#kids these days they're out of control

[doydoune]

names names names (1-2/4)

(3-4/4)

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

One day

One day I hope people realize that Kitsunami already "broke through his programming" back by issue #56 of Idw Sonic

He had an entire mini arc where he dealt with being without Surge for the first time, and in the real world. He met Sonic and his friends directly, tried to work out what his purpose would be without Surge in his life (gave it a shot trying to devote himself to Sonic, seeing him as the next best thing after Surge). And when it was all said and done, he decided after experiencing more that at Surge's side is where he wanted to be.

As of the recent IDW issues, Kit isn't sticking with Surge "because of programming" and "because he just needs for other characters to friend him and turn him into a better person". He is at her side because he wants to be. He protects her and aids her because he cares about her, not just because he's serving the strongest guy in the room. And he's not interacting with others because he's decided not to give a shit about anyone else other than Surge (because from his pov, even the "good guys" are fake. From his pov, everyone is someone trying to lie and manipulate their way into pulling him and Surge to their side)

Kit already has decided what he wants to do with his life. And he decided it on his own. Not because of anyone else's wants or wishes. That's the whole point of his speech at the end of #56.

He's burying whatever his and Surge's past is and moving forward with his conviction to be with Surge because it's what he wants.

[c0nnverse]

man i'm getting some really fucking weird youtube ads lately. i'm honestly so tired of it i'm straight up reporting now. don't care

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Was thinking again about Montceratops earlier and how fucking Normal it would be for Roxy to have found another fucking missing animatronic by that point. Like okay cool. Another one. This one is how old??? Aight... okay then. That's a new record I think...

Roxy and Cassie's dad asking for help for Montceratops at this point is like "let me guess. Roxy found a new friend." and it's not even a question. They don't have any idea what the fuck she's found this time but they see Cassie's dad walk in like "hey so uh. You wanna maybe prep the cylinder?" for the very first time asking the other techs for help and they just fucking know Roxy's found some old fucked up lil guy in the god knows where lmao

They learned from the dinosaurs, the chicken, the duck, the Eclipse and the fucking herd of horses that Roxy wasn't gonna get in real trouble for any of this shit. At this point? Yeah they might as well-WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S A FUCKING DINOMONTY?! WHAT THE FUCK????

[sukibenders]

When I say I don't really like being around kids, it's because it comes from the same place of being around others, whether my age or older and just wanting to be alone due to getting overwhelmed easily. When some others say they don't like being around kids, they use it as a way to excuse their degradation towards little humans and attempt to strip them of basic human rights under the guise of "But animals are less annoying, so they should just be allowed to replace kids wherever." We are not the same.

[systlin]

So, to explain my little adventure I just got back from, it is necessary to set the scene by explaining a few things.

My dog is a Great Pyraneese. She weighs 90 Pounds. It is mostly muscle.

My neighbors a quarter mile down the road have chickens. They like to let them free range.

Now, this is not a problem at all, EXCEPT for the fact that whenever Tyr sees them something deep in her little livestock guardian breed brain goes "Oh, I am supposed to be Responsible for this Livestock." She will attempt to plonk her 90 pound furry ass down as far towards their yard as her leash will permit and want to sit there and simply stare at the chickens. She is not aggressive towards them, she simply wants to lie down and Keep An Eye On Things, the way a good livestock guardian dog is supposed to. It is the same reason she would love to fight the foxes that live under the falling down farmhouse down the street to the death and is very upset that I will not let her.

The PROBLEM is, well

3. My neighbors also have a miniature poodle. She is convinced, in every cell of her 15 pound body, that No Other Dogs Should Come Anywhere Near Her Fucking Yard. She has no concept that Tyr outweighs her by 75 pounds and is absolutely convinced that she could win this fight.

Normally if she's outside she is out in the fenced backyard and this isn't a problem. I also don't let Tyr wander into other yards, because it's rude to let your dog pee on the neighbor's grass unless they've said they're fine with it and also I live in Fuckass Nowhere. There's plenty of county owned grass on the roadside for Tyr to pee on. Still, even if I'm coaxing her along past the chickens, she will want to slow down and drift over to that side of the road to look at them.

TODAY, however, the mini poodle was NOT in the backyard. She was in the unfenced front yard, and as soon as we walked past she saw another dog not ON her yard, but heading TOWARDS her yard, and she hurled herself into battle with no thought for her own safety.

Now, Tyr is not aggressive towards other dogs. There is an exception to this, though, and it is 'unless an off leash dog comes running full speed in the general direction of one of Her People while snarling and barking'. If this happens, I suddenly have 90 pounds of Great Pyr ready for mortal combat on the end of the leash.

This brings us to item 4

4. I broke my left arm in April and while it is healing and good for light use now, 'Light Use' does not include 'restraining 90 pounds of furious livestock guardian dog convinced her person is about to be attacked by a reactive dog'

This means that I looped up the leash short and controlled her one armed. I did not think about this twice particularly. I know I can do it and just. Did it. I wouldn't walk her if I couldn't control her, after all. Once she figured out that no, the poodle was NOT going to attack me, she calmed down, but was still growling.

But I did this as a panicked neighbor dude came running out to try and get his dog, convinced that his kids were about to watch their beloved pet get turned into Great Pyr chow.

Oh and

5. I did this while wearing a Wonder Woman tshirt

So, long story short, his 4 year old daughter is convinced now that I actually AM Wonder Woman, because "She's Strong Like Wonder Woman!" and my neighbor learned that his poodle dug out from under the fence, how's everyone else's days going.

(All dogs unhurt)

[bbokicidal]

Again & Again. | Hybrid!SKZ [B.C.]

╱|、 Pairing : Wolf Hybrid!Bangchan x Fem!Reader (˚ˎ 。7 Warnings : Aggressive Chan, Sexual Content (MDNI), biting, knotting, |、˜〵 choking/pinning, spit/drool, growling/snapping, borderline BDSM じしˍ,)ノ Notes : Day 3 of 4 from the BbokiDwae Collab with @dwaekkicidal!

ㅤ-`♡´- Hybrid!Chan likes to have his way - all of the time. But that's because he views himself as the Alpha in your household, so if you comply with him, it just makes everything easier. And of course, that slips over into the bedroom as well. -`♡´- Which means that he wants you to just sit still, look pretty, and let him abuse your holes until you're reduced to tears that stain the soft white sheets under your head.

-`♡´- Constant, hard, rough, bed-rocking, headboard-slamming-on-the-wall fucking ; whether that means he's got you bent over the side of the bed or he's mounting you from behind - maybe even letting you sit atop his hips while he pushes his cock up into you from below. -`♡´- He cannot do soft sex unless he absolutely has to. And there is a reason for that.

-`♡´- Primal urges are constant when it's mating season for him. He's growling under his breath at people who get too close to you, he always has to have his hands on your waist or in your back pocket, and if you're at home then he's stuck to your side like glue. -`♡´- And those primal urges also transfer into the bedroom as well. He'll snarl at you from behind when you squirm as your orgasm approaches, whispering out that you should stay still if you want it to take and that he's going to keep going until he knows you're full of his pups. -`♡´- If you're not listening and keep moving underneath him, he'll scruff you by biting at the side of your neck and sinking his teeth in just enough to hold you tight. It hurts, he knows it hurts, and he'll apologize for it later with a soft whimper in his voice - but for now he just needs your pretty body to lay still for him.

-`♡´- Speaking of urges - during mating season all they're telling him to do is breed. -`♡´- He's constantly in you - pinning you down with a hand on your neck on the sofa, bending you over in the bed, filling you to the brim against the kitchen counter; He's fucking up into you with heavy balls and a ruddy tip that is always, always leaking in desperation to be rubbing up on your gummy pink walls. -`♡´- And he's got so much cum to give. During mating season his body is constantly vibrating, jittery and aching for release. And one knot is never enough.

