#especially if you are marginalized in any way.

[skipthisvoid]

Alrighty I am going to do my best to explain my thoughts on this-

What Arcane often does is take something that real-life that society is bigoted against and then show the humanity in those same people. This is a type of counter-narrative. This is when the story "presents a different perspective or interpretation of events that directly contradicts your existing beliefs, forcing you to re-evaluate your understanding of a situation or topic."

"They aim to disrupt established stories or viewpoints that might be considered biased or oppressive by offering alternative interpretations. Fields like critical race theory, feminist studies, and postcolonial studies frequently utilize counter-narratives to highlight marginalized perspectives."

(A key example is drug addicts, being set up in the first few episodes to align with the disgust society has for them, only later to twist your perspective around and make you feel like you were wrong. You end up feeling sympathy for them, which brings the watcher to have to rework their worldview for the rest of the show.)

The Undercity in routinely proven to be a place that has incredibly brilliant people, families just trying to get by, etc. but they just haven't been given the same opportunities as topside, so they turn to less desirable means of making a living. Within the series we are often given small pieces of daily life within the Undercity, especially the domestic moments, to make a connection that they are also just people.

Okay onto the brothel- The "goblin" in question is named Babette. We are given our initial "narrative" that she is gross, either because she is a sex worker, she is not a typical human, she is old, or all three. What happens later in the show is that it is revealed not only is Babette the mother of the house and is incredibly important to protecting those who work under her, she also knows the main character's father figure and looks up to him. It is implied there is mutual respect (an implication because at this point in the story, said father figure is dead and can not verbally confirm) between these two important people for the Undercity.

Once inside the brothel, it is shown to be like any other place of business. The workers are professional, the place is maintained well with all sorts of different options for people to pick from, (regardless of gender preference) and if clients treat workers inappropriately, they are thrown out. (Like during the scene in question.) So the first time we see this location, the narrative tells us "oh-ew gross we know that sex work is dirty and bad and the neighborhood is poor so these people are bad and gross" but later we have the counter-narrative of "actually this is a well respected and important part of the Undercity's economy, and the workers here are treated (and paid) well for the service they are providing."

SO when we come back to the original scene, we now align morally with the trans woman and Babette, and also think its funny that this man has gotten kicked out of a well respected establishment. He must have done something without realizing they take the rules seriously, and he won't be allowed back. Sucks since this place is the best in town!

Side note for the "look of disgust" coming from Claggor, the 'main' character mentioned above. Claggor is 14-16 years old. He isn't so much as disgusted as he is just shocked! He also is a very very shy and soft spoken boy. Being in the Undercity, and with Babette being friend's with his adoptive father, he knows what sex-work is. He is shy of it, he knows he is a minor. It is dark and not well lit, Babette might not be able to see him well so she smiles at him anyway. OR, since later in the show we find out she knows his father well, she is intentionally fucking with him knowing he is shy and is gonna be all weird about it. Either way, I wouldn't say he is reacting in disgust. He is just an awkward teen being awkward.

I am torn on the depiction of the transwoman. On one hand, I see how the art they used can be considered a bad stereotype. BUT I do also know someone who is doing the best they can with the body they currently have, and this is what she looks like! And thats also perfectly okay and fine! She exists, thats what she looks like at this point in her life, and she hasn't decided if she is going to make any further changes. (If she wants to speak more on this she can- I personally don't wanna go to deep into it on her behalf.) I think it is working as the same counter-narrative. We are shown this masculine woman who works in the sex industry, and feel the initial reaction society wants us to. Then later, we find out, oh shit, these workers are important and well respected! She is doing a good job for her current situation in the Undercity!

I feel like I am running out of things to say in this very moment but I DO want to also take a second to say we see a different portrayal of mtf transition later in the series. Her name is Lest. The difference here is that Lest is top-side, where there are a lot more opportunities and money. This is apparent in her ability to transition to what society considers "passing", as well as her clothing. She is also voiced by a trans woman! (Eve Lindley)

Blehg I just kinda wanted to spill some of my thoughts over this show since I adore its use of literary devices, ESPECIALLY the counter narrative. I hope this kinda made sense and didn't sound rude at all.

i just did something i promised myself i'd never do and intentionally watched a scene from Arcane, to see just how bad the transmisogynist joke in the first episode is -- and people are absolutely 100% playing it down.

the characters are walking through a dark, seedy part of a city, and reacting in fear to a bunch of scary, dangerous & unsettling things, like a monster scuttling in a cage & vendors selling huge knives, before panning to these two women standing outside a brothel.

the small gremlin lady makes a pass at one of the cast, who immediately reacts in visible fear and disgust and runs away. then, a drunk man wearing no pants is kicked out of the brothel, being told that he has to pay. the woman on the left responds (with a deep, masculine voice) "look at that" and reacts in disgust to him. the crux of the joke here is "haha it's rich that this gross tranny thinks this drunk man is gross, because SHE and her little gremlin friend are gross! lol!".

it is a transmisogynistic joke on the level of the ugly step-sister in Shrek. i shouldn't have to explain this. holy shit.

[xx-reverie-xx]

can you do vi headcannons in a similar way to the sevika one?

♥️Vi HCs♥️

broken up into categories for general, romantic, and nsfw headcanons respectively.

safe for bisexual women, trans, and enby lesbians :)!

lower case is on purpose. not beta read, sorry for any typos.

men dni minors dni men dni minors dni men dni minors dni

general

her carabiner is on the left. it has the basics and a couple of cute handmade charms courtesy of her sister.

if she wasn’t an enforcer, she would be a professional boxer/pit fighter AFTER fighting becomes less of a coping mechanism for her.

i am not the first person to think of this but … she plays the guitar. she would be self taught.

she can sing pretty well too. used to sing powder lullabies their mom would sing.

LOOOOVESSSS HORROR MOVIES!!! she could probably go on a long rant about the history of horror as a genre, especially slasher films.

dog person. asks to pet almost every dog she sees on a walk.

she apologizes first after almost any argument she’s in.

it takes her 10-15 minutes TOPS to get ready, usually less than that.

smells like old spice and just her natural scent. very plain, but very comforting.

gives the best, most comforting hugs

sends streaks on snap.

romantic

and the world's best kisser award goes to…

seriously, she’s like a kissing god. gives the kind of kisses that have you weak in the knees. you get butterflies at the thought of kissing her.

her giving and receiving love language is physical touch. no questions asked. she is constantly seeking your warmth.

she’s almost always touching you; an arm around your waist or shoulder, pinkies intertwined, hands brushing, holding hands.

if you aren’t keen on physical touch, don’t worry! she would be willing to set boundaries with you.

she isn’t very good at drawing but she loves to draw you in the margins of notebooks. tries her best to remember what your smile looks like and how your eyes are shaped, even for low effort doodles.

she is such a sweetheart. goes out of her way to get you flowers or chocolates, even when it isn’t valentine’s day.

will call you sooo many petnames. her favorites to use would be honey, baby, and sweetheart.

loves spooning. she looooves to be little spoon!! please let her be little spoon at least twice a week!!!

nsfw

She is almost exclusively a top, and she prefers it that way. However, for the right person, she might bottom once in a blue moon.

when it comes to dominance or submission, she mostly follows your lead. she's usually okay with either but will have moments where she prefers one over the other.

when she's feeling more dom, she lets you know immediately.

she has big hands and let’s just say she knows exactly how to use them.

sit on her face. just do it, please sit on her face or else she will die. sit on her face!!!!!

vocal!! in like, every way you can imagine! has the prettiest moans and tells you the sweetest things.

even when shes feeling controlling or dominant, she takes care to be gentle with you.

buuuut if you get her riled up enough she has no issue with a little man handling.

very experimental!!! down to try almost anything once.

hello dear anon! if you’re reading this, i hope you enjoyed. i had a lot more ideas for vi than i thought i would. i’d love to know if we have any common headcanons ^^!♥️🎠

my inbox is open for requests! i’ll write for any arcane character and have lots of other fandoms i write for too. ♥️🎠

[whydoifeelthisquiet]

back to my other url <3

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

[dufferpuffer]

(Note: idk the characters OP mentions or what they are from, I wanted to talk about peoples reaction to disability rep in general)

I think it's fantastic when non-disabled people talk positively about disabled characters, even if they do it a little clumsily (though not in the face of disabled people critiquing it... yeesh...) Just like with other marginalized groups. eg: we can be happy about having more PoC characters... even if we might not fully understand the nuances in their representation. We can be taught about that nuance by those who do understand - and that's how we learn to understand better. That's awesome.

The thing that's annoying, as OP describes, is that - especially for disability representation - existence seems to be the bar for entry. They see a prosthetic and go 'Wowee! Good enough :)'

Maybe existing can pass as 'good representation' for some things - like race, gender or sexual orientation (arguably - important: it depends on the particular media) But that doesn't really work for disability.

Depending on the setting and themes of a narrative, being a different race, gender or orientation doesn't alter how you can live. Having a disability, by definition, DOES alter how you live.

Example: Innocent little kids show, where a bunch of kids go on adventures together, doesn't need to display topics like racism, homophobia, transphobia etc. to be good representation. The kids can just exist the same as everyone else - just existing is enough.

But a disabled kid HAS to be disabled. Their life has to be shown as altered in unique ways - otherwise it risks being harmful. It doesn't need to be anything big, or sad, or the topic of an episode... Infact it's often better when it isn't.

+ Have a character wake their friend up early, knocking on her window - she says 'Wait! Let me get my leg on!!' + They go swimming - and she takes her leg off to swim. + It gets really muddy, so she gets a piggy-back from a friend so she doesn't get her leg stuck. + Or it DOES get stuck and someone pulls it out for her. + She's training for a race and she switches her leg to a running one. + Maybe she isn't in an episode - the other characters can't rely on her skills to solve an issue, because its Physical Therapy day.

You don't need to draw attention to it, she doesn't need to suffer - but she has to be different. She has to live with different worries. She can't just be the exact same as everyone else, because she isn't like everyone else. That's what being disabled means.

If she just does everything everyone else does, with no thought put into the fact she has a fake leg other than 'one of her legs is blue'... you are teaching that disabled people don't live differently. But we DO. We HAVE to. A little kid seeing a character never put any thought into the things they need to worry about doesn't feel GOOD. It feels WORSE.

People of minority racial groups, and people of differing identities, dream of a world where that doesn't matter, they can be the same. Disabled people don't get that dream. Having a leg re-grown...? God, even thinking about the physical therapy, training to walk again... It would just be nice if there was more understanding, more facilities and support, that some of us need to live different lives.

...I am not an amputee. My digestive organs are all messed up - and I have PTSD. That is a very different experience to being an amputee. But I can talk about what I think is good or bad representation, even if it might be clumsy sometimes, because: I understand that good disability representation is in how the character is affected by their disability, not by just existing.

And that's what I would want to share with any non-disabled person who feels excitement seeing a disabled character: think about how it affects their life. Think about the choices they make because of it.

Toph from Avatar isn't 'cool disability representation' because her blindness is accurate or realistic. It isn't. It's fantasy blindness. It's cool because she has to live differently. She uses her bending to super-power 'see' - but not in water, or sand, or for flying things... There is no 'fix' that gives her sight back. Only tools to help. ''How does blindness affect how she can live'' has been considered.

