her honor, but allows a few close friends to come over with dinner. She eats. They drink. She tries their drinks and doesn't get the appeal. After they leave she puts on a playlist from far in her past, opens all the windows, and goes to bed. She dies breathing in air that smells of jasmine and saltwater and thinking about her family.

I don't even care if this ruins the stakes. Everyone in Songbird Elegies dies a good death and I hope you do too.

WRITERS! Pick an oc that doesn't die in their story... and tell me how they'll die after

[lyrasky]

【ドクター・スリープ】ネタバレ感想 シャイニングとドクター・スリープ 全部教えます!解説あらすじ

【ドクター・スリープ】感想あらすじ「シャイニング」「ドクター・スリープ」全部教えます!ネタバレ これを読めば全部丸わかり真実も！LyraのBlogへ #doctorsleep #theshining #stephenking #ewanmcgregor #rebeccaferguson #kylieghcurran #cliffcurtis #carllumbly #zahnmcclarnon #emilyalynlind #ドクタースリープ #シャイニング #スティーヴンキング #mikeflanagan

Hi, Guys!

さあさあ、寄ってらっしゃい見てらっしゃい！

『Stephen King オタクのLyra』がお送りする【Doctor Sleep ドクター・スリープ】の映画レビューを聞いておくれ！

いつもの如く、メチャ「詳しいあらすじ」と「真実の解説」を面白おかしくしているよ。

本音で語っているから読んで行ってちょうだい。

これで貴方も【Doctor Sleep】、しいては、【The Shining】まで丸わかりよ。

Come out and watch my Lyra’s Blog!

and play with me… forever and ever and ever!

(more…)

[walkingcontradiction42]

I think my problem with the new seasons of doctor who are not the story arcs per se. Sure they’re kind of all over the place, but to be fair doctor who has always been like that. But I think it’s more the way Chris Chibnall establishes dialogue, that bothers me. He lets characters state the obvious, instead of giving subtle hints and letting the viewer figure out the important bits for themselves.

Let’s have a look at two different scenes to show what I mean (minor spoilers for revolution of the Daleks ahead):

First the scene from revolution of the Daleks where Ryan and 13 talk about how the developments of the last season finale have affected her.

I generally like the scene and the idea of her being insecure about her identity. But then Ryan delivers something along the lines of “How does that make you feel?” to which 13 naturally replies “angry”.  I can’t even believe I need to say this, but this is not how you convey inner conflict.

First of all, the doctor has always been a very emotionally incommunicative person, so it is not like her to just spill the beans about everything (yes I know Ryan literally says that a few lines earlier and I really liked that part of the scene, but still it feels a bit too quick). Secondly, this is not how a normal conversation would have evolved. This doesn’t feel natural.

As comparison, I would like to point out one of the first scenes of the runaway bride. It’s a pretty similar initial situation, since both doctors have recently suffered a great loss (10 has lost Rose and 13 has lost her people and her identity). Of course the setup is a bit different, since Donna and the doctor don’t know each other yet, so they can’t exactly have a deep friendship talk just yet. But that’s not the important part anyway. The fact, I would like to point out here, is how the scene depicts 10’s grieving. Not a single time is it explicitly mentioned that he is. Instead we only get the vague line “I lost her” as answer to Donna’s question, where Rose has gone. And not even a verbal answer on the question what exactly lost means. Instead we get this look:

After that the doctor quickly flees the conversation (which is perfectly in line with him not really talking about his emotions). The scene never states that 10 is sad and angry, because Rose is gone, but we all know it, because it’s carried in the subtext of the conversation. It doesn’t need words for us to know. Good writing is not about explicitly stating how characters feel, it’s about showing it. Because looks and pictures say more than a thousand words.

So if we take another look at the scene with Ryan and 13, we see that everything is very centred on the dialogue. There is not much else happening. Nobody is doing anything while talking and there are not many changes in expression. There is a whole layer of the scene just missing. 10 forgetting all about the buttons, he was about to push, tells us how much the subject is hurting him. Him avoiding Donna’s eyes shows, how guilty he is feeling. 13 and Ryan just looking at each other doesn’t convey any additional emotions. Posture and behaviour can tell as much about a person as the words they are saying. I think a positive example for that in rotd would be the scene where Yaz confronts 13 about leaving them behind. Just the pause, after 13 tells Yaz that she won’t disappoint her, says so much more than any of the fancy words before.

Another similar problem is with Jack’s introduction to the fam. We get a “I can be killed, but I come back to life pretty quick” as one of his first lines. Although the rest of the dialogue is a nice call back to earlier episodes, there is no need for him to simply say it. Just show it. Make him be shot by a Dalek in front of the team. It’s not like he hasn’t been shot before, he’ll survive. Just the reaction of the characters would be ten times more satisfying and more telling about their personalities, than any cheap line could ever be (compare this to the first scene with him in Utopia and Martha’s reaction to his “death”).

So what was I trying to say? Revolution of the Daleks had a lot of good scenes (especially the talk with Jack and Yaz. That was just juicy), but still it felt weirdly disappointing to me, because after all this time I still can’t really enjoy the chemistry between the characters. I’ve heard many people expressing the same concerns, but I felt like putting it into a more detailed explanation. It’s sad, because I think the actors could do so much more, if they just got the chance for it.