-`♡´- He's flooding you with cum so much so that even his knot can't contain it. He'll fuck into you, growl out as soon as his knot inflates and huff as it locks him into you - and even then he won't stop, rutting his hips desperately for more friction until he's grinding his cock deeper against your walls, kissing your cervix with a tip that spurts thick ropes of white to fill you up. -`♡´- And as soon as his knot deflates, it comes leaking out the moment he moves away. So he plugs you up again, cock still hard and eyes rolling back at the way you're so slick now. And how is he supposed to stop then, hm?

-`♡´- There is a lot of biting involved. You're constantly covered in marks of his dominance and adoration by being littered with imprints of his canines - though he knows better and will leave them in less obvious places - both from holding you down/frustration and pent up feelings and from needing to mark you up so others know that his territory includes you. -`♡´- And the man is feral. He's absolutely going to be drooling when he fucks you, tongue sliding over his lips over and over at the sight of how delicious your body looks rocking underneath his as he fucks into you for the fourth time that evening - if you ask nicely, and if you're into it, he may just spit on your pussy too. (He probably will anyway.)

-`♡´- He is determined to breed you. Even if you're on birth control or simply don't want kids (and he knows it), he'll still attempt to fill you up as much as he possibly can. Even though there's just so much cum that it all ends up leaking out in the end.

-`♡´-

"Gonna fill you up. You want that, yeah? You want me to fill you up?" He'll whine to mock your moans, brows crinkling when you choke on your sounds. "Say it." He'll growl, "Say you want it."

"Sit still. Sit still," He huffs, hand landing a harsh slap to your ass before squeezing the tender flesh in an attempt to keep you from moving. "Don't you want my pups, baby? Then quit moving."

"Oh my God, you're so fucking tight. So warm. God, don't ever wanna pull outta this pretty pussy."

"Where are you going?" He'll chuckle, grabbing onto your hips to drag you back to him when you try to crawl away for a small break between fuckings. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Fuck, might break you open. Split your pussy apart with my knot. Think you can take it? Yeah? Well you're gonna."

[cameronsbabydoll]

how do you think scc!rafe would feel if the kids started bonding with their mom by things she really enjoys and not just because she's their mom? like, their son starts bringing home some sonny angels/calico critters for his mom cause he find out she used to collect them, or her and their daughter starts to have weekly movie nights where they see reader's favorite movies? idk what rafe did with her old clothes, but if she managed to save some of it, and now their daughter is in that phase where girls starts to wear their mom's old clothes and she founds them deep in the closet

idk just heart warming bonding time but not because they're mom and child, but because they genuinely like their mom as a person, out of that persona that rafe build for her

to him — she was always his wife. his girl. his little trophy in pearls and silk, in soft pastel manicured perfection. his to dress. his to spoil. his to control, in that warped, possessive way that rafe loves.

but their kids? they’re older now. and rafe’s walking past the living room after a long day and — wait. are his sons sitting criss-cross on the floor, helping their mother unbox her old calico critters like it’s the most normal thing in the world?

he pauses at the doorway, arms folded, watching her light up as she tells them the dramatic backstory of one tiny plastic animal family — and they’re actually listening. engaged. laughing at her jokes.

then later, their daughter — teenage, getting older, moodier — coming down the stairs in her old cardigan. the one he forgot existed. the one he probably tried to quietly retire years ago when he started curating her wardrobe more.

"where’d you find that, baby?"

"mom’s old stuff." casual. "she used to be kinda cool, huh?"

and that — that’s when it really hits rafe.

because this isn’t them loving their mother because he made her lovable — soft, pretty, untouchable. this is them loving her — the version of her that existed before him. the version that still somehow exists despite him.

and god does that do something ugly and tender to him.

maybe he gets real quiet after moments like that. thoughtful. watches her more carefully when she laughs with them, hair messy, feet tucked up, not being perfect but being loved anyway.

because he never planned for that. he planned for a wife.

not for a woman their kids would look at one day and think, god, mom’s actually kinda the coolest person we know.

and maybe — maybe for the first time in his life — rafe feels something like jealousy over it. not angry-jealous. just... aching.

because they get to love her without all the strings he tied to her. and for the first time in a long, long time — he wishes he knew how to do that too.

[viktorarcanedeservesbetter]

some jayvik headcanons to pass the time and ignore the pain

There is a Viktor fan club at the academy. He is unaware. They discuss his projects, his accent, his looks. Meetings are the last Thursday of every month.

Jayce accidentally stumbled into one of the meetings. They barely played off they were talking about his partner. (He still can't find any info on the "book" they were talking about, thinking Caitlyn would be interested.) (He forgets that Victorian-looking men with accents aren't on her radar.)

Jayce also has a fan club. He is aware of it. (They have invited him to meetings). They talk about his projects, his hair, his face, his line of mugs. Their banner is one of his shirts. (He is unaware of this part.)

Viktor is also aware of the club. (He gave them the shirt.)

Jayce and Viktor both hate the cold (Jayce for the snowstorm, Viktor for his leg) so whenever it was winter they were bundled up like the kid from A Christmas Story.

Viktor mixes up metaphors. He constantly uses malaphors (unintentionally) and Jayce doesn't have it in his heart to correct him. "All the ducks are aligning" is his favorite by far.

Jayce tried learning Viktor's native language to surprise him one day. (I imagine it as a mix of Czech and Polish). He ended up saying a mix of a whole bunch of nonsense, so confidently) which made Viktor laugh himself into a coughing fit.

more under cut cause this is getting long

(Viktor couldn't look at Jayce for two days after without laughing.)

Viktor has a sweet tooth, Jayce has a savory one.

Their third year as lab partners, a section of the library caught on fire. The culprit was never found. (It was them, and they both blame the other.) (It was Viktor)

Jayce enjoys suspenseful novels. Viktor, when he can be persuaded, enjoys historical fiction.

Their mortal enemy is the student who's lab is across from theirs. Viktor hates him because he's egotistical with no real skill. Jayce hates him because he always complains they're making too much noise. Their mortal enemy is unaware he is their mortal enemy.

They have a "days without incident" chart in their lab. Incidents no longer include cuts, scrapes, bruises, small explosions, broken prototypes, because if they did it would always be at 0.

Their fifth year, the auditorium stage caught on fire. A group of first years were blamed. (It was Jayce, though Viktor thought it wasn't a big deal.)

Jayce is organized, Viktor is not. Jayce puts things in organized shelves, Viktor puts things where he knows he'll need them next. This is a point of tension for the longest time, until Mel stepped in and told them to either compromise or get two of everything.

They got two of everything.

Jayce designed Viktor's cane (after the first one broke) and his leg brace.

Viktor can play the harp. Jayce can play the piano.

Everyone believes Viktor is the one keeping Jayce under control in experiments. (as referenced in this post) No one knows besides Heimerdinger that Viktor learned lab safety in a drug den. The counsel refers to Viktor as the "sane, calm one" but only Mel and Cassandra know the truth. Both think it's funnier to not deny it.

Viktor stays at Jayce's place most often. Jayce secretly moved most of Viktor's things to his place, until officially asking him to move in.

Jayce also helped design a new back brace for Viktor. It was more comfortable, made of thick cloth, and relieved so much back pain he started crying when he tried it on. This is what got them together, because Viktor kissed him in thanks, and Jayce was like "finally!!" and started kissing him back.

Money was exchanged after the Academy/Counsel found out they became official. Shoola, Mel and Cassandra got a big payout. Heimerdinger had no idea about the bet, mostly because he thought they were already together.