So... you have a character 'you didn't even notice had a prosthetic'. Is there no way in which she is shown to act or think differently because of it...? That's not particularly good representation. There can still be cool parts of it that are worthwhile representation, like an interesting history, or design, or function... ...but she isn't disabled unless she is disabled. Yknow...?

I really wish non-disabled folks would stop commenting on weather or not something is good disability rep, especially when people with those disabilities are critiquing the specific things these folks are bringing up as examples of why the character is so good.

I swear, if I hear one more person say "I didn't even realise Neve was an amputee, that's such good representation!" I'm going to scream lol.

Also just to clarify, I don't think Neve is bad, my feelings on her from a disability representation stance are more complicated, but her disability having such a small impact on her that a shocking number of players said they didnt even notice it until she tells you how she lost her leg is NOT what makes her good. "You cant even tell she's disabled" is not a flex. We've talked about this. Twice.

Same goes for the inquisitor and Hezencost but they're pretty minor characters so I'm seeing less of it there.

[musical-chick-13]

Maybe I’ve just been Thinking Too Much About the Concept of Justice due to...currently watching....something (Idon’twannatalkaboutit)..........but GENUINELY the way most of y’all talk about the death penalty and about ANYONE who decides to go through law school for ANY reason is terrifying.

[ciderjacks]

u guys rly just get on here and say shit don’t u

[duncebento]

agh i know it can be rally difficult but especially if you are a marginalized person especially if you are a woman ESPECIALLY if you are trans please make sure that you’re not signaling insecurity to ppl via your dating app profiles or what have you. it can literally be a matter of your own physical safety.

as an example, i often see trans girls on hinge liable to put something like “i’ll fall for you if you show me any affection at all <3” on their profiles…and i know u just think it sounds quirkily self-deprecating and i KNOW that’s the way you really and truly feel but if i am someone who whether consciously or not is searching for a dynamic in which i have power over another person, a statement like that will make my ears perk up!!

furthermore, and especially for younger people, there are a lot of things that are very necessary to discuss with a partner that are ALSO very necessary to not reveal for a little while. if you have been abused in a certain way or if you are inexperienced, those are things that are unsafe to talk about with people you don’t know, no matter how honest and upfront you pride yourself on being. i’ve had someone tell me about all the sexual assault they’d experienced on a first date— and luckily for them i wasn’t interested in harming them or really into them at all— but again, imagine if i were someone who wanted power over another person! all their truthfulness and vulnerability would do is reveal them as an easy mark for my manipulation.

if you do encounter a critical situation with someone you haven’t spent enough time with yet, it should always be possible to say what instead of why: e.g. “i’m sorry, but i’d like to wait before having sex with you” or “i’d rather not hang out in that park, can we pick somewhere else?” instead of “i’d like to hold off on having sex BECAUSE i’ve never had sex before” or “i’d rather not hang out in that park BECAUSE that’s where i was assaulted.” again, both very important things to talk about with a partner, but unfortunately potentially dangerous things to discuss with someone you’ve not yet gotten close to! and anyone who seems to be sniffing around for signs of your inexperience or victimhood is not to be trusted anyway (note that sniffing around is different from a polite “oh, would you like to talk about it?” interest.)

i know it can be difficult to come across as more confident than you feel, but it is really necessary that you’re projecting a desire for something healthy and safe that will make you happy instead of saying outright that you’ll be fine with crumbs.

[emeryleewho]

I keep seeing posts talking about the WGA/Sag-Aftra strike, which yes, good, but in all this "support writers" sentiment I'm seeing no one talk about book writers, which I think is something people should know more about right now.

We are at an all-time high for book bans, namely targeting queer & PoC-authored books. This means that a lot of schools and libraries are no longer stocking diverse YA books, and if you're not in publishing, you may not realize this but school & libraries are by far one of the biggest markets for diverse YA books.

This means that in 2023, YA book sales are down. This is also in part because Barnes & Noble (the largest physical book retailer in the U.S.) is no longer really stocking YA hardcovers. This means that marginalized authors and debut authors are struggling to sell books.

But it's a LOT worse than that. In the past couple of years, marginalized authors are *really* struggling to get new book deals. Most books are acquired by a publisher about 2 years before they release to the public, so this isn't all that noticeable yet, but a LOT of marginalized authors I've spoken to (myself included) have been unable to sell a new YA book since 2020. So while I had a book out last year, even if I sell one right now, you won't see it until 2025-2026. That's three to four years without a new release or the income I get from publishing those books.

On top of that, Big 5 publishers have started closing imprints (namely their diverse imprints) and have started telling their marginalized YA authors to just go. I've had multiple authors tell me their publisher basically said, "eh, we don't care to put in the work for you anymore. You can just go somewhere else". Of the authors who *are* getting offered new contracts, we're being offered pay far below the cost of living and we're being handed contracts that split our payments 4 or 5 ways and require we sign over our work to be used to train AI so they can replace us a few years down the road.

Authors are freelancers who own our IPs, which means we can't unionize the way Hollywood writers can, and despite authors showing up in droves to support HarperCollins employees when they went on strike for fair wages, we're being hung out to dry when it comes to our own rights.

If you enjoy diverse books, especially diverse YA, please understand that many of the authors you loved over the past 3-5 years are being forced out of the industry. We're being exploited, and we have no way to defend ourselves. Our books sales are drying up thanks to anti-queer legislation, our rights are being eaten up by AI, and our publishers are degrading us while profiting of us and refusing to share those profits with us.

Within the publishing industry, we've all been watching this decline happen over the last decade, but outside of it, I know most people have no idea what's going on so please spread the word. And if you care about diverse books especially in YA, please support marginalized authors in any way you can. The industry needs to be reminded that it needs us before we're all eliminated from it.

[aliteralsemicolon]

Wait until you like me again - 18+

See part 1 | Part 2 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 3

The decision to resign puts a lot of weight on your shoulders. A takedown gone wrong makes it the least of anyone's concerns, especially Spencer’s. You’re not willing to let him back in; it feels too little, too late.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. Part 2 was highly requested and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to finish.

WARNING Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, drugs (GHB), Case details (very poorly thought out). Violence: canon typical - strangulation, drugging, guns/gunshots. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The most annoying part about making a decision in haste is the clarity of the situation when the dust settles. It’d taken Hotch just over two minutes to message you after you’d sent your email. 

From: Boss Man 🕶 👔 My office, first thing tomorrow. 

You didn’t take into account that you’d have to explain your sudden resignation to your unit chief, or that you’d need to think of a good enough goodbye to lessen the hurt of abandoning your friends. These are people you consider your found family; you’re leaving behind years worth of bonds with no proper warning or closure, in a measly few weeks. Your reasoning had to be good enough to convince them that this was for the best. 

To convince you that this was for the best. 

You’d spent the whole night in tears, racking your brain for an excuse, because ‘the person you care most about in this world and unrequited love of your life telling you that he didn’t want to see your face was a pathetic reason for discarding your life’s work. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think of adequate justification. Even as the sun rose and you made your way through your pre-work routine, nothing came to mind. 

“You can’t love me.”

Any time you tried to conjure up a defence your thoughts would wander back to Spencer. Too many words had been exchanged between you and your former best friend in the span of four months and not a single one of them properly explained why he was so butt-hurt. He loves you too much, but doesn’t want you to love him? That’s your understanding, at least. 

“Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

Since you’d left his apartment the previous night, you’d been cycling through all the stages of grief in record time. Spencer once told you that people tend to remember more negative memories than positive. He was right. You couldn’t recall a lot of your happier memories with him. All you could think about was the two conversations where he’d hurt you in ways you never imagined he would. 

You’re not sure exactly what part of you snapped at that moment, all you knew was that you were done making him the centre of your universe. Spencer Reid played no part in your decisions moving forward. He was not the reason for your departure with the BAU, a lie you made sure to relay to Hotch during your meeting with him.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Where is this even coming from?” He inquired from across you, hands folded neatly against his desk.

“I just think it’s time for me to try new things, you know?” It was a pathetic excuse, but less pathetic than the actual reasoning. 

“I try not to interfere with the personal lives of the team, but this is just so…sudden. I have to wonder if this has to do with Spencer?”

“This has nothing to do with him.” You go out of your way to avoid saying his name, suspecting you might taste poison. 

Hotch’s brow raises, as if his brain has been alerted to key information, head marginally tilting to the side like it does when he catches a lie. He doesn’t say anything, eyes narrowing in on you in stoic fashion. You feel like a petulant child that’s about to receive a scolding from their father. 

“Hon–Honestly…Hotch, I just–”

Three rapid knocks cut you off, the door to the office swinging open without waiting for a reply. 

“Sir, Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s an emergency. That case we were consulting on for Anchorage PD?” Garcia bursts into the room, slightly discoloured and more panicked than normal. “Well, five more bodies were discovered. Two of them pre-date who we initially thought was the first victim.”

“Garcia, tell everybody to meet on the jet ASAP. We’ll debrief on the flight.” Hotch orders abruptly standing from his seat. “You and I can finish this meeting later. This case is now our top priority, wheels up.” 

Emily, Rossi and Derek were already in their seats when you boarded. You secured your go bag in one of the overhead compartments and temporarily took a seat next to Derek. 

“How bad do you think this one is gonna be?” Derek sighs, dreading the horrors that await your arrival. 

“We’re up to thirty six bodies and counting. Whoever this unsub is, they’ve been at it a while. So, bad.” You answer honestly. 

“Speaking of bad, is everything okay?”

“That was not even remotely smooth.” You scoff. 

“I’m just asking as a concerned friend.” He shoots his hands up in defence.

“What happened to the days where we at least tried to mind our business. You know, at least asked each other about our weekend plans before jumping into interrogation mode.” You roll your eyes and smirk. 

“Heyyy, woah– no one’s interrogating anyone.” Derek chuckles. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

It wasn’t long before everybody had made their way on the jet, Spencer being the last one. You didn’t notice his arrival, too engulfed in your conversation. He definitely noticed you though. The sound of your giggles caught his attention the second he was in ear shot. He didn’t like how warm he felt at the sight of your smiling face. What he disliked more was that he could instantly tell that it wasn’t a genuine smile. 

He quietly made his way to his self assigned seat on the couch, trying his hardest to focus on anything but you. Every laugh that Morgan coaxed out of you bothered him. Spencer’s agony only ended once the jet had successfully taken off. 

“Alright let’s get started.” Hotch declared and everybody moved to gather around. 

With all the details laid out by Garcia through the monitor, everybody began stating facts and suggestions. You wrapped up soon enough and retreated to an isolated seat in the back of the jet. It was an almost eight hour flight, seven of which you were planning to use to come up with a solid plan to announce your departure. Life always has to throw a wrench in your plans though, because the lack of sleep from the night before caught up to you and you dozed off almost immediately. Had you any energy left in your body, you might have been privy to the eyes that were on you. 

“She didn’t say anything as to what the meeting was about?” JJ hushedly pries from her raven haired co worker in the cramped kitchenette.  

“No, but Garcia said that ‘the air in his office was really tense’.” Emily relays, her fingers mimicking quotation marks. “Did Hotch say anything?”

“No. He just gave me his usual dry look and told me to focus on the case.” JJ rolls her eyes at the thought and leans back against the counter. 

Despite being the FBI’s most decorated task force, the agents of the BAU weren’t strangers to workplace gossip. You’d just entered the bullpen this morning when Hotch frantically summoned you to his office, not even giving you time to set your things down at your desk. Witnessing the events sparked a guessing game sparked amongst the team. 