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 11. touch.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). mature themes related to child abuse/neglect. mentions/descriptions of past CSA and CSM. medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.somewhat evil!Tony Stark (eventually)

[Steve]

“Stark. Rogers. Can we talk for a moment?” At the sound of Bruce’s voice, I look up from my sketchpad, my pencil coming to a halt over the smooth paper. It’s mid-afternoon, and Girl has fallen asleep wrapped up in Peter’s blanket on the couch. Tony entered the room some time ago and has been sitting at the table, working with some piece of technology (per usual.) Banner stands in the entrance to the hallway, his arms crossed.

“Uh oh,” Tony responds slowly, “I don’t like where this is going.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Bruce rolls his eyes. “I just… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I want to discuss some things with you.” Tucking my pencil into the ring of my sketchbook, I set it down beside me on the couch, looking over at Girl to make sure she’s fast asleep before standing up to face the men. Tony sighs and switches off his toy, the blue lights on the gadgets instantly cutting out. Bruce walks over and takes a seat across from Tony, while I take a seat at the end of the table, bridging the gap.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down so as to not wake the sleeping child.

“If this is about the shirt thing, I told you: I’m working on it. But you gotta understand, it’s not the same as making expandable pants. Shirts are just made to rip. Plus- it’s pretty badass every time it happens-” Tony starts, causing me to bring my hand up to my face in annoyance.

“No, no, it’s not about that,” Bruce waves him off. “Besides, why would Cap need to be involved in that conversation?”

“I don’t know. I feel like he would probably be on your side. He’s a boomer, probably prefers a more conservative look,” Tony jokes, failing to earn any amusement from either of us.

“Why on earth would I care if Bruce’s shirt tears off of him every time he turns green? His pants stay on. That’s all that matters,” I shoot back.

“Guys, stop. I have something we really need to talk about,” Bruce interjects, shaking his head.

“Sorry, sorry. Go on,” Tony reigns himself in, seeming uncharacteristically sincere. With everything that’s been going on around here lately, I’ve found that Tony is actually doing a pretty good job of being serious when he needs to be. Which honestly isn’t what I would have ever expected from him; needless to say, it’s impressed me.

“I know that you both signed for guardianship,” Bruce begins. Removing my hand from my face, I turn my body slightly to face the doctor. Tony quits fiddling with his gadget on the table, giving him his full attention as well. “And I- I guess that’s not what I was expecting. At least not from you, Stark.”

“Yeah, well… I suppose it’s not what I was expecting from me, either,” Tony agrees quietly.

“It shows a lot of character, what you did,” I tell him sincerely. The dark-haired man simply nods, not meeting my gaze.

“After having the past twenty-four hours or so to observe some of her behavior, I’ve concluded that my original analysis of Girl’s mental state was probably most likely accurate. Only it’s a little bit more… critical than I thought it would be.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, worry beginning to rise in my stomach.

“Obviously, the kid’s been through a lot of trauma. Not just physically, but emotionally. The fact that she was separated from her mother at birth and raised in a place like that already puts her in a terrible spot from a developmental standpoint. There are a lot of things she was deprived of, more than just proper food and being kept safe. The first five years of life are critical for emotional regulation, sense of self, security in attachment, and countless other psychological boxes to be checked. And that’s not even touching on what kind of early education she was getting, if any.”

“She must have been taught by someone. She can talk; she does talk. She has a general idea of basic concepts, right?” Tony interjects. Bruce looks up at us sadly.

“Sure, she knows how to talk. Look, knowing her letters and numbers is about the last thing I’m worried about at this point, in all honesty. You have to understand, when a child isn’t loved or cared for in the earliest stages of life, as an infant, and then a toddler… that creates a deep wound. She was never held or comforted properly; she most likely had no opportunity to ever be properly nurtured by someone. And then she was put through all of that abuse… this kind of damage isn’t easily solved. It’s gonna take a lot of time, effort, and patience.”

As soon as the doctor finishes his sentence, silence sweeps over the room. Lowering my head slightly, I let my gaze fall off to nowhere in particular as Bruce’s words repeat over in my head. She was not loved or cared for… never held or comforted…

Clenching my jaw, I swallow down tears. My heart is all but breaking at my friend’s grim revelations.

“How can we help? How- how can we ease the process?” Tony asks urgently.

“Well for one, she’ll need a lot of therapy. Stark, you and I have been looking for a counselor already; I’m sure that’ll help greatly. But in addition to that, she’s going to need a lot of specialized care. And since you two signed for guardianship, the majority of that’s gonna fall on you.” Tony and I nod in unison. “Of course, the rest of us are gonna be here to help you along the way, y'know, give you breaks when you need it. But at the end of the day, it’s you who she’s going to be relying on the most.”

“Whatever we need to do, we’ll do it,” I say, speaking for both Tony and I. The scientist nods in agreement at my statement.

“Good. If I had to guess, every waking moment is filled with terror for her, so as much as we want her to get better as fast as possible, we’re going to have to take it slow,” Bruce explains. “We don’t want to do anything too drastic; she’ll most likely be easy to overwhelm. A good place to start might be physical contact. When a child isn’t given physical affection and comfort for the first five years of her life, she develops deep attachment issues and mistrust. And as much as she’s afraid of touch, it’s going to be one of the most healing things for her to experience. Actions are going to speak much louder than words for her.”

“I don’t know if she’ll let me touch her much at all,” Tony says meekly.

“Steve, you’ve been able to hold her on occasion; I’ve even seen her let you stroke her cheek or hold her hands. That’s a good place to start. For now, keep doing that, and Tony, once she’s a little more comfortable with it, then you can try to start implementing the same tactics.”

“She is closest to you, Cap; I think that’s pretty clear. And I’m okay with that. You two have a special bond, and I respect it,” Nodding gratefully towards him, I know in my heart, he’s right. Out of anyone here, she seems to be the most willing to let me in. But even with me, there are still so many walls she’s built up. So many instinctive habits she has to protect herself that keep her from me. We still have a long way to go.

