#they also very well could have chosen like

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Three-Month Rule.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: The first time you decide to skip the celebration and go to bed early, and the first time Spencer decides to drink and open his heart to you after knowing you're leaving for three months.

Words: 5,5k (very long).

TW: fem!reader. spencer from the first seasons with glasses meow (my fav)+also he is a little drunk and lovesick puppy. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: These two are probably one of my favorites, this felt so warm to write and before you ask, yep, I've been thinking about a part two (maybe even more, who knows).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

I. Moonlight ⏾

The night after closing a case with a positive outcome often involved celebratory drinks and lengthy discussions about everyday topics. For you and your colleagues, it was a rare opportunity for relaxation. It was a way to temporarily distance yourselves from the challenging situations you had encountered. A great way to relieve stress.

Typically, you would choose to remain in the chair situated in the center of the bar and sip your drink at a leisurely pace, allowing it to last all night as you chatted and shared lighthearted banter about various topics, though you would never discuss work. You were always smiling, as if nothing unfortunate had ever happened. And you always looked beautiful, so distant and impossible to catch.

Spencer always looked at you, biting his tongue to keep from sputtering out all the words that struggled to come out every time his eyes fell on yours. He didn't even take a sip of the drinks that were offered to him. As a rule, he didn't drink alcohol at all, and he liked it even less when he knew it could affect how he saw you. So clearly. So real. As if you were the most amazing work of art he'd ever seen, even if he wasn't very familiar with art.

Tonight, sadly, everything was different.

He had not been able to indulge in that particular pleasure of admiring you because you had chosen to return to your room rather than stay with the rest of the team at the hotel bar. It was a lie to say that it had not caught his attention. You had always stayed, even for a glass of water. But now you were...away from everyone. And then he was too.

The time passed rather quickly after he had a couple of sips of different fruity cocktails, which he didn't think would have any effect. Spencer was very mistaken. He found himself walking to the elevator before he had a chance to think things through. It didn't take him long to reach your hotel room. His footsteps were soft but urgent enough to go to the outside of the door. He just wanted to see you, needed to see you, and was already anxious about the reason why he wasn't allowed to do it now.

His knuckles knocked softly on your door with a certain caution, as quietly as possible, but just loud enough for you to hear, as he did his best to keep everyone else from hearing it as well. His hair was slightly disheveled, his glasses were out of place, and the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his collarbones underneath.

“It's me. Reid.” He spoke just loud enough to be heard through the door, his voice slightly raspy but still as soft as ever. “Can I talk to you?”

The sound of his call echoed too loudly inside the empty hotel room. Everything in the place was silent, still, with no lights or air conditioning. The room was almost dark, except for the streaks of city lights filtering through the curtains that ran over the large windows. You had been lying quietly and staring at the ceiling for no more than a minute and thirty seconds, your eyes blank and fixed on the ceiling after waking up so suddenly.

You gradually rose to a seated position and proceeded to the door. Without hesitation, you opened it to find his eyes filled with concern.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” Your voice was a little hoarse, and your eyes were still adjusting to the bright light in the hallway.

“I'm fine,” he replied, barely looking at your appearance. Your hair was a mess, and you looked sleepy. He hadn't realized how late it was. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you?”

Yes, of course. It was two o'clock in the morning.

You couldn’t hide the frown of confusion. It was late—far too late for a casual check-in—and yet here he was, standing before you with an air of unease that was so unlike him. “Don’t worry. What’s up?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe, trying to mask your concern.

Thousands of ideas crossed your mind at that moment. Maybe there was a new case, some new clue that would have reopened the four-day investigation that had just ended a few hours ago, or who knows what. The job was as unpredictable as your coworkers.

“I…” Reid’s words faltered before he even began, as if his thoughts were racing far ahead of him. His eyes flitted between you and the hallway, but he couldn’t seem to find the courage to make sense of his feelings, let alone speak them aloud. The alcohol was doing little to help his clarity of thought. It had been a few small sips; he had convinced himself, but now it was doing its work on his resolve. He was here. And he couldn’t walk away. “I was just…that.”

That's when you noticed something: he seemed a little off-balance, with a subtle flush on his cheeks and a lingering smell of alcohol. “Are you under the influence of alcohol, Dr. Reid?”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

If he was surprised to see you so sleepy, he got even more surprised by that question and by how close you've gotten to him. His eyes slightly widened at the close proximity between you both, his mouth slightly agape, and his brain almost completely frozen for a moment, before he shook his head quickly as an attempt to pull himself together. He cleared his throat before speaking, his words stumbling and incoherent.