This led to the fanclub war. Jayce fans vs Viktor fans, until a hero came around (Sky) and was like, why not both? (And thus, the Jayvik fan-club was born)

[luulapants]

Adding into the discussion of the incarcerated young people fighting fires in California:

I can think of no place worse than prison for emotionally stunting or regressing a person or for dismantling their ability to make good decisions.

You take an adult or child who maybe has exhibited some antisocial behaviors, right? So you remove them from whatever community and support network they have, put enormous financial and logistical barriers between them and any communication with that community. Incarcerate them hours from home in a place not accessible by train or plane with narrow visiting hours that conflict with people's work schedules, and maybe you're fighting to prevent in person visits at all, maybe you got a kickback from a company selling expensive video call visits so people can't even hug their kids when they drive 6 hours on a Wednesday to see them. Get a kickback from a phone service provider that's going to charge extortionate prices for every minute a person spends talking to their loved ones, and if the state passes a law saying you can't do that anymore, pivot and go after the mail. Subvert USPS. Get a kickback from a company that'll give prisoners shitty scans of letters or refuse to deliver it because it was flagged for drug contamination by a machine with a 70% false positive rate, force them instead to send texts at extortionate rates through their proprietary app.

Put them in an environment with a bunch of other people with social issues and force them to compete for resources. Give them no mental healthcare. If they are victimized by other prisoners, punish the victims with solitary confinement. Transfer people around so they can't form meaningful long-term friendships. Tell them that once they get out, it will be illegal for them to talk to any of the people they meet here.

Hire guards who have no qualifications other than a willingness to be a modern day slave overseer or the ignorance to not realize that's what it is, give them complete control over every aspect of other people's lives and tell them those people want to kill them and that any object can be covered in drugs so dangerous that touching them can kill. Allow the guards to traffic drugs into the prison with impunity. Have the guards discourage racial mixing because racial conflict in the prison means the prisoners won't join up against the staff.

You do all of this and you ask if a 20-year-old, who's been in the system since 14, is emotionally mature or psychologically healthy enough to choose to risk their life in exchange for slightly better living arrangements.

You take someone who has probably made some bad decisions, right? And you put them in a place where every detail of every day is decided for them: what they eat, when they eat, when they sleep, where they sleep, what clothes they wear, who they talk to, where they work. Or maybe you give them big decisions that have no right answer. Maybe at the start of the day, you open the cells and they have 10 minutes to decide if they want to be stuck in their cell all day - no shower, no recreation, no library - or go outside and be stuck in genpop all day - no napping, no alone time, no escape if someone is hassling you. You let them decide if they're going to eat breakfast at 3am (because there's too many meal shifts) or sleep in and spend their precious commissary funds on toaster strudel (they have no toaster) or sleep in and not eat even though you're barely giving them 1000 calories a day. You let them start to make decisions about how to spend their day, then you put them on lockdown, take all those decisions away.

You do all this and then you ask if anyone who's spent time in this environment has the decision-making skills to choose to risk their life in exchange for slightly better living arrangements.

All of the incarcerated firefighters in California are 18 or older, and all of them volunteered, but there is no world in which they were adequately prepared to make that decision.

[rin-may-1103]

College Rivalry with the Genius Toddler in the First Row.

My take on this prompt Requested by @purplereaderfans

Danny looked up from his paper, a bright green crayon clutched in his small hand. Jazz patted his head with a quick smile, pushing her chair in so she could start making her way to the teacher, something about the wrong definition if Danny had heard what she'd been muttering correctly.

grumbling, Danny shook his head in an attempt to fix his hair. he hated how everyone was treating him like a child, he was sixteen, almost seventeen for Ancient's sake!

sure, he looked like he was three, but was this really necessary? head pats, baby talk, dumbed-down explanations; it's like they don't notice that he's still mentally a teenager. Like, seriously?

Mom and Dad had been the ones who created the damn device, they should know how to fix this, but did they? no, because; "Aww, Jack, look at him! Isn't our baby boy just the cutest!" and "Why yes, dear, we should get more pictures! It's not like every day a parent gets to witness their kid's toddler years again!"

danny hated it, even Vlad was treating him like a baby! Danny never wanted to hear the man try and speak to him like that again. it might actually be his new nightmare fuel, you know if he wasn't still using what happened with Dan and Pariah to fuel his consistent nightmares, that is.

Danny was ready to start blasting people's knees the next time someone so much as even hinted at dressing him up again. thankfully, for everyone's safety, Jazz noticed he was still mentally normal. She volunteered to take care of him while their parents worked on a way to reverse what their new ghost machine caused. (though he doubted it would be anytime soon, considering the GIW was acting up again.)

which, by the way, apparently wasn't supposed to have de-aged him, but in fact, just you know, 'barrow' his naturally made ectoplasm and knock him out for a few minutes. Ancients, his parents were insane.

he should have known they were going to do something stupid, but no; he had started slacking after revealing his phantom form and getting accepted by them. Because, again, why would he need to keep an eye on them and what they make when they promised to never try and hurt him and his normal rogues again?

they're adults, they should know how to handle themselves. but no.

oh, ho ho, was that such a big oversight on his part. they were Fenton's, of course, he should have kept an eye on them.

no longer making ecto weapons, his parents wanted to learn how to help peacefully capture raging ghosts and how to help heal the injured ones (mostly how to help Danny when he gets hurt). Noble, right?

right?

Wrong. somehow, they managed to create a de-aging device when they were trying to come up with a way to knock out an angry ghost without hurting them. How? Just how?? and what do they do without even testing to see if it would even work? use it on him. because, oh, danny's half ghost, and it's only supposed to make him tired right now, not knock him out. it should be fine.

and now he's a toddler.

a three-year-old toddler.

"psst!" someone hissed, dragging danny's attention away from his crumbled crayon. blinking, Danny dropped the crayon on the table and grumbled. this was the seventh crayon this morning, he really needed to get his strength under control before someone noticed.

"psst, hey kid!" they hissed again, making Danny sigh. turning his head, Danny glared at the weird dude who kept trying to talk to him. The dude usually talked to him like he was an adult, which Danny appreciated, if it wasn't for the fact the dude was hellbent on figuring out danny's secrets.

all because Danny scored more than him on a dumb test.

"What?" Danny grumbled, wiping the crayon crumbs off his hands and onto his pants. the dude, Danny thinks his name is Tam or something, frowned at Danny, watching him wipe the last of the obliterated crayon away.

"aliens," he hisses, leaning forward so he could stare more intently into Danny's eyes. "that has to be it, you and your sister are aliens. probably from some planet that's more advanced than ours."

danny blinked, studied the dude for a second, and blinked again.

"no," turning back, Danny grabbed another crayon and started filling out the worksheet in front of him, making sure to use as little of his super strength as possible.

the dude groaned and slammed his head onto his desk, the sound echoing out and around the silent room like a gunshot. Jazz snorted, pulling out her chair and sitting down. "that one has got to be one of the worst theories yet," she chuckled, turning her body to face the dude.

"you seriously can't believe my brother and I are aliens just because we got higher test scores, Tim." Jazz explained, casually leaning sideways in her seat so she could see him.

the dude, Tim, just groaned, slamming his head back into the desk, his voice muffled, "I wouldn't have a problem with it if it was just you," Tim lifted his head, glaring at him as Danny continued to carefully fill out his worksheet. "I can accept the fact that I'm not the smartest person in the room, I don't like it, but I can do it. I even respect it, having this much knowledge takes a lot of work and dedication, but him?"