Before any of us can say any more, the sound of heaving interrupts our conversation. In an instant, all three of us are up and making our way over to the couch to find that Girl has woken up and thrown Peter’s blanket off of her, her big green eyes looking up at us in horror. Before any of us can say anything or move closer, she begins to cough, before vomiting miserably all over herself. Tears come spewing from her eyes; in an instant, I’m down on my knees in front of her. “Oh, sweetheart,” I say sadly, stroking back her hair from her sticky face.

“We should get her back to her room,” Bruce says.

“You guys take care of her. I’ll clean up the mess,” Tony decides, walking over to the kitchen and beginning to pull out cleaning supplies.

“Don’t hurt Girl, p-please, didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to,” the poor thing chokes through her tears and spit as she cowers beside me.

“We won’t hurt you, doll, you’re okay. Shh-shh shh,” I soothe, running my hands over her long brown hair. She coughs again, and I prepare for another round of vomit, but thankfully, it doesn’t come. Bruce sighs from behind me, earning a flinch from the little girl. “C'mon, sweetpea,” I say, gathering her in my arms while somehow managing to avoid getting any puke on myself. Turning with the trembling child placed on my hip, I follow Bruce as he makes his way swiftly down the hallway to Girl’s room.

“Do we have any clean clothes for her?” I ask as we walk through the door. He goes into the dresser and pulls out a pair of underwear, a plain white shirt, and a pair of blue pants that look like they might fit her.

“Peter and Wanda were in charge of stocking up yesterday before we got back. Looks like they managed to find some stuff,” Bruce replies, setting the clothes down on the bed. “Girl, is your stomach still upset now? What happened?”

“Please, sorry, will d-do better, please,” the quaking child begs in reply, clearly not processing the doctor’s question.

“Shh, sweetheart,” I hush, setting her down on the bed and crouching down to be eye level with her. “You’re alright, Girl. No one’s angry with you. You’re not in trouble; it’s okay. You’re okay,” I soothe. But my words seem to do little to reassure her.

“I’m gonna step out for a moment; can you get her changed, Cap?” Bruce asks nervously. Taking a deep breath, I glance down at the clothes, then back up at Girl, then over at my friend. Sighing, I nod. I know she’ll be afraid, but we have to get her out of her dirty hospital gown. No one’s felt confident enough to do so up until this point, but now that it’s covered in puke, we just don’t have any other option.

“I can handle it. Thanks, Bruce,” I tell him evenly. The doctor nods with a sympathetic look, walking out of the room and closing the door.

I take another deep breath as I turn back to Girl who’s still crying, her whole face flushed pink, cheeks burning wild with fever. “Hey, pumpkin. What d'you say we get you out of that thing and into some real clothes?” I suggest.

Her eyes grow wide as she processes my words, cowering back from me as she begins to beg again. “Please, w-wait,” she sniffles, her whole body shaking like a leaf.

“Hey, you’re okay. I won’t hurt you, Girl. I’m just going to help you get changed,” I promise her carefully. “Your old clothes are really dirty; you deserve some nice, new, clean ones.” Reaching out carefully, I wrap my arms around the trembling girl to find the sets of strings where the gown is tied closed. During the process, my hand brushes across her arm, causing the poor thing to let out a frightened whimper. “Shh-shh shh,” I hush, “You’re okay, darlin’. I promise, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Making sure to keep my movements slow and predictable, I carefully make my way down the gown, untying each set of strings until they’ve all been released. As the gown falls loosely over her boney frame, I take hold of it at each of the sleeves, ever-so-gently lifting it off of her. Once it’s gone, the child stands bare before me, tears streaming down her cheeks. I’ve never seen anyone shake so hard in my entire life.

“You’re okay, kiddo. We’re halfway there; you’re doing so good, bein’ so brave,” I tell Girl softly. I pick up the underwear, which have little purple flowers scattered across them, and hold them out for the girl. “Can you step into them if I hold them up for you?” I ask quietly.

Slowly, she shifts her body to the edge of the bed and does as she’s been asked, one leg, then the other. As gently as I can, I let go of the elastic onto her tiny waist. Then, I pick up the pants, and without needing to ask her, she steps into them as well. Finally, I pull the shirt over her head, smiling as her arms make their way through the sleeves. “See? All done. Not scary,” I murmur.

“Not scary,” Girl repeats back. Nodding at her proudly, I reach out, stroking her hair. When she doesn’t pull away, I decide to open my arms up again and pull her body in close to me, rocking her back and forth, side to side as she stands in my embrace. At first, she’s as stiff as a board, but slowly, as the minutes pass, she’s thankfully able to relax into my touch.

As much as she’s afraid of touch, it’s going to be one of the most healing things for her to experience, Bruce’s voice rings through my head.

“Let’s get your face cleaned up, sweetheart,” I say warmly to her, standing up and lifting her so that she’s held securely in my arms. I walk over into her bathroom and set her down on the counter, taking a cloth and running under some luke-warm water before raising it up to her face. But before I can wipe away the sick from the little girl’s cheeks, a quiet plea stops me.

“Please l-let Girl breathe, please- w-wait.”

I pause, confused. Looking down at the cloth, it only takes a moment for her heartbreaking words to make sense. They waterboarded her. “I won’t, sweetie. Don’t worry. We’re just gonna get you nice and cleaned up,” I promise her. Gently, I begin wiping away at her face, putting the cloth back down again when her skin is clear. “There you go, all clean. Not scary,” I tell her.

