#god i just can't with them I JUST CAN'T HELP ME

[aperrywilliams]

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

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From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

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It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

-

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

-

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

-

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[peachesofteal]

"This can't be happening."

"C'mere." He tries to drag you into his arms, but you dodge him.

"No. I can't... I don't want to be touched right now." Your hands are shaking, prickle of tears starting to burn at the back of your eyes. How can this be happening? "Oh my god, my family. They live-"

"They'll be alright."

"No!" You shriek. He's too nonchalant, unaffected. He doesn't understand. "Look at that red spot. That's where they live, right there. In a state that doesn't view most of them as human beings. The only one who would qualify in their eyes is my father, because he's a man. I left them all behind, in a country that hates them." Your stomach flips. "We're the minority. My sister just had a daughter-" your voice dies as you grapple with the reality. The country you used to call home, the one you watched elect a black man to the presidency not once, but twice, is nowhere to be found. It's dead. Fallen to extremism like so many others.

"Shhh, hey-"

"How could they do this? How could the majority of the country choose this? I don't understand. I mean, I do. The answer is plain as day but fuck..." You go to him now, burying your face in his chest and taking a deep breath. It helps. Here, you're safe, at least in this moment. "I'm sorry, I'm freaking out."

"It's okay," he murmurs, kissing your forehead, "it's normal. You're grieving where you've come from, you're worried and scared for your loved ones. That's okay."

"He's going to start so many wars," you moan, and he chuckles, sweeping his palm over the back of your head and holding you tighter.

"Don't worry about that so much, it's not that simple... and there are a lot of things that happen behind the scenes. Trust me." He holds you tighter, and another wave of despair crests.

"It's never going to end. The states are always going to be lost to this... this bigotry, this extremism. I thought there was change happening but... it's so deeply ingrained... there's no hope for them."

"You have to believe there is, love. Hope is the most powerful thing on this planet. It changes the course of the future all the time. Trust me, I've seen it."

"I just..." You trail off, lump forming in your throat. He rubs your back, squeezing your shoulders before taking a half step back to tilt your face up to his.

"Listen to me sweetheart," he cups your face, thumbs moving back and forth in a soothing rhythm, "these things happen. Governments ebb and flow. In two years, there will be another election, right? For state and local representatives?" You sniffle and nod. "There will be a massive overcorrection. The scales will tip." It relieves the ache in your chest, a little bit, to know that there will at least be another chance to right the ship, somewhat. "Want us to assassinate him for you?" He murmurs, kissing your temple, and you give him a watery smile.

"I think that's asking a little much." He shrugs.

"Wouldn't be the worst thing we've done."

[demonic0angel]

Dc x dp prompt: Red Hood needs pure ectoplasm to continue staying alive and sane. The only place he can get it though, is his dealer: Vlad Masters, trying to turn his life around and be a proper father to Dan in Gotham.

(Btw, I do not condone smoking, I just think it's something Jason and Dan would do to cope. And for aesthetic purposes lmao)

Jason sighed, pinching the cigarette between his fingers as he breathed out smoke.

What was he supposed to do now?

He found out through Deadman that he needed ectoplasm to get rid of the pit rage inside of him, but the only known source of ectoplasm was apparently from a man named Vlad Masters, who was also a multi-billionaire.

Let it be known that Jason hated billionaires.

He took another huff of his cigarette, plotting on how to steal some ectoplasm or find another way without having to speak to some rich snob, when someone stepped up next to him.

Jason did not tense or move, even though his heart almost leapt to his throat.

"Can I get a light?"

Jason reached into his pocket and lit the lighter, allowing the other person to light their cigarette as well. The two of them smoked in silence.

Then finally, the other man asked, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Jason puffed. "I need something from someone, but I can't get it because he's a rich asshole. And I don't want to talk to him."

The other man snorted. "Real. My dad is trying to be nice to me by buying me a dozen cars."

Jason groaned. "Oh my god, all rich people are the same!" After all, Bruce also did the same until he realized that not every kid wanted a dozen watches worth over billions of dollars.

The other man laughed and after a moment of silence where they just smoked, he asked again, "Who's the rich person you don't want to talk to?"

Well, what harm could it do?

"Someone named Vlad Masters."

The man audibly turned and Jason looked up, only to see a wide, fanged smile stretch over the other man's face. In fact, he looked a little familiar.

"No shit? Y'know what? I'll help you, free of charge since you lit my cigarette for me."

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Two

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One

The Beast. An awful nickname, one nobody deserved. Admittedly, Charles knew little about her. He knew little about the current Formula Two drivers in general, but knew nothing about The Beast. Still, he doubted the nickname was fitting.

He couldn't help but look into her. Max pressed kisses along his shoulder as Max did his all important research.

"I don't like it," Max mumbled as he kissed across Charles's shoulder. "Sounds dangerous."

Charles waved him off and continued to read, learning what he could about you. A good racer, that was clear. Vicious, adrenaline driven. Like Max, Charles couldn't help but think. But then he scrolled down.

'The Beast attacks fellow F2 Driver, 'Ollie Bearman'.

You had attacked Ollie. Why had you attacked Ollie? Charles clicked on the video and let it play.

It began, just after they'd gotten the muzzle back over your mouth. Ollie was on the floor, hand bleeding hand protectively in front of his face. His blood dripped through your muzzle, dripped from your mouth. You looked positives feral as you stared down at him. A terrifying sight.

But you couldn't be that feral, right? They wouldn't keep you in Motorsport if you were that dangerous.

Max grabbed his chin, forcing Charles to look away from his phone screen. "Charlie, promise me you won't go trying to adopt this one like you did Oscar and Ollie," he said, blue eyes staring into Charles's.

Cupping his cheek, Charles leaned forward and kissed Max's nose. "I can't promise anything, Max," he said and settled down against them.

Max released a sigh. He laid down next to Charles and wrapped his arms around him, unwilling to let him go. "Charles, please," he said, suddenly sounding so serious. "Promise me you won't go near her."

He didn't reply. Max laid awake, aware that Charles was awake, too. Awake, but not talking to him. "Charles," he tried again. But Charles moved further away from him.

***

The lock slid into place and you were left in the dark hotel room, food in front of you. "Tomorrow is a big day," your handler (manager, she preferred to be called. But she really was your handler) called through the door.

You knew that, knew how big the next day was going to be. A chance to drive for Ferrari, in the place of Carlos Sainz. It would be your only chance to drive for Ferrari, you knew. There was no way you weren't going to fuck it up.

You ate slowly, thinking too much. The collar was still around your neck as you ate, and you were hyper aware of it each time you swallowed. It had always been tight, a warning to behave or deal with the consequences.

Your muzzle was on the bedside table. God, you hated that thing. It had been too tight for years, stained with blood. Your blood, Ollie Bearman's blood (you felt bad about that one. Ollie didn't deserve it, and you hadn't meant to bite him. He really was the sweet pup everybody saw him as. He just got caught in the crossfires of you and Théo Pourchaire), the blood of others.

Your food was finished, plate empty. Moving it to the door, you raised your hand and knocked. It was pulled open as you hopped back and looked at your handler. "How're you feeling?" She asked and she shrugged your shoulders, picking at your skin around your nails.

Your handler walked further into the room. She shut the door, put the plate beside your muzzle on the bedside table, and grabbed your hairbrush from your bag. "C'mere," she said and sat on the bed.

You did as you were told and came to sit in front of her. She brushed through your hair, humming as she did.

She was the closest thing you'd had to a mother. Ever. Kind and caring, making sure you actually took care of yourself. She cooked for you, brushed through your hair, used your shock collar when you put somebody else in danger.

You sat there, your eyes falling closed as you listened to her humming. You wouldn't hurt her, couldn't hurt her. She was all you had in this world.

She got you into bed before you could fall asleep. Your finger hooked beneath your chock collar and pulled, but it was so damn tight. A whimper left your lips and you struggled to fall asleep.

A Ferrari driver. You were going to be a Ferrari driver. It wouldn't be forever, but long enough. Maybe after this you could give up this dream that wasn't your own. You didn't know what else you would do if you were to give up this life, but you wanted to find out.

***

The entire Ferrari garage was anxious. Fred was anxious, the engineers were anxious, the social media team was anxious. Charles was anxious.

You were anxious.

Charles's research the night before hadn't prepared him for the first sight of you. His knee had been bouncing as he waited, thumbs tapping across his screen as he texted Max. Max was panicking, he knew. He didn't trust Charles, didn't trust him to protect himself in front of the driver nicknamed 'The Beast'.

You didn't deserve that nickname. After seeing the video of you attacking Ollie, he still didn't think you deserved the nickname. It was too close to somebody else he knew, to the way they were before someone showed them what love was.

You and Max were one in the same. He remembered when Jos would force Max to wear a muzzle, back when they were in the lower divisions. But that wasn't because Max was a danger. No, that was to keep him quiet, submissive in front of Jos.

If he could help Max, then he could help you.

But then you walked into the garage. The Ferrari shirt was on your body as you strode into the garage. Nothing looked out of place, nothing but the shock collar and the muzzle. It didn't look right on your face, biting into your cheeks and obscuring what he was sure was a gorgeous smile.

The woman who followed you into the garage introduced you, told everybody else your name. They all knew your name, but they were going to call you 'The Beast'.

For a moment, Charles wondered why you weren't the one speaking. But then he realised, you couldn't speak with the muzzle as tight as it was. He stood up and walked over, holding his hand out towards you.