"He's three, Jazz. he should be just starting to figure out the names of colors, and noticing differences between things. not astrophysics-level math questions from an April Fools gag test that our Psychology teacher jokingly gave us." Tim's eyes somehow got even narrower as he continued his rant. Danny valiantly tried to keep himself from laughing; Jazz said it was rude to laugh at people, especially if they weren't mentally all there, so he couldn't laugh.

but by the ancients was Tim making it hard.

with a fianl dash, danny smiled triumphantly. Setting the crayon down, he gave the paper a quick once over before deciding he was finally done filling it out.

now, for the moment he was waiting for; turning in his seat, Danny excitedly held up his paper, "Look jazz! I did it!" he had finally managed to complete the paper without ripping the page! and he'd only broken seven crayons! it was progress! there was hope! but Tim didn't need to know that, no, he needed to think Danny was excited about completing the paper.

Jazz, who was just as much of a gremlin as Danny, smiled as she patted his head, "Good job Danny! I'm so proud of you! why don't you go turn it in, I'm sure Mr. Kronmatil would love to see it."

smiling, Danny turned, climbed out of his seat, and started to make his way over to the teacher.

Tim grumbled in annoyance, his crazed theories and curses filling Danny's ears like the sweet sweet sound of music. if there was one good thing that came out of this whole fiasco, it was that Danny was able to work on his studies and cause as much chaos as possible while doing so.

being treated like a baby was all worth it when Danny turned and spotted the same confused and crazed look Tim had been giving him all week. yes, being de-aged wasn't fun, and he didn't appreciate being partially interrogated every time he entered the same room as Tim, but man it was so worth it when he knew he was driving one of the Gotham bat's nuts.

all because he scored higher than him on a test.

He couldn't wait to see Tim's face once the scores were announced tomorrow. He was so going to tell Lady Gotham all about it later.

[lianella-artist]

Dad!Ren and his daughter Shayla (My OC fankid!!!)

FINALLY, after some hard work i represent to you.. My OC Shayla! Shayla is based on the official cutiesigh artwork with AU Dad!Ren. This post will have all the basic info about her so far + some headcanons about Ren's family life and his relationship with Shayla. So it's going to be a kinda? long post! I've put a lot of work and love into these arts. Enjoy :3

Redacted holding Shayla!! and their very different reactions

They're just having a bit of a nap on the sofa after Shayla painted Ren's face... and Shayla is drooling on dad's soft chest😭 (kind of inspired?? by this post!)

Her reference:

BASIC INFO

Clarification: in my AU, where there is Shayla, Redacted doesn't pretend to be Ren, but acts naturally! But I use both names in the text

Shayla is a kind, naive, sincere, energetic and cheerful girl who is always looking for adventure. But often, due to her age, her trusting nature and her curiosity, she doesn't always understand the risks and ends up in various messes. The girl is very friendly to everyone she meets! She believes that the world is a kind and beautiful place! Some kids think that Shayla is strange and weird (at least because of her "weird" family), which is why she gets mocked, but she doesn't read social cues (she's kinda autistic coded).

Likes: creative activities (drawing, needlework, sewing (not very wearable yet), making different outfits, daddy's jewelry, laughing, getting up early, climbing trees.

Dislikes: being controlled and restricted, rudeness, social games (she doesn't understand them).

She is the only and most wanted child for Ren and Angel, they had her when they were 30-35 years old. They love her very much!! Thanks to Ren, the family is very wealthy! Redacted spoils her a lot, fulfills all her wishes (well, as much as possible, since it's all after Angel, of course). In Shayla's family, both parents work, but Ren does it from home like he used to. So while Angel is at work, Redacted spends most of his time with their daughter. He picks her up from school, takes her to classes, goes for walks with her + does the housework, cooks, etc (basically he's a stay-at-home dad, because I don't think he needs to spend half a day on hacking; a couple of three hours is enough). With the birth of Shayla, Ren has begun to keep an eye not only on Angel, but also on their daughter, though not as closely. Thanks to this, he manages to get the girl out of trouble in time, but he often arrives at the very last moment.

Shayla is very attached to her father, she thinks he is the coolest dad in the world!!! She loves spending time with him, as well as his dark style and tattoos! She is a daddy's girl :))

While Angel is undoubtedly still Ren's top priority, Redacted genuinely loves his daughter both as an affirmation/continuation of their love with Angel AND for who she is. Her cheerful nature often lifts his spirits. Now, he has another person in his life who helps him see the world through a different, less apathetic and indifferent lens. Ren sees how naive and kind his daughter is and protects her to keep that light in her. And when Shayla comes up with questionable ideas… He supports her! He even suggests something himself😭 BUT even he has limits. He will not do anything that might harm her.

(pretty much everything canon about how Sai describes Dad!Ren)

RANDOM FACTS AND HEADCANONS:

I named her after that meme OOHH MY SHAYLAAA😭 (I didn't have a name for her at first, so I just called her that in my mind for a while. It was actually quite funny to me… but eventually it started to grow on me, ngl, so I kept it)

You know those stories where a kid goes into their mom's makeup bag, purse, or closet and tries on something? In this case, mom is Ren💀 Shayla loves to find all kinds of alt stuff from Redacted, ask what it is, and then try it on herself! Redacted gave her some - a spiked bracelet and a silver chain!

Ren agrees to paint Shayla's nails. She wears all the colors of the rainbow, but she likes to keep all her nails black on one hand, though!

Thanks to the creative atmosphere in the family and Redacted's alternative style, Shayla will be a goth in the future! She's also going to become an alt-clothing designer.

She is wearing three of the five gold hairpins that Ren used to wear! When Redacted and Angel got married, he started wearing only two hairpins - a symbol of their relationship. Years later, when Shayla was born and grew up, the rest of the hairpins were inherited to her, and she wears them with great pride, just like the rest of her dad's jewelry.

Shayla also has her dad's features. She has pale, dry skin and black hair. However, her eyes are a unique combination of Ren's color (blue) + my Angel's (red) = creating a beautiful purple color for her.(I know that's not how gynetics works lmaoo I just think it's cute!!!)

aaaand also, @yzumimenu drew some amazing fanart of Shayla, LOOK AT HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND TY SO MUCH AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[artyphex]

Listen

I do understand the fear of pregnancy and getting pregnant from the prospective of those who do not want kids and are in relationships/having sex with people who could impregnate them in this political climate. I understand the terror of losing your body autonomy and having options that should be your right ripped away from you by people who have nothing to do with you, your life, and your choices. I do not want anyone to ever think I'm telling them they're wrong for feeling that. That is the most rational thing in the world

What I mean when I say "Fear-mongering about pregnancy and birth is wrong" is the people who paint it exclusively as something disgusting. Grotesque. "Body horror." And not a natural process that yes, has risks, some of those risks being very serious, but there are FACTORS that add in to them. And the only way people can find out about those factors is through neutral education that NEEDS to become more wildly available

Because the fact is people, myself included, want to have kids and want to experience being pregnant. If you can't comprehend that, that is a you problem. It is not your civic duty to scare them into no longer wanting it because it is empowering TO YOU.

When I say I want kids and want to experience being pregnant one day and people say "Clearly you've never been pregnant" "Look up the girl with the list" "Did you know your teeth will fall out" "Read regretful parent subreddits first" congrats. You are absolutely no better than the people telling you "You'll want kids when you're older"

My life is not your business. You do not have the right to take one of my biggest dreams from me because it disgusts you. You still do not control my body

When all you do is talk about the horrific things that can go wrong during a birth rather than talk about the realities of it, what's normal and what isn't, etc. That's how you get people who GENUINELY BELIEVE a c-section is safer than vaginal birth in ALL SITUATIONS. When in realities a c-section is usually MUCH more dangerous because it is MAJOR SURGERY that comes with the risks of all other MAJOR SURGERIES. Obviously, in certain situations it is safer, but in others its not. This is what I mean by "neutral education of the risks." People should KNOW EXACTLY what they are putting their bodies through, and you sitting there talking about all the blood and guts isn't the education you think it is.