“What? No, no, I’m not drunk.” He stammered, shaking his head as though trying to convince himself. “I just took a sip.”

Just a sip, two or three, after mentally rereading that ridiculous article about love he had read in one of the magazines in the lobby. The one that made him think about you and how you made him feel, the same one that revolutionized his emotions and his rational part to the point that he drank out of the wrong glass all night long.

“I see.”

Your gaze seemed to linger on his disheveled hair, unbuttoned shirt, mismatched glasses, and the subtle hint of color in his cheeks. You arched an eyebrow in response and took a small step forward to examine his face more closely. This was a version of him you were not entirely familiar with because Spencer Reid wasn’t a drinker.

“You seem a little nervous and flushed. Are you sure you're not drunk?” You asked with concern, noticing his demeanor.

Reid had to suppress a shiver when you moved even closer, nearly reducing his entire nervous system to a puddle of goo. He was incredibly aware of your proximity, like his brain had suddenly become hyperfocused on your existence and every move you made.

“Ah…y-yes, I'm s-sure I’m not-” He stuttered the words, feeling like a complete mess of nerves.

Something feels wrong…different.

You stepped forward, your eyes narrowing in on him, still uncertain but unwilling to leave him in such an odd state. “You’re sweating,” you observed quietly. “Come in. Sit on the bed. I have water.”

Without giving him the chance to refuse, you turned and walked into the room, leaving the door open for him to follow. He didn't even have a chance to react before he found himself inside your room, feeling like he was in a whole different world. Even though he was familiar with the space, as his room was exactly the same, somehow yours felt more comfortable and cozy.

Spencer followed you to the bedside table, still feeling a bit shaky. The scent of your perfume and the quiet of the room made him a bit nervous, but before he could say anything, you offered him a glass.

“Thanks.” He said, taking the water and sitting on the edge of the bed.

As he sat down, the bed sagged slightly under his weight, and he felt a surge of nervousness. Being alone with you in your hotel room suddenly felt incredibly intimate, and he found himself taking small sips of water to keep himself grounded. The drink was refreshing, but it didn't do much to calm the pounding of his heart in his chest. He avoided looking at your figure standing in front of him, focusing instead on the glass in his hands, fidgeting and nervously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, I have to ask now. You showed up at my door out of nowhere, looking like you'd just run a marathon, flushed like a tomato, and reeking of alcohol to boot.” You said, sitting down on the bed next to him. “So what brings you exactly here?” Your voice seemed to ring in his ears.

You. Only you. Forever you.

“I, uh, I came here to...I came here to...talk. I wanted to talk.” He managed to stammer, his eyes fixed on the glass of water.

“To...talk?” You repeated, your voice bringing back his attention. He suddenly felt tongue-tied, like he forgot everything he wanted to say right then and there. “About what?”

You, again.

Reid fiddled nervously, bouncing his leg up and down, and he suddenly felt the urge to pull at his shirt, feeling his skin too warm and overheating under his clothes. Why did it suddenly feel so hot in there, in your hotel room? He found himself unable to maintain eye contact again, but this time he found bravery in the depths of his mind and he managed to speak.

“I, uh…” He paused for a moment, his words becoming shaky. “I just...I just wanted to talk about you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that answer. But before you could say anything, Spencer spoke again as his thoughts burst out unfiltered.

“You’ve been quiet. I mean, since the case, and you left the bar early. You’ve been...different, sort of...I mean, not different-” His stammering was cut off by a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. He was rambling, and he knew it; he could feel how warm he was under the heat of your gaze, but he couldn’t stop his words from coming out. “I heard about the job offer in New York that you've accepted.”

In that moment, you frowned, confused by the drama that perhaps the influence of alcohol in his system was bringing. The job offer was more of an internship than anything else, something temporary, just for three months, not a permanent change of scenery. But for some reason, hearing his words made your heart sink.

You hadn't really expected anyone on the team to be so affected by your leaving for a while; everyone seemed too wrapped up in their own business to wish you anything more than a good trip. After all, the world didn't stop spinning, and serial killers didn't stop killing because you weren't around. You didn't consider yourself that indispensable.

“I just, I don't know...” He mumbled, rubbing his face again, tired of his own thoughts. “I just...I feel like...I might miss you a lot.”

His eyes closed for a split second in fear, but then he looked at you and saw that you were smiling.

“You really drank quite a lot today.” Your tone was gentle as you carefully adjusted his glasses and took the empty glass from his hands. He hadn't even noticed that he had already finished all the water.