You looked towards the woman that had followed you in. She gave you a nod and you finally placed your hand in his, shaking it. Good dog, he almost expected the woman to say to you.

You dropped his hand but you kept staring at him. You knew who is was. Charles Leclerc. The Prince of Monaco. Ferrari's golden boy. You had raced against his brother the year before. Arthur was smart enough to stay away from you. It didn't stop him from giving you a polite smile whenever you walked past.

As Charles tried to speak to you, and got answers from the woman behind you, your manager, your handler, he could feel eyes on him. Max, he knew immediately.

Max couldn't concentrate on whatever Helmut Marko was saying to him. He didn't care, anyway. Not when Charles was standing so close to somebody called 'The Beast'. Admittedly, the video made you look so much worse than this. The video didn't show you trembling like you were now. It didn't show you cowering behind the woman that followed you into the garage.

But he had seen the bite marks on Ollie's hand, had seen the damage you had done. You could so quickly do the same thing to Charles. He edged away from the Red Bull garage, stopping himself from running towards the Ferrari garage. His body was ready to go at a moments notice.

"Is the muzzle necessary?" Charles asked as he stared at you. You hadn't looked away from him, your eyes hadn't left his gaze.

No! You wanted to scream. Please, please, please get it off me!

But you couldn't say it. Couldn't speak with just how tight the muzzle was, wouldn't speak even if you could. But you couldn't trust yourself, you knew. If the muzzle was taken off, you couldn't stop yourself from lashing out, from feeling like that was the only way to protect yourself.

Your pathetic whimper got to him, though. His gaze softened and he reached towards you.

Immediately, Max was moving towards the Ferrari garage. "Fuck," he hissed as he ran.

Charles unlatched your muzzle. The way you were looking at him, looking so sweet and innocent, he couldn't help but pull the muzzle away.

The muzzle hit the floor, and you lunged for him.

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[mrfancyfoot]

Today I logged into facebook for the first time in nearly 4 years and went through every profile in my friends list (like ~300) and purged out all the assholes (anyone who openly voted for Trump, other conservatives, and those who I strongly believe did). I've done this before so there weren't many but there are a number that have been wishy-washy with being outward in their bigotry and it helps me keep a mental list of people that deserve only the most very basic level of respect that I can muster because they certainly do not respect me nor people I care about nor many of their fellow human beings. Most disheartening is seeing friends and family who continue to put effort into engaging with people who argue in bad faith and weaponized ignorance.

I dated a man for nearly a year who went to women's and pro-choice rallies and liberal groups with me and said many times that he "was on my side" but turned out to be lying the whole time because he knew I definitely wouldn't date him otherwise. I'd known him for years before since we ran in the same friend circle. I wasn't the only one he had fooled. He slowly lifted the mask until we were constantly arguing because of his bigoted and racist remarks. His favorite thing to do was act oppressed and show me the most obvious Russian propaganda that he would get upset at me for fact-checking and asking for real sources. He wanted to argue, so what he hated most was when I refused to argue with him. Nothing I said was going to change his mind, so I wasn't going to humor or tolerate it (we didn't last long after that point, but by that time, I was afraid of leaving without an excuse that would be "good enough" for him). He legitimately wants civil war so that he can play survival hero and feel validated in his hatred. It didn't come on quickly and a lot of the comments started as "odd" off the cuff things through the time that we dated. He was very much pretending to be a kind person and once really called out, that pretense dropped. He thought I was more like him and that a lot of my regard and kindness for others is "fake." Because that's what a lot of people like that do - they fake being kind for optics, they are not actually kind people, and therefore presume that everyone else is doing the same thing. It's given me major trust issues.

Can't say this enough: these people feel validation in their bigotry when you continue to associate with them. They need to be dropped. They need to learn that their shitty beliefs mean that they get shunned. Make them feel uncomfortable. Quit tiptoeing around and coddling their delicate little feelings because they might get upset. It's okay for them to get upset because someone was mean and told them they don't like them because they think gay and trans people shouldn't exist. I once made a post about how a raped 11 year old child should never be expected to give birth, was told that it was "god's will" and like 5 people piled on the guy so badly he told us to stop being "mean" to him and was terrified to talk to me at work ever again (I have since cut all ties and no longer work with him). I'm personally extremely tired of playing nice for the sake of possibly "converting" someone - especially because you can be polite in telling someone to fuck off with their beliefs. Their beliefs are dangerous, are going to result in people losing their lives, and a frightening number of them are completely okay with that. We need to stop being tolerant of intolerance. It is okay to cut people (including family) from your life when all their presence does is bring you stress and harm.

In a similar vain, don't let the people who chose not to vote (or "protest voted") stick their heads in the sand to escape blame. They are just as culpable as anyone else who directly voted for Trump and other conservatives. They need to grow the fuck up.

For a lot of liberals, it's really uncomfortable to be confrontational and feel like you're being intolerant of someone, but it's way past time to play hardball and call them out instead of coddling them, especially as we're going into the holiday season where many of us will be seeing family with shitty views and targeted family that may need someone to stand up for them. Let them know they're shitty and inappropriate and a disappointment and unworthy of your regard because they certainly lack it for others. Obviously still be safe, but many of us very likely aren't losing anything of value in that scenario. Not having bigoted family members in my life in any way has made me so much happier.

A helpful tip to those who may find themselves in a confrontation: do not stay engaged. Let your views be known and then disengage. Because many of them love to argue and feel like they're defending themselves (many are addicted to those feelings of hatred and overcoming "oppression"), what they don't like is being ignored and feeling like you're rinsing your hands of them. They don't deserve your stress and constant efforts. There are ways to open a dialogue when they are willing to discuss civilly with an open mind, but if they bring intolerance, just shut it down.

(via jhig8bd0cczd1.png (PNG Image, 744 × 810 pixels))

[ozonecologne]

.

[rebouks]

Invictus: Author's Note

Now that we've all survived the horrors, I figured I'd do a bit of a commentary on Robin's nightmare below the cut...

I guess the central themes we were going for within Robin's dream were threefold; the fact that he feels lonely/alone with the burden of his gift, that he's worried about Alex, and that his friends (and some other's) are annoying/confusing him, so let's break that down to begin with.

Robin was always destined to be the last one alive, mostly to compound his feelings of desolation, but also because planning/executing various endings would've taken way longer than 2-3 months to plan on my own 😅 He doesn't dare tell anyone about his abilities due to the fear of being judged or ostracised and I don't blame him. Most people wouldn't believe him, and those that might would probably avoid him or at least act differently around him even if they supported him; he's also paranoid that if a medical professional found out, they'd want to study him or god knows what else, hence the scepticism from the group when he told them (in the nightmare) and his twisted view of Doctor Abbott (who's actually a perfectly lovely psychologist in the waking world).

Alex hasn't written for over six months at this point and Robin doesn't know why; it's not as if they've slowly been losing touch over time with less and less communication either, her letters stopped without warning! Half of him expects there to be a reasonable explanation, but he can't help worrying. Clearly his subconscious mind ran away with all that concern...

Robin's classmates personalities were spot on (thanks to Robin's gift) but slightly exaggerated since each one of them is a proverbial thorn in Robin's side at the moment.

Levi: Extra impulsive, standoffish and contradictory within Robin's dream, I think it's fairly obvious Robin's still pissed at his friend. I toyed with the idea of Robin being the only one to make decisions that we could vote on, but thought the loss of control he'd feel from not being able to stop bad outcomes from happening off the back of other people's choices was far more apt. Levi continues to tread a questionable path irl and Robin can't stop him.. if only he'd just apologise!

Penny: Robin strongly dislikes Penny, hence her being super annoying.. not that she's much better in the waking world! If the psychic doesn't rate someone, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet they're not such a great person.. I'm sure he wishes his friend wasn't so into her 💀

Aster: I think the fact that Aster's stood up for Robin twice now had a big impact on how he acted; he tried to keep the peace where he could and was the only one who supported Robin after he'd told the group about his gift. Robin doesn't know him very well outside of his dream though, so some of this could just be a projection based on what little evidence he has 🤷‍♀️

Jacob: Robin's a bit annoyed/put off by Jacob right now.. he barely spends any time with him and Jude anymore and as they've gotten older, their personalities appear to be veering in different directions. He's volatile, haughty and obsessed with girls, hence his distrust toward Robin after the revelation of his gift and his less-than-stellar treatment of Tess.

Tess: Tess goes where Jacob goes, simple! Though Robin feels bad for her because he knows that she's way more into Jacob than he is and he's not faithful; that's why he so obviously dismisses his own girlfriend within the dream. In the waking world he's much more convincing, but Robin knows better.

What the hell was "x" about?

The dolls - they were usually found pointing toward danger and/or bad decisions, but did we listen? NOPE! Instead we chose to vilify them 😩

The Lab - this was actually a warped version of the seed vault/hydroponic garden Robin, Wren & Oscar explored in Granite Falls. That's why the retina detection system recognised him, 'cause he has technically been there before. I'm not a professional, so don't quote me on this, but apparently our minds can't conjure up people/places/things from nothing, so what we usually see in our dreams is stuff we've seen before or an amalgamation of various things mashed together, even if we don't actively remember them.

The Asylum - Sunnyside Asylum is a real place Robin read about on a late night internet delve down a rabbit hole (don't judge him, we've all done it) he just forgot he'd read about it or seen it before 🤷‍♀️

The butterflies - they're Alex's favourite animals (along with the humble moth!) so Robin thought they were leading him to her, but they were not ;-;

"So, I suppose you know-..." - what was Aster going to say!? Aster was about to assume that Robin knows he has a crush on him, and he'd be correct! Robin never really picked up on it before, but after recent events it's pretty obvious.. to Robin at least! Does he like Aster back? Well, maybe he doesn't know yet, or maybe it's a secret, but (spoiler alert) Robin's pansexual, so there's a chance he could.