“Is it something we should know about?” Sitting across from Hotch, even Rossi succumbed to his curiosity. 

“Dave you’re not normally one to pry.” Hotch smirks, keeping his eyes on the case-file laid out in front of him. 

“No I’m not. But with the events of the past few months...” Rossi sips his coffee, staring at his younger superior expectantly. “...there’s been some talk Aaron.”

“Talk?” Hotch meets Rossi’s eyes.

“Mhm.” Rossi nods. “Apparently you’re transferring one of our two youngest members because they haven’t been able to put their differences aside.”

“I’m not transferring anyone. Where did this come from?” The alarm in his tone makes Rossi snicker.

“Office drama. You know how it is. And while you may not be transferring anybody,” he sets his mug down and looks towards where you’re sound asleep. “I’m guessing somebody is leaving. Hence this morning's meeting.”

“We’re not supposed to profile each other, you know.” Hotch sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this contained. I haven’t had a chance to properly discuss this with her yet and I think she’d prefer to break the news herself.” 

As you had predicted the case was by no means an easy one. On the first day everybody was split into groups to follow up with the M.E, victims’ families and examine the crime scenes. All the evidence and information gathered wasn’t enough to narrow the profile any more than the generic: male, mid thirties to early forties, hates women. You were now three days in with no viable leads. 

You were especially frustrated because you felt that you weren’t working as well as you could. The stress of your announcement was taking its toll, you were unable to properly converse with your team out of guilt. Hotch sent everyone back to their hotel rooms with the idea that you would start fresh tomorrow. Normally you would room with Spencer, but lately JJ and Emily have been taking turns rooming with both of you. This time you were with Emily.

“I think this may be the first night we’ve gotten to turn in early.” Emily yawns as she dramatically stretches her limbs.

“I’m just glad we got to turn in at all, for a while there it looked like we may have to pull another all nighter.” You force a giggle, exasperated.  

“You okay?” She doesn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity to ask about your uneasiness. 

“Yeah, fine.” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“You’re going to snap at some point, you know?” She examines your closed off posture, trying to figure out a way to get you to open up. “Something’s clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

“We’re all on edge right now. It’s this case.” You hope that you’re being convincing enough. 

“It's more than that. You’ve been distant from everybody.” Emily briefly thought back to the Ian Doyle debacle, recognising all the signs of somebody preparing to run away at any given moment. 

“I’m aware that I’m not working to my full potential–”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” She steps closer to you. “I can’t force you to tell me whatever’s actually on your mind, but I would really appreciate it if you would. I hate seeing you so…detached. Not just from us, but from yourself.”

It’s the empathy in her voice instead of the usual sympathy that finally cracks you. Tears pool your eyes and you sink to the floor. Emily sits down next to you without a word. She tries to pull you in for a hug but you push away. 

“Please don’t.” You sob. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezes your knee to relay that she understands and retracts her hand. Your discomfort with physical touch was another thing you had in common with Spencer. It was just a personal preference for you, unlike his germophobia. He was the only person you were actually comfortable with in terms of touch, but you couldn’t fault others for not respecting that boundary when you’d never verbalised it. 

“I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell you guys, but I don’t think there’s any way this gets easier.” You recompose yourself after a moment. “I’m, um, leaving.”

You expect her to get upset with you, but find her unfazed. 

“You don’t look surprised.” 

“Well it’s not entirely surprising. I mean given everything that’s happened.” 

“So you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She leans back with her mouth slightly open. 

“Because I feel like I’m abandoning you guys.” You heavily exhale. 

“You’re not abandoning us. You’re doing what you feel is right for you. I mean, am I happy about it? Definitely not. But I know better than anyone why you feel like you need to do this. And it’s not a decision you have to justify to anybody.” Emily reassures you. 

“How do I tell everybody else?” You push for more advice.

“However you feel most comfortable doing it. It doesn’t have to be some big announcement. You can casually break it to them whenever you get the opportunity. They’ll understand.” 

“Thank you, Em.” You genuinely smile this time, eternally grateful that she’s managed to take some pressure off your shoulders.

“Now while you’re in a mood to share…if you wanna talk about something else–” She attempts one last time to get you to talk about Spencer, sensing that the mood lightened a bit. 

“Nice try.” You laugh as you rise to your feet, offering your arms out to her to help her stand.

The following two days were a lot easier on you, mentally. You took Emily’s advice and disclosed your news individually to each team member, each of them more understanding than you’d anticipated. You were surprised to learn that Rossi was already aware, assuming that it came with being a profiler for as long as he had. Derek and JJ did try to talk you out of it initially, but accepted your decision in the end. You still had to talk about this with Garcia, but felt a lot more at ease with mostly everybody knowing.

Except Spencer.

That thought lingered in the back of your mind. You still love him, it’s not something you can just turn off. You shake it off and divert your full attention to the case. Four more bodies had been discovered and with them, a new pattern to the killings. The unsub was devolving. You and Spencer were the only ones at the precinct when the last murder was called in. Meaning you were stuck working on the geographical profile with him while the others were out chasing new leads. 

Realistically, only one of you was needed to build the profile and decided you were going to let him do it. You quietly sat in the furthest seat possible, trying to make yourself invisible and hoping that this would keep him busy enough to not talk to you. The whole week, you hadn’t uttered a single word to him unless it was absolutely necessary for the case. It was as if he didn’t exist, even if he was standing right infront of you. Spencer, on the other hand, spent the whole week prodding you for any reaction he could get. Anytime you made suggestions and he happened to be in the area, he tried to one up you.

At times it felt like he was purposely seeking you out, despite his brutal proclamation five days ago. Every attempt to rile you up failed. The most acknowledgement he got from you was a few scoffs and glares. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it, until Derek asked him point blank what his problem was. He didn’t have an answer, but now that he was aware of it he tried to go out of his way to avoid it. 

That didn’t last more than a few hours. The fact that he had to consciously avoid talking to you pissed him off, especially because he couldn’t stop. You pretending like he didn’t exist pissed him off even more. The one time he took his eyes off the board in front of him they landed on you. You were busy scribbling words in a file, trying to get a head start on your paperwork. 

“Do you plan to help at all?” He sneers, noticing that you looked a lot more relaxed than you did at the start of the case. 

You snap your head towards the board behind him. A rough venn diagram was drawn on a map of the city, small tacked notes labelling prominent buildings in the area. 

“How am I meant to help?” You question, darting your eyes between him and the board out of confusion.

“You’re asking me how to do your job?” He taunts, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

You dramatically groan, throwing your head back. 

It’s hard to believe that he’s a man of logic in moments like these. There have been far too many in the last few months. You bounce off your seat and head over to the board. Spencer stays glued in his spot and your body accidentally brushes against his as you try to get past. He watches you take off some notes and add on new ones but doesn’t register what you’re doing at first. He’s too intoxicated by your scent. His hand runs through his hair as he steps back in an effort to regain his composure. His teeth grit and his jaw tenses momentarily, he hates that you have the ability to do this to him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” The pitch of his voice raises and his ears are burning.

“What do you mean?” You roll your eyes, shrugging your arms, sarcasm laced in your words. 

“Don’t try to act all dumb!” He berates, shaking his head. 

“Don’t try to act all smart.” Your eyes roll again. Spencer was slowly starting to wear down your apathy. 

“I am smart.” He scoffs. Your blood boils, this trump card is becoming too repetitive.

“Savour that, it’s the one good thing you’ve got going for you!” You finally snap. 

“You’re UNBELIEVABLE! The first time you bother to answer me all week and it’s just to argue?” He’s trying his best to refrain from yelling.

“Oh! You’ve been trying to start an argument all week and now that I’m giving in you can’t take it?! Actually, why have you been trying so hard, Doctor? I was under the impression that you can’t even stand to look at my face!”

He dryly swallows, unable to respond immediately. The reminder of his words makes him internally cringe. He never meant to say them. It was the most efficient way he could think of at that time to hurt you. Spencer hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of will power it would take to stay away from you. You seeking him out made it infinitely harder. His fake disdain was a defence mechanism, he was hiding behind hatred to get the job done. 

“YOU–”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hotch loudly cuts him off. 

Neither you nor Spencer noticed the teams return during your squabble. You’re slightly embarrassed, wondering how much they’ve witnessed. Spencer turns away from you and looks to the blank wall on the other side of the room. You look to the floor and bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Care to explain what’s going on?” He grills and you feel like a petulant child receiving a lecture from your father. 

“She wasn’t doing her job!” Spencer complains. “And when I brought it up she messed up my profile!”

“God you’re insufferable! It’s called ‘narrowing the profile’, Spencer. Maybe if you did it properly, I wouldn’t have to.” You retort. 

“Hey!” Hotch scolds.

It falls silent for a second, awkward glances finding their way around the room. Rossi breaks it first. 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were bickering toddlers instead of FBI agents.”

You make eye contact with Morgan trying to hold in a laugh and it makes you snort. 

“We will discuss this later. Let’s focus on the updates we’ve gathered.” Hotch dismisses due to more pressing matters at hand. 

“After talking to friends of the latest victims, I can confirm that they were all last seen in the same club.” JJ pipes up first.

“And the dumpsites are all less than twenty minutes away from there. He’s definitely not holding them anymore.” Morgan adds.

“That has to be where he’s choosing his victims. Did the medical examiner find anything new?” Hotch asks.

“Traces of GHB.” Emily replies. “We don’t know how he’s administering it into their systems, but my guess would be through the drinks.”

“Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, mostly known as GHB, is a party drug that produces feelings of euphoria, confidence, relaxation and sociability. Side effects of GHB can include drowsiness, vomiting, mood swings, dependence, as well as more serious symptoms of unconsciousness. When mixed with alcohol the risk of overdose increases as it can cause respiratory collapse leading to coma or in extreme cases death.” Spencer’s about to continue but quickly recognises that it’s a tangent he needs to cut short. 

“Wait JJ what club were the victims last seen in?” You inquire, walking closer to the map.

When she relays the name it clicks. 

“That’s smack in the middle of the comfort zone.” You point at a small red note labelling the building. 

“So how do we catch this guy? I mean the club would be packed and we don’t know what this guy looks like. The profile tells us that he would blend in, nothing would stand out about him.” Morgan subtly suggests a string operation.

“Except for when he’s alone with the object of his rage. Which in our case would be the women he’s using as surrogates. He'd be possessive, become clingy, hold on too tight and once those advances are rejected he’d fly into blind rage.” Spencer exclaims without realising the weight of his input. 

“Yeah…but he has a very specific type.” Rossi hesitates. 

A fact that everybody had been avoiding the case because of how close it hit to home. 

You’re his exact type.

“No.” Hotch shuts down.

“Hotch, think about it. I mean this guy is not slowing down. A sting might be our best bet to stop him before he kills again.” JJ shares Rossi’s hesitation.

“It’s too risky!” Spencer blurts, making it clear he’s against the idea. 

Everyone begins to chime in with their input, but you stay silent and think it over. None of them wanted to put you in this position, but you’d seen the bodies and what he’d done to those women. What he’ll continue to do to other women if he isn’t stopped. It was a no brainer on your end. 

“I’ll do it!” You announce amidst the chatter.

It comes to an immediate halt, all eyes shifting on you.

“What?” Spencer scoffs.

You can tell that he’s genuinely surprised by the small hitch in his voice. Emily sceptically calls your name, posing it as a question. 