The feeling of your fingers on his glasses made his brain buzz for a moment, and he found himself wishing it would last for just a few seconds more. But then the glass was gone, and he was left there fidgeting with his hands.

“I know.” He muttered weakly, feeling the heat and alcohol taking a toll on him. His mind felt foggy, his thoughts swirling around and getting more tangled by the second. “But that’s besides the point.”

“Spencer, you’re being impulsive and emotional.” You said it bluntly, leaning forward slightly. “You were drinking earlier; you're all sweaty, and you're rambling. That's what alcohol does to you…you get overly reactive.”

His gaze shifted to the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed as he let out a shaky breath. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I am being impulsive and stupid, but…it doesn’t make it any less true.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you. There was a vulnerability in his tone that caught you off guard, like he was peeling back layers you hadn’t seen before. You studied him for a moment���the disheveled hair, the flushed cheeks, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under some invisible weight. This wasn’t the person you were used to—the analytical, composed genius who always seemed to have an answer for everything. This was someone raw, someone caught between logic and emotion, struggling to make sense of it all.

“I’m sure you’re incapable of being stupid,” you offered lightly, your tone tinged with a gentle tease, hoping to pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts.

His head lifted, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “I think I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a single breath, unpolished but heavy with sincerity.

Your heart stopped for a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “Oh.”

His confession hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the words settling like a weight in the room. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing the enormity of what he’d just said, but there was no taking it back now. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he awaited your response, his vulnerability laid bare.

“You can be stupid, then.” You say it in a kind of joking tone, trying to process.

Does he love you? The same person you were afraid to touch so much for fear of making him uncomfortable. The same one who looked at you funny when you tried to fall asleep on the jet after drinking too much tea and said incoherent things. The one who always questioned your words with his statistics and exact data. Does he really love you? Can he do it?

It was impossible. Completely impossible.

“You’re a little too drunk to be saying things like that now,” you added gently, a note of concern creeping into your voice.

Carefully, you stood up, moving closer to him, your heart softening as you saw the way his fingers gripped the bed. He looked like he was already treading on the edge of something, but you weren’t sure he was in the right state to navigate it.

His brows furrowed slightly, a conflicted look crossing his face. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though his words slurred slightly, and his eyes seemed unfocused. He shifted slightly but his balance was off, and his hand wavered as he reached for the glass that had once held water, only to stop and let it fall back onto the bedside table.

“No, you’re not,” you said softly, taking a step closer and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His warmth was comforting, but it only made you more aware of how fragile he seemed at that moment. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve had too much to drink. You need rest.”

He tried to look at you, his gaze unfocused and blurry. “I don’t want to sleep…not yet. I want to…I want to stay awake with you.” His voice faltered, as if the words were fighting to stay coherent. “Forever with you.”

Did you hear that right? He said…? Really?

“You’re not going to stay awake all night,” you say, talking firmly but kindly. You could see the drunkenness in his eyes, and you knew he needed more than just a glass of water or a few minutes to collect his thoughts. “And you’re staying here for sleep.”

His lips parted in confusion, but you didn't give him a chance to argue. You led him to the bed, supporting him as he swayed slightly. He was too drunk to protest in that moment. Then, you helped him lie down, adjusting the pillows behind him so that he was comfortable. And you also took the time to remove his glasses and shoes, placing them on the bedside table and the floor.

“I’m fine,” he murmured again, but this time it was barely audible, and his eyes were fluttering closed as he relaxed into the bed, his breath evening out. He was fighting sleep, but the weight of his exhaustion was too much for him to push back any longer.

After a brief period of reflection, you sit on the edge of the bed and observe him as he moves slightly. His face appears relaxed, and the tension from before seems to have dissipated. However, there is still a subtle vulnerability in his demeanor: open, unprotected, and exposed in a way you had never seen him before. This only serves to deepen your desire to care for him.

You gently reached over, tucking the covers around him and brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. “You’re too drunk to be making big decisions tonight, genius,” you whispered softly.

His eyelids fluttered open for a moment, his bleary eyes locking onto yours with a faint sense of clarity. “I didn’t…mean to make you uncomfortable,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “I care about you.”

A small smile appeared on your face, your heart aching as you brushed another strand of hair from his forehead. “I know,” you whispered.

His hand reached up weakly, grazing your wrist before falling back to the bed. He blinked a few times, his words coming slower now, as though the weight of sleep was already pulling him under. “I care about you so much,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, as though he were fading away in the middle of his confession.