Doctor Abbott - briefly mentioned before, but let's dig deeper!

Dr. Abbott is the psychologist Oscar/Courtney sent Robin to a while back for his selective mutism after it started hindering him/his schoolwork etc since starting high school. He's terrifying simply because Robin's terrified of him-.. though I suppose not him personally. Robin's torn between a rock and a hard place when it comes to professional help; on the one hand he'd love to offload all his troubles and get some real guidance, but the other side of him worries what that'd mean. He can't tell anyone the full story, so how could anyone truly help him? Is his mutism even connected to his gift, or does he just use it as a convenient excuse? What if they didn't believe him and labelled him insane? What if he IS insane and imagining everyone else's thoughts? What if they do believe him and want to experiment on him?! 😱 If he's gonna tell anyone about his abilities, it sure as shit isn't gonna be some stranger he doesn't trust, even if it appears they mean well! He'd love to know where his gift came from though. Why him? Where'd it come from? Does anyone else have it?? He doubts anyone would be able to answer these questions but it still kinda ties into the whole theme of being experimented on etc. I think at this point he's wondering who he is (as every teen does around his age) or who he'd be without his abilities too, like another part of him is worried he'd be a mere husk of himself if science somehow explained away his world. It's just a part of who he is now and I think he's starting to accept himself as is, so the thought of someone picking it all apart after his acceptance is perhaps more scary than letting anyone in to help make sense of it. Maybe it's just one of those things, or maybe he's bonkers and has no idea? He doesn't know.. he's very confused, hence the complicated feelings around poor, well-meaning Dr. Abbott.

Mr Handy - he gets an honourable mention because it's funny to me.. like he's usually on the players side, right?! Yeah, but Robin isn't fond of technology in general so in dreamland good ol' Mr Handy is a dickhead instead lmao 😂

Some fun what if's & titbits...

I'm not gonna break down all the what if scenarios because there were a LOT but I still wanna take some time to point out some fun stuff n' share a few fun things we missed out on 🤸‍♀️

If Levi tried to scare Robin, it wouldn't have worked in the slightest which I just find amusing 🤭

If Robin n' co. chose to hide instead of run earlier on in the dream, he would've gotten stuck in a closet with Aster eheuheuheu (this is the fun thing I said y'all missed out on!!)

There were numerous ways for Levi to piss Penny off during the duration of the dream (somehow he only managed one so well done ig) that would've potentially changed their demise and one was Tess falling off the ladder and Levi helping her.. look at those mad lil fists on Penny LMAO 😂 You can also see another lovely doll pointing in the direction of the monster that was chasing them but everyone would've been like ewwww! even tho she was just trying to help.. shame on us tbh ;-;

Just Aster being cute tryna keep the peace.. IF HE'D SURVIVED! T-T

Mr Handy being absolutely demented.. love that for him.

Robin being yeeted back to the asylum.. skjsk idk I just like these screenshots lmao

Aster being a menace to both Levi and Penny ehehe

I had such fun creating this little project (I say little but it literally took months fkfjgkj) and October was kinda shitty for me so thank you to everyone for reading along, voting and generally having fun with me, it gave me something to look forward to! 🧡

I love horror and taking a break from a more realistic style of storytelling is always good fun, dreams especially 'cause they can be as wacky as you like!

I suppose my main inspo for the what if's/voting was Until Dawn but I think we can all thank games like Silent Hill, Outlast, Resident Evil, Amnesia etc etc for the general vibes I was going for 🤔

EITHER WAY! Very fun.. 10/10 would recommend trying to stretch yourselves into doing something something similar, I had a blast!

I think I covered a fair amount of questions n' stuff but feel free to ask anything else! ILY 🧡🧡

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

I'll Send an SOS to Your Heart

-------

"Ok, I'm imagining things."

Steve is laying on his bed watching his lights flicker.

He plugged in one of those space projectors that's supposed to make your ceiling look like the night sky.

It's not weird that they're flickering, the light was a dollar at Melvads he wasn't expecting it to work long.

The weird part is that the stars keep making a heart shape.

He sees the heart flash a couple of times before he flips over and hides deeper into his pillow.

"No." He groans. "No more upside down shit."

If some upside-down monster was flirting with him he quits.

All the lights in his room surge to maximum brightness.

"Fuck off."

The lights draw a middle finger.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" He jumps out of bed and points at the orbs.

It draws a winky face. (;P)

"Who are you?"

His blood runs cold. An upside down monster can't flirt with him. They don't know English. He has an idea but it can't be true.

They left him there. He's dead.

...isn't he?

'SOS' the lights read.

"Fuck." Tears spring to his eyes. "Eddie?"

'Hiya'

-----

He spends a while talking to Eddie.

It's tough.

It takes a while to write everything out and Steve is still trying not to hyperventilate or cry or pass out so it's taking a lot of energy to keep up the conversation.

'Sleep?'

"No."

'?'

"Nothing I'm just...not tired."

'Liar'

"WHAT! I'm not I just-"

'-_-'

"Fine."

':)'

"I'm scared."

'Me?'

"No, I'm scared this is a dream. That I fell asleep hours ago and I made you out of my guilty conscious. I just don't want to lose you...again."

'Back'

"Back?"

'Bring back'

"Bring...you back?"

'YES'

"You think we can bring you back?"

'Plan'

"Yes! I'll call everyone we can figure it out. Oh! We have El to help us this time! You're gonna love her Eds she's just like the kids you look out for and she's magic! I'll call them right-"

'NO'

"No?"

'tom- sleep now'

"I think this is a little more important than-"

'Sleep <3'

Steve looks over at the clock, 4 am.

Shit.

"Ok. I'm going to sleep. Will you...will you be here in the morning?"

'W STEVIE'

"Ok. Goodnight Eddie."

'GN <3'

----

The plan goes off without a hitch.

It takes them about two weeks to formulate and execute the plan.

Steve spends his days and nights talking to Eddie, keeping him updated. Keeping him in his life.

He speed runs a crisis or two when he realizes he wants to spend the remainder of his days speaking to Eddie.

He can't wait until he's here with him.

Alive.

-----

So it's more complicated than he thought.

Maybe there's a hoard or bats blocking them from Eddie.

Maybe Steve throws himself in front of the kids and fights off the creatures long enough for them to find Eddie and get him back home.

Maybe Steve bleeds a little too much and collapsed as soon as they reach the other side.

----

He wakes in the hospital to nine pairs of eyes staring at him.

They're all arguing with each other. Their voices low as if they're trying not to wake them.

He wants to talk he wants to reach out.

Eddie is standing by the door in a baseball cap and sunglasses as if he was trying to be inconspicuous.

As if Eddie could ever hide from Steve. Steve would find him anywhere he is.

God, he's here! He's in the room! All this time apart and he's so close!

"Mphahhpsh" he can't form words but it doesn't matter.

Everyone stops and Eddie's eyes meet his. His eyes look wet and he looks skinny and exhausted.

He's never looked more beautiful.

Eddie's eyes turn down into a determined glare. He pushes past everyone until he's inches away from Steve.

He takes a deep breath and then leans down and kisses him.

Flat on the mouth. In front of everyone.

The shocked noises are what pulls them apart.

"I'm so happy to see you, I really like you," Steve says.

"That's my line." Eddie smiles and kisses him again.

"Don't ever try to save me again I can't ever see you in a hospital again," Eddie presses their noses together.

"That's my line."

Eddie chuckles and pushes his nose into Steve's cheek. "Dork."

"Yes, yes, you're both terrible. Now what the fuck is happening."

They break apart to see the crews shocked faces. Mike's face is pale and Dustin is an interesting shade of red.

Robin is staring at him a little proud.

He sends a wink her way and pulls Eddie in closer.

They'll figure it all out later. They have time.

----

This started with once sentence in my brain and grew into three different plot points I put together in a rush. :P

Please comment I love to read em!

[7squidgy7]

✧.*100 follower celebration type thing*.✧

So, to celebrate 100 followers on tumblr, I decided to draw some fanart for people. This community is so sweet. Every one of these artists has inspired me in some way.

I'm really sorry for those I haven't made art for. I may make a part 2 one day for those I missed. Who knows.

This was a really nice way to try out different art styles while mixing them with my own.

Apologies for all the link later on. Want to explain the creative process a bit for those interested cause I put way too much effort into it to not mention.

Close ups below cut:

@donutfloats

Your arts so cute and soft, I love it. You have a great way of just expressing love through your art.

I was inspired by 2 of your pieces for this, the main one being the 3rd image for this post. The lambs dress is so pretty, I just knew I wanted to draw it flowy and dancing, and the second image I used is this post for the rendering style.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@aniimoni

I really like your artstyle. The monochrome colours are delightful, as with the way you do lineart. while making this, I was thinking this is the perfect style to meld with mine.

I was inspired a lot by the axe and hammer drawings in this post. As a hammer lover, I decided to combine the 2 together.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@teruuu

Something about your style is mischevios. Your rendering and lineart are just wonderful as well. You have a very distinctive style that matches mine quite well, i think.

I feel compulsion of the flesh Lamb and Narinder would give each other kisses on the hand but take a bite at the same time. They freaky like that. Based my rendering around this post and the previous draw you character here, I did. These are fun designs to draw.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@poopylumpkins

I really like your vampire au something about it really spoke to me as a afab non-binary.