“I’ll do it.” You reiterate, taking care to seem as confident as possible.

“Absolutely not! The odds of this going wrong are way too high!” Spencer howls with a little too much passion. 

“Reid’s right. The unsub is way too unpredictable.” Hotch debates.

“JJ has a point, think about it!” You argue. “We know for a fact that he’s going to strike tonight. Sending me undercover as bait is better than staking out the place and waiting for him to target a civilian!” 

“Okay so let’s send somebody else!” Spencer contests, his tone prayerful. 

For a split second, you see your best friend again. He’s showing more regard for you now than he has in months and it makes your heart sink knowing it won’t be forever. Still, you try to reason with him while he’s there.

“There’s no time! I fit his type. This is our best option.”

“No, this is stupid and dangerous. You’re not going in there!” He’s gone again. 

“That’s not your call to make!” You snap. 

“Hotch no!” Spencer tries again.

“Kid, relax! This isn’t her first undercover mission.” Morgan attempts to calm Reid. “Plus we’ll all be there in case anything goes wrong.”

“Statistically–”

“For God’s sake forget the fucking statistics! People’s lives are at stake!” You loudly end his tangent before it can begin. 

“Alright, everybody calm down!” Hotch speaks up, making it a point to stare down Spencer. 

He’d made his decision and Spencer can only stare back in disbelief, too breathless to argue. 

‘Like Morgan said, we’ll be there watching over you, along with some local law enforcement. You won’t be wired, but we’ll have a fail safe just in case you need backup earlier than expected. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s get to work.” The unit chief asserts. 

Before anyone can make any further moves, Spencer storms out of the room. JJ runs after him, assuring Hotch that she’ll take care of it. The rest of you break off to your assigned tasks, preparing for the operation that night. 

“Spence! Slow down!” She yells, chasing him all the way outside the precinct. 

He’s breathing too fast, practically on the edge of hyperventilating. He pushes his hair back with both of his hands, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. 

“Spence what the hell is going on with you?” JJ pants, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Me?!” Spencer yanks himself away from her. “What the hell is going on with all of you?! You’re all insane for allowing her to do this!”

“She’s a grown woman and a trained agent! This is her decision. She knows what she’s getting herself into.” JJ reminds him. 

“Well it’s not a very smart decision! She shouldn’t be making decisions this…this reckless!” He shrieks. 

“Okay you need to calm down!” JJ sternly states. 

“Jennifer, do not tell me to calm down! She’s about to make herself a direct target for a psychopathic sadist and you’re all just letting it happen!”

“So what? Should we let some innocent woman become his next target?” 

“No! I’m not saying we should– just– why does it have to be her?!” The emphasis on his last word gives him away, JJ picks up on it instantly. 

“That’s what this is about? C’mon you know better than this.” She relaxes her shoulders. “Spencer, we all care about her. We all want her to be safe. And she will be as long as we separate out feelings from–”

“Feelings? This has nothing to do with how I feel–”

“Okay stop! Stop! God!” JJ huffs with pauses between her words. “I am so sick of this! This is clearly about your feelings. The past four months have all been about–”

She smacks her hands against her face as she takes a deep breath, a display of frustration. 

“Listen to me.” She commands, exhausted from the back and forth. “It’s clear that you two care deeply for each other, whether you’re willing to admit it or not. Neither of you will talk about whatever it is that’s caused this rift– fine! But don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet now that she’s leaving?”

Spencer freezes. 

“...Leaving?” He repeats, taken off guard. 

JJ takes a moment to read his expression. 

“She didn’t tell you?” JJ mutters, still scanning his face. 

“What– what are you…” He can’t find the words, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to process her words.

“She’s resigning, Spencer. She’s leaving the FBI.” JJ can’t hide how she’s surprised that you haven’t shared this with him. 

“No, that's not possible. She loves this job. Why would she leave?” Denial is his first response.

Spencer thinks over your possible motivations and can only land on the obvious. You’d only leave if you grew to hate the job. 

Did he do this? Did he make you hate it?

“We were all surprised when she first told us, I mean, it came out of nowhere.”

“We?” He rubs his temple, anticipating a possible migraine from the bomb that just dropped on him. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you guys known?” He balefully sighs, trying his hardest to not misplace his anger. 

“It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

He had no one to be angry at, but himself.

“A day? Maybe two? She told us individually. Honestly with this case I haven’t had time to wrap my head around it.” JJ honestly reveals. 

So not long. Maybe you were still making your way around to telling him? You wouldn’t just leave without so much as telling him, would you?

A few months ago, Spencer would’ve confidently answered no. Today he was sure that you would. He so badly hoped that he was wrong. 

“Spence, look, we can talk about this later. But right now, you need to make sure you’re able to stay objective. Can you do that?”

He nods relentlessly, tucking his hair behind his ears. A habit he adapted early in life. It was an indicator of the gears turning in his head. JJ gives him a few more minutes outside before guiding him back in to help with preparations. Spencer absentmindedly performed his tasks, but all he could think about was you. 

You’re leaving and he’s the only person you hadn’t disclosed this information to. Abandonment was a feeling he was all too used to, but he never imagined that you’d abandon him. He knows that he can only blame himself, but he still can’t help the irritation that’s creeping in his veins. 

Even as he straps up his hidden bullet proof vest hours later, he can’t push the sentiment away. You were setting yourself up as bait for one of the most dangerous types of serial killers. On top of purposely putting yourself in direct line danger, you were leaving without telling him. He would’ve showed up to work one day and you’d be gone.

Right now he stands just a few feet away from you and you don’t look toward him once. No one would be able to guess that you’re undercover. It’s amazing how you’ve managed to transform yourself from supervisory special agent to a regular socialite and party girl in a couple of hours.

If he could overcome the hurt he feels at the moment, he might see how breathtaking you look. Then again, you always appear breathtaking to him. Before he knows it, he’s walked right up to you. You don’t feel his presence looming behind you until you bump into him when you turn around. 

“Shit Spencer!” You jump, mostly because of the nerves from the upcoming night. 

He’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“Don’t start! I’m not in the mood.” You brush him off and disappear out of sight.

It was like that for much of the preparations. He’d muster the courage to try and talk to you, and you’d walk away. Much like how Spencer would avoid you when your friendship first fell apart. 

“Everybody in position?” Hotch inquires through his ear piece. 

“Affirmative.” Morgan gives the greenlight for your entry into the club. 

You made your way to the bar, making it a point to sit alone. You didn’t have to wait long. Archie Carter, 36, cheated on by his ex fiance before their wedding. She ran away with another man because Archie failed to keep his sadistic traits hidden and it scared her off. Torturing and murdering women who looked like her was his way of giving her a real reason to be scared. 

This was all information Garcia found after it was nearly too late. He’d managed to get you on the dance floor, subtly injecting you with the GHB. You didn’t even feel him do it. To everybody else it just seemed like you were playing your part really well on the dance floor, when in reality you were struggling to stand up. You couldn’t give out any signals and he was able to slip you away into the back alley under the noses of five FBI agents. 

It was Spencer who’d found you fighting for your life against Archie’s grip around your throat. Spencer, who put the bullet in Archie’s head after being unable to talk him down. Spencer who kneeled above you, begging you to come back as he began CPR. If he’d found you any later you might’ve been gone for good. 

Pissed was an understatement.

At the piece of shit that almost ripped you away from the world. At Hotch and the team for not listening. At himself for being right. Not you though, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t pissed at you. He was terrified. Both for you and for almost losing you. 

You had to stay a few extra days in Anchorage, bound to your hospital room. The team refused to fly back without you, each of them taking turns to keep you company. They all felt an immense amount of guilt but you reassured them that it wasn’t their fault. Your tongue grew tired of reminding them that this was a part of the job. Rossi joked that it was a good thing you were leaving it all behind in that case and it stung more than you were willing to admit. 

In your brush with death you came to the revelation that you didn’t want to leave, but hearing Spencer’s voice lull you back to him confirmed that you needed to. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear him talk everyday and not be the person he was talking to. It was why you had basically barred him from visiting you during your recovery there. Seeing his face was more than you could handle at the time. Not seeing yours weighed on him, because he needed to see if you were okay.

Physically, he knew you’d be fine once the doctors confirmed it. Mentally, he knew all too well of the repercussions that came with almost dying directly by the hands of an unsub. You’d been discharged and cleared fifty eight hours after you were admitted, and the team was ready to fly back a few hours later. All the signs of being less than okay were there. He recognised them as soon as he saw you board the jet. 

Besides the obvious bruises collaring your neck, there was some minor swelling that lingered. That wasn’t his biggest concern. It was the smile plastered on you when you put on your ‘I’m okay’ act for the others. Your eyes, like always, gave you away. You were already trying to sweep everything under the rug. Less than a few minutes after take off you isolated yourself in the back. You’d been doing that a lot in your recent cases. 

It irked him how everybody just let you. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to. He didn’t care how much you hate him, he was going to ensure that you came out of this truly okay. You were mindlessly staring out the window, counting the clouds, listening to the music playing through your headphones. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. You’d felt like that since you came to, in the alley. 

It took you a second to understand that you were actually being watched, turning to find Spencer in the previously empty seat across from you. 

“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.” You snark, ripping off your headphones, still recovering from the small jump scare.

“Sorry.” He chuckles out of habit.

You unintentionally smile at the sound and find yourself staring in his eyes. 

“Are–” He falters as he thinks the question over in his head. “Is there anything I can get you?”

You’re taken aback, not expecting those words. You had a script prepared to waive off questions about your well being. He knows you better than that, throwing you off course as usual.

“What do you want?” You grumble, accepting that you couldn’t get past him.

“I want to know if there’s anything I can get you.” He repeats in a low tone. 

There he is again. The Spencer you know and love. Your heart threatens to leap.

“If this is to clear some guilty conscience, don’t bother.” You verbally guard yourself. “I’m fine.”

It would be a lie if he said his reasoning was completely selfless. He was hardly able to keep away from you without feeling like he was drowning, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he thought he may have lost you forever. The feeling didn’t last very long, he was able to revive you within a few seconds, but never feeling like that again would be too soon. 

Spencer believed in two things; statistics and facts. One fact he refused to ignore any longer is that he couldn’t live without you. He quietly opened that satchel that still clung across his torso, fishing out some pain killers and an unopened water bottle. 

“I know you probably forgot to take yours out of your bag.” He ignores your previous comment and slides the items across the table to you. 

Your gaze lingers on the items in front of you, but your hands stay folded in your lap as you piece everything together. 

“You know.” You whisper. 

“Were you going to tell me?” He gulps after a beat of silence. 

“Does it matter?” You're quick to respond.

“I wanna hear it from you.” He’s just as fast. 

You look up from the leaf of pills, he’s already surveilling you. It’s a short lived staring contest because your focus shifts behind him to Hotch, who’s observing this encounter from the kitchenette on the other end. Spencer continues waiting on you for a response but you stand up, ready to walk away. It dawns on you when you see your supervisor that technically you hadn’t officially resigned yet. The paperwork never got started because this case took priority and that was a detail you needed to sort out right away.

“Don’t go.” Spencer pleads when you take your first step.

Was it a request to sit back down or to stay with the BAU? You didn’t bother to clarify, he had no right to ask for either. 

