#is he reaction justified? not really!

[giantkillerjack]

OP's tags tho:

#istg the amount of people “picking sides” here #IS OUTRAGEOUS #THEY ARE BOTH SHIT AT COMMUNICATING #THEY ARE BOTH MAKING MISTAKES #AND ARE BOTH WRONG AND RIGHT AT THE SAME TIME #you cant ask for complicated situations and then treat them like theres someone completely in the right/wrong #BECAUSE THERE ISNT

"We need more morally grey characters in complicated morally grey situations" Y'ALL CAN'T EVEN HANDLE THEM

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Broken Roofs and Fixed Perspectives

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[followingrose]

fully expect to get backlash for this but also

It’s my blog and I get to choose the opinions

As a dwarf pc enjoyer, I’m kind of obsessed with the reveals about how it was the evanuris all along who killed the titans—and for such a HEINOUS reason. I know people have ~feelings~ about DA elves and the lore being revealed in Veilguard, but like…

That’s kind of how history works? Sometimes you learn that a people you respected were actually INCREDIBLY shit awful chucklefucks. It doesn’t erase the way elves have been treated in the series thus far (re: the absolute worst) and I think the convo between an elf Rook and Harding is really intriguing.

Idk I just think they tied up loose ends in a really interesting way, and if the lore doesn’t work for you that’s valid! That’s why we have fanfiction and such!

(P.S. if you’re like me and genuinely enjoying the game and our new blorbos pls talk to me about it I need more ppl to be happy with)

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Making angst for a silly goofy fandom like tf2 is so hard because they've never been put into serious situations so everytime I write something is like:

[altocat]

AGS watch a super scary horror movie together. What happens?

Genesis puffs up his chest and boasts how he's not afraid of anything. OBVIOUSLY he's the bravest of the trio. A dumb little film can't spook him. It takes exactly three minutes before he's hiding behind his hands whimpering and whining like a baby.

Angeal mostly just laughs. Not at the content of the film itself--just how Genesis reacts to it. He keeps poking Genesis' back every time a jumpscare happens to make him jump twice as high, laughing like a lunatic every time.

Sephiroth sits through the whole thing completely stone-faced the entire time. No expression. No reaction. Not even talking. Is...he even watching? Or is he sleeping with his eyes open again? It takes Genesis nearly ramming him in an effort to hide during another jumpscare that earns a decidedly pissy growl of annoyance. After that, Sephiroth goes blank again, possibly snoring, possibly comatose. Who even knows.

[btsbs]

.

[sereniv]

I saved a daddy long legs!

i was scared and (i know dont @ me) was considering spraying him because I still fear spiders and spider-look-a-likes

up until past few years ive been working really hard on figuring out how to save them rather than kill bc ofc, it doesnt align with my views to kill them

normally i let my dog eat them to justify it- ironically, bc "im not killing them, my dog is"

but he was in one place, not moving and i was on the toilet, so i took the time to read up about him.

i named him, forced myself to, and to call him cute, so that it would make it harder for me to go through with killing him

i tried to imagine him being curious, or scared, or relaxing. Though i know most likely they arent capable of it in a way we can understand, it still helped me see him as no different than my dog or cat or me, rather than "just a bug' or some type of 'scary thing'

and in the end i saved him! container and a folder.

i still was scared, but seeing the (idk another word) humanity in him, the value he has and that he has for himself as a living being, helped make it possible to save him

its still really hard, and on occasion i do end up killing spiders or having my dog eat them when its quick scenarios where i dont have time to think it through

but compared to years ago ive gone from saving 0 to maybe 80%

and this is one of those moments where, its not exactly possible for me to push myself because it can undo all the work ive done. and thats ok.

this is the best i can do right now and im proud of myself.

my best, is not how i imagine my best being. in my mind, i could push myself harder but thats not practical.

doing your best is strategic.

im just so glad i didnt kill him. reading about him, learning about him, appreciating his role, and labeling him cute and giving him a name helped a lot

and sometimes, anthropomorphizing animals can be beneficial. i know he doesnt feel fear and curiosity like i do, but if it means not unnecessarily taking a life, then he does to me in that moment

[memecatwings]

sorry for not liking saltburn ive failed you guys 😔

[butchhansolo]

sorry but i need the entire fucking bad batch fandom to shut the fuck up about saw gerrera and tech's death being his fault right the fuck now

[ultimumvitae]

me at first: wow i really love how shadow is written in idw! it's not perfect but it's so much better!

me watching shadow be turned into a zombot: oh

[theriverdalereviewer]

seeing the discourse around whether oppenheimer should have represented japanese/indigenous americans and I just wanna say I think they can feel however they want about this film

[hsslilly-blog]

just realised that as far as i recall it hwu mc doesn’t cry at any point in hunts date quests and i think this is the biggest evidence of them being weird. not that people who don’t cry are weird but hwu mc specifically is very weird for not crying

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

why didn't they just use franziska for literally all of this.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Field trip.

