#nobodys probably actually reading these tags
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sonarpup · 1 year ago
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i rly just want to be a good dog, but there are all these human things i don't understand and human expectations of me.
i want to be told its ok if i fucked up - i tried, i'll get it next time
i want to know what i want that isn't just reactive to trauma
i want to feel like i'm more than a reflection of others
i want to be a person, in my own way. i want "me" to actually define something
dog is feeling bad abt itself/its ability to meet expectations/exist. it could rly use nice words pls.
it feels like i dont contribute anything except sharing stuff from elsewhere. I only create a single thing and that's writing that nobody reads. idk how to interact anymore and it feels scary and isolated and i just don't want to feel like this.
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nostalgia-tblr · 9 months ago
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"are people not into that?" i ask, after posting my weird niche shit to the internet, despite knowing it to be weird niche shit.
#jsyk sylkius or anything adjacent to it does not “Do Numbers” in any way and i observed this some time ago#i assume that's the “rival ships” element at work but who knows really#that sort of thing is like femslash in that everyone approves of it but nobody actually reads or writes it#but who would have thought sylvie beating loki with a stick would not bring in droves of readers???! shocking twist there!#& i don't consider sifki a rarepair but my rarepair standards are VERY strict like if there's >5 fics a pairing is basically mainstream#chasing popularity would annoy me though & i just don't have the mental spoons to try writing stuff i wouldn't personally read#yeah i *could* put my blorbos to work in a coffee shop but what cost to my own enjoyment levels? AT WHAT COST FANGELA???#you can't please everyone so you may as well just please yourself and if anyone else likes it you've found some fellow freaks so yay#i don't mean please yourself in a wanking sense. though feel free to do that too it probably counts as a cardio workout idk.#BUT ANYWAY#fic related#ps i am v glad there's the “warning: loki” tag because i think/hope it acts as a filter for 'he did nothing wrong in his life ever' types#who are Valid & etc obviously but i write my morally grey characters to be morally grey and the tag might help avoid conflict#though tbh i write almost every character to be morally grey in some way so i can't claim to have left my comfort zone here#(i'm not joking when i say the 1987-89 run of Dr Who shaped my entire future fannish life from a young and apparently v impressionable age)
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seth-burroughs · 1 year ago
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I will not stay silenced any longer. I really cannot relate to the badass girlboss Yomi truthers crowd. I'm sorry but constantly being so obsessed with proving your prowess and supposed superiority via [gestures at every single time he appeared in the game only to act like an insecure manchild who has to continuously reassert his authority he feels entitled to with continuos self-praise, lashing out with petty insults, violence or even pettier wackier violence] are not the acts of someone who is at all secure and confident in their abilities and themself,
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tree-of-olives · 6 months ago
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okay hi its me im here for the aforementioned criticism of
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disclaimer: i only watched the first half of this movie before leaving in irritation so there is likely more to be added to my points. or less. who knows
this isnt even going to be a criticism of the horrible animation. the movie looks like it was made on an overmodded game of the sims 4 at best. that is pre-established, one glance at this atrocity and you can tell the animation quality is a giant issue for something marketed as a movie. my biggest thing though is the names.
ohh my god. holy shit. THE NAMES.
first of all let me establish my undying love of minion from megamind. i admire that guy with all of my heart. if the original megamind movie was solely about minion i would have been just as if not far more happy with it.
now obviously the copyright joke is relating to despicable me/the minions. but here’s the thing: they didn’t stop saying minion. they just went from calling a primary character minion to calling a DIFFERENT, NON-PRESENT CHARACTER MINION. WHAT.
like. how does just having a character get sued for his name resolve the (real?? nonexistant???) copyright issue????? going from calling the character minion to having all the characters start saying “Actually We Cannot Call Him That Because of Mr. Minion’s Meat Sticks™️” DOES NOT STOP THE FACT THAT THERE IS A CHARACTER CALLED MINION.ITS JUST A DIFFERENT CHARACTER NOW.