Lamb deserves to wear their own clothes and something about narinder helping with their makeup convinces me he'll help out.

if you're curious, i colour picked the background and shading from this post

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@olrinarts

This was a really fun style to draw. Something about how you draw these 2 is delightful. Love yuri narinder's eyes in particular.

Rock god yuri. What more can I say these are really good designs. Showed them to my friend, and they loved them.

Decided to have them dueting, while Narinder can't sing lamb can always pick up that role.

Used this post for the background and shading colours, and this is a kinda basis for the pose.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@redcrowncafe

Really love you fic and art. I like to see the fic brought to reality through all the comics and art, which has a very pleasing look to the eye.

I have never struggled so much with an art style, fun challenge, but very different to my own.

Wanted to draw their Halloween costumes from this post. Lambert would definitely get too into the vampire costume and bite Nari at some point probably.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

@joffyworld

Just wanna say thank you so much for the reblogs and kind words. It gives me a lot of confidence in my work and is a genuine brightness in my day.

I wasn't sure what to draw you, so I thought I'd just show you a pic of my new one who waits figurine, that arrived recently. Its a little weird, I think an earlier design but cool none the less.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

[schemmentigfs]

can i request a fluff one shot where reader has to go on a trip (either for work or family reasons) and melissa meets them at the airport when they arrive back and is just super domestic once back at their shared apartment 🥺🥺

In the Quiet of Absence.

Summary: After spending a month in Paris for a work conference, you finds yourself longing for the warmth of home and, more than anything, for Melissa.

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota <3

You sink into the plush hotel bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you look out at the city lights glimmering against the Parisian skyline. It’s breathtaking—no doubt about that—but after almost a month, even the magic of Paris can't dull the ache you feel right now.

“God, I miss her so much…” you mutter to yourself, rubbing your temple as you glance around the luxurious room.

Your right hand drifts to the nightstand, fingers brushing over your phone. Without thinking, you pick it up, your thumb tracing over Melissa’s name. You can picture her asleep back home, curled up in bed, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow, maybe even with little Sweet Cheeks nestled at her chest. The thought brings a goofy but genuine grin to your lips as you press ‘record voicemail.’

With the phone cradled in your hand, you start speaking quietly, as if she could somehow hear you through the miles of the ocean.

“Good night, Lis. I know you won’t see this until morning since you’re probably fast asleep right now. Paris is... well, it’s Paris. Beautiful, busy, a little overwhelming. Everyone says how lucky I am to be here, but honestly, it just makes me miss you more. I walked by a café today, and I kept thinking how nice it would be to sit there with you, sipping coffee, people-watching, maybe listening to you rant about the tourists. It’s just not the same without you here to share it with.”

Sighing softly, you add. “I spent the day at the conference, and honestly, I found myself daydreaming about our couch and Sweet Cheeks curled up between us. I wish you could’ve seen the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. You would’ve loved it. I tried to take some pictures, but they just don’t do it justice.”

As you keep talking about the conference through voicemail, the people you’ve met, and the places you’ve seen, you can’t help but let your thoughts drift to home.

Home.

It’s hard being so far from home, but even harder being far from her. Paris might be beautiful, a dream city for most, but without Melissa next to you, it feels empty, just walls and skies. You’d flown here for work, a month-long conference that was supposed to be exhilarating, a stepping stone in your writing career. And while there’s been value in it, each day is a little heavier than the last. Every stroll past the Eiffel Tower, every quiet hotel room evening, only reminds you of how much you miss the life you share with her.

You’d never imagined how hard it would be to be apart from her. Sure, you two had spent nights apart before, but a whole month? It was almost unbearable. You miss everything about her—her laugh, the way she fills the room with her warm, unfiltered energy, and the little things she does just to make you smile. It’s like there's a part of you that just isn't here, and every day, that longing grows heavier.

Everything here felt too polished, too perfect. You missed the little imperfections that made life with the second grade teacher so damn beautiful. How Melissa would wrap her arms around you in the mornings, still groggy from sleep. Her face when she’d forget where she put her reading glasses only for you to find them perched on her head, or the way she’d tease over making the perfect cup of coffee each morning. The way she would immediately fuss over your packing, making sure you had everything you needed, and the soft hum of her voice as she reassured you that everything would be just fine while you were away.

Home was with Melissa Schemmenti, and every part of you ached to be there.

Your girlfriend’s voice on the phone helps – her late-night calls about what went wrong at Abbott Elementary that day, the accent you love laced with the warmth of home. “Mon amour,” you’d whisper into the phone during one of your daily conversations, a term of endearment that wraps around both your hearts, even across the miles. But her voice isn’t enough, not when you’re used to seeing her every night, sharing meals, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else can.

With a gruff, you close your laptop, packing away notes you’d barely read. That’s when you hear the knock on your door, breaking the silence.

“Bonsoir, madame,” one of the hotel staff says politely when you respond. “Dinner is ready downstairs in the lobby.”

“Merci, je serai là dans cinq minutes.” Your answer is quick, almost robotic. Despite enjoying the culinary wonders of the place, you can’t help but prefer the meals of a specific redhead who knows everything about cooking and Italian cuisine.

“Pas étonnant, si vous avez besoin d’autre chose, nous sommes à votre disposition.”

You thank them with a smile, but you’re already glancing at your phone, at the time difference that keeps you apart, counting down the days – just three more – until you’re back in her arms.

Back at the bedroom, after finishing dinner, you’re restless. As much as the meal was filling, your thoughts are back at home with her. You finish up the small dessert in your room, the excitement building to be back in her arms, in the life you’ve built together. The night stretches on, a quiet contrast to the bustling city outside, and your sleep feels even further away.

You slip beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling as the quiet surrounds you. Sleep eludes you as memories of the older woman flood your mind—her lavender smell, the comfort of her presence. Everything.

“Just three more days,” you repeated the phrase, over and over again. Feeling like a mantra.

Closing your eyes, the loneliness is creeping in again, but the thought of returning keeps you anchored, making the distance feel just a little bit smaller.

It won’t be long now.

Back in Philadelphia, Melissa is dealing with her own form of aching loneliness. She’d thought she could handle a month without you; after all, she’d done it before. But the days had dragged on longer than expected, and each night without you next to her was another reminder of how deeply entwined you both were.

The redhead’s days are packed with the usual chaos at Abbott Elementary, but somehow it doesn’t quite fill the space you left behind. She comes home to an empty apartment that feels colder without the warmth of your laughter echoing through it. Sweet Cheeks, her classroom guinea pig, has become an unlikely companion, curled up in a little cage by her couch. She started bringing him home on weekends, claiming it was to keep the kids excited for Monday mornings. But if she were being honest with herself, she liked the company—even if it was just a ball of fur and squeaks. Sweet Cheeks always listened to her rants about the day, his tiny, twitching nose and big eyes a small comfort in your absence.

She talks to him about you sometimes, about the things she knows you’re seeing in Paris. “She’s probably at some fancy shit right now, buddy,” she mutters, throwing him a piece of lettuce as she leans back on the couch. “Probably complaining about how boring those rich dumbasses are.”

Melissa had never really considered herself to be sentimental. She was tough, independent, and good at taking care of herself. But after so many years of you two being together, this past month had taught her just how much you’d become her home. She finds herself missing the little things—your goodnight kisses, the way you leave your books stacked messily by the bed, the warmth of your hand reaching for hers whenever you pass each other in the kitchen.

She sighs and reaches for her phone, scrolling through your photos, lingering on the ones you’ve sent her from Paris. There’s one of you smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, looking radiant with the city’s lights sparkling behind you. She can’t help but smile, even if her chest aches. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispers, running a thumb over the screen. The animal lets out a small squeak, almost as if he’s in agreement, and she chuckles. “Yeah, champ. I’m the luckiest gal in Philly, huh?”

Her phone buzzes with a voicemail notification, and her heart jumps a little. It’s your voice, soft and intimate, filling the quiet of her apartment as you talk about your day. You talk about the conference, the view from the Eiffel Tower, and how much you wish she were there. The familiar sound of your voice brings an ache to her chest, but it also fills her with a sense of peace.

She presses the phone close to her heart once your message ends, letting out a shaky sigh. “Just three more days,” she says to herself, mirroring your own anxiety. She settles back into the couch, Sweet Cheeks nestled beside her, as she listens to your message one more time, the sound of your voice helping her feel just a little closer to you.

The nights for your girlfriend are the hardest. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, longing for the warmth of your body beside her. Sometimes, she’ll grab the spare pillow, pulling it close to her chest as if it could somehow substitute for your presence. She buries her face into it, breathing deeply, as if she can still catch a faint trace of your scent.

She’s tough, but she’s not ashamed to admit that she’s counting down the hours until you come back.

When Saturday morning rolls around, Melissa stands by the sink, her sleeves pushed up, humming a soft tune as she washes the breakfast dishes. Sunlight filters gently through the curtains, casting a cozy glow over the kitchen and giving her that familiar sense of home she craves more than anything right now. Sweet Cheeks squeaks from his spot on the counter, and she reaches over, giving him a gentle scratch.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mama will be back soon, okay?”

Just as the green eyed woman was about to finish the last dish, her phone rang. Seeing your name, Her heart skipped, her fingers fumbling with the dish towel as she hurriedly picked up.

“Hey, amore mio,” she greeted, her voice soft and warm, as if she hadn’t heard from you in months, though it had only been a few days.