Treating pregnancy and birth and something disgusting is just misogyny. Treating people, especially women, who want kids as stupid or ignorant is just misogyny. Wrapping your misogyny in leftist "child free by choice" ideology does not make it less misogynistic. Encouraging people to live in constant fear of their own bodies is not the feminist move some of you genuinely seem to believe it is.

And when you've done all this to a point there is a culture where it is totally acceptable to say "Pregnancy is as scary as rabies and if you disagree you don't respect me" is actually insane

[tojigasm]

I NEED TO PLAY FIGHT WITH LOGAN BADDDD!!!!

It always starts with some smart ass comment you make – something about his hair, or some sexual innuendo regarding his claws, and if you're really daring to test him, you make a comment regarding his age.

You can't help it that he's fun to rile up, almost like a kid on a sugar high. It's all too entertaining by the time you've gotten him past the point of annoyance.

He's sat beside you on the living room couch of the mansion, legs kicked up onto the ottoman, hair tufts somewhat losing their shape from the day, and a beer in one hand.

You're surprised he's made it a point to ignore you for the most part. Only giving you hums in acknowledgment to your jibes and continuing to take small sips of his beer.

That should've been your first warning that you weren't the one in control of the situation.

But, being the obnoxious person you were, paired with your determination to get some form of a reaction of out of him, you continued on.

"Y're a brat." Logan peers at you from the side, clicking his tongue against his cheek.

You mistakenly take the comment as fuel to your tease, loftly you raise turn your head to him, "So old you can't even think of a response can you–"

A soft object hits the side of your face full force, causing your head to whip to the side, mouth agape.

You immediately bring a hand up to nurse the place you'd been hit, and in the same breath, you turn to see Logan holding back a laugh, a mishapen pillow in hand.

Neither of you speak. Only exchanging an understanding look before you're tackling him on the couch in an attempt to keep him down.

The game is always the same – never a fight of who can hurt the other into submission but rather one of exhausting the other until they're forced to give up.

Logan gives you the upper hand as he had during your torment, only leading you to think you might win only for him to push you flat on your back to the couch with one of his hands holding the both of your wrists above your head before you could blink.

"What the hell, Logan!" You squeal, forcing your legs against his chest as you try to push yourself out from under the weight of him.

"What?" His voice drips with taunt, one of his thick brows arching, clearly amused at your futile struggle."You're really gonna let yourself get beat by an old man?"

You manage to wiggle one of your hands free and jab it against his side.

Logan snorts from above you, letting your other wrist go for a second as he readjusts himself atop you.

Slipping out from under him, you try to escape before you're being pulled into Logan's lap, his arms wrapped around your middle.

You struggle to free yourself from his grasp, and in the midst, you can hear him laugh from behind you, his chest vibrating against your back.

Though you know he'll harass you for his easy win until the day you die, you wave your metaphorical white flag as you relax into his hold, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder.

Logan dips his chin to look down at your pout, mimicking the faux expression.

"You wanna apologize yet?" His frown could be heard through his voice.

For some reason, that inspires you to provoke him again. You're not sure if it's the way he worded it; the words coming off his tongue as though he'd expected you to give up just that easily.

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head.

"Nuh-uh," Logan parrots you with a smile, exaggerating your expression and mimicking it back to you.

You go to tickle him again and am instantly met by both of your wrists being grabbed by both his hands.

You don't get very far the rest of the night, unfortunately.

[22ayla21]

Fathers and Their Children Part II

The Twisted Wonderland boys as fathers.

Third year Second year First year

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle, being a proponent of order, tries to raise his children with discipline, but after the events of his youth, he realizes that excessive strictness can be harmful. He demands respect, but doesn't turn his home into a barracks. He has certain rules (like "Don't play with food at the table" and "Do your homework before sunset"), but he's no longer the boy who blindly followed his mother's rigid norms.

Although he doesn't always express his feelings in words, his children know he loves them. He's willing to sit by a sick child's bedside at night, gently tucking in their blanket as they fall asleep, and brew their favorite tea if they've had a tough day.

He's proud of his son, especially when he shows intelligence and diligence in his studies. However, he's very soft towards his daughter—she's the only one who can persuade him to break a rule or simply give in to her cute eyes. If she asks for a little more time before bed or an extra cookie, he initially shakes his head sternly, but a few minutes later, he gives in.

When his mother comes to visit, the atmosphere in the house immediately becomes tense. She thinks Riddle is too lenient with the children and tries to impose her "order." For example, she might criticize her son for his too "weak" control over the family, demanding that the children sit with perfectly straight backs and eat only "proper" food.

• The children try to escape her in any way possible. If she comes, they suddenly become "very busy" in their rooms or find urgent errands outside.

• The son sometimes openly protests, saying, "Dad, you're not going to make me sit and listen to her for hours, are you?!"

• The daughter initially tries to be polite but then just hides behind her mom.

Despite his strictness, he tries to instill in his children truly important principles: respect, responsibility, and a thirst for knowledge. He's proud that his son and daughter aren't afraid to voice their opinions, even if they contradict his views.

Sometimes, when no one is watching, he allows himself to be just a dad, not a strict head of the family. He might play chess with the children or even magic games, although he later pretends it was purely "for educational purposes."

If the children misbehave, he doesn't yell or make a scene. Instead, he gives them logical punishments: for example, skipping dinner (but with tea, because he's not cruel) or writing an essay on why it's important to respect rules. But if someone hurts each other or anyone else—then he's truly strict.

Riddle isn't perfect, but he tries to be the best father he can be. His children help him understand that sometimes it's okay to just be happy, even if the world around them isn't perfect.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie, of course, loves his son, but raising a child is a real headache. He might grumble when the boy makes a mess or asks too many questions, but deep down, he's proud of how clever and cunning the kid is becoming.

His son is a real little rascal. He quickly figures out how to get what he wants with minimal effort: "Dad, if I help you clean up, will you give me a meat pie?" Ruggie initially laughs, but then realizes that's exactly how he taught him.

Although he's quite relaxed about parenting, he won't let his son be lazy or slack off. If the boy starts being too blatantly cunning, he'll put him in his place: "Listen, son, if you want to be smart, at least don't show it."

Ruggie believes it's important for his son to be able to take care of himself. He teaches him to cook, find easy ways to earn money, and even pull off small adventures: "If you want a tasty meal, help get it first!"

If he's spending time with his wife, his son is sure to periodically steal his mother's attention. For example, he might sit between them when they're relaxing or deliberately demand that Mom read him a story instead of Dad. Ruggie just sighs, "Well, you've got quite the character, little bandit..."

Sometimes, he's surprised to see how independent his son is becoming. It fills him with both pride and a slight melancholy, because once this little one held onto his tail, and now he's handling his own affairs.

When his son starts laughing, the sound is a mix of childish giggles and Ruggie's signature "hyena laugh." He's scared people more than once by suddenly bursting into loud laughter at an inappropriate moment. Ruggie just smirks, "Oh, why are you so scared? It's just a kid!"

Ruggie teaches him the main principle: "You can be smart, you can be strong, but it's best to be flexible." He passes on his experience, but also allows his son to make his own mistakes so he can learn from them.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul thought his daughter would be a perfect, obedient child who would share his love for intellectual games and business. However, reality turned out to be more complicated: the little girl was too curious, energetic, and inherited his cunning mind, but was much more free-spirited than he expected.