But okay!! you know what? i can get over that, right? to anyone who does not yet know where this is going, do me a favor and come up with any name you think would better fit minion from megamind. got your answer? guess what! you automatically win!! because anything you could have said is better than
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OL. CHUM.
listen. if they were going to make minion trans i would be all for it. from minion to like, samantha? go for it! we’re all here for you. BUT TO RENAME THE GUY OL CHUM IS JUST PLAIN BULLYING?? WHO WOULD WANT TO BE CALLED THAT.GENUINELY.
that’s. it’s. i cannot deal with it im so annoyed by it it’s not even funny. blood is boiling.
moving on though!! on a less horrible note the one character who kept me on the edge of my seat (not because i was invested, but because i liked this character juust enough to keep myself from getting up and leaving for my own mental health’s sake) was the knight! who is named-
w. wait a second. is. is that.
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is that night knight? from toby fox’s undertale?
wow haha!! what a coincidence!!! because this doom syndicate guy’s name just so happens to be nighty knight!!!!!
crazy right? apparently not crazy enough to warrant a cease and desist, but crazy!!
this guy doesnt actually piss me off, he was the least insufferable out of everyone. plus im a sucker for any characters with an even vaguely celestial theme soo he wins.
also i dont really remember but im pretty sure he had some other issue with his name?? but thats not relevant to my point here so im not looking into it. this has gone on long enough.
my last note on this is that he is actually just dark laser from the fairly odd parents which also should have warranted a cease and desist
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anyway!! rant over. the moral of the story is i hate whoever decided it was funny to rename minion to old chum because IT WAS NOT.FUNNY
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izzy-b-hands · 3 days ago
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I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs
(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)
That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)
#text post#not going to get into the other painful smack of this morning#suffice to say that medicaid does not in fact fully cover vocal therapy/training for trans ppl#even if ur docs feel incredibly certain it is#if i was making a decent bit over minimum wage at consistent hours and already had my current debts paid off mostly#then I'd happily consider paying the chunk Medicaid won't cover but as of now#it would literally be basically two paychecks if not three to cover the estimate for this first visit#and that's only if the poll would have us polling every week like we did before the election#otherwise we're guesstimating it would be upwards of 4 paychecks to cover it#I'm actually gonna get into in here bc nobody reads all my tag essays (fair valid and correct)#im really sad abt this. my voice gets me clocked a lot and while i can mostly handle like. visually being clocked#my voice giving me away genuinely makes me feel a pain in my chest. i can't get my customer service voice to go lower yet#and even if it's my usual voice I've made minimal progress on my own self done vocal study stuff#so like. no one knows how high it was compared to how it is now tho so no one actually hears it as anything near deep#which it isn't but like. there's been a slightly barely there drop of it per at least a couple ppl in my life#i was probably going to be able to learn how to sing again and find my new range. I'd fix my customer service voice#even if it would only ever be a teeny bit lower than how it is now. it would be lovely#im not gonna get too down tho bc someday hopefully I'll be able to make it happen/afford it#and for now...im doing the bad thing of not cancelling the appt yet#i will bc they're booking out for months and it isn't right of me to take a spot i know i can't keep#but. let me pretend i can for another day or two. maybe until monday. then I'll call or msg them on mychart#and let them know i just don't have the funds rn tho i do deeply appreciate that Medicaid at least pays part of it#im just not at a point where i can cover the rest but that I'll reschedule/have a new referral sent whenever that changes#...and hopefully things in this country will be of such a state that such care is still available to ppl like me.#but that's all we're saying on that bc im already having a pathetic little cry over this#(im fine the med side effects have me crying over everything lol i see a sad commercial and Instant Tears like someone died lmaooo)
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bakafurai · 1 year ago
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good day to all 5 people who ship Clemmy have this shitty ass no effort me meme
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annie-thyme · 6 months ago
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and once again I am suddenly overwhelmed with an intense feeling of not really fitting into a gender
#honestly I don't even know what this is about I just saw some stories on insta and it's like oh look#she is so proud to be a woman whoa ppl...actually do that huh#and I just realised I never really felt that way like. not fully!! maybe a bit of that yeah but not to this full extent of this#womanhood thing#and I mean yeah I probably felt more of it in my teens and like 20s but it only just occurred to me that it's never been to this full extent#of being womanly and motherly and nurturing etc etc#and now I do not feel like that art all I mean I mostly am a creachur. a divine being. if you will. a freak#and I love it tomorrow I'm gonna go try on some skirts which I haven't done in ages and I'm definitely gonna be doing it in a queer way#not in a girl way#anyway#I know this is really weird going on tag rants here where nobody except a few of my mutuals (hey guys love you lots thought u should know)#is gonna see let alone read this but I really don't have anyone irl to talk to abt gender stuff and I mean I tried?#but just idk. ppl don't get it? like everyone in my life already knows I'm queer and they sorta hand wave it away like that is too#complicated and not that important - and it isn't!! but it also is!#I think they might have been more understanding and sympathetic if I were trans but I'm not and being nonbinary is somehow too difficult for#them to grasp idk#and when I say I don't want to be a different gender and feel increasingly outside and to the left of my assigned gender the more I think#about it they just. do not get it. and it is kinda discouraging and leaves me feeling like not talking about it with them ever#I don't know why I'm writing all this tbh#gender#queer things
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thethingything · 9 months ago
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we have a dentist appointment tomorrow and on the plus side we're not really anxious about the appointment itself because the dentist was so nice last time and actually took our medical trauma into account.