You let out a gentle sigh, your thumb brushing his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “I care about you too,” you said, your voice calm but filled with warmth, though you kept your tone soft to keep him relaxed. “But right now, you just need to rest. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about all of this, okay?”

Spencer nodded weakly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay...” He murmured, his breathing muffled even more as his body relaxed on the bed and his gaze rested on you, on every feature of your face. “I think you're very pretty, and not just physically by genetics...you're very, very pretty. I could look at you forever, even if, technically, forever doesn't exist for humans.”

At any moment, your heart would leap out of your chest, or you'd probably vomit butterflies. It was too much sweetness in a Spencer way.

You remained by his side, sitting on the edge, keeping watch over him for a few moments. It felt strange, being so close to him in this way. You hadn’t expected this moment, hadn’t expected his confession.

But for tonight, all you could do was let him rest and let him find peace in his sleep. You brushed one last strand of hair away from his face, then, with a soft sigh, you stood and pulled the blankets up around him.

The silence of the room enveloped you as you settled into bed, careful not to disturb him. You remained seated for a moment, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his features softened by sleep. In the darkness, Spencer seemed different, more fragile, more human. His usual confidence in every word that came out of his mouth, the brilliant mind that made him so formidable, gave way to something more tender.

You cautiously stretched out your legs and leaned against the headboard. Sleep still seemed a long way off, even though the fatigue of the long case closed in the afternoon weighed heavily on your body. But your thoughts refused to calm down and leave you alone for a moment. His confession kept repeating in your mind, driving you and your heart crazy.

Not knowing what else to do, you let out a long, slow sigh, your fingers brushing the edge of the blanket wrapped around him. He stirred slightly, moving closer to your side as if subconsciously seeking your comfort and closeness. He tilted his head in your direction, a faint smile on his lips, and the sight brought a pang to your chest.

“What am I going to do about you, Spencer Reid?” You murmured to yourself, with a curious sensation in your chest.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling as the questions began to tumble one after another. What if he hadn’t been drinking? Would he still have said those things? Did he even fully realize the gravity of what he’d shared, or was it just a moment of emotional release brought on by the late hour and the relief of a solved case?

And then there was your own reaction. The warmth in your chest, the protectiveness that surged when you saw him looking so vulnerable—it wasn’t new. You’d felt it before in smaller ways: a fleeting moment of connection during a case, a shared glance that lingered just a little too long. You’d always chalked it up to admiration or friendship, but now…

Now it felt like the beginning of a bridge you weren’t sure you were ready to cross.

Another sigh escaped you, and you tilted your head to glance at him again. His hand had slipped out from beneath the blanket, resting loosely against the mattress. Without thinking, you reached out and let your fingers brush against his, barely touching. His skin was warm, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question.

II. Sunlight ☀︎

The first thing you noticed when you woke was the soft warmth of sunlight spilling through the blinds, bathing the room in a quiet, golden glow. It was a still moment, the world outside almost silent, save for the faint hum of traffic far below. For a second, you weren’t sure where you were. The unfamiliar bed, the softness of the sheets, the absence of noise..it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp.

But then you felt it, a slight weight on your arm. You turned your head slowly, your eyes softening as you took in the sight of Spencer still asleep beside you. His face was turned towards you, half-hidden by the pillow, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. His hand lay just a breath away from yours; his body curled slightly, seeking warmth and comfort. The usual lines of stress and guardedness that creased his features during the day were gone, replaced by a peace you rarely saw. He looked unguarded, almost childlike in his vulnerability, and it made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain.

For a moment, you just watched him, your mind replaying the events of the night before. Especially the way he’d reached for your hand, even in his half-conscious state, like it was instinctive and natural.

And now, here you were, lying next to him, watching him sleep like it was normal and meant to be.

You shifted your position slightly, being careful not to disturb him, and sat up, propping yourself up on your elbow. The room was silent, except for the faint hum of traffic. That stolen morning moment felt intimate to you, and you found yourself wondering how much Spencer would remember when he woke up.

Would you regret it? Would you want to go back and erase it all? Would he stop talking to you forever?

But then, it was almost as if he was meant to give you all those answers because he stirred. His hand moved, his breathing changed, and slowly but surely, his eyes opened. At first, Reid was dull and unfocused as he blinked in the morning light, feeling a sharp headache. Then, as he realized where he was, you saw his expression change: confusion, a flash of concern, and finally recognition.

“Morning,” you said softly, trying not to startle him.

He blinked again and frowned, feeling a twinge in his head. “Morning,” he replied, his voice groggy. He glanced around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, the tangled blankets, and then you.