You let out a deep, exasperated sigh as you lie curled up in your warm sheet, scowling at the floor beneath you. It seemed that the universe (your friends) had it out to delay your departure as much as possible. It’s been four days since your return from Anchorage and you’ve been stuck in your apartment since Hotch dropped you off here. He’s ordered mandatory time off for your recovery, meaning the paperwork has to wait. 

You could be using this time in a more productive manner. You could be searching for a new job. And a new place to live. You should be trying to figure out where this new place would be. You never actually thought that far ahead. In your haste to run away, you forgot to plan your next steps. You’ve convinced yourself that you can’t do any of it until the forms are filled out. 

The ‘universe’ isn’t the only thing delaying you. 

If you really wanted to, you could have everything emailed to you. You can have it done online, but there are two major problems. The first is pretty straight forward; you’re not ready to leave. You know that this is the best course of action for everybody, but your brain and your heart are at an impasse. You’ve dedicated years to this job because you love this job. Unfortunately, you love Spencer more, which means that staying is going to drive you to hate your job. 

The other reason is slightly more nuanced and you don’t want to think about it, opting to let your impasse be the reason for your lack of motivation to do anything other than bed rotting. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’s more self care than anything. Your body’s telling you it needs to rest and you’re simply obliging. Plus, it couldn’t be that serious if you still had bursts when you had to keep up appearances. You have to be okay if you’re able to force yourself to open the front door for your coworkers when they come to check on you. You really weren’t that miserable if you managed to smile and laugh for their short visits. 

And it’s not like you’re truly rotting. You showered quite often, you actually just had your second one today. You were definitely okay if you could manage to keep up with hygiene. It’s not excessive, you need to scrub the purple away. You know that’s not how it works, but you can’t stand to look at the parts of your neck where his hands were wrapped around. If you close your eyes for long enough you can still feel him squeezing until–

You’re okay.

No, you’re irritated. The incessant knocking on your front door won’t stop no matter how much you ignore it. You were relieved when evening came. It meant that normal visiting hours were over and you could rest today. If it wasn’t any of your usual visitors then it had to be stranger. The thought made you uneasy, you hesitated to answer it at all. 

You can’t live in fear all the time. 

The door eventually opens and Spencer sees you for the first time in days. He actually tried to check on you earlier, but Penelope insisted everybody stick to her roster so you don’t get overwhelmed. The circles under your eyes were almost as dark as his, you hadn’t been getting much sleep. The swelling around your throat was almost all gone, but the bruising wasn’t healing like he expected it to. 

“Spencer…what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse. 

“I brought take out.” He gently dangles a bag of food in front of him, his voice high, but quiet. 

You can practically smell the contents of the bag, nostalgia hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was your favourite thing to order on the days he’d come over for movie nights. Before Spencer showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed. It felt like a taunt, like he was twisting the metaphorical knife he plunged in your heart. It made you sick.

“I already ate.” You lie, mustering a dull smile on your face.

Spencer swallows and bites the inside of his cheek, not taking his eyes off you. Trying to think of the best way to call you out without causing you to shun him. 

“We can do something else until you’re hungry again.” He gives a tight lipped smile and raises his furrowed brows, like he’s pleading for you to accept his offer.

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry anytime soon.” You awkwardly laugh– well it’s close to a laugh if not for your strained vocal chords. 

“Can I come in anyway? We can put on a movie.” He’s using the voice he used to when trying to comfort you or convince you of something. Soft, low, steady. It’s a stark contrast to the voice you’ve been hearing for the last ten days. 

Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.

Tears threaten the composure you’re working so hard to maintain.

“Why are you really here?” You sigh, unable to stick with the pleasantries. 

“I told you.” He emphasises the bag of food in his hands again. “Take out. Maybe a movie–”

“Cut the shit.” You assert, harshly. “You can tell Penelope that you came to see me so she gets off your back, but please stop pretending like you care.”

“That’s…is that why you think I’m here?” His shoulders drop.

“Isn’t it?” You bite, your door now wide open as you lean against it for support. Your legs are aching to curl into your chest again. 

“No.” His reply is short and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Why? There’s nothing in it for you.” You scoff, blinking from confusion. “Unless…is this some sick game? Seeing me like this– knowing that I’m– are you trying to gloat?”

“Gloat?” He repeats in almost a whisper, the hurt in his voice evident.

“Relish, rejoice, rub it in, I don’t know. You’re the walking thesaurus.”

He can tell from your lax posture that you're amused. Your back is against your door, hands behind your back and you’re leaning forward a bit as you stare at the ground. Not caring that your words cut deep.

Is this how low you think he is?

“Why would I be enjoying this?” His hopeful smile drops entirely as he tries to understand you. 

“Call it epicaricacy.” You shrug. 

“Epicaricacy?” He mumbles in a whispered tone, like he’s trying to process what you said.

Deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others.

Your eyes roll from how slow he’s acting and you have to hold yourself back from repeating the definition out loud.

“Do you honestly think I enjoy seeing you like this?” The change in pitch stings a bit. 

“No, I don’t think you like seeing me at all.” You half smirk up at him, sadness evident in your eyes. “Which brings us back to…why are you here Doc?”

“That’s not true.” He cringes, ignoring the second part.

“Not true?” You wiggle your brows sarcastically. 

“Not true.” He reaffirms, sighing deeply. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry.” You scoff again, shaking your head.

“I know that I’ve been unreasonable–”

“Unreasonable?” The tip of your tongue rolls against the back of your teeth, bewildered at his sheer audacity. 

“A dick! I’ve been a dick.” He corrects himself, desperate to have you hear him out. 

You tighten your jaw, inhaling lightly through your nose and your brows are raised as high as they can go. 

“I was hurt. Okay? I wash lashing out, but, I–” He takes a deep breath to stop himself, wanting to get to the point. “I know that I’ve been acting otherwise but, I care about you. And when I found you back there…I just…I know what you’re going through, even if you won’t admit it. I don’t want you to go through it alone.”

Your expression softens as he speaks. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to break down in his arms, like you would have once. It’s jarring, Spencer reverting to his former self after he saved your life. The comfort swiftly bubbles into anger. All your attempts for reconciliation were met with so much hostility before. It took you almost dying for him to care. It feels too little too late. The only thing you can think of as he stands next to you is all the ways he can further hurt you if you let him. You push off your door and stand straight, giggling bitterly. 

“Spencer, go home.” You say with the same bitterness. 

“Please–”

“Go home! I don’t want your pity!” You yell. It feels alleviating. “Do you honestly think that  anything changes just because you saved my life? Do you think it erases everything that’s happened in the past few months? Because it doesn’t! Things can’t go back to how they were simply because you feel bad that I almost died. It’s not a flip you can switch. You don’t just get to start caring!” 

You're heaving and he can only stare at the ground. He knows you’re right, except for the one crucial error in your speech. 

“I never stopped caring.” He mumbles.

This fucking idiot.

Enraged, sad, frustrated, confused; all emotions you’ve been suppressing that are now fighting to show at the same time. You take a step closer to him and he meets your eyes again. You can see that he’s holding back tears, same as you. It fuels you in a twisted way. You have an opportunity to hurt him the way he hurt you and you don’t let it go to waste.

“Don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work to see your face at work, I don’t want to see it in my personal time too.” 

You can’t stay to see the effects of his words thrown back at his face, your heart’s threatening to burst from how fast it’s racing. His jaw locks from how tense he is. He knows exactly why you said it, but it’s still hard to hear. You turn around and rush into your apartment, shutting the door on his face, leaving him standing there. You don’t make it too far inside, collapsing on the wooden floor with a choked sob. 

That didn’t make you feel as good as you thought it would. You hoped that maybe if you could make him feel at least a fraction of you’re feeling, you’d hurt less. It was more than just getting back at him for everything he’s done. You were unknowingly trying to punish him for what Archie Carter did too. It didn’t make you hurt any less, but at least you felt less alone in your hurt. 

He didn’t come back for the rest of your time off. Everybody continued to follow the roster, showing up on their days and bringing you ‘get well soon’ goodies. Penelope even invited herself over for a night's stay once. You didn’t have the heart to say no, but you found yourself counting the hours until you’d be alone again, free to wallow. The only respite you got for the next week was on Spencer’s days. You could expect to be left mostly alone, only a bag of take out accompanied by an eerily fitting quote sitting outside your door. 

You hate to admit that those were your favourite days. You had a chance to breathe and he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. You gave the food away in protest and the quote would go straight in the bin (once you read it). One final psych evaluation later you were cleared to come back. Not that you needed one since you didn’t plan to stay for long. It was really just a formality. By the time you returned only a few faded bruises remained, easy enough to cover with concealer. 

“You’re back! Ooh, it’s so good to see you!” Garcia was the first with a warm greeting and a tight hug. You reciprocated to the best of your ability. 

“Good to have you back, Pretty Girl.” Derek’s second, walking you through the bullpen as you make your way to Hotch’s office.

“Enjoy it while you can.” You giggle in reply. “Is Hotch in yet?”

“I see someone can’t wait to leave us.” Emily jokes, feigning a hurt look. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he’s expecting you.” JJ laughs, slapping Emily’s arm playfully. 

“Thanks JJ!” You smile and they all watch you disappear behind the door. 

“So it’s official? She’s really leaving?” JJ questions through a half-hearted smile. 

“I asked Rossi and he said that Hotch is gonna ask her to stay until we find a replacement.” Emily replies, still eyeing the door. 

“How did you get Rossi to admit that?” JJ turns to the raven head, questioningly, and Emily smiles coyly giving no response. 

“Am I the only one who thinks this whole thing would end once they make up? I mean come on, we all know she’s leaving because of him, right?” Morgan looks at Spencer, who’s nose deep in a file at his desk. 

“Yeah, but we can’t help if they refuse to talk to us about it.” Emily sighs, hanging her head back. 

The three dive deeper into their discussion and you’re none the wiser from inside the cream-coloured walls of Hotch’s office. As per protocol, he’s just finished informing you of what’s next and you’re kind enough to accept his request to stay until they find a replacement. You definitely said yes because you want to make the team’s transition easier, not for any self indulgent reasons such as you not being ready to leave. 

“Just return this to me once you’ve filled it out.” He instructs as he hands you a file containing your resignation forms. 

“Thanks Hotch.” You smile, grabbing the file. 

You begin heading towards the door when he stops you by your name. 

“I understand that you’re set on this decision, but I am sad to see you go.” It’s insane how many emotions this man can get across while maintaining a blank expression. “However, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” 

“Thanks Hotch.” You playfully scoff, appreciating that even he has to try at least once. 

If one more person tries though, you might scream. It wasn’t easy, pretending that you weren’t crumbling inside. The extra pressure doesn’t make it any easier. You leave his office, closing the door behind you and approach your desk. The resignation forms are put aside for later as you still have to finish your case report from Anchorage. Part of you wanted to put it off until the last minute, the other part wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. 

“Coffee?” Penelope chirps, holding out a mug filled with the hot beverage. 

“Thanks Pen.” You smile up at her, taking it out of her hands. 

“No problem.” She smirks mischievously and trots off. 

A strange lady, but your strange lady.

Upon your first sip you almost choke it out. It was perfect. Exactly to your liking. Which would be a good thing, except only one person knows exactly how you like it. Back when you first joined, you learned how popular coffee was with all the employees. You felt out of place because you weren’t a massive fan of the drink and you avoided too much sugar because it made you feel sick. You soon discovered that you liked it a lot more with honey instead. It was a weird preference, but it worked for you, making it sweet without overpowering your senses like sugar did. 