“N-not scary,” she mumbles in agreement, surprising me by leaning forward and resting her head gently against my chest.

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[chuuae]

##𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 , a character analysis involving for the tainted sorrow and an autumn poem.

WARNING !! this analysis will contain spoilers for the bungou stray dogs manga. it will also discuss topics such as domestic abuse, death, smoking, alcoholism, suicide, and mental illness. please do not read if you feel uncomfortable with any of these themes.

DISCLAIMER !! this is not for the purpose of romanticising, shaming, or otherwise glamourising mental illnesses. please take this from someone who also suffers from mental illness. i am merely attempting to analyse. also, i'm not trying to assign each chuuya a sexuality, but i'm literally just going off the poems and what i observe so ...

note. i worked pretty hard on this, and i'm very happy with it. please like or reblog if you can, i would greatly appreciate it. please, share your thoughts on chuuya as well !! he's my favourite if you can't tell- and also fun fact chuuya's bday is the 29th of april, and mine is the 28th !! it's a sign !!!

The poet Nakahara Chuuya [中原 中也] was born on the 29th of April in 1907, and died young in 1937 from tuberculosis. He wrote highly symbolic, mostly short poems, that were inspired by his struggles with mental illness and other personal troubles. He was said to be mostly quiet withdrawn and shy in his early life, mostly keeping to himself, though he branched out in rebellion of his strict parents later and made friends with other literary and entertainment figures.

Asagiri Kafka has adapted him into a character in the Bungou Stray Dogs animanga, a Port Mafia executive slash host of a Japanese god of the same name. This character is sarcastic and fairly quick to anger, noticeably short, and has a fond appreciation for high-quality alcohol.

I would like to contrast the author and character of Nakahara Chuuya, also analysing his poems, in the hopes of creating a comprehensive understanding of who he was.

BPhysically, it's easy to say that real-life Chuuya and BSD Chuuya look both similar and different. Comparably, they are both quite short [some sources stated the poet to be only five feet tall] and had a fondness for hats that they nearly constantly wore. Both are young if we, say, compared them at the peak of Chuuya's life and the current BSD arc, and are well-off in some aspects.

However, there's the obvious difference of BSD Chuuya having his long orange hair, whereas real Chuuya had more understated regular dark hair. Additionally, one of them has the ability to manipulate gravity, has committed hundreds of 'crimes' including manslaughter, and hosts a deity named Arahabaki in their body, and the other ... does not.

In all honesty, it initially seems like the character of Chuuya has taken little more than his name, stature, vague fashion sense, and ability from his namesake, but then I conducted a little more research and realised that they were actually far more similar than I had realised, but this requires a more in-depth look into both of their pasts.

Historical Nakahara Chuuya was somewhat of a miracle birth – born after six years of attempts by his parents [who I'm mostly sure were feminists because his dad took his mum's name of Nakahara] in an at-the-time childless town named Yamaguchi, a cause for great successful. His family was quite prominent, with his father being a successful doctor, meaning that Chuuya was expected to become one from childhood. To summarise, his family forced that expectation upon him, forbidding him from playing with children of a "lower class'"and forcing him to undergo an immensely strict education with punishments as harsh as being made to sleep in the barn if he disobeyed. He would even be burnt with a lit cigarette if "prompted", and not even allowed to play in rivers and such for fear that he would drown. Physical abuse followed him from that incredibly young age, leading to a distrust and hatred of his family.

In the same way, manga Chuuya's un-ideal childhood shaped him up to who he became as an adult. He started off life happy, with two ordinary parents, but when he was merged with Arahabaki at the age of seven, he lost his memories, his ordinary childhood, and any sense of support and love for a long time. Notably, this is around the same time that real Chuuya's hellish education began. The parallel to that was the expectation of being a leader to the Sheep, and the "abuse" of living in poverty in his formative years. Once he was taken into the Port Mafia, however, he lost even more of what could be considered a "regular childhood", and was then expected to shelter himself in the same way after becoming an executive. Both were also named "prodigies", and expected to hold to that degree of perfection.

Additionally, a catalyst event that caused them both to lead a path rebelling against the way they'd begun their lives. In both cases, it was by losing someone – real Chuuya's younger brother passed away when he was eight, driving him by grief to discover and compose literature. At thirteen, his poetry was discovered, the same year he entered Junior High and began to rebel against his father in neglecting his studies and classes. For manga Chuuya, it's difficult to say what his catalyst event was, but I think it was most likely losing himself to Arahabaki and then losing most of the people who came into his life after that point.

From that point onwards, in essence, Nakahara Chuuya did his best to disappoint his parents in failing his exams, even though he would receive those harsh punishments each time he did. To him, independence and free will were more important than getting hurt, which is evident in Bungou Stray Dogs as well. This finally led to him being freed from the oppression of his harsh parents, and he was able to study what he wanted, do what he wanted [drink a lot of alcohol and write poetry] and essentially be free.

If I were to cast the greatest similarity between author and character, it would have to be their determination in getting through whatever they suffered. Both of these men were faced with death when they were children, then manipulated by those they wanted to care about, and forced to endure an incredible amount of mental-illness-inducing trauma. And yet, both found outlets [whether it be poetry or combat] to deal with their pain and sadness, and both ultimately got through the most difficult times in their lives and found something to give them purpose. It's perhaps this trait that I admire the most, along with their compassion and love for those close to them.