unfortunately though we do have to have anaesthetic which makes us feel like shit for at least the rest of the day, and no matter how considerate the dentist is, having a medical professional touch us at all does still trigger certain trauma and then I end up having a bunch of panic attacks at some point within the next few days and it's a really shit time. I really don't wanna have to deal with that and the concept of it is making me nauseous
#personal#thoughts#🍬 post#vent post#<- kinda#medical trauma#(this turned into a long rant about medical trauma and consent so here's your warning for that if you read the tags)#I didn't like medical professionals touching me anyway but ever since the stuff last April when we went to the hospital#it's been a way bigger issue and I end up being an absolute wreck for a while because of it#I cannot begin to express how much I do not want a medical professional touching me at all but especially not in my mouth#and any other situation where someone shoves their fingers in your mouth when you don't want them to would be considered really violating#but because it's for medical reasons and we have to put up with it if we actually want treatment nobody around us seems to see it like that#same goes for various other medical procedures where it's like if a stranger touched me like that when I really didn't want them to#in any other situation that would be assault but because it's a medical setting I'm expected to just be okay with it???#idk I probably haven't explained any of this right but I just don't like that people treat medical stuff as a special scenario#that's exempt from causing the same distress as any other scenario where someone touches you when you don't want them to#even though our brain is processing them the same way and we can't magically make that not happen#I know technically with medical procedures you (usually?) consent#but it's like... the choice is either consent to it or have your health keep getting worse#and once again in any other situation if your choices were to either consent or experience physical harm#that wouldn't really be considered consent and would be really distressing#I'm literally only consenting out of fear of what happens if I don't which... technically isn't consent but what choice do I have#idk this stuff is probably an issue specifically because of our trauma#but even still I would like to be taken seriously when I say I feel violated after medical procedures
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greetingsfromuranus · 1 year ago
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Got denied from joining a discord server fuck this gay earth i read all the rules and everything
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heksen-sabbat · 1 year ago
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I hope you enjoy Robocop if you actually watch it! It’s in my top ten stupid action movies for sure
Hi I just finished it!!! Very good very silly very violent. Especially loved the robot who ate shit because he was too big to use the stairs lol
So far my second-favourite Paul Verhoeven movie out of the three I've seen. I've really liked all of them so far but sometimes I just think he doesn't address the impact of things that happened in the film enough yknow. idk they're all good I just love thinking about potential all the time lol
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wildermouse · 2 years ago
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vent iii.
#yeah i could just make a 'read more' post but tags are better for me#more hiding#anyway#i have this problem where my sister is probably moving out next year but she can't rly do that without me bc her dog has issues#and i would have to take him out and feed all the animals while she's at work during the day bc nobody else can#but even with that being taken into account she would still charge me over double what i'm paying now for rent and i cannot afford that#and she says i'd have to get a job too but excuse me how am i supposed to work when i also have to be home to look after your animals??#barn job would be nice bc short hours but it also wouldn't be enough to pay what she'd charge me#so i'm screwed there#anyway i WISH i could make enough money to live on my own but i CAN'T#ik i probably sound very lazy and spoiled and i get that i am definitely priviliged to get to live at home for cheap rent#but it also fucks with my mental health so bad living here. and i want to live on my own but it's just not an option rn#i have dreams and they're such basic sad dreams that i still don't think i'll ever accomplish#like i want to live in my own small travel trailer. that's all. my own space. or a tiny falling apart cabin that i can fix up#that's all i want and it seems impossible for me#i'm not built to live in this world. my body and mind cannot take it. i have tried. i've tried so hard#honestly if i had to work full time again i don't think i'd actually be able to stay alive to benefit from it. it would burn me out too bad#there's no win for me#i'm still trying to figure something out but i'm honestly not hopefull at all
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aquariium-ediits · 2 years ago
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figuring out who's edit accounts are who's is honestly so funny to me because I go and check a mutual's rentry and then find out their qpp is literally the person who inspired me to start editing and make this account.