“Hey, Lissa! Guess what?” you said, excitement bubbling through the phone.

She grinned, already thrilled just hearing your voice. “What? Tell me!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow!”

Melissa let out a little laugh, caught between disbelief and pure joy. “Shit, really? Tomorrow? I missed you so much!” The words escaped her before she could hold back. She looked down, feeling a bit silly for how much she’d let herself miss you.

Sweet Cheeks, catching onto her excitement, squeaked louder at his feet, little paws tapping against the kitchen counter as though to join in. “See, even Sweet Cheeks missed you,” your girlfriend joked. “I think he’s been going nuts without his other mama.”

You laughed on the other end, and Melissa felt warmth spread through her. She didn’t want to admit it outright, but it had been a long, lonely few days without you, the routine things—the cooking, the tidying, even sitting on the couch—felt empty without you there.

“Well, you just hold tight. Tomorrow, we’ll make up for lost time,” you replied, and she could practically feel your smile through the call.

“That’s perfect. Love you, hon.”

“Love you more.”

After you hung up, Melissa wandered to the bedroom, feeling a deep swell of emotions, her fingers brushing over her pocket where a small, carefully hidden velvet box lay. She’d been carrying it around for days, checking it repeatedly, rehearsing the words she wanted to say once you were home again. The plan was all there—she’d wait for a quiet Sunday morning, like the ones she cherished so much, and then she’d ask.

Unable to resist, she pulled one of your shirts from the closet, bringing it close to her nose. The faint scent of you clung to it, bringing her right back to those lazy Sunday mornings that had become her favorite part of your life together.

She let herself imagine it: you, padding out of bed with only your underwear on, your hair a mess and your eyes still heavy with sleep as you’d pull her into a hug from behind. Every time, she’d grumble a bit, pretending she wasn’t as soft as she actually felt in those moments. You’d tug her back into bed with you, insisting on snuggling under the covers while she made her usual complaints about wanting to get up and start the day.

But truthfully, she loved being wrapped up in your arms as the little spoon. She felt a rare kind of safety there, the weight of your arms around her, the warmth of your chest against her back. She’d pretend to make a bad face, grumbling softly, but she’d inevitably relax, letting out the soft snores you always teased her about later.

And then, just when everything felt perfectly peaceful, Sweet Cheeks would start squeaking from the foot of the bed, weaving around your legs in hopes of an early morning cuddle.

Melissa smiled to herself, clutching the shirt close as she pictured the day ahead, wondering how you’d react when you saw her there, waiting to welcome you home—and how your face would look when she finally asked the question she’d been holding in her heart.

The next day, after what felt like an eternity, she drove to the airport, her heart racing with every step. When she finally spotted you through the crowd, her heart just about burst. She didn’t hold back, rushing over and pulling you into a tight hug, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

You held her just as tightly, murmuring, “Missed you too, Mel. So, so much.”

As you made your way back to the apartment, your laughter filled the car, and Melissa soaked in every second of it, feeling like the pieces of her world had finally fallen back into place.

Once home, she proudly led you to the kitchen, where she had your favorite meal prepared and ready, the smell of marinara sauce filling the space. Sweet Cheeks squeaked in delight at the sight of you, and you scooped him up, letting him nuzzle against you in greeting.

After dinner, you settled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other, your sweet guinea pig resting contentedly in his popsicle stick home nearby. The redhead leaned into you, her heart racing again as she reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the small box.

She took a deep breath, turning to you with all the love she’d been waiting to share. “I know it’s just us, and this fella,” she said softly, glancing down with a shy smile. “But… I couldn’t imagine my life without you. So, I was thinking, maybe… we could make this forever?”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, what are you doing?” you gasp confused, while blinking.

She cleared her thoart and kneeled down. “Y/N. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widened as she pulled out the box, revealing the ring she’d been carrying. In that moment, with tears in your eyes, you nodded, pulling her close in an embrace filled with all the quiet love and warmth that had defined your life together.

And as the night wore on, Melissa held you close, feeling finally, deeply at home.

[kaliforniahigh]

Can you write about Noah and super short reader? I'm 4'11 🥺. Maybe he walks in on reader either climbing on the counter to reach something or standing on the counter looking for a snack. He starts keeping step stools in every room.

She wears his shirts like a dress with fishnets and doc martens on the regular.

Maybe they do the tiktok trend of 'showing my dog places they've never seen' but it's you being lifted by him to see above the fridge and other high places 😂

Ok, so a good while back I wrote about this exact same thought and someone made a drawing of Noah picking reader up so she can look over the fridge, but I can't find it for the life of me :((((( Anyways, I love this concept soo much!!!

Warnings: this is just fluff!

WC: 1.4k (a shortie, like the reader)

My requests are closed for now!

Noah has walked in on you climbing on things to reach somewhere or something way too many times. He's always made a mental note to keep a little step stool for you, to avoid the risks of you falling, but he actually never got around to it.

Deep down, he knows it's because he loves helping you. Loves thinking that you can rely on him to always do this one thing for you.

But, one day, he had to draw the line. You were cleaning his room, dusting the shelves and the frames he kept on the wall. The thing is, he hung them too high for you to reach, So, without thinking twice, you rolled his computer chair to where you needed it, and stepped on top of it.

You were humming some random tune under your breath, when you heard an alarmed voice behind you.

"Are you out of your mind?"

You got startled and felt the chair start to swivel and roll to the side, making you lose balance. Before you could fall to the floor, Noah was beside you, grabbing you by the hips and landing you on the ground safely.

"Oh my God! Why did you have to scare me?", you scolded him, giving him a little slap on the shoulder, trying to regain your composure after almost faceplanting on the floor.

"Why on earth would you stand on top of a rolling computer chair?", he questioned you, voice exasperated and eyes still wide from your almost accident.

"I was trying to clean the frames", you pointed to the various frames on the wall to get your point across.

"I saw that! But you need to be more careful. God knows what would've happened of I didn't catch you", he was still agitated, and that was agitating you.

"I would've been fine! I almost fell because YOU scared me!", you gestured with your hands, voice becoming a little louder.

Noah sighed out loud, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

"Ok, maybe I shouldn't have startled you, but your idea was not the brightest", he tried to reason.

"I'm used to doing this. I've had to climb stuff my whole life to reach certain things", you turned around to resume your cleaning when Noah grabbed you by the hips.

"I'm sorry, ok? I don't mean to be a dick", he put both hands on your shoulder and started to massage them. "It's just that I worry about your well-being"

You relaxed into his touch, the tenseness leaving your body instantly.

"I know that. But the word is a very different place for someone who's 4'11''. You're 6'4'', things are way easier for you", you didn't mean to complain, but you did huff a little when you said this out of frustration.

"I know, I know", he pecked you on the lips. "I'm sorry, ok?", he looked you in the eyes, wanting you to know that he was being sincere.

"It's ok, I forgive you", you circled your arms around his middle and rested your cheek on his clothed chest. "I'm never standing on top of a rolling chair ever again".

"Not, you're not. Because I'm getting you a step stool instead", said and you whined.

"Noah, no. That's embarassing", you frowned at the ideia. You weren't a 12 year old anymore.

"What's more embarassing, a step stool, or going to the hospital, looking like a fool, because you fell from a chair?", he raised both of his eyebrows at you, as if to challenge you. You thought for a minute, but you knew he was right.

"Ok, you can get me a step stool. But it has to be foldable so I can hide it, and I won't step on it if people are watching", he smiled at your remarks, but actually impressed that you gave in so easily.

"I'll still grab things for you when I'm around", he put both hands on your back, rubbing them up and down.

"You better", you rested your head against him once again. "I'm tired of cleaning, you stressed me out. Let's go lay on the couch".

He laughed at your jab at him, but grabbed you by the hand, leading you out of the room, switching the light off and closing the door behind you.

"Let's go. I can grab you some snacks from the top shelf", you slapped him lightly on the back, as he expected, and his laugh only intensified. He couldn't see you you, but you were also sporting a big smile on your face.

"I want the Doritos"

Everything has been going well since you made your deal with Noah. The day after the almost accident, he went out and bought you the step stoll, and you've been biting your tongue to admit that it was actually a great decision.

One day, when you were laying on the couch, casually strolling on your phone, you heard Noah coming down the stairs. He was working on some songs on his computer - or that's you thought he was doing - and you usually left him alone for that.

He stood in front of you, and you looked at him over the top of your phone. He didn't say anything, but he had a smile on his face that you weren't sure if you liked. Locking you phone and dropping it on your lap, you asked:

"What?"

"I saw this trend on TikTok and I wanted to do it with you", he had an expression on his face that told you you might not like this.

"Noah, you don't even have TikTok"

"I have a TikTok", he said this a little lower, hoping you wouldn't hear it.

"You have a TikTok?"

"I do", he averted his gaze from you.

"Since when do you have a TikTok?", you asked. He was unbelivable.

"That's not important right now. Have you seen this trend where owners pick their dogs up to show them places they haven't seen before?"

"Yes, I have. It's adorable", you anwered and side-eyed him at the same time.

"I wanted to do it for you", he said and waited for your answer. You just looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"Are you comparing me to a dog?", you deadpanned, and saw his expression change immediately.

"No, baby, of course not. I just thought it would be cute"

"Yeah", you hummed, as if in thought". "It would actually be cute", you agreed.

"So you'll let me do it?", he asked, but was already opening his camera app on his phone.

"Yeah, I will, But we won't post it", you said, getting uo from the couch.