There is, furthermore, the actual nature of Nakahara Chuuya's poetry. Those following Bungou Stray Dogs would of course know For the Tainted Sorrow, which is a poem on the nature of sorrow or pain, and clearly bears very personal suffering within the lines. One stanza really reminded me of Soukoku [Double Black/Chuuya and Dazai] – For the tainted sorrow, has no desires or wishes; For the tainted sorrow, In langour dreams of death. Chuuya wasn't able to have anything for himself, and he felt tainted by Arahabaki's inhabitance of his body, whereas Dazai wanted death so fervently he was willing to commit suicide. The emotional fragility of Chuuya's poetry is something that also lingers under manga Chuuya's exterior as well, and is one of the most enticing parts of the character.

However, my favourite of Chuuya's poems is one called An Autumn Poem, in three suites. It also led me to believe that he may have had feelings for other men, as it, a) reminded me very strongly again of Dazai, and b) is written like my lovesick poetry. The essence of the poem is the narrator [Chuuya] is very close to a man who he feels is dying, but doesn't know if the man is aware of this. The man is very eccentric and says some strange things [they're a lot like what Dazai would say], and there is some affection from Chuuya towards him. And I, you know, would watch him from this angle. Staring after it, that yellow butterfly – even doing something as innocuous as butterfly watching, Chuuya was admiring this man, with this pure, strong emotion in the poetry, that I find absolutely captivating.

How strange we are before we die … that was Chuuya's final line about the man, and perhaps my favourite of all his poetry. Nakahara Chuuya died young after he'd been able to free himself and write what he wished. In some ways, perhaps the transferral of his personality into Bungou Stray Dogs wasn't as carbon-copy-like as Dazai's, but I found it to be the most interesting. The most important parts of Chuuya as observed by Asagiri are the most fascinating parts of his character, and this comparison is entirely underrated.

© chuuae 2022. all works and content are intelluctual property of this blog. do not plagiarise or translate on tumblr or elsewhere.

[bunchofstraydogs]

My analysis of Akutagawa's sickness

DISCLAIMER: I am not a doctor, nor a med student

tw: spoilers about Akutagawa's background, mentions of illnesses and death, unprofessional diagnosis

Akutagawa had untreated pneumonia caused by moderate hypothermia as a consequence of poor living conditions as an orphan in the slums. As we've seen in BEAST, some of his friends went to sleep and have never woken up, having freezed to death during the night.

The pneumonia caused bronchiectasis, a long term illness which gives the recipient chronic cough (sometimes with blood), chest pains and shortness of breath.

If the disease is left untreated (like it was in Ryu's case), it can cause lung and heart failure.

Best treatment for it are antibiotics. Oral are suggested for most cases, but serious infections may need for intravenous IV antibiotics.

All these illnesses reduce appetite and may cause anorexia. It explains why he eats so little and why Gin is often worried about his food intake.

I'm guessing that, by the time Akutagawa joined the port mafia, his lungs were already withering away, that all that was left was medication to prolong his life.

It should also be said that there are more possibilities that may have aided his sickness:

his lungs could have been wounded by third parties

that there is a chance he was born prematurely or had a lung deficiency since birth

he overworked himself and strained his lungs, worsening his condition and guaranteeing his early death

We know for sure he overworks himself, but to what extent that hindered his lungs is, as of yet, unknown, but in any case it doesn't matter. If there was a chance to heal his respiratory system, Mori would have done it. Meaning his lungs were already failing by the time he saw an actual doctor.

At this point, either Yosano can heal him or his state of being in the recent manga chapter will do it itself.

I guess we'll have to wait and see.

[flyinglotus777]

Netflix’s Squid Game

SPOILER ALERT! If you are interested in watching the series, I HIGHLY suggest you do so. This article will be an overall synopsis and my review of the show. For an in-depth analysis of the symbolism of the show and ending, scroll down to the fourth to last paragraph.

The Netflix show, “Squid Game,” written and directed by Hwang Dong-hyuk is a phenomenal Korean drama centered around our victor, Seong Gi-hun, played by Lee Jung-jae. Contestants were recruited to play in a life or death competition due to their lack of luck, financial knowledge, and influx of impending debt they have accumulated throughout their lives. We first meet Gi-hun as he is down on his luck. Living with his elderly, overworked mother (which in countries outside of the United States is not strange nor uncommon) Gi-hun was a friend to gambling, but that toxic love caused him to be in debt to a gang of (what seemed to be) loan sharks. When luck finally strikes him on the race track, life simultaneously decides to take an excrement on his reality. His debt seekers catch him on his hot streak and involuntarily sign him up to be a participant in the Squid Game.

Similar to many other of the 456 participants, they all shared a common denominator of being in situations it seemed only money could fix. Upon arrival the contestants were asked to voluntarily sign wavers in order to participate in the game, while unknowingly risking their lives, for the opportunity to win 456 billion won (which would be roughly over $3.5 million in US currency). The challenges were mostly based on nostalgic childhood games, both based in the United States and South Korea.

Now I knew due to the explanation in the introduction of episode one that if any player were to lose, they would die. So during the first challenge of red light green light, when players were bulletly penalized for losing I was not surprised. After the game, the players decided to rally together and quit playing. The influence of the cash prize split the decision down the middle, leaving the old man, player 1, to be the final decision. To my surprise he actually chose to decline, freeing all of the players. During the voting, many players screamed at each other as to why they would choose to stay in the hell hole as other players responded that the outside world was not any better if not the same as the harsh environment they were already in. This reality struck many contestants as they returned back to their reality of debt, dependents, and for some bounty hunts, thus resulting in them returning to the game.