Some people would call gothamites petty, but given that most of the USA population treated them as scum, they believed that their behavior was justified.

They didn't like tourists, to put it mildly. Therefore, after learning that in their city were people on a field trip from Amity Park who could not leave Gotham for several days due to weekly escape from Arkham, the news channel immediately decided that a short interview from the guests would definitely amuse the locals. The reaction of outsiders never ceases to be ridiculous.

Reporter: ~Good afternoon~ Gotham News! May I ask you to share what you liked most about our wonderful city?

Mr. Lancer*still in a cold sweat and looks at every passerby as a potential villain*: Uh, no, me..It's so unexpected. Well, first of all, people here are very…

Danny *is high after the tasting samples Dr. Crane gave him for free and is extremely eager to share his happiness with others*,* picks a microphone*.

Danny: Gotham is the best city in the world! Like seriously, damn, I'd like to die here. Although there are constant shootings somewhere, half the time people don't even shoot at me! I haven't been this relaxed since middle school! And in the evenings, there is often such a pleasant scent of fear and despair on the streets. This fear toxin of yours is a real miracle! It's sooo good!

Sam *decides to take the initiative in her own hands before Fenton says too much*: Personally, I am very pleased with the number of green spaces you have in your city. It's nice to see that here eco-activists are really being listened to. Also, the fact that most restaurants have a thoughtful menu for vegetarians left a very pleasant impression.

Dash in his favorite T-shirt "it's not gay if he's dead": Four words. Hips of Red Hood. The fact that it is not marked in the guidebook as the main attraction of the Crime Alley is a real crime. This dude clearly never skips leg days. My respect.

Tucker: What can I say? The speed of internet here, even during villains attacks, is absolutely  unbelievable. I don't want to leave this place.

Jazz: I love Gotham! Finally, I was able to buy all the works published by Dr. Harleen Quinzel. *girl picks up an impressive stack of books* For some reason, they are not available online.

The camera points at a red-haired guy with a twitching eye.

Wes: I'm 85% sure Bruce Wayne is Batman. I have a proof and I am ready to provide it.

A girl with a "Good Guess" pin from Riddler enters and takes camera away from conspiracy theorist.

Star: Sorry, he slipped out at night and went to look for problems. Again. Don't pay any attention to him. He's always like this when he drinks more than two energy drinks in a row.

[girltomboy]

My mom finally texted me Monday evening, but I didn't see her texts right away because I had my data off and was away from my phone for most of the evening. I did see them yesterday and she wrote something like "Even if I'm upset with you I still miss you and think of you", but then when I didn't reply right away she got passive aggressive, and kept saying "I won't text you anymore, it's clear that I'm bothering you" (I hadn't even seen the texts, mind you, this was like 1 hour after the initial message). So yesterday when I opened Whatsapp and saw her messages I replied saying I'd been waiting for a reply from her for two weeks, she leaves me on read all that time and then gets upset that I don't reply right away to her passive aggressive message? I told her I can't really get over the fact that my family is comfortable discarding and abandoning me for weeks for reasons invented by them, and I waited for her to reply to the texts I last sent her, since I didn't do anything to warrant such treatment. Anyway, the last message from her said "I won't message you anymore-" and something else I didn't get to read because she deleted it. So now idrk what to say to her, the last message in the conversation is still mine, and I'm confused by her attitude. I think she already got back from my hometown, I saw something about that when I skimmed her last text in the notification. And I was gonna ask about that, but now that she deleted her message I'm not sure how to proceed, and this confusion and frustration is a bit too much for me, considering I literally did nothing wrong and she just decided she hates me one day.

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes--"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, her arms a flurry of motion, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a huff, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of motion and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did--like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was--the shift. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up--the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice--wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean—maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second—wide-eyed panic—but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak. His grin was insufferably smug, the kind that practically begged for something to be thrown at him. 

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part--it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that soft ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile—the one that always made you a little breathless—spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

The words hit you like they always did--soft enough, but with the force of a thousand butterflies taking flight in your chest. You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy--your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over--but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it--your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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