"What do you want to see first?", he asked.

"The top of the fridge", you walked to the kitchen and he followed after you. You positioned yourself and Noah propped the phone on the wall behind the fridge, the phone sitting on top of it.

"Ok, so I'll grab you by the hips and lift you up", he instructed and you nodded.

He tried picking you up the first time, but you started giggling, remembering the dog videos you watched. The movent threw him off and you landed back on your feet.

"What's so funny?", he asked, looking at you.

"I'm just remembering the dog videos. They look so confused, it's so funny", you giggled once more.

"Ok, I'll try it again", he picked you up once more and you were finally able to see on top of the fridge. When you saw it though, you let out a big gasp.

"What is it?", Noah asked you.

"Oh my God, Noah. It's so dusty up in here. I need to clean this right now", you exclaimed, running your finger over the top and seeing the trail it left behind.

"You gotta show me other places right now, because our house is dirty and I didn't even know it", you said and made your way to the bathroom. "C'mon, you gotta show me the top of the bathroom's upper cabinet"

Noah didn't even know what to say, he just followed after you, with a smile on his face at how absolutely adorable you were.

So the day went by like this, him showing you the top part of places and you insisting you clean them. But he didn't let you use the step stool this time, adamant on holding you, using the excuse that he didn't go to the gym, so this was him working on his biceps.

You were more than happy to feel the tight grip of his big hands around your waist.

[transbianmuffin]

Memories pt. 4

cw a little bit of manipulation, again

********

"Careful, little one, the water is a bit hot."

There is so much nice steam in here. I never had a bath, only quick cold showers. It's sooo niceee and I'm dizzy...

"I'm a little dizzy?"

"I added some Class A and E to the water, the steam you're now inhaling will help you relax."

"It's nice. Oh it feels soooo good~"

her vines are so gentle gently gentling is gentling a word fuck it she's massaging my scalp, my chest and scrubbing my back my fucking god it's sooo good

"Fuck~"

"Deena, language! I know you are a bit feral but as my ward I won't allow such display of vulgarity. You must be well behaved, little miss."

"Y- yes sorry."

wait, was that an order? oh yes! fuckfuckfuck scritches behind my ears I feel like I'm melting I wanna stay here forever

"A- ahhhh~"

"You like that, don't you?"

"I love it. I love it so much."

"And who's a good girl?"

I am I am I am I am please tell me it's me it's me it's me it's me

"Me?"

"Yes darling, you are~"

yes yes I am her good girl her good girl her good girl hergoodgirlhergoodgirl wait.

Wait.

Slow down, Deena.

Slow down, breathe.

Breathe.

You're still a captive?

Maybe?

"Sinea..."

"Tell me, my dearest."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I told you! I find you extremely cute and we Affini take great care of cute things."

"But-"

"No buts, sweetie. Just trust me. Close your eyes and tell me what you feel. This will answer your question."

"I feel peace. I feel every inch of my body thriving with bliss. I feel my mind slowly numbing down to a place of pure happiness. I feel... love."

"Exactly."

"But it's not real, right? It's the xenodrugs."

"The xenodrugs are only a little plus. A little kick to smooth things up. It's all true. What you are feeling it's genuine."

"W- why are you putting your vines around my neck?"

"Can you feel the slight pressure I'm applying there?"

"Yes~"

"Again now, what do you feel?"

"Normally I would be scared as fu-. As hell. I'd be scared as hell. Not now though, the pressure is pleasant~ It reminds me that you are here. It gives me a sense of belonging. Belonging? Belonging."

"Say a word and I'll release you immediately."

"..."

"I'll take your hesitation as a word."

no no no no keep your vines around my neck no please no I want to belong I want I want no no no please it felt so good

"No, please don't. Keep them there, as a constant reminder that~"

"That you're mine?"

yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes

"I- I don't know."

"I see~ let's finish here and I'll dress you."

how much time has passed?

The xenodrugs are wearing off.

Fuck that was so intense.

...

Her vines again, all around me...

"I'm not a doll, you know?"

"Oh, sorry sweetheart. Do you want to put on your dress by yourself?"

"No. No please continue."

"Oh Deena, you're so silly~"

I can't think straight, I can't think oh my the dress is so beautiful oh my I've never had such a beuatiful thing in my whole life fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Oh holy fucking fuck!" "Deena. What I've told you about language?"

"That I must be well behaved."

"And are you well behaved now?"

"Sorry Sinea." "That's my good girl. Now let's see how it fits. I got inspiration by a very specific terran specie of tulips. I think you called them 'tulipa altaica'. Yes, something like that."

"..."

"Sweetie why are you crying, you don't like it?" "Sinea, I love it. I love it so much. The bright yellow! The shape! It fits me perfectly and it gives me such beautiful hips. I've never had something this beautiful in my whole life."

"You can take it with you when we will be done here. It's a gift."

"Take it? Take it where?"

"When you will leave, silly. At some point you will leave and go back to Jupiter or wherever, right? Consider this a parting gift for all the info you gave us."

"Oh, yes sure. When I will leave. Yes."

"There is one last bit we're missing here, though."

"?"

"Remember when you had my vines around your neck?"

yes sure itwasonlythemostintenseandjoyousexperienceofmywholelife

"I think so, I was so high."

"Mh mh, well I was taking measurements."

"Wait! Is that a c- collar?"

"All the florets have one, you would look weird without one and besides other Affini will start asking me why you don't have one and I don't want to be there and repeat ten times in a row that you're my ward, not my pet there's a difference and bla bla bla."

"But I'm not a floret..."

"True and in fact this is not the same collar florets wear. This is just a garment, a fashion accessory. Nothing more than that."

"O- ok."

"Wanna put it on yourself or do you want some help?"

"Do it."

"Do it, what?"

"You know what, Sinea."

"I want you to ask for it."

"Help me."

"Ask properly, Deena."

"Please, help me putting the collar on."

"With utmost pleasure, my darling. You look gorgeous. If I think when I found you almost dying in that stinky, squalid, inelegant terran ship. Stars, look at you Deena, look at you."

I'm beautiful. Can I be that beautiful? Am I allowed to be that beautiful? I- I- I- I- "I am-"

"You are what?"

"I am-"

"I want you to say it, Deena."

I am beautiful."

"You are beautiful. Again now."

"I am beautiful."

"Yes, you truly are my dearest. Now let's head to the floret's gathering. Everybody will be so excited to meet you."

********

[alipeeps]

Hah!! I knew it!! (I'm onto your storytelling tricks now GJM!!)

Yeeeah you coulda acted a little quicker though Zhuo Yichen... like before Pei Sijing got thrown into a pillar... (although on second thoughts, no, fuck her traitorous ass, as you were Zhuo Yichen, you're good....)

Oh god, the angst of it all...

If he were to die, the burden would just be passed to someone else. He would be condemning someone else to the pain and self-loathing that he feels.

Oh dang, the bottle he drinks from all the time is a liquid that helps suppress malicious energy!! He's literally dosing himself all day every day to try and stay in control!!

Shit, he is visibly shaking with effort, struggle to keep even a smidgen of control, and begging Ying Zhao to kill him before it's too late

Wait, what's grandpa gonna do? Why's he telling Ying Lei goodbye?!!

Did he... did he just fucking sacrifice himself to help suppress Zhu Yan?! Did he put his... spirit?... into Zhu Yan to help suppress the malicious qi?

That might save everyone's lives but jfc that is NOT going to help Zhu Yan's guilt/self-loathing problem!!

Oh GOD the usually carefree and silly Ying Lei outright SOBBING over his grandpa is fucking killing me!

Good god, his FACE. He looks happy at first... I guess that the blood moon is over and he is in control? But then he looks up and sees... sees the aftermath... of what HE has done...

My poor fucking boy. He is so tormented. 😭

He is indeed grandpa

So they've got a month where the malicious qi won't affect him...

I'm still not sure I understand what it is he's done to himself to get those scars? Was he being literal about lightning strikes? And secluding himself *after* the blood moon... why? To let the malicious qi levels lessen?

God the visuals of this show!!

Sure ya do buddy.

Why are you no match for Li Lun? I thought you were badass demon? Oooh wait up though... the subs on iQiyi said "I'm no match for Li Lun"... but the subs on the my downloaded file say "I can't kill Li Lun". Which is it? Because one is can't as in not able to... and the other might mean can't as in can't bring myself to...

Oh wait what? It can?

Oh god Ying Lei's grief has me genuinely crying.

No she hasn't, they're having to take turns at the scenic moping spot and Zhu Yan had it most of the night...

Yeah you DESERVE to be hated girl cos Zhu Yan didn't have a choice... you did. He was literally being controlled by malicious energy. Regardless of what Chongwu camp used to get you to spy for them, you made the choice to.

WHO? Who should have almost completed his great mission by now? Cos that did not sound like you were talking about Zhao Yunzhou there...

I STG if you fuckers pull the rug out from under me by making Xiao Bai be a fucking spy too I will cut a bitch...

Aaaaand the next scene jumps straight to Xiao Bai. Don't you do it. Don't you fucking dare!!

Oooh they've somehow all magically got furry winter clothes now...

Oh dang, my boy's had a mountain god makeover.

Awww he's leaving the gang to stay there?

Oh god damn don't give the magic travel device to the fucking spy. She'll land you all straight into the middle of Chongwu camp instead of where you want to go...

Yeeeeeaaaah that ain't all it means mate... 😂

They're all having protracted heartfelt goodbyes... and where is my poor Zhu Yan?