During the whole season, I was trying to find the purpose of these games. We knew why the participants felt motivated to play, but I wondered what was the purpose of having them fight for their lives in the first place. When the PlayStation faced soldiers forced the doctor (player 111) to dissect the bodies for organs to sell at the black market, at first I thought that it was what the original game maker wanted which I thought was genius. Soon to learn that it was actually a violation to a code of equality that was placed inside the arena applying to all of those who existed, soldiers and participants alike. Which struck me as odd due to the soldiers being able to tote guns and wear masks based on their own hierarchy and the participants being collectively isolated and given numbers as if it was a remake of the Stanford Prison experiment. Nonetheless many soldiers faced the same fate as the players, and my pondering would meet the solution come the finale.

Let’s discuss players. I only favored Gi-hun because he was the protagonist, but throughout the story he grew on me as his big heart prevailed through the madness. I knew Choo Sang-woo, the embezzling business man and hometown friend of Gi-hun played by Park Hae-soo, was a psychopath when I saw him in a fully filled bathtub with his suit on. Running from the police, in debt or not, that’s just as much of a red flag for serial killer tendencies as sleeping with socks on or having too thin and highly arched eyebrows. The episode that he crossed Ali, the father of one from Pakistan with the missing fingers, made me hate Sang-woo for the rest of the series. I was infuriated and frustrated with Ali for being that naïve to believe that they could escape the round as a duo, but understood his perspective since up until that point Sang-woo was a dependable, trusted ally to Ali. However after that episode I didn’t care who won, I was just ready for Sang-woo to die.

Kang Sae-byeok, the skeptical and beautiful warrior from North Korea played by Jung Ho-yeon, deserves her own paragraph. Along with her beauty, her presence and demeanor was so bad ass. She was thrifty and intelligent, as her talent being pick pocketing. I was waiting for her to just be so bad ass. As the punk disguised to be gangster, Jang Deok-su, pushed her around which seemed to be normal behavior between the two, I was ready for Sae-byeok to twist his arm, send a plunging round house kick to his nuts, and cut his snake tattoo right off of his face. Although her exterior was tough, her heart was made of malleable gold which we got to see as she opened up to her female companion during the marble challenge and sobbed from her loss afterwards. Although she was not the killer bad ass queen I had wanted her to be, I still call her a warrior because of her resiliency throughout life’s and the game’s many obstacles and her drive to provide her younger brother with a better life.

Thankfully Deok-su got what he deserved as Han Mi-nyeo poetically decided to take both of their lives during the glass challenge. “You said we would be together till the end,” she said before diving into her inevitable death with her short lived lover. Mi-nyeo was incredibly annoying as I would often pinch the inside corners of my eyes and scratch my eyebrows when she would appear. However that crazy bitch served justice, and I love her for that.

I was highly disappointed by the demise of the detective Hwang Jun-ho, played by the handsome Wi Ha-joon. I was rooting for detective Jun-ho, as I’m sure we all were, on his pursuit to find his brother. I was not surprised that his brother was Front Man, as I had suspected that his brother must’ve died or been apart of the game making due to his absence in real life and the current game. After discovering his brother was the victor of his year, to me it only made sense that he would be apart of the game enforcement. As we saw from Gi-hun, a normal life is impossible to live after experiencing something so traumatic as a series of death ridden children games. However I was saddened and surprised that detective Jun-ho was unsuccessful in closing down the whole operation. I mean the man was close to performing forced, aristocratic fellatio in the name of serving and protecting the law. I truly thought because he had gotten so far and was so close to exposing the operation that the only choice he had was to be successful. At last he was shot and killed by his own blood, the one he had been looking for; providing us with a cinematic and heart jerking ending to detective Jun-ho.

Lastly lets discuss the old man, player 001 named O Yeong-su, whom I also nicknamed Poppy during the series. Deceivingly innocent and weak, I genuinely liked Yeong-su throughout the game play. I thoroughly enjoyed his relationship with Gi-hun and saw him as a valuable player in most instances. I believe he was one of the main reasons that Gi-hun continued to lead with his heart. Gi-hun claimed that Yeong-su was the reason he returned to the games and later found out that Yeong-su was the reason there were games in the first place. The climatic episode of the marble challenge was when their relationship had been defined as “gganbu” (which is a term for trusted, close friends in Korean, as explained in the series), thus Yeong-su establishing a special place in Gi-hun’s heart. During the challenge, Yeong-su begins to have an episode of what we all assumed to be dementia as the arena they are playing in is designed like his old neighborhood and he abandons the game to take a trip down memory lane. Gi-hun screams in frustration at the old man to play with him only to end up losing in their even and odd game and resulting in deceit, tricking the old man to let him be the victor. Now if I was Gi-hun, I would’ve convinced Yeong-su to let me hold his marbles for safe keeping and let him have a fun time reminiscing on his life while he ran down the clock. Then when it was time, I would’ve turned in all 20 marbles just as Sang-woo did and went about my business. It would’ve only been right for the old man to forfeit as he was already on his death bed, or so we innocently thought. Before I get into the ending, I want to talk about the last match between Sang-woo and Gi-hun.

Finally, the last game to see who would be victorious in a highly anticipated game of Squid between Gi-hun and Sang-woo. It seemed as if it were a battle between good vs evil; Gi-hun representing a more benevolent side as he would often optimistically look to help other competitors and extend the kindness he had been shown versus Sang-woo who represented a more vindictive and ruthless side, determined to hurt anyone in order to receive his highly coveted and long awaited prize in an arena that erased any foundation of morals or ethics as soon as the light turned red. Luck was on Gi-hun’s side as he had the opportunity to play offense. With a cunning mind and a vengeance for Sae-byeok’s death, Gi-hun delivered a can of whoop ass to his opponent. As the saying goes, the good shall always prevail. Perhaps his heart was too pure as Gi-hun halted from crossing the finish line and offered Sang-woo a chance to live, thus forfeiting the prize money. Needless to say, I applauded when Sang-woo committed suicide as it was the only right thing to do in his position.