there's other stories like that but that's the funniest/most interesting one. but still there's just something of being like "OH right you're this person"
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baejax-the-great · 2 years ago
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Doing Snippet Sunday and WIP Wednesday every week forces me to look at what I've written over the past few days and see if any of it is ready to be seen by other people, and if not, then it forces me to edit it, and that's one of the reasons I like doing it every week.
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fastidious-and-a-mess · 2 years ago
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just finished s6 of elementary (finished s5 on sunday. lol) and i’m trying to get my friends to watch it also so unfortunately i can’t drown them in my spoilery rantings so instead everything is going in the tags here so uh. abandon all hope ye who enter these tags, spoilers abound
#im gonna pad these tags a bit actually#so the spoilers go behind a 'read more' or whatever#youre welcome <3#have i mentioned you should watch this show#anyways we're probably safe now su#HOOOOOOOOOLY SHIIIIIIT#that is not at ALL where i expected that to go#gregson was really warming up to me this season. he had never really stood out as a characted before but i think he really shown in s5&6#but man. that finale. honestly idk if i can forgive his character for that. i know he was just trying to protect his daughter but she had to#take responsibility for killing michael because it was not fair for joan to take the fall for that even unintentionally. im definitely gonna#miss him tho. and marcus too. i mean i knew his presence was coming to an end anyways with the marshalls but this finale has really dissolve#d the core cast here. now its jsut sherlock and joan. back in london too; thats quite the move#and in the last season. i guess the total shift is setting and cast didnt do well with ratings? or maybe it was always going to end at 221b#idk. but i think my favorite part of this season was sherlock completely devoting himself to the idea of joan getting a kid#personally idk how i feel about the narrative making her a mother in the end. i could say it has come problematic implications about women's#roles but honestly within the context on the narrative? i dont think thats entirely true. anyways i jsut thought it was super cure how much#sherlock just wanted joan to be happy and fulfilled. 'i would make adjustments for you watson always.' 'we're two people who love each other#they way he develops through her. the way he learns how to love and be loved. the way he becomes kinder and he lets down his walls to laugh#with her and smile with her. the way that they understand each other in ways nobody else ever has. it makes me som emotinal#HE NAMED A BEE AFTER HER#im never going to get over that#anyways 'uncle detective' is maybe the cutest thing ever. he cleaned up his murder dollhouse for a kid she didnt even have yet :)#ok i think im done. for now. its 1am and i have class at 8:30 so uh i guess  i'll just die about it but oh well. i was gonna watch one more#and then i realized the one after that one was the season finale so you see how i did what i had to#anyways. good night#:')#will tags this far in even get registered? oh well#elementary#cbs elementary#please someone talk to me about them
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nomairuins · 3 months ago
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i wish there was a way for me to likeee. semi change this one thingin this one mod. but 1 im not a modder 2 i feel like thats disrespectful. i just want sort of an inbetween between the game and this mod but that is not a thing that exist... sigh
#NOT COMPLAINING ABT THE MOD just personal preference im not saying the mod bc i dont want it seen as an attack but basically i like mods#that add a bit more realism while also keeping some stuff yfm... like 4 example Random example unrelated i like the idea of Having to decid#what to do with the remains of a dead sim and having the body stick around but i also like having the grim reaper appear.... so in my ideal#death mod the sim dies and then the grim reaper shows up to like. take their soul but the body stays. im not a modder so idk how possible..#also ig that kind of doesnt fully make sense since the ghosts r still afoot so ig itd just be him severing the connection btwn the body and#soul right. not taking anything... which i suppose is what he does in the basegame is he severs the connection and then takes the body w/#him. which is kind of funny. whats he need that for is it just courtesy or is he doing smtg w/ them. bc ik you get the gravestone/urn when#they die and those r the remains but like. ? he just like. conjures those doesnt he. body vanishes and then those appear. does he just#rearrange the atoms of the body into those things. bc i dont subscribe to the idea that he actually digs a hole for the corpse idt theres#anything down there bc u cn put a basement right under a grave and no issues. so i think he magics the bodies away and then either somehow#transforms those bodies into the appropriate grave marker (unclear on if theres even actually ash in the urn like is that mentioned. OR he#takes them leaves the urn and gravestone and then just has the bodies to do whatever with. WHATS HE DOING !!! is it a nice like Ill just#handle this so they dont have to (presumptuous. caring for a body is a rly important thing in many cultures and it can be a great way to#process a loss for some ppl (not all obviously. grief is very personal this is one of my autism things sry)) but ig in simnation society it#isnt that important Evidently. but idk... either hes taking them as a favor to help out/soften the blow bc obv nobody Likes seeing the grim#reaper olive sit down. connor sit down. so hes like well ill handle this. or is it something more nefarious WHTS HE DOINGG tell me. i think#funny to imagine he just teleports the body elsewhere ik he prolly just destroys it but its kind of awesome to imagine theres a giant magic#crematorium and like. a columbarium. idk why i assume cremation itd just save space in his. realm? i he has a realm. if i were him and i#didnt have a realm id be kinda pissed id call the watcher and be like heyyy um... yk. but ya i think thats cool bc i love lands of the dead#gotta be one of my favorite things (autistic) and i think its just cool to imagine a place where the remains of every person whos ever live#r kept. be that their soul as is traditional or their literal remains in this case. isnt that kind of cool.. love it. but again we probably#arent supposed to rly think abt it he prolly jut vaporizes them into nothing. i just wanted to have fun... bring a positive sort of vibe.#anyways. i would like to be able to have The body just bc i think thats cool and i think itd be awesome to have a mod that adds in more#grieving practices from around the world but obviously thatd be like. HUGEscale bc there are a millionnn different ways to grieve. and its#all so interesting to learn abt. read from here to eternity. by caitlin doughty. smiles <- it doesnt cover Everything obv but it talks abt#lot of stuff from around the world in a rly respectful way and its incredible to read abt and learn. my autism . but i genuinely love#learning abt grief and mourning and funerary practices in other cultures i rly wish that so many practices werent lost to colonization wher#ppl were forced to abandon their way of caring for their dead just bc it seemed ghoulish or barbaric or whathave you to the missionaries et#idk. id put death it up there with food as one of the biggest cultural signifiers...i cant continue the tag limit. wtvr. u get it
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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months ago
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do you believe me now? | 8