Group hug!! For everybody except the Great Demon Zhu Yan... 😭

Ugh that was an emotional rollercoaster and I am exhausted.

[raviollies]

actually no im gonna yap

im trying SO HARD to gaslight myself into liking veilguard but so many narrative choices just make me scratch my head. I AM NOT DONE, I currently gotta go to Weisshaupt.

I'll start with things I like so far:

1. I think the game is really pretty and I like the puzzles :) Antiva is GORGEOUS, I think one of the prettiest areas in the entire series.

2. I really like the Minrathous/Treviso choice. More of that please! some actual drama and consequence!

3. Assan is adorable and I cannot walk past without petting him. I didn't anticipate myself liking Davrin so much since I'm usually drawn to magic babies over warriors, but he's probably my favourite alongside Bellara. I think him having left his clan is very interesting narrative choice (I am totally not biased considering it's very similar to Daee's story)

4. Thank you lord almighty for the wardrobe/mirror system. Godbless.

5. Everytime Lucanis speaks I think of Puss in Boots and that brings me great joy. Whimsy even.

6. When you place Tevinter decor in the lighthouse, they have a Hookah right beside a fresco of Solas killing Mythal and that is mind bogglingly hilarious. I do love that the Shadow dragons know how to unwind. We're turning up after fighting for elf rights.

7. Solas surviving entirely on meat, raisins and honey feels very r/malelivingspace

Things I am Not Liking So Far

1.Minrathous feels utterly toothless. Its described as terrible, den of slavery, conversion therapy through blood magic, treatment of elves being terrible - yet we walk around unimpeded. I expected a similar experience as the Winter Palace, or fights that could be avoided if playing as a human.

LAVELLAN is introduced in the TEVINTER TAVERN, wearing TEVINTER CLOTHING, like it doesn't...make much sense to me? Inquisition set up the cross roads with Morrigan AND the Inquisitior, it feels like it would have made much more sense narratively not just from..."I am the fucking Inquisitor In Fucking Minrathous" but "Solas and the crossroads are a vital connecting point of these characters story."

Speaking of Inquisitor, wildly bizarre to me that neither Solas nor Varric comment on you meeting them. Solas has a weird painting of the Inquisitor chair, but you meet the mf face to face and he just does't acknowledge it. I am not a Solavellan player but I felt Really Bad For Them In That Moment.

I think a good moment of comparison is the difference in tone of DAI and DATV...When we find out the orb is elven in DAI, Solas warns us to keep it to ourselves, with Lavellan even remaking that the world will blame us for Corypheus. In DATV, we inform everyone that Elven gods are attacking, and there's no thought or conversation about the impacts of that on Elves in society. The only one to mention it is Davrin way after we've been spilling the beans left and right.

2. I'm not done the story but hey has anyone mentioned we haven't fought a single Fen'Harel agent, what's up with that... I expected to be fighting Elves based on the epilogue in Tresspasser but ?? ???

3. I'm sorry I HATE THEM DISREGARDING THE WELL OF SORROWS IN FAVOUR OF MORRIGAN WHEN SOLAS MAKES A HUGE DEAL OF YOU BEING TIED TO MYTHAL IF YOU DRANK FROM THE WELL. Oh sorry, if it was unimportant then why the fuck did you go on a monologue about how you're "her creature" and connected to her. It felt like a retcon of the importance placed on it in Inquisition and how much of a deal both Solas AND Morrigan make about it. I'm sorry picking a ROMANCE was more important than acknowledging THIS?? ? ??

"But Ravie, they can't account for Inquisitors personality and making them important would piss people off" then just kill them off. If they're set on Morrigan carrying this piece of narrative, I would have written the Inquisitor off the table before the choice becomes relevant. Have them help you in the ritual at the start of the game and die. I feel similarly about Varric, because he feels like the writers stuffed him in the closet to not talk which just...JUST KILL HIM. Its better than being relegated to furniture!!!!

3. Speaking of Morrigan why the hell is so nice. This is not my beautiful mean witch wife. In fact everyone is nice. Even hardened Lucanis has been polite to me.

4. I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH ROOK. I profoundly hate starting off friends with Varric (and him getting shelved like what was the point). It ruins a lot of initial RP for character establishment, because it limits how the player character FEELs about the whole thing, your motivations are GIVEN to you. Furthermore, it feels like rook HAS an established character. I don't feel like I got to play my rook, just say things slightly differently based on an already established character. I dont feel like I am roleplaying a custom character, just as Biowares stand in protagonist. Maybe I'm just spoiled by the level of interaction that BG3 provided me.

The opening sequence is bizarre to me, because IF I MAKING THE STORY....I would have had the introductory quests for each of the companions be the first quest based on the faction you select (Shadow dragons with Neve, Mournwatch with Emmerich, Crows with Lucanis etc. etc.) That way you establish your character based on the faction and immediately get a little tutorial on what kind of character you're going to be playing. I would even keep the introductory quests the same with minor dialogue tweaks. The ritual would come after the tutorial prologue mission and then you start with Harding and the companion you got introduced with, since the order you get them...really doesn't matter or impact anything.

5. I think the Venatori and Antaam following Elven Mage Gods is kinda dumb. Sorry. I thought they both looked down on them for being either Elves or Mages/didn't even acknowledge them. What the hell is their goal anyway

My criticisms comes down to...I don't know what themes the game is trying to tackle? The game SAYS things but doesn't actually do anything with these topics. Minrathous HAS a slavery problem but we don't see it. Treviso is ruled by a faction of assassins but it's like a good thing! Elven gods are responsible for everything wrong in the world, but the narrative implications of what that means for modern elves are acknowledged in passing like acknowledging the weather. The game feels hesitant to actually unpack any of these things despite being the one to put them on the table.

Anyway I am going to finish the game and probably play on Daee with a Solavellan Inquisitor to see if that improves my experience by picking a character who is more tailored to the Rook they portray/not having an emotional connection to the Inky, but atm...Man I Had Hopes. Made me feel stupid for getting so hyped up for a conclusion to a story arc for a character THEY SPECIFICALLY LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOR A DECADE. I'll just draw art, lie face down in the ground and imagine a more narratively satisfying conclusion to my Inquisitors story.

[drowninginblox]

Low Battery

Pt: 1, 2, 3, 4

"This needs to be perfect," Kurt mutters under his breath. He's been pacing for hours. "Uh-huh..." the one person he knew would help him is not all enthused. "Something they'd never expect!" Kurt declares in a hushed tone. "Yeah..."

It is 3am, and Scott is not happy.

He was woken up by Kurt holding his nose. The worst way to wake up. Thank god Kurt had the foresight to slap his glasses on. But before Scott could yell at him, Kurt already teleported himself and Scott to Kurt's room. Where a chalkboard was filled with various ideas and notes scattered across the floor. Scott didn't know what was happening, but he'd never seen Kurt like this.

"Kurt, what even is this?" he grumbles after waiting ten minutes for a proper explanation. Kurt looks at him and sees Scott holding the bridge of his nose. "Oh, right." Kurt teleports to the chalkboard and spins it round to show 'Ways to confess without fucking it up; by Kurt' Scott stares at the board before dropping his head and sighing. "Kurt we have work in the morning..."

"Coming from the guy that was making noises I never even imagined. You kept me up last night, this is payback." Kurt teleports over to Scott. "And don't worry, we're not alone." He points to the bed at a still-asleep Gambit. Scott holds his face in his hands "Kurt it is 3am-" Scott tries while Kurt slaps Remi awake with his tail. "The fuck-!" Remi yells before looking around, realizing where he is. "Oh god... mon ami...." The cajin groaned. "Really?"

Kurt looks between them "Look- I wouldn't have done this if I didn't think it was important. And I know it's early- but this has been keeping me awake. I need help with this, I can't..." He sighs. "Herr, vergib mir, but I can't fuck it up!" Scott raises a brow and glances at the Gambit. Although Gambit couldn't see it, he felt the shared glance. "Listen, Kurt," Scott says while standing up. "There is no right answer to this." He admits. Remi leans over, putting his elbows on his knees.

"Kurt, I had no idea what to do with Jean. I thought of every outcome, everything I could and couldn't say, every grand gesture I could think of- I could damn near fill a book!" He admits while walking towards Kurt. "But you know what I did?" Scott clasps a hand on Kurt's shoulder, making Kurt look into Scott's visor with nothing but hope.

"I didn't wake up my friends at 3am!"

Remi barked a laugh as Scott tightened his grip on Kurt's shoulder, making the German fear for his life while Scott seethed. But Scott took a deep breath and relaxed his grip with every moment of exhale. Eventually, he calms himself and evenly states the facts. "What I did Kurt, was take a leap of faith." Kurt glanced between Scott's hand and his visor. "That's all it is," Scott affirms before letting go and heading to the door. Kurt doesn't bother to go after him. This stunt was not going to be met with grace in the morning.

When the door closes, Kurt looks at Remi, who is lying on the bed and fiddling with a deck of cards. "How did you get that?" Kurt mumbles. "Pockets mon ami." Kurt glances over Remi's ensemble of boxers and a crop top. "What?" he asks, genuinely confused. Remi rolls his eyes. "Just come over here and play with Gambit." Kurt sighs "Shouldn't you leave too? I woke you up..." Remi only narrows his eyes and flicks an uncharged card- hitting Kurt square in the forehead. "I-ow!" Gambit's eyes widened a little "Damn mon ami, you should've dodged that," He tuts with a smirk. "You have it bad..." Kurt huffs "Schnauze!" Remi chuckles and waves him over, to which Kurt hesitantly obliges, sitting across from Gambit on the bed.