A year passed by and Gi-hun seemed worse than before. Physically his style was bummy wealthy, a look pioneered by Bill Gates, but mentally he was in shambles. How could you blame him? Gi-hun discovered that the responsible party for these horrendous events was none other than his ggangbu, old man Yeong-su. The biggest, jaw dropping plot twist of the entire series. As they were joined on Christmas Eve and Yeong-su on his death bed, they placed one final bet on an assumed to be drunken, homeless man who sat on the streets as it snowed and waited for help to arrive. Yeong-su explained how he actually wanted to help people and give his money to people who needed it, but wanted to do it in an “entertaining way.” As Gi-hun flared with outrage towards the old man for finding amusement in killing people, the old man rebutted using horse races as an example of people’s amusement. Yeong-su also said he participated in the games because it was more fun to play than to be a spectator, which I had noticed him treating the competition as if it were adult summer camp. I had just assumed since he was old, he didn’t care if he had died or not.

I think most people will think that this show was a metaphor about how money and rich people are evil. However I think it can be seen as commentary on society as a whole, not just the wealthy. Yeong-su says on his death bed that it’s a test of humanity, and asks Gi-hun if he still has faith in humanity after what he has experienced. Although money was the luring motivator to win the game, people still chose to return to the competition to escape their problems. Sure, money was apart of their problems as all of the players (excluding Yeong-su) were in debt, but that was due to choices that they had made. Whether it had been through embezzling, gambling, lack of luck, or financial ignorance, it was the people who had gotten themselves into those situations. Money doesn’t have a personal vendetta against anyone nor does it have an inherent quality of good or evil. Money is a neutral energy used to be exchanged for goods and services. It’s people who designate that energy to their humane or inhumane desires.

Leading to the next point of the wealthy and how they are seen to be evil due to having wealth. Although I do believe that there are some wealthy people who act as villains, money didn’t create the villain inside of them. Those people were going to behave maliciously whether they have money or not. The VIPs, who were spectating the finale of challenges, were tied to a bank devoted to the wealthy and gambled on the competitors who played (and most likely helped subsidize the events). We place judgement on them, but as Yeong-su said, people gamble on horse races. Although people are not animals and by my knowledge I don’t believe most or any horses die during these races, it is still the principle of watching an entity being tortured for amusement, which is not only confined to the wealthy population. When the concept of killing and tormenting living breathing beings for amusement is normalized within society, the lines begin to blur on who is okay to perform and who is not. Take the audience of this show for example, we all watched a show where hundreds of people were mercilessly killed for the desire of winning a cash prize for our own amusement, thus making “Squid Game” the number one show on Netflix at the moment. Although the show is fictional and brilliantly written, this Hunger Games concept is not new. We come in contact again and again with the idea of people who are disadvantaged given an opportunity to better their lives through inhumane means, including risking their own lives or actively sacrificing the life of another, and being spectators on the edge of our seats who can’t seem to look away. It is no different than a Roman gladiator match in a grand colosseum, which in modern day would be a MMA fight at the MGM hotel. We blame it on the rich who are ridiculed for creating these events, but at the end of the day it is the people, rich,poor, and everyone in between, who continue to still go along with it and to some extent desire it. Which makes me question, what does that say about humanity, and do I actually have faith in us? Although Gi-hun went through hell and back, he still remained pure of heart and used his wealth to enhance his life and those around him; proving that wealthy people can still be benevolent and desire righteous good. Similar to Gi-hun, the optimist in me wants to believe that there are still people in this world with good hearts, but I guess we just have to wait until the time comes to see.

Ultimately the show was phenomenal, and definitely sparked a desire inside of me to watch more Korean dramas. I don’t think the show will have a second season. Simply because I think the story line would be better cut off there, thus leaving the audience always wanting more. However if season 2 ever comes out, I’m ready for Gi-hun to take a Liam Neeson approach to ending the Squid Game and hopefully with a beard. Thank you for reading my article. I know it was incredibly lengthy. I have just finished the season after a 2 day binge watch, and have a lot of emotions and thoughts ruminating in my brain. Let me know what you think of the show and what you think of the article. Did anyone else notice the paintings of the games on the walls of the dormitory?

God bless.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

omggggg imagine the reader comforting spencer during a migraine (season 6) and he’s so clingy and his hair is sooo fluffy and he just wants to cuddle all day omg i would literally die bc he’d be so cute and soft🥺🥺

ooh, i honestly felt so sad when he wanted answers from his doctor. season six spencer had my heart racing and i don’t know why... haha.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you for the request, lovely. enjoy.

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“I wish we could stay like this forever.” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert blurb) word count; 1.4k.

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; spencer’s migraines have been getting worse and he just wants all the love he can get.

-

It wasn’t like Spencer to wake up late.

For someone who liked an orderly fashion and had a strict routine to follow from morning till night and liked to be out of bed by six and out of the house by seven, just so he could get to work half an hour before he needed to show up, being late really wasn’t something YN thought he was capable of. Ever since she started with the Behavioural Analysis Unit, four years ago, YN had never known him to be late for anything; he was always the first one in the briefing room before a meeting and he was never the last one to enter, he was always the first one to board the jet before anyone else and he was always the first person to exit so he could get on with the orders Hotch had given him and he was always the first one at work in the morning (which he was proud to announce to anyone who came in after him) with a happy smile on his face, a brain ready to spew facts and a pile of case files tucked under his arm and ready to dish out to those on arrival.