You never declined a cup when offered by your colleagues, not wanting to dishearten them. It was Spencer who caught you sneaking honey into your cup when you thought no one was paying attention. He never mentioned anything to you, but the next time he returned with a cup to offer, you couldn’t help but the smile that adorned your face for the rest of the day. It was why you dedicated yourself to morning breakfast runs for him, memorising his coffee order as a silent thank you. Neither of you ever talked about it. 

You spin your seat around to find Spencer engaged in conversation with Rossi. You consider walking past him and dumping the beverage in the sink to make a point, but it was a welcome energiser for the dreadful task at hand. Plus you aren’t wasteful. You spin back around and decide to accept it just this once. 

When he’s sure you’re no longer looking he sets his sights back on you. A small smile forms across his lips when he sees you drink the coffee. He honestly expected you to throw it away. He feared that if he was the one to deliver the mug, you’d throw it on him. It was why he convinced Garcia to do it, bribing her by promising to buy a round of drinks on the next night out. 

“Kid, are you even listening?” Rossi scolds in an incredulous way. 

As the hours pass, your frustration grows. You couldn’t get yourself to write the details of the case. Your mind refused to think about it. You had hoped that taking breaks would make it easier, but everytime you returned to the page your head went blank.

“Need some help?” Spencer asks, spawning next to you.

“Christ, Reid!” You blurt, startled. “I thought I told you to stop doing that.” 

“Sorry.” He chuckles as if on cue. 

You glare at him expectantly. He doesn’t say anything, glancing between you and the unfinished case file, waiting for an answer. 

“No thanks.” You keep it short, hoping he takes the hint. 

“Let me know if you do.” He doesn’t. 

“You wouldn’t even be the last person I’d ask if I did.” You snark. 

“But you would eventually?” He stays calm, almost playful. 

Smart ass. 

You choose to ignore him, be the bigger person and all that. Even though he wasn’t antagonising you. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” It’s forceful gratitude. You weren’t feeling grateful, but you still had manners. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Don’t make it again.” 

“I will not.” He grins and walks away to his desk. 

You act like you don’t know he’s watching you work. Looking up often to find you stuck on the same page. Even if he knew that you know, he didn’t plan to stop. What he does know is that you’d never directly let him help you. He doesn’t care. There weren’t any new cases this week, so a ton of paperwork was to be expected. It’s taunting enough to write down details of your own assault, the extra paperwork would only add more stress. You’re too busy trying to push through the mental blockade to notice the sudden influx of files on his desk and the efflux on yours. 

What you didn’t miss was how the next cup of coffee you were offered was just as perfect as the one from before. 

“I thought I told you to stop with the coffee, Reid.” You lightly slam the paper cup on Spencer’s desk. 

He leans back in his seat and chews on his lip with an entertained smirk. 

“And I did. That’s not from me.” He’s earnest with his response.

“Oh, so JJ just happens to know my coffee preferences all of a sudden?” You sarcastically retort, crossing your arms.

“No.” He crosses his fingers across his lap. “I told her how you like your coffee when she said she was going on a coffee run.”

“And why did you do that?” You play along, unenthusiastically. 

“Because you told me to stop doing it.” He states in the most casual way possible. 

This was getting you nowhere. It was naive to think he’d let you spend your last few weeks here peacefully. Scratch that– he was being peaceful. Too peaceful. A new tactic to get under your skin?

“Stop. It.” The delivery of your words is slow and emphasised. 

“Stop doing exactly what you’ve told me to?”

You bite your tongue and glare at him. His face, shoulders, arms, everything, is relaxed. You can’t even argue with him. You take a moment to consider how bad it would be if you bashed his head in with the back of your gun. Then you take another to critique how easy it is to pass the psych evals. They should really think about the consequences of using questions the BAU wrote on actual BAU agents. 

After that day you went back to ignoring him. Any time coffee was offered you’d decline altogether. If he attempted to try and talk to you, you’d respond with yes or no for the sake of professionalism. This didn’t deter Spencer though. He gave you your space but kept a close eye on you, continuing to try and ease your burdens from afar. Exactly how he used to. 

This only lasted until the next case came in. Specifically until you were back out on the field, where he perceived you to be in high amounts of danger. You tolerated it because it gave you comfort, not that you’d ever tell him. Having Spencer by your side made it easier to deal with the reality that there’s little you can do if another incident like Anchorage occurred. 

Plus focusing your energy on ignoring him kept the flashbacks away. Or it did, until the take down. You once again found yourself in danger from an unsub, only this time the situation was controlled. All guns were pointed at the killer, except for the one that was pointed at you. The plan was simple: you talk down the unsub, take him back to the station and talk him into exposing his partner. 

Everything was going according to plan, until Spencer realised that one of the cops in the room was his partner and he was about to shoot you. Nobody understood what happened before the situation calmed down. Spencer had fired the first shot towards the dirty cop and immediately tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the hail of bullets that followed after. All you remember clearly is freezing up, clinging to the man on top of you. One moment you were screaming out, trying to make sure that he was okay and the next you were back in the alley behind the bar, fighting for your life. 

You didn’t comprehend anything until the panic attack subsided but Spencer was fine. His vest caught the bullets. Both unsubs were dead. Rossi and Prentiss came to the realisation the same time as Spencer and were quick to react. And you weren’t in the alley. You were in Spencer’s arms as he led you away from the scene when it was safe. 

When you snapped out of it the medics had cleared him of any injuries. He tried to approach you during your check up, but you shoved him away, unable to even look at him. The only thing you remember clearly is Hotch sending you all back to your hotel rooms before tomorrow’s flight back. You should be asleep right now, if not from the exhaustion of today’s events alone, then from how long you spent reassuring everybody that you were okay. 

You couldn’t sleep. Not when so many thoughts were occupying your headspace. This is the second time Spencer’s saved your life, in the span of roughly a month. The first time he’s put his life in direct danger to save yours. Had it not been for his vest he would be dead. The more you linger on it, the angrier you’d become. You were also wearing a vest, you would’ve been fine. What he did was unnecessary and reckless. 

What if the bullet missed the vest? Entered through the side? What was he thinking?

You were mentally fighting the urge to barge into his room and yell at him for his stupidity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him. What happens to him is not your problem anymore. You aren’t going to let your guard down just because he’s an idiot.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, Reader almost dies, Reader and Spencer are pissing me off, bc they’re so dumb, angst, hurt no comfort, Reader gets a little revenge.

AN - Before you comment ANYTHING, there is one more part. It’ll be posted a lot sooner than this one was. Writing this made me realise how limited the English language is. There’s only so many words to use and ways to write them. If either part sounds repetitive at times, it’s not my fault!!! Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

If you comment you garner good karma for yourself and that could lead to you meeting MGG someday (I’m not liable if this never happens), think about that... 

Thank you for reading!

[stillnaomi]

I think what a lot of the vote blue crowd miss is that communists aren't telling you to abstain or vote third party to obtain an immediate result, it's part of a long term strategy for systemic change

lesser evil voting has led you to the place where supporting somebody who's committing a genocide is the "lesser evil". it's a strategy that's proven time and again not to work, with concessions only being dolled out for the most part when the system itself is under threat. the US isn't a democracy for the majority of the population, it's largely a democracy for capitalists, as a study from Princeton points out

When a majority of citizens disagrees with economic elites and/or with organised interests, they generally lose. Moreover, because of the strong status quo bias built into the US political system, even when fairly large majorities of Americans favour policy change, they generally do not get it.

there is no pushing them left enough once you've voted them in. the Dems might give minor concessions here and there but overall they march ever rightwards, just as suits business at your expense. if you continue voting the Dems in, there's no reason for them to make any major concessions; especially when they know that you'll be desperate for change after the next Republican term. you have to abandon them altogether and work to change the system itself. threatening the system itself is the only way to win major concessions, not that concessions should be the end goal. a system that requires that much pressure to make the changes that suit the majority of the population isn't a system worth keeping, and isn't sustainable long-term when it leads to endless wars and economic crises, because it keeps catering to short-term interests of business instead of the good of working and marginalized people

long story short: screw the dems and any other capitalist party. they're our enemy

[sage-nebula]

This has been spinning around in my head since I watched season 2 arc 1, and I can't refrain from putting it down to post anymore.

In season 1, Jayce and Viktor get into a fight when Viktor evades the blockade to go speak to Singed in Zaun. During their fight, Jayce snaps at Viktor that he didn't know that Viktor's friend was from the undercity, and when Viktor asks why that matters, Jayce says the above: [people from the undercity] are dangerous (earlier he had also said, "there are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us!"). That's when Viktor grows cold, reminding Jayce that he is from the undercity, and even after Jayce apologizes, Viktor knocks his hand away, choosing to stand up on his own.

In season 2, chembarons hired by Ambessa (though no one knows that at the time) attack the memorial for the dead council members. In the aftermath, Caitlyn calls them animals. Notably, Vi shows no reaction at all to this; she doesn't so much as flinch at Caitlyn's word choice. Instead, while she does downplay what happened to an extent ("they wanted the spectacle, they're trying to scare you"), what's notable is that she separates herself from the people of Zaun. This is especially notable when she tells Caitlyn to call off the invasion, because of the risk it poses for those not from Zaun:

"Down there, you'll be on their terms."

Viktor seems to have pride in the fact that he is from Zaun. He has love for his home. As difficult as life was there, as much as the pollution led to his illness and disability, he has no shame that he's from Zaun and he still sees value and has love for the people there. This is why, when Jayce writes the Zaunites off as "dangerous", Viktor grows cold. He is no different from them, in his mind; if they're dangerous, then so is he.

Vi is . . . different.

In season 1 arc 1, Vi expresses to Vander that she has bought into and believes that those in Piltover are more than those in Zaun:

Now, here, Vi is still grouping herself in with the rest of Zaun. But there is a level of self-hatred (and hatred for one's home) that we don't see in Viktor. Viktor doesn't see himself as lesser than those in Piltover. He doesn't see the Zaunites as lesser than those in Piltover. Vi, however, does. She states this as if it is a fact. And while she loved her family, and has parts of Zaun that she likes (e.g. Jericho's food), it's worth noting that at the end of season 1 episode 1, she isn't telling Powder that they'll liberate Zaun, or fight for Zaun, or anything like that. Instead?

"This city's gonna respect us." This city. Not our city. Here is the first moment we see in which Vi puts some separation between herself and the rest of Zaun. She wants to make them respect her (and Powder). Even if she's less than those in Piltover, she still sees an opportunity for herself to be above those in Zaun.

All of this is to say that, when she has no reaction to Caitlyn calling Zaunites "animals", when she refers to them as "they," when she refers to Zaun as "their terms" . . . ultimately, it isn't too surprising. Vi represents a type of person who does exist in marginalized groups: the self-hating type, who hate others in their group for "drawing aggression" or "negative attention."

Think about queer people, for instance, who hate those who are flamboyant or open about who they are and who they love. The ones who think, "If we just assimilate more, be less of a bother, be less obnoxious, then the queerphobes will accept us." Obviously, other queer people find this type of person extremely frustrating, sometimes even infuriating, because we know that it doesn't matter what we do or how we act; bigots will never accept us.