Azul often tries to act like a strict but fair father, but his daughter has a special talent for disarming him with her spontaneity. If she tugs on his sleeve with a sincere "Daddy, play with me," he, of course, initially feigns displeasure, but eventually gives in, especially if Floyd is nearby and already hinting that "daddy's a wimp."

The daughter inherited his traits: on land, she looks like a regular human, but when she gets wet, she turns into an octopus. This was a surprise for Azul, but he quickly adapted. However, he's very worried about how she'll perceive her dual nature. He remembers suffering from insecurity himself, so he does everything to make his daughter not feel inferior and be proud of who she is.

The first time the little girl realized she wasn't like the other kids on land, she was scared. Azul gently explained to her that it was her strength, not her weakness. Inspired by his own experience, he showed her how to use her extra limbs in the water—for example, to play with multiple toys at once or scare Uncle Floyd.

Azul tends to be overprotective of his daughter, especially when it comes to water. He fears she might be rejected like he was as a child. He even considered limiting her contact with water, but eventually realized it wasn't the solution. Instead, he teaches her to be proud but discreet—"use your power, but don't show it off to everyone."

He started teaching his daughter business skills early. At five, she could already negotiate for extra sweets, and at seven, she could give him such a convincing look that he'd sign a "contract" for an extra hour of playtime before bed. Jade, watching this, once remarked, "Looks like another cunning one is growing up."

Floyd is the uncle who's always fun (and a bit dangerous). He was the first to teach the girl to joke and be a little mischievous. Jade, in turn, taught her patience and manipulation—Azul doesn't like it, but he understands that his daughter's skills can be useful.

Every time the little girl says this, Azul has a bad feeling. It usually means she's found some loophole in the rules, just like he did as a child.

Azul wants his daughter to grow up confident and not repeat his mistakes. He does everything to make her accept her nature and be strong. However, he fears that one day she'll face the same cruelty he did as a child. Therefore, he always reminds her:

"You're special not because you have octopus tentacles or human legs. You're special because you're you."

Jade Leech

From early childhood, Jade teaches his daughter not only etiquette and manners but also the art of subtle manipulation. He tells her how to choose her words, when to smile, and when to remain silent. At the same time, he never forces her to follow his methods—he simply explains how to manage a situation more conveniently, should the need arise.

He's not a strict father, but if someone dares to offend his daughter, he'll act as he always does—calmly, subtly, but inevitably. The offender might not even realize they're being hunted until their life gradually turns into chaos.

From a young age, Jade takes his daughter on hikes through forests and mountains, telling her about rare plants and creatures. He loves to watch her discover the world with delight. However, if someone tries to instill fear of nature in her, he'll only smirk and say, "It's not predatory beasts you should fear, but those who hide behind kind smiles."

Jade always admires his daughter's uniqueness, her ability to change form in water. He doesn't consider it a flaw; on the contrary, he's proud of it and teaches her to be the same. He might ask with a light mockery, "Have you decided where you prefer to live—on land or in water?" However, he never pressures her choice.

When she first transforms into a moray eel, Jade looks at her with a sparkle in his eyes, slowly claps his hands, and says with a gentle smile, "Ah, how lovely. You're simply charming. Want to learn how to hunt underwater?" Then he teaches her to swim, feel the currents, and use her predator instincts.

He explains to his daughter that humans and sea creatures live by different rules. In water, you can follow instincts, but on land, words and subtle maneuvers are important. "It's all about balance, my dear. Isn't it interesting to know when to smile and when to show your teeth?"

His brother, of course, is very fond of his niece and often takes her on chaotic adventures. Jade doesn't forbid it but comments with a light smile, "Just don't let Floyd drag you into some adventure that'll be hard to get out of."

When his daughter first tries to pull off some cunning game or manipulation, Jade, of course, notices. However, instead of scolding her, he nods approvingly and says, "Not bad. But try to make it a bit more subtle next time."

Floyd Leech

Floyd laughed when he found out he was having twins. "Haha, what a coincidence! Or maybe it's fate?~" he joked. But when the children were born, he wasn't laughing anymore—he was completely thrilled. Two little creatures, just like him and Jade once were... only now they were his own children.

Floyd eagerly awaited the children's first contact with water. He knew they had inherited not only his appearance but also his nature. And when it finally happened—their skin covered in patterns, and their legs replaced by flexible moray eel tails—he couldn't help but laugh with joy: "Waaah, there you go! Now you're real little moray eels!~" He proudly swims with them, teaches them to dive and move in water like predators, telling them it's their family's "natural state."

Like Floyd, the children have a capricious nature. One moment they're laughing and hugging, and the next, they're sulking and refusing to talk to anyone. And they both quickly lose interest in things...

Floyd just shrugs:

"Well, that's normal! They're mine!~"

However, even if Jade admits that the children are too headstrong, Floyd only replies:

"Come on, let them enjoy life!~"

As with everyone else, Floyd doesn't use ordinary names for them. For example, he might call them "Little Eel" and "Gill Bubble." If the children try to protest, he just laughs and says they should be grateful they weren't named something like "Tiny Octopus."

Despite his playful and capricious nature, Floyd is a caring father. If the children are unwell, he instantly switches and becomes attentive. If someone offends them—no matter who, child or adult—he'll deal with that person.

"Huh? He upset you? Well, I'll have a word with him...~" he says, his smile turning frighteningly dark.

Although he loves his children, he sometimes acts like he's not their father but an older brother. He might support their pranks, take them fishing, come up with new tricks. If his wife looks at him disapprovingly, he just puts on an innocent face and says, "Well, they need to have fun!~"

When the children are sad or scared, Floyd doesn't comfort them with words—he just grabs them and squeezes them in a tight hug (of course, he controls the strength of the hug). His warmth and closeness quickly restore their good mood.

"Hey, don't mope, my little eel!~"

Kalim Ali-Asim

Kalim is the parent who's always ready to play, come up with adventures, and throw noisy parties for his children. He happily organizes home picnics, jumps on pillows with the kids, pretending to be dangerous sandstorms, and even lets them ride on his back like a camel.

His children never lack anything. Kalim strives to surround them with care and attention, buying them the best toys, sweets, and gifts, just to see them happy. However, sometimes his generosity goes too far, and Jamil (who's still in his life) has to remind him that parenting isn't just spoiling.

Kalim is proud of his sons, even if they're completely different. One might be cheerful and easygoing, while the other is more serious and responsible, but he praises them both equally. He sincerely rejoices in their successes, and even if one of them fails, he supports them with phrases like, "Don't worry, you'll definitely manage! Just try again!"

Kalim simply adores his youngest daughter and always carries her in his arms. She can ask for anything—and he'll fulfill her wish immediately. Sometimes her older brothers even get jealous, but Kalim sincerely loves them all equally. The daughter quickly realizes that Dad is soft and learns to use it to her advantage.

He doesn't like to scold children and, if they do something wrong, he's more likely to explain the situation gently than to punish them strictly. Perhaps because of this, his children sometimes get out of control, but at such moments someone (like their mom or Jamil) has to intervene to restore discipline.

Before bedtime, he tells the children stories about distant lands and magical creatures, sometimes adding elements from his own adventures. He also sings them lullabies, but gets so carried away that the song turns into a real concert with dancing.

If someone offends his child, Kalim is the first to rush to their defense, even if he doesn't fully understand what's happening. He might innocently approach the offender and say, "Hey, let's just be friends, okay?"—but if that doesn't work, he'll do everything to ensure his child doesn't suffer again.

Despite his naivety and clumsiness, Kalim is the kind of father who teaches children to see the good in the world, not to be afraid to dream, and to always remain kind. He wants his children to grow up happy and free, not intimidated or limited by strict rules.