So when her alarm went off and tore her from her deep sleep, signifying that seven in the morning on a dreary Monday had struck and it was time for her to wake up and get ready for work, she didn’t expect to see her boyfriend still snoozing beside her. The duvet pulled up to his chin like he was cold and found warmth in anything he could get his hands on, his forehead crinkled and his eyes squeezed shut like he was in a deep sleep and dreaming something, his mouth gaped open as gentle breaths left between his lips and filled the room with the softest of snores. YN wasn’t surprised he was sleeping in; he arrived home from a case rather late, the previous night, and he was almost knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. And, as much as YN wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, she knew it would knock him off his routine and have him muddled and off his game for the day.

“Spence, wakey wakey,” YN cooed, dragging a finger across his forehead to clear the mess of curls that covered his skin. She could feel a thin and sticky sheen cover his skin and, upon closer inspection, she noticed the tiniest of sweat beads forming by his temples. A bad dream, she assumed, although something in the back of her head didn't sit well with her. “Spencer, wake up. It’s seven. We need to get ready and leave for work.”

“I know. I know what time you set your alarm for in the mornings,” he grumbled, bringing an arm from beneath the duvet to pinch at the bridge of his nose, a sigh leaving his parted lips. He hadn’t been asleep, she felt silly for guessing he was, and he sounded as wide awake as he had been when he arrived home the night before. “I’ll get up in a minute. I just need a bit longer. Tired from yesterday.”

YN frowned in confusion - he had never once denied getting up so why had he now? -  his eyes barely opening as he spoke to her, his body staying flat upon the mattress as she clambered out from under the covers and had a moment where she stretched and cracked her bones. Her arms went above her head, legs bracing her movements, stretching her back out to remove the kinks in her spine before moving to the en-suite bathroom and closing the door behind her so she could start getting ready for the day.

She looked at herself in the mirror, hands holding the sides of the sink, as she took in her appearance and had a thought about how she wanted to style her hair and how minimal she wanted her make-up to be for the day. Left behind on the sink, next to her left hand, was a half-opened pack of headache tablets and a glass, almost filled to the brim with water, next to their toothbrush holder. Everything else was left in its place and she was left standing in confusion, using the mirror to look around the bathroom behind her, eyebrow raising on her brow-line. She was sure nothing else had been moved, touched or put out of place until it finally dawned on her.

“Spence?”

She opened the door back up, peeking her face into the bedroom and seeing his face covered by her pillow, with the duvet pulled up as far as it could go so his feet weren’t showing at the end of the bed. She wanted to laugh because he looked ridiculous, cute but ridiculous, but she had a hunch that she knew what was wrong with him - over the last few days, headaches and migraines had been the biggest problem he had to face during his days and they’d been taking a toll on his ability to complete a case fully. Sensitive to light, sensitive to sound and his focus split between his surroundings and the pain behind his eyes that didn’t seem to go away, regardless of how dark his sunglasses had been tinted.

“Spencer, are they back bothering you again?”

“It’s just a headache this morning, I know it is,” he grumbled, his words coming out muffled and almost inaudible from beneath the memory foam pillow keeping the light from hitting his orbs, “jump in the shower and I’ll be up in a minute to get dressed then we go together.”

“Spence-”

“YN, I’m fine,” he grasped the pillow into his fist and pulled it from his face, a disgruntled look pinching his features for a brief second before he sent her a warming smile, as if he was trying to persuade her fears that he was perfectly fine and he didn’t need looking out for because it simply was just a headache. Which didn’t really seem to please her and definitely didn’t stop her bare feet from walking across the bedroom to sit back down on the bed. A convering look on her face which only enticed a groan of annoyance from his throat. His eyes refusing to watch as she laid back beside him and laid her head against his shoulder, cheek pressed to the duvet cover. “Don’t baby me, please, I’m fine. I promise.”

She tutted and shook her head.

“You don’t feel well today and I know you when you don’t feel well, mister. You just want non-stop cuddles and,” she perched herself up on her elbow and looked at him, bringing a hand up to rest against his cheek and to allow her fingers to rake through his knotted hair and straighten out the curly wisps the tips of his hair had flicked into, “I know you still want to go to work so we’ll just have to have an extra long one now. You know what Hotch is like with romance in the workplace.”

He smiled warmly, letting his head tilt to her touch, eyes closing in contentment. He couldn’t resist her love, no matter how ill or frustrated or angry he was with her. He felt comfortable with her, comfortable showing a vulnerable side, comfortable being so delicate and fragile, and she was all he needed on a dark and gloomy day when he was feeling a little low about himself. Just a glimpse of her face, a smile on her lips, a quick and cheeky wink sent his way when no-one was looking or the blush on her cheeks when she was caught looking at him was enough for him to feel better and feel a glow of warmth inside his heart.

“Who needs headache meds when I’ve got you? I wish we could stay like this forever.” He hummed, his lips grazing her forehead, “will you sneak some cuddles in at work? Might really help me out today.”

“I can sweet talk Hotch to make sure we get to work together,” she looked at him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting his lips drag down to his right temple so she could press a gentle kiss to where she assumed the origin of his headache had begun, “just promise me that you’ll help me out and not keep coming for kisses or cuddles.”

“I can’t promise anything.”