But what we should understand, and extend compassion for, is that self-hating marginalized people are that way because it's a defense mechanism -- a survival mechanism, really. They can't square why bigots hate them, so they reach for any kind of explanation they can find, even if that explanation ultimately blames others in their own group and does more harm than good. Not to mention that hating yourself for who you are is often a result of long-term, systemic abuse -- the exact same kind of abuse that comes from living under an oppressive regime that murdered your parents and will assault you at any given opportunity, even for something as petty as your little sister miming shooting them with finger guns.

Vi says that she, "grew up knowing [she] was less than them." This is extraordinarily damaging to the psyche, and Vi's self-hatred -- and the extension of that hatred toward Zaun, not wanting to save them but wanting to make them respect her -- is a trauma response to that. One that Viktor, obviously, doesn't share (and neither does Ekko, or Jinx) -- but everyone reacts to trauma differently.

The point is, we saw shades of this already in Vi's childhood; her statement that she's less than topsiders, but that she wants those in the undercity to respect her. So when Caitlyn calls the Zaunites animals, Vi doesn't flinch. She agrees. And she speaks of them as separate from her, because Caitlyn has already designated her as one of the good ones (reinforced to her by what Maddie told her Caitlyn said right before the memorial), and because, well, those who attacked the memorial did do something horrible. And maybe if they wouldn't do that, and maybe if Jinx hadn't blown up the council building -- maybe if they were better behaved -- then the enforcers wouldn't have to invade and do what they were about to do, now would they? Those in Zaun -- or at least those in Zaun who decided to strike against Piltover -- brought it on themselves, so Vi isn't with them. She's with Caitlyn, and is okay with referring to them as animals.

It's interesting to think about.

[gay-otlc]

I think the above screenshots (taken from this post) are a great example of how transandrophobia functions: A combination of misogyny, anti-masculinity, and transphobia, intersecting in a way that specifically targets trans men & mascs.

Transphobia

It is transphobic to say that medically transitioning, or transness in itself, is a mental illness. If you believe someone's trans identity is a mental illness in need of "treatment," you are a transphobe. Particularly the first one, saying that the "wrong kind" of transness should be illegal. That is an incredibly horrific thing to say no matter what, and especially given the current political situation for trans people.

Misogyny

Trans men are men, but claiming or implying that trans men are inherently "hysterical," "emotionally unstable," or "insane" is still rooted in misogyny. There is a long history of women, or people who were thought to be women, being discriminated against through being labeled as hysterical. Even people who affirm that trans men are men may subconsciously hold these views about women, as well as people who were AFAB, and can reinforce this form of misogyny.

These comments, stating that trans men are mentally unwell and unstable, are using misogynistic ideas against trans men. In addition, people with BPD (which is often treated with mood stabilizers) in particular face misogynistic treatment from both mental health professionals and society in general. (You can read more about this here and here)

(Bonus: Ableism. These comments are also cruel to people with already stigmatized mental health conditions like BPD or bipolar disorder. And ableism often goes along with transandrophobia; for example, the panic over "confused autistic girls identifying as men.")

Anti-masculinity

The basis for both of these comments, as well as the other comments in the post this was taken from, is the hatred of men- including, and especially, trans men. Both testosterone and manhood itself are demonized in these comments, as though being a man (on T) is a problem that, if "untreated" by mood stabilizers, will make trans men dangerous, abusive, and misogynistic.

Not only do these commenters hate men, they have a particular hatred for trans men. After all, the comments don't say "men without mood stabilizers should be illegal," it specifies trans men. It doesn't say "Anyone with a testosterone dominant endocrine system, please go on mood stabilizers," (or to be less transmisogynistic, "any man with a testosterone dominant endocrine system, please go on mood stabilizers").

These people believe that all men are bad, but trans men are even worse. They believe that a trans man on T is more dangerous than a cis man with naturally high testosterone levels. The hatred of men affects all men, yes, but disproportionately affects marginalized men.

Transandrophobia

These statements aren't just transphobic ("trans people, please go on mood stabilizers once you go on HRT"). These statements aren't just misogynistic ("AFABs without mood stabilizers should be illegal"). They aren't just anti-masculine, as they hate trans men more than cis men. These statements are a specific and unique combination of transphobia, misogyny, and anti-masculinity: That is to say, transandrophobia.

Obviously, these issues exist on a much larger scale than a couple of people being assholes on tiktok, and have very real, severe effects on trans men & mascs. But these comments were a good, clear example of the different aspects of transandrophobia and how they intersect.

[copperbadge]

Let's Talk About Missing Persons

So, I've seen this post circulating last week, and a few others like it in the past year. I think this probably needs to be discussed every few years, and it feels like time.

First, a few caveats: there are reports on the post that Abby has been located and is fine, so no need to reblog and also that's great news, I'm very happy she is safe. Second, I did not especially doubt the veracity of the post, so I'm not impugning the people who made and posted it, but I also declined to reblog it for reasons I'll get into. Third, I know that especially in marginalized communities it can be dangerous to involve the police, and that Missing White Woman Syndrome means it can be difficult to get media coverage. I understand why Abby's community may have chosen to search for her in the way they did.

However, for everyone's safety, I do not link any missing persons post that requires you to contact an individual to report the missing person's whereabouts. If the poster doesn't ask you to contact the police or a known missing persons organization, I won't do it.

This is for the safety of the missing person.

When you see a post with someone's photo, name, and last known whereabouts, and you are asked to contact an individual -- a family member, partner, friend, etc -- what you are being asked to do is report on the whereabouts of one person you don't know to another person you don't know. You don't know that the person you're talking to isn't an abusive partner or parent, a stalker, or a person who means them material harm. One of the Insta accounts in the missing image doesn't appear to exist, and another has no bio and very little captioning on their images. I couldn't verify that Abby even knew these people.

Again: when I looked at the image, it looked sincere to me. I didn't doubt those people were earnestly searching for a friend they were worried about. But also, an abuser doesn't look like an abuser until they do. So I don't make exceptions, because a missing person is missing but a victim outed to their abuser has strong odds of being murdered. The most dangerous time in the life of an abused person is when they are leaving their abuser. Even if a victim simply logs on to say "Hey, I'm fine, these people mean me harm" the abuser has now flushed them out of hiding, and manipulated them into making a public statement.

If you can't verify positively that the person searching does not mean the missing person harm, you should not be circulating a post, full stop. At the very least, if the community doesn't wish for the help of the police (understandable) or can't get the help of an organization or community (frequent), the missing persons poster should advise you to speak to the missing person, not the searcher, and notify them they're being sought, as long as it's safe for both you and them to do so.

This isn't intuitive. We want to help, and search posters like that tug on the heartstrings. We know that when the police get involved even in something this innocuous, it can be perilous for everyone. But in situations where someone is so vulnerable, we have to concern ourselves first with harm reduction, which in this case means not spreading someone's photo with a stranger's contact information on it.

I'm glad Abby was found and is fine and that her searchers were in earnest. But that will not always be the case, and it's important to remember that.

[foxy-eva]

Full of Wonders

Summary: Dressing up as Catwoman for Halloween gives you the confidence to switch things up in the bedroom

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) nicknames, power dynamics, heavy kissing, nipple play, oral, use of strap-on (Emily receiving)

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air Writing Challenge!

Masterlist

“Damn Emily, I think you’re in trouble,” Luke teased when he saw you walking through the door to join the Halloween party Penelope was hosting. 

Emily’s eyes found you in the crowd and she couldn’t believe what she saw. You had dared to dress up as Catwoman – certainly a reference to Emily confessing how sexy she thought the actress was when you watched the movie a few weeks ago. 

Your outfit was flawless – a skin-tight black bodysuit, a full face of make-up with perfectly done eyeliner and a hairband with cat ears. It took Emily a second to realize you even brought a black leather whip as an accessory. 

“Wonder Woman,” you giggled once you saw Emily in her costume. “Nice seeing you here.” 

“I wonder who’s gonna win that fight tonight,” Tara quipped while scanning the both of you. 

Spencer chimed into the conversation, “Considering that Wonder Woman has superhuman powers, including extraordinary strength and speed and the ability to fly, I don’t think that Catwoman would stand a chance. Did you know that–”

Luke placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder to interrupt him from starting infodumping. “Reid, trust me when I say that’s not what she meant.”

You watched as an oblivious Spencer walked away with Luke to get some snacks before you turned to your girlfriend. 

“You look great,” Emily cooed before placing a brief kiss on your lips. “I knew that dressing up as superheroes was a good idea.”

“Are you surprised I chose Catwoman?” You teased as you swung your arm around her waist. 

“A little, yeah. It’s not like you to wear something so daring,” Emily confessed. 

“You’re right but seeing your face was worth it. Hulk would have been my second choice, by the way,” You joked. 

Emily took your hand to walk a few steps away from the crowd. When she was sure that nobody else was close enough to hear her, she leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “So, will you be a good kitten for me tonight?”

A smirk spread over your face. “You wish.”

“Huh,” Emily breathed. “I feel like this will be a very interesting night.” 

After leaving a featherlight kiss on Emily’s lips, you joined the rest of your friends to enjoy the party. Your girlfriend seemed especially affectionate tonight, holding you by your waist and kissing you whenever the others were busy talking to each other. 

It was unlike Emily to show so much physical affection in public. There was something in the way she looked at you, her eyes dark and filled with desire. It became obvious that your girlfriend wanted you and had a hard time keeping her composure. 

You wondered if it had something to do with seeing you in such a daring outfit. After Emily placed her lips on yours for the umpteenth time that night, you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer to find out. 

Even though the night was still young, you whispered into her ear, “I think it’s time to go home.”

The grin that spread over her face could only be described as mischievous. She nodded and grabbed your hand, wasting no time to lead you away from the party and towards her car. Before you could get inside, she shoved you against the side of the car to capture your lips with hers. 

This kiss was different from the ones before. There was no more holding back, no more need to act all demure in front of your friends. She didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss, her tongue finding yours in an instant. Emily kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. 

You felt like you could get drunk just from tasting her lips. The urgency in her actions made your heart jump. She held you against the car, hindering you from moving away as she got lost in this kiss. When she let out a muffled moan there was no more denying how much Emily needed you. 

She pressed her hips against yours and you could feel the heat radiating from her body. A similar warmth had already begun spreading over your own skin, too. In that moment you wished that you weren’t in public. Your fingers twitched against her waist, becoming curious what a mess they would find if they dared dipping beneath her skirt. 

“Let’s go home,” you mumbled against her lips. “I want to be alone with you.” 

There was no more time to be wasted to get to your destination. You felt like your entire body was on fire as you waited patiently on the passenger seat to finally be alone with your girlfriend. The tension between the two of you only grew the longer the drive took. 

Once you finally stepped inside her apartment, it was as if something inside you snapped. Usually it was Emily taking the lead in your encounters but you decided you wanted to switch things up this time. When she kissed you, it was as if you two began fighting a battle of who had the upper hand. 

Emily smirked against your lips when she realized what you were doing. She moved with you as you attempted to push her against a wall, breathing out a quiet laugh when you began kissing her neck. 

“You’re cute when you think you’re in charge,” she chuckled. 

Instead of responding, you bit down on her pulse point and Emily hissed a curse. 

“Careful,” she warned you, a playful tone laced over her voice. 

You found her eyes once more and almost got lost in their darkness. “You’re the needy one tonight,” you teased her as you pressed your thigh between her legs. “There’s no denying that.” 

“I can’t help it when you look so sinful,” she groaned.

Your tone was soft and loving when you breathed, “Let me take care of you, Emily.”