Jamil Viper

Jamil treats his daughter as the most precious treasure in his life. He is ready to turn into dust anyone who dares to offend her, but at the same time he tries not to suppress her freedom. However, if someone even thinks of upsetting her - this person will instantly disappear from his social circle.

He is not the kind of father who will yell or punish with words. He does not even need to do this - one cold look is enough for the child to understand that he has gone too far. However, he is never really angry with his daughter, even if she has done something wrong. He sighs, explains the mistakes and helps to correct them, but inside he is already planning how to prevent chaos next time.

Jamil teaches her everything he knows from an early age. He teaches her discipline, strategy, dancing and even cooking, but he never pressures - if she does not like something, he simply suggests trying something else. However, one thing is a must - self-defense. No one should threaten his daughter, so he makes sure that she can stand up for herself.

Jamil is a master at cooking, and of course his daughter gets the most delicious and exquisite dishes. Even if she accidentally spills spices or spills something on the table, he doesn’t get angry - he just quietly cleans up the mess and continues to teach her how to mix flavors correctly.

If his daughter comes to him with an offended face and says: “Abi, he offended me!”, Jamil will not start a showdown, but this person will disappear from her circle. Before she even has time to understand what happened, the problem is already solved.

Despite all his seriousness, Jamil cannot refuse his daughter. She is the only person in front of whom he loses his restraint. If she asks for five more minutes before bed? Good. If she wants him to read her fairy tales until she falls asleep? Of course. If she wants to sit on his shoulders while he works? Why not.

Jamil never says it out loud, but he is more proud of his daughter than anyone else in the world. Even if she just says something smart or takes a step forward in her studies, he smiles to himself, knowing that she will definitely achieve everything she wants. He will not answer right away. Maybe he will say something neutral to avoid unnecessary conversations. But when he is alone, he always knows the answer. His beloved daughter.

Silver Vanrouge

Despite his tendency to fall asleep at unexpected moments, Silver sincerely tries to be a good father. He listens to his daughter with amazing patience, even if he himself is already on the verge of sleep. Even if he falls asleep next to his daughter, the slightest strange sound or her restlessness instantly wakes him up, and he is immediately on guard.

Even when she was a baby, he often rocked her in his arms. Even as she grows older, he continues to do this, although not as often. He often takes on the task of lulling the baby to sleep, but, as a rule, falls asleep faster himself. Sometimes the daughter just lies next to her and watches her dad already sweetly dozing, and her mother laughs at it.

Silver rarely raises his voice and always prefers to explain everything softly, but if his daughter is in danger, his calmness will instantly be replaced by cold-blooded determination.

He wants his daughter to be safe, so from childhood he teaches her the basics of fencing and defense. Of course, in a soft form - with a toy sword or a wooden stick.

Lilia simply adores her granddaughter, and she reciprocates his feelings. They arrange fun games for her together, and then Silver only sighs tiredly, watching how his father has again taught the baby some “useful” prank.

If his daughter creates a little chaos in the house, he does not scold, but simply carefully analyzes the consequences and, if necessary, gently explains why it is not worth doing.

He is sure that his daughter has inherited her mother's beauty and character, but Lilia always corrects him with a smirk: "She is so much like you!" Despite all his gentleness, if someone offends his daughter, Silver becomes incredibly serious. That same warrior's look flashes in his eyes, and no one doubts that he will do anything to protect her.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Picture of a Cat.

Spencer Reid x Forensic!reader

main masterlist

Summary: After months of emailing back and forth, you finally meet the person you've been chatting with every day. Then you realize that Spencer is not just a girl's name.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. with spencer of the early seasons very much in love in mind. the reader has a cat and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and maybe lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This is pretty chaotic and not particularly serious😭 It might be best not to try to make sense of it. They're just two idiots in love, really.

To say that Spencer was dying of nervousness was not enough to describe his true feelings.

From the moment he woke up this morning without any mail from you in his inbox, he began to feel that his day was going wrong and that it was becoming an endless nightmare. He had lost count of all the times he had checked his mail at work, hoping to see even a one-line message from you to calm his anxiety.

As someone who had received your good morning every day without fail for the last four months that you had been talking to each other daily, he was completely taken aback and couldn't quite put his finger on why. Perhaps he had said something to offend you, or maybe you were just not feeling the spark anymore. But astonishingly, none of your numerous emails that he had taken the time to reread on the jet indicated any cause for concern.

Everything had been so positive with you recently, and he was grateful to have someone to talk to, even if it was through a computer, every time he finished a challenging case and his mind just wanted to focus on something else. He found great comfort in reading about your day and your thoughts every morning, as if it were his newspaper. Even the pictures you always sent him of your cat sleeping in cute poses, eating, or doing anything else made him smile and gave him the idea of adopting a pet, even when he had never thought about the possibility of it before. You always helped him realize some desires he hadn't previously considered.

But suddenly he didn't have any of it. Nothing at all.

Reid's gaze fell once upon the computer on his desk, and his face was illuminated by its light as he reopened his email page for what might have been the thousandth time that day. His fingers tapped over and over on his knee in an attempt to calm his nerves as the page loaded at a slow pace. He took the opportunity to look at the time on the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. It was ten o'clock at night, and yet, once again, there was no trace of you among his messages.

His heart stopped for a second when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he had to close the page he had opened on his computer at full speed before he could even realize who it was.

“Hey, take it easy, kid.” Derek said gently, removing his hand from his shoulder and stepping back a step. His eyes fell on the computer screen, and he was intrigued. “What were you watching?” He asked, with a playful smile.

“N-nothing.” Spencer's voice trembled beyond his control, and he quickly rose from his chair, trying to shield the computer with his body.

You had been his best-kept secret for quite some time, and he was content with that. He enjoyed the idea of maintaining a certain level of privacy in that aspect of his life, as something just between you two. It was more special and romantic that way.

“Nothing? Is that what they call those things now?” Derek inquired, his tone teasing but not unkind. The boy blushed a little, unsure why. “I must admit I'm surprised.”

Reid had to think for a few seconds to figure out what his colleague was talking about, but even before he could understand, Morgan had started speaking again.

“Anyway, turn that off.” He said, pointing to the computer and settling his bag over his shoulder, ready to go. “Someone's waiting for you in the boardroom.”

Almost automatically, Spencer frowned and watched him, waiting for him to provide more information or at least laugh if he was making a joke. However, that didn't occur. Derek didn't laugh at him or anything of that nature.

“Go, Reid. It might be best not to keep the girl waiting.” He gave his friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile before heading off on the way to the elevator.

A girl? Waiting for him? How?

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts, attempting to grasp the meaning behind Derek's words and the circumstances surrounding the supposed visitor. With a measured pace, he stepped away from his desk and proceeded down the hallway, heading for the boardroom with a contemplative demeanor.

As he opened the door and cautiously stepped inside, he was met with the most glorious sight of his life, the one he had waited so long for, the one that now quickened his pulse and seemed to bring him back to life after feeling dead all day.

You.

Standing at the table, looking intently at the various maps and data scattered around the round table in the center of the room. So deep in thought that you were not even aware of his presence. As pretty as in the pictures of you that he had seen.

He couldn't help but let out a little "oh my" at the sight of you. His heart was pounding so hard he thought he could hear it from across the room, or maybe his ears were just ringing from the blood rushing to his head. Reid stood still, looking at you, amazed. He could see how the light touched your hair and how you bit your lip as you concentrated on organizing the papers and a folder in your hand. It was real. It had to be real.

“Hi.” His voice suddenly startled you, making you realize that you were no longer alone and that the door was now open.

You look up from the documents you are examining and see him by chance. It takes you a moment to realize that he works there, and only by the FBI badge in his pants pocket.

“Hi.” You responded after giving him a very obvious visual scan.