"Gambit got a game for you," He mumbles as he shuffles his cards "Simple one." He assures. "Go fish?" Kurt offers while he props his head with a hand. Remi stares blankly at him. Kurt only smirks back.

Remi starts dealing cards, mumbling intermittently "Go fish? The fuck are we?" Kurt only chuckles. "Well then mon ami, what are we playing?" Remi looks at him. "Because of your remark, war." Kurt perks a little with a playful smile "Really?" Gambit just nods. "Good game to play when you need to ramble." He hands Kurt half of the newly shuffled deck, to which Kurt takes. "Ya know how to play yeah?" Kurt rolls his eyes and starts setting down cards. Remi responds in kind.

They play quietly for a few moments until Kurt finally speaks up "So what did you want to talk about mein fruend?" "Be honest with me Kurt, why do you love them?" Kurts taken aback by the question but slowly answers "Well," Remi continues. "Would you feel this way if this shit didn't happen?" His eyes never leave the cards. Kurt stops "What do you-"

"What is she worth to you?" Kurt throws down his cards. "For the love of- Remi hold on! Lassen Sie mich darüber nachdenken! Es ist schwer zu beschreiben, was sie sein soll, wenn du mich ständig bedrängst! Give me a moment to answer!" Remi looks him dead in the eyes and slowly sits up. He remains quiet, inviting Kurt to speak. Kurt can only sigh. "Siehe- listen, Y/n is my best friend. I would be lost without them, truly." He looks down at his cards. Remi's stack was thicker than his now. He must not have paid attention to how shitty his luck was. "I... I rely on them."

"Reliance isn't love, mon ami." He surmises before taking four more of Kurt's cards as his seven lost to Gambit's ten. "I relied on 'few people back in the Bayu but I loved none of them 'n the way I love y'all. An all tha' nothin' compared to my Cher," He smiles fondly before returning back to Kurt. "But that' all to say, that's far different to jus relyin on someone. You know that." Gambit says with a quick tap to Kurt's shoulder. "Mon ami, I've seen you smitten. And this ain't it." Kurt sighs, putting down his small stack of cards to hold his hands together. "Tell me, ya know Gambit won't tell no one, but ya love them? Truly?"

Kurt closes his eyes and hangs his head "I... I don't know." Gambit smiles at him sadly. "You have one hell of a poker face mon ami," He says while shuffling close to Kurt. "But ya get tells. Everyone does." Kurt only sighs "Gambit, what do I do, Bruder?" Gambit claps an arm around Kurt's shoulder and pulls him into a side hug. Kurt softens a little at the much-needed contact. "Ya figure it out before ya commit." He mumbles, his voice seeping with genuineness. "And if I hurt them?" the smaller mumbles. Gambit shakes his head. "It would hurt them more if ya lied, mon ami. Trust me, I know." He says with a smirk. Kurt smiles a little at that. "Player." He mumbled. Gambit chuckled and held Kurt tighter for a moment "Gotta try ya luck." Kurt scoffs playfully.

Gambit starts collecting his cards. Kurt helps him out. It's a silent task, but when they finish they only look at each other knowingly. "Ya gotta be true to yaself, Kurt." Gambit eventually says, a deep understanding coursing through his words. "If ya don't trust yaself in that, then trust Gambit." Kurt can only look away. Gambit sighs. "Ya trust me right?" Kurt nods. "Ja... with mein life." Gambit clasps his shoulder and squeezes it lightly. "Then follow ya heart, not what they may want." Kurt takes a moment before nodding to the sentiment. Gambit smiles slightly before heading out of the room and closing the door behind him. Once he's gone, Kurt looks to the chalkboard and the scattered papers of fantasmal plans. But now he can only see them as what they are- fantasy.

That night was restless, but he tackled the following day with a spirit he didn't know he had. Scott rightfully scolded him for last night and suspended him from missions unless told otherwise; whatever that means. Meanwhile, Gambit only requested that Kurt would wait until about 6am to drag his ass into early morning ramblings, and that said practice would be mutual if continued. Kurt took both of these helpings in grace.

But after these moments, Kurt otherwise found the day unnoteworthy. In fact, he found the following days the same way until the fifth. He’s known about the constant the whole time, but considering the circumstances he didn’t want to pry immensely.

Eventually, the intrusive thought got out. "Hey, Ororo?" Kurt asked during the lunch period, "Do you know where Y/n is?" Ororo looks over to Kurt. "Their classroom. They've been rather occupied for the last few days." She notes as she closes the fridge. Kurt nods at this and heads to Y/n's classroom immediately after this confirmation.

Something in his soul tugged at his being, encouraging him to check up on them. For what reason, he didn't know. Call it intuition, call it dumb luck, but Kurt was walking to Y/n and neither of them could stop this interaction. Yet it was only when he was a little over a yard from their door did he realized he had no good reason to do so.

He stopped in his tracks, midstep away from the inevitable. A rushing thought offered an out; 'You told her you needed time...' his eyes lingered on the door before looking away. The room seemed to chill with the harsh truth of Kurt not really knowing what he was doing. 'What was this even supposed to do?' The casoums of his mind offered. 'Is this something for you or Y/n?'

The lump in his throat grew at the implications of that question. Even though his fur allowed him to be semi-resistant to the cold, he could feel goosebumps rise from his skin. His body worked on autopilot, directing him to the wall next to their door and leaning against it only to slink down to a curl of a sit. The tail he always claimed to have a mind of its own, wrapped itself around his calve. A gentle squeeze was the only consultation he deserved while he leaned his head against his knees.

A deep inhale, and a deeper exhale quelled his nerves for a few moments only to have them flood. "Mein gott..." He mumbled into his jeans. "What would Y/n do?" He couldn't help but mumble against the warring thoughts. The carnage of what ifs and absolutes desolated anything in their path while Kurt could only sit and watch as he tore himself apart. He didn't know how long he sat there, but something broke him away from the battle. "The last thing I want is you attempting to force feelings that aren't there." Y/n's voice echoed, making him perk. He closed his eyes, forcing the memory back.

They didn't realize how close they were to him. At least, he doesn't think so. Just a few inches apart, that was the only thing separating them. And yet they didn't risk it. "Kurt," They mumbled. If it wasn't for the faint candlelight, he wouldn't have seen the bright but conflicting emotions in their eyes. There was a bittersweetness in that intimacy. One that Kurt couldn't help but wonder if they understood the possibility that came with such a risk as that one.

Their hand served as the only ground at that moment. But the cool touch of your hand was giving way to the warmth of Kurt's cheeks. "You deserve only the best that the world has to offer." Their assurance was warmer than the candlelight. Its glow crowned them in a halo of surreality. It was unlike anything he'd seen before. "Do not put your happiness aside for me." And their words. The reverence was something of a prayer... devoted and kind. And yet, all the while pleading for something they could only hope for.

"Please, be happy in any way you want, just don't hurt yourself in the process." All he could do was attempt to recover from his speechlessness as the friend he'd had for years on end morphed into someone else before his very eyes. The quick-witted sarcasm and the air of confidence were gone. For once in a long time, Y/n was vulnerable in a way Kurt had only seen once, maybe even twice before.

The bell marking the end of the period was over broke Kurt away from his recollections immediately. As the sounds of footsteps grew nearer and nearer, he stood and dusted himself off. He spared your door one last look before a BAMF took him back to his classroom, where he could only sigh against his desk. The stale air of his room was no Eden, but it was better than getting questioned by the students.

"Reiß dich zusammen, Wagner, wir müssen eine lösung finden..." he mumbled before combing a hand though his hair. His tail swished to and fro. The hallways filled with noise. "Time to be normal..."

[salemlunaa]

Let me start off by saying that I absolutely love your posts. And ur energy really made me want to embody that for myself. I hope u can help with some issues that's I've been facing.

I've been in this community for an odd 4 years and u can say that I've consumed every type of information. I know all about the law. When I start to apply the law I get really discouraged waking up in the same fucking reality and when shit doesn't change instantly. That sets me off on a cycle that I can't seem to get out of.

It's been a nightmare with me being so anxious and desperate all the time. Also some things that I've done hurt my parents real bad, but I did it with the intention of leaving this place the next day. And by bad I mean constantly lying to them abt going to clg and they finding out and all of the shit that follows after that. But yeah I admit I wasn't that great of a daughter. So now that I'm trying to manifest a better life for myself, I feel guilty and feel like all I'm doing is just escaping.

I don't know how to deal with my emotions but I want out of here immediately cause it's gotten really bad and I don't even feel like living anymore.

What do I do to leave here immediately? How do I trust that I am a god and that only what I want will happen?

Sorry for all that rant. Just needed to get it out.

hi love, i’m sorry you’re going through this, circumstances can get so shitty sometimes, trust me, i know.

And you might not like the answer, but you have to live in imagination, give yourself your desires in the 4d, give yourself the success of waking up with your desires in the 4d, give it all to yourself in imagination and the 3d will always follow.

You’re allowed to have your emotions, it won’t mess up your progress if you scream, cry, get frustrated etc, you’re allowed to feel discouraged but don’t let that stop you, please don’t let it stop you because it will be so worth it when you have the life of your dreams after realising how easy it is.

live in the 4d now, who’s to say you woke up with nothing? who’s to say you’re a bad daughter? who’s to say you haven’t manifested much? are you resonating with that reality because the 3d said so? screw the 3d!! you have your desires and always have done 💞💞