And just like that she gave in. With a nod she signaled her approval to follow your lead. A rosy shade had spread over her cheeks, making it obvious how turned on she already was. Seeing Emily like that almost drove you insane. 

She always looked incredibly beautiful when you were with her. But the way she almost seemed desperate tonight was something entirely new to you. She would have never admitted it but you were certain that she wanted you to take the lead all along. And you were eager to give her what she desired. 

You led her into the bedroom and slowly began ridding her of her costume. Each piece of clothing fell to the floor, revealing her skin to you. When she stood completely bare in front of you, you took a moment to take in her beauty. 

Your eyes lingered on the curve of her breasts, noticing how her nipples had already hardened. Reaching out your hand, you gently brushed your fingertips over her chest, paying close attention to the way her skin broke out in goosebumps. 

Emily reached out her hand to take off your hair band, letting the cat ears fall to the floor. You had long abandoned your whip and heels at the door but your tight bodysuit was still in place. Her hands began brushing over the smooth fabric until they found a zipper to pull down. You moved with her until you were only left in your black lace underwear. 

“God, you’re so sexy,” Emily groaned before she found your lips in a hasty kiss. 

With a firm push against her shoulders, you had her lying on the bed in an instant. A playful smirk was written over her face when you crawled on top of her. “Good kitten,” she cooed right before kissing you again. 

You remembered that you were the one in charge tonight. So you quickly grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head, a gasp falling from her lips. She could have easily overpowered you but had no desire to do that. Emily seemed curious about what exactly you had in mind for her. 

Your lips brushed over her cheeks before leaving kisses along her neck, gently biting down on her sensitive skin. Moving further down, you took one nipple into your mouth while your hand found the other one, taking it between your fingers and playing with it until moans began falling from her lips.

Emily began rocking her hips against yours, desperate to find some friction. Descending further down, you kissed along her stomach, her sides, her hips before settling between her legs. You had seen her many times before but each time she opened her thighs for you, you were mesmerized by her beauty. 

It was as if you watched the prettiest flower go in full bloom, each pedal layered perfectly over the other. She was glistening, as if morning dew had kissed her folds, leaving her honeyed wetness for you to enjoy. You took your time as you tasted her folds, relishing her heady scent and imprinting her uniqueness onto your tongue. 

What you were doing was more teasing than actually pleasuring her and you were both aware of that. It only aroused her more. When she began squirming underneath you, you stopped what you were doing and sat up between her legs. Emily whined in protest, a confused look on her face when she found your eyes. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” you purred as you leaned over her. 

She only sighed in response and it became obvious that she was starting to get impatient with you. You had no intention of teasing her any further, there was just something specific you had in mind. Something you had only done with reversed roles before. 

When you found her ear, you whispered, “I want to fuck you.” 

Emily’s eyes widened at your words. She understood what you meant but needed a second to process. Then, without a second thought, she groaned, “Do it.” 

Her words took you by surprise. A part of you thought that she would decline your offer and instead flip you over to take back control. You had not expected for her to submit to you to the fullest. 

Emily watched as you sat up to reach for the nightstand, opening the drawer to take out the strap. Your fingers shook with excitement as you slipped into the harness, adjusting the straps until it sat securely over your underwear. It was then that you noticed how wet you were, the soaked lace of your panties sticking onto your skin. 

Your girlfriend reached for the bottle of lube and squeezed a fair amount of it into her palm. She grabbed your strap to coat it with the liquid. The sight of her hand caressing this new extension of your body was captivating. For a second you thought about asking her to take it into her mouth but decided against it. That would have been a sight your poor heart probably couldn’t handle. Your heart was already beating uncomfortably fast inside your chest. 

It was as if Emily sensed your nervousness when she looked at you with a reassuring expression. 

“You look amazing,” she praised you. “I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.” 

“Then lay back and relax,” you whispered as you positioned yourself between her legs. 

Before she did as you told her, she reached for the clasp of your bra to undo it. “Better,” she snickered as she tossed the piece of clothing aside and leaned back against the pillows. “Now I can enjoy the show.” 

Holding the strap at the base, you slowly let it glide through her slick folds. When you brushed over her bundle of nerves, she bucked her hips against you. You repeated the motion a few more times before positioning the tip at her entrance. Before you began pushing into her, you looked at her one more time for reassurance. 

When she nodded at you, you leaned over her and began pressing your hips against hers, carefully sliding into her body. You watched as the strap disappeared inside her one inch at a time, slowly stretching her open. Moans escaped Emily’s throat at the intrusion and she hooked her legs around your hip to bring you even closer. 

Your lips found hers in a desperate kiss once you were fully inside her. With your bodies connected like that and your tongues meeting one another, it became impossible to tell where your body ended and hers began. Then, you started tentatively rocking your hips to thrust into her but you found some resistance from her body. 

“Everything okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Feels good. Just take it slow.” 

You paid close attention to her reaction as you moved, so much so that it took you several moments to realize how sensitive your own cunt felt with all the pressure of the strap against it. As you rocked your hips against her, the friction you created almost became addictive.

You hadn’t expected to find it so physically pleasurable to fuck your girlfriend like that. She had been in that position many times before and you had never noticed it having such an intense effect on her. 

But you could not deny the fact that the longer you thrusted into her, the close you got to your own breaking point. Emily noticed that, too. When you moaned against her lips, you felt her smiling into the kiss. 

She reached out her hands to find your breasts, gently kneading them before focussing on your nipples. The added stimulation only brought you further to your downfall. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. You really tried to focus on her pleasure, really wanted her to fall apart this way but you hadn’t expected how good it would make you feel. 

Your motions became erratic when your body started quivering. “Fuck, Emily… I–,” you whimpered as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

“Do it,” she sighed as she pinched your nipples. “Come for me, kitten.” 

That was what pushed you over the edge. You ground your hips against hers, your strap buried deep inside her as you came undone. When you collapsed inside her arms, you realized that no matter how hard you tried, Emily would always be the one in charge. And you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

As you caught your breath, your girlfriend kissed your cheek. “My poor baby,” she purred. “So sensitive you can’t even fuck me without getting yourself off, hm?” 

“I can’t help it,” you admitted. “You make me feel so good.” 

Emily pushed on your shoulders until you were hovering over her again. Then, before you even realized what she was doing, she turned the two of you over with one swift motion. It took you a moment to realize you were the one lying on your back now. 

“You make me feel good, too,” she moaned as she ground her hips against you. 

The sight of her straddling your strap made you dizzy. Your hands flew to her hips, moving with her as she rocked back and forth on top of you. The sounds of her pleasure filled the room as she brought herself to closer to euphoria. One of your hands moved to where your bodies were joined to let your thumb draw circles around her most sensitive spot. 

The sudden stimulation made her motions falter and it took her a moment to get back her rhythm. Your name fell from her lips when she finally entered the sensation of pure bliss, her walls clenching around the strap as she rode out her high on top of you. When she collapsed into your embrace, you were ready to catch her and hold her tightly against your body. 

“That was fun,” she chuckled before kissing your cheek. “But I won.”

And she was right. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @grumpyy-bearr @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @sapphicprentiss @lovelyy-moonlight @storiesofsvu @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @lover-of-books-and-tea

[sodomit]

TRANSUNITY

Transunity is a political theory that was actively talked about on Tumblr a couple of years ago, but has since fallen out of the public spotlight. And this is unfortunate, because it could have really improved a lot of the discourse around gender.

There exists a blog under that name ( @transunity ), but it has been inactive for a year. I am not affiliated with that blog anyhow, I never had any personal contacts with its mods, but I want to get their general ideas to circulate again, so I'm trying to bring this back up in a semi organized fashion. My take on transunity is just my take, if you're one of the original coiners, and you disagree, I encourage you to talk about it, because we still have much more in common with each other than different.

GENERAL VIEWS

I believe that one of the fundamental ideas more trans people need to understand is that we're all more or less in the same place in the eyes of the society (when other factors, such as ethnicity or disability, are considered). To be trans is to fail the gender role system, from the point of view of cis people we can no longer be proper men or women. All kinds of trans people regardless of identity are affected by misogyny and misandry (not a type of marginalization by itself, but turns into a vector of oppression when overlapping with a different marginalization), which forms the foundation of transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism*. These types of bigotry are not exclusive and unique to specific gender identities either and may be applied to any trans person for as long as it's convenient to the oppressor.

Trans people do not have gendered power over each other, and intra community bigotry is better conceptualized as a form of lateral aggression.

Gender assignment and sex are never strictly binary (especially with inclusion of intersex people, who belong in gender conversations even if they don't identify as trans) and need to be understood as much more fluid and not strictly correlating with one's actual position in life.

WHAT WE NEED TO REDUCE

The following things should be discussed more critically:

- "Powerjacketing" - implying someone has gendered privilege as a means of delegitimizing their words, while in reality they do not have this privilege;

- Malgendering - forcing trans people to choose between being gendered correctly and speaking up about their mistreatment (e.g. questioning trans women's womanhood on the basis of them aggressively defending themselves or trans men's manhood on the basis of them asking for help) or implying there's something wrong with them in a way that reinforces gender stereotypes;

- Assuming that some trans people are exempt from some forms of oppression on the basis of gender assignment/sex (e.g. by calling all trans people who were assigned female "tme"** or claiming trans people who were assigned male are inherently incapable of understanding fear of sexual assault);

- Assuming that oppression of trans people is rooted in gender assignment/sex (such as, calling reproductive oppression "sex based oppression"***);

- Gatekeeping certain identities, such as "transmasc", "transbian", "femboy" as exclusive to any gender assignment/sex;

- Creating a duality out of "transsexual" and "cissexual", where not medically transitioning trans people are assumed to have some kind of a gendered privilege, or to not be trans in any meaningful material way. Various transmed ideas about dysphoria and transition go there too;

- Accusing trans people who take inspiration from each other of appropriation (trans headcanons, kinks, drag culture, etc).

SYMBOL

The following image is the official transunity symbol developed by the original transunity bloggers. Sorry about the glitch effect, I wasn't able to find one without it.

* Transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism are not exclusive to specific identities, although they do primarily target traits associated with these identities. They can be conceptualized as bigotry and oppression towards people who are recognized as incorrectly entering respectively womanhood, manhood, and a status beyond gender binary (for the latter no normative form exists****). However, it's not wrong to use them to mean "oppression of trans women" and so forth, for as long as you're not claiming it's exclusive.

** Labels like "tma" and "tme" still may be used, but solely in a self assigned manner. I believe that an individual trans person is capable of evaluating whether they're affected by transmisogyny and in what way, and they should be trusted on this. However, no gender assignment and no current gender identity makes anyone inherently tme.

*** "Sex based oppression" instead of "reproductive oppression" reinforces the idea that people who share a specific body part (e.g. an uterus in context of conversations about abortion) are inherently of the same sex. This type of essentialism is desperately needed by terfs in this discussion, as they're trying to sell the ideas of "sex based oppression" and "sex based privilege" to people they want to recruit in their ideology. Invoking the idea of "sex" as something trans men and some nonbinary people are oppressed through is not the correct way to respond to people who say we don't experience any gendered violence besides "just transphobia", it has shitty implications and helps shitty people.

**** Lack of existence of normative nonbinary gender does not mean that these genders are not recognized by the society as a deviant, marginalized identity, and that binary people cannot be pushed into this zone.