Your voice.

It was the first time he'd heard you speak, and it was just as he'd imagined it would be.

“I’m-” You extended your hand in a cordial manner to introduce yourself, but he interrupted.

“I know who you are.” He spoke quickly, smiling at you. “I...I...you are...” Reid cursed himself for stuttering the sentence as his tongue suddenly felt too heavy in his mouth.

“Okay…I'm waiting for someone.” You said it politely, but your tone showed your anxiety.

Oh, you didn't know it was him.

Spencer let out a laugh to relieve the growing tension, but it came out sounding like a cough. He wanted to hit himself. Why was he acting like a child? He was an agent, for God's sake. His job was to talk to complete strangers every day and do entire profiles without getting nervous. He found it hard to understand how that was changing so much now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak more clearly.

“Yes, I know.” He replied, sounding a bit nervous. His voice was a little shaky, as if he was straining to get the words out.

“Do you know if this person is coming?” You were standing there with your arms crossed, trying to see if anyone else was coming after him.

At that moment, a look of confusion came over his face. It had not even crossed your mind that it might be him. And although it was to be expected and totally understandable since you had never seen a picture of him, Spencer still felt a twinge of pain and insecurity inside. Perhaps you expected him to look different, or at least not look like a kid playing federal agent.

Maybe it would have been helpful if he had sent you a picture of himself when you sent yours. That way, you might have had a better idea of what to expect. But you were very understanding of his insecurities and lack of comfort with the photos at the time. So he thought everything would be fine anyway…he was so wrong.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before speaking up. “Actually, it's me.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to hide how nervous he was, with little success.

As soon as he said it, you looked surprised, your mouth slightly open, and then you laughed.

“That's pretty funny.” You said it with a slightly uncomfortable smile. When you realized he wasn't laughing, you added, “Good joke.”

Seeing your reaction, Spencer felt the urge to shrink back and disappear, as if that action could erase the last few seconds of your memory and also erase the feeling he suddenly had of having screwed up in an unfamiliar way. He felt his chest tighten as you asked him again if the person you were waiting for was coming. Was it so hard to believe that he was the person you were talking to? The one who earned your trust and affection?

“I spent several hours on a plane, so please let me know if your colleague is coming.” You spoke again, your tone conveying a hint of disappointment and fatigue. “If I'm a nuisance and Spencer doesn't want to see me, I'd appreciate knowing that.”

Hearing you say his first name gave him an unexpected shiver. It sounded so pleasant and intimate. He took another deep breath and forced herself to speak clearly.

“Wait, he does want to see you.” He paused for a moment, realizing he sounded a bit ridiculous. “I mean, I do. I'm Spencer.”

You're momentarily taken aback, unsure if the guy in front of you is joking. His nervous expression suggests otherwise, and you even entertain the possibility that he might be crazy.

Oh my goodness, you were all alone on a practically empty floor of the FBI offices with an insane agent.

“Just let me know if she's coming or not, please.” You said, taking a few steps back to be at a safe distance from him.

His mouth was so dry he could only manage a soft, hoarse whisper. “She? Did you think I was a girl?”

“You?” You furrowed your brow, feeling more confused and uneasy.

At last, he had a suggestion and reached into his pocket to retrieve his badge, holding it out to you in a gesture that seemed to convey innocence.

“I’m Spencer Reid.” He said, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he was caught off guard by the peculiar turn of events.

You looked at the badge, confused, and slowly looked up, looking into his eyes closely for the first time. You studied his face intently, not really believing it.

“Are you Spencer? My Spencer?” You asked.

When you said “my,” he felt a flutter in his chest. His brain was trying to tell him not to get too invested in the moment, but the vulnerable part of him was moved by the way you said it, like he was all yours. There was a special air of affection there that he liked.

“Yes.” He replied, almost in a whisper. “I am.”

You had to take a moment to process the information, eyes glued to his as you tried to make sense of it. Little by little, you come to understand. This was the person you had been talking to every day for months—the person with whom you had shared your fears, stories, and dreams. Yet you hadn't even asked him for a picture or a call—anything that would have made you realize that he wasn't a woman. It seems almost unreal to you to have fallen into such a confusion.

“I sent pictures of my cat to a man?!” Was the first thing you thought, and it managed to come out of your mouth clearly, in an indignant tone. “I said you were my soulmate!”

Now you were the one who sounded insane.

He stood there for a few moments, looking at you and seeing the different emotions on your face. When he finally spoke, his voice had a hint of insecurity in it.

“Yes…but your cat is cute, and you take good pictures.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit nervous. “Did you know that the evocative power of images is widely studied? They can help us verbalize and even rescue forgotten memories and stories from our collective memory and-” He silences himself. “Sorry.”

When he fell silent, your brain couldn't do the same, and thousands of hard-to-filter words began to appear. You had a strange feeling in your chest, a mixture of familiarity with the way his ramblings sounded to you, just like the emails you loved so much, and confusion about the whole situation.

“This is so strange.” You said to yourself, pacing around the room a couple of times. “I was so stupid-”

He observed you with great interest, trying to discern the thoughts and feelings that were likely swirling in your mind. He could empathize with your confusion, as he was also uncertain about the circumstances. He couldn't blame you for feeling bewildered. You had embarked on your journey with the expectation of meeting a girl named Spencer, but instead, you encountered him. You had envisioned a lovely girl, and you found him—a simple individual, a nerd who had been told on numerous occasions that nerds lacked charm.

“No. You're not.” He said, attempting to manage his desire to bridge the gap and offer solace. “It was a misunderstanding. I should have provided you with more information.”

“How would you even start a conversation by saying you were a man?” You let out a laugh to yourself. “I would have stopped talking to you instantly.”

The sentence hit him right in the heart.

The two of you had the opportunity to communicate by mail when your boss asked you to send reports on several of the autopsies with similarities you had done to the BAU. It was then that a picture of your cat was sent in the middle of the files. Spencer was the one who received it and made an attempt at a joke after your long apology. And then another, and another, until you ended up talking for four months until now.

But if you had known from the beginning that he wasn't a woman, you wouldn't have bothered to get to know him at all.

“I...I don't know what to tell you..” He admitted, sounding a little more vulnerable. “But why did you think I was a woman?”

After a moment's thought, you said. “Your name made me think of a girl I knew in college. And you...you were so nice and sweet in your emails that I found it hard to believe that a man could be like that through a screen.”

When you shared how you perceived him through his emails, it seemed that a certain vulnerability came to light. The situation had turned the tables, and now he was the one standing there trying to process the information.

“I thought I finally had a friend. You know what my job is like...and yours is just as all-consuming.” You spoke again, having to sit for a moment in one of the chairs in the place, trying to calm down. “It would've been great to have someone who understood me as a friend.”

He felt a pang in his heart at your words and was instantly reminded of the times you'd confided in him about how isolated you felt in your lab, surrounded by dead people and computers.

“You can still do that.” He replied without thinking. “I’m still the same person as before, just different packaging.”

For you, it was much more than that. First of all, you trusted him in the beginning because you thought he was a girl; that's why he understood you so much and you had that special connection.

Hell, you'd even told him how bad your period was, and he'd understood so well. He'd given you tips and facts that you didn't know that were beyond your expectations of what the average man knew.

“I mean, I'm still someone you can talk to.” He continued, his hands moving nervously in his pockets. “Unless you...unless you don't feel that way anymore.”

When you finally spoke, your voice sounded almost whispery and gentle. He couldn’t help but lift his gaze from the floor to you, feeling how his body relaxed just a bit with the soft sound of your voice.

“No, no. I still want to talk to you…if you’re my Spencer.”

“I am, all yours.” He replied with a smile.