it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.
series masterlist
this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily
Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.
The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 
Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 
The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 
But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 
Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 
I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 
How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?
A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 
“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 
“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.
Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 
“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”
People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 
“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 
“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 
“No.”
“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”
Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 
“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”
Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 
Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 
Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 
Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 
But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 
Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 
Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 
“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 
“Um… Spencer?”
“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”
He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”
The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 
“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 
When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 
You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”
“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”
You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”
Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 
“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”
He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 
“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”
You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 
He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 
Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 
“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 
“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”
The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?
“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”
Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 
“I forgot. I thought… he said…”
A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 
“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”
And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 
“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”
“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”
His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 
“You didn’t see my note?”
The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 
“You left a note?”
Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 
It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 
A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 
“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 
Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”
“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 
He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 
“I didn’t know.”
“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”
You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 
“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”
Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 
“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”
“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”
He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 
He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 
Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 
There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 
Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 
And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 
“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”
Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.
Now he remembers. 
Long night, huh? I remember those days. 
It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 
Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 
“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 
You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”
If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”
He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 
“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”
“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”
You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 
“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 
You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 
“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”
You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 
The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.
“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 
You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 
“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”
Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 
“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”
“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”
Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 
“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”
“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”
“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”
Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 
“Like… one at a time? Or…”
He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.
“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 
There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 
“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”
The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”
“Spencer—”
“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”
“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”
For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 
But that’s not the topic at hand. 
“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”
You swallow. 
“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”
About what?
He says your name. No response. 
“Can you look at me, please?”
It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 
“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”
To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 
Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”
Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”
You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 
“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”
“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”
He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”
“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”
Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?
A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 
“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”
Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 
He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 
“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 
“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”
So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 
You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 
Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 
He can’t not worry. 
And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 
-
part nine
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