You were sitting on the bed next to him—the first thing he saw when he woke up and the first person to greet him. It was just like the kind of dream he'd been having lately—only this time he wasn't asleep.

A brief silence fell as the pieces seemed to click into place in his mind. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Wait,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Last night…”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though your heart was racing, unsure of what he might remember, or worse, what he might regret. “You remember?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady.

His hand came up to rub his forehead, trying to shake the lingering fog of sleep. “I think so,” he said slowly. “We finished the case. We went to the bar.” His voice faltered, and his eyes dropped to the bed, as though searching for something solid in the scattered blankets to steady him. “I came here and said…some things, didn’t I?” His words hung in the air, filled with hesitation and a growing sense of discomfort. His cheeks flush, and he quickly looked away from you, almost embarrassed.

You tilted your head, your smile softening. “You said a lot of things.”

Spencer’s cheeks deepened in color, his hand dragging down his face as if that could somehow shield him from the weight of the moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

You frowned, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for talking to me.”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching your face for any hint of reproach or discomfort, but all he found was warmth. Still, he hesitated, his fingers playing nervously with the edge of the blanket. “I was drunk, and that’s so embarrassing,” he murmured, his tone tinged with self-reproach. “I don’t even know if what I said came out right.”

“It came out right,” you assured him gently, reaching out to cover his fidgeting hand with yours. The touch stilled him, his wide, uncertain eyes locking onto yours. “And it was just the alcohol talking…I know, don’t worry.”

He stared at your hand covering his, his throat working as if trying to form the right words. He didn’t pull away; if anything, he seemed to steady himself in your touch, though his voice wavered when he finally spoke. “It wasn’t just the alcohol,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “I don’t want you to think that it made me say something I didn’t mean. Everything I said was true.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the vulnerability in his eyes made the words catch in your throat. He held your gaze, his fingers unconsciously brushing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment.

“I’ve felt this way for a while,” he continued, his cheeks still faintly pink but his voice growing steadier with each word. “I didn’t know how to tell you. And then last night, I guess…I couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

His honesty was like a punch to the chest, leaving you breathless and unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected this level of candor, not so soon, and certainly not first thing in the morning. You pulled your hand back gently, needing space to think, though the warmth of his touch lingered like an echo.

He really meant every word.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice cracking. You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “I don't know what to say. It was all so sweet and nice to hear, but I'm not sure I'm ready to find out what this means, especially not with–”

“The distance,” he finished for you, his voice soft but resigned. He looked down, nodding slightly as though he’d anticipated this. “You’re leaving for New York soon.”

You exhaled slowly, relieved that he understood but also pained by the way his shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly. “It’s just three months,” you said gently, though the words felt hollow.

“I know, since I found out I did the math, and it's three months and four days.” He pointed out, almost not noticing that your cheeks had flushed slightly. “What I need to know is if you...if you have feelings for me, as more than friends.”

“Yes, I do.”

At that moment, it seemed that after almost a year of hiding his heartbeat for your sake, he could finally let his heart beat as much as he wanted.

But then you talk again.

“But it’s not fair to either of us to make any big decisions now, when I have to leave soon. I don’t want to risk ruining what we already have if we…if something doesn’t work.”

He looked at you, his expression serious. “But what if it works well?” Reid asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was no despair in his tone, only quiet hope. “What if it's so much better that we have between us now? Isn’t that worth the risk?”

His question settled between you, heavy and unanswerable in the moment. It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was simply Spencer, laying his heart bare with a quiet hope that made your chest ache.

“I'm not sure,” you replied, your expression thoughtful. “Three months is a significant amount of time,” you added, striving to acknowledge his feelings while maintaining a degree of caution.

“I can wait if it's for you. I can.” He replied without hesitation.

The unwavering certainty in his voice and the calm patience he offered you were more than you expected. Perhaps even more than you thought you deserved.

“You shouldn’t have to wait for me,” you said softly, your gaze falling to the sheets. “It’s not fair to ask that of you.”

Spencer shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he replied gently. “This is my choice.”

“What if the distance changes things? What if we lose this…connection?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady but kind. “Like I said, it’s not like I haven’t done the math before. Three months isn’t forever, and if what we feel is real, then it won’t fade.”

In that moment, it was like a light bulb went off in your head, and the perfect solution just came to you.

“Exactly.” You pointed out with a small smile. “You know the three-month rule?”

Never before had you seen Dr. Reid confused, denying knowledge of any subject. It was as if the alcohol of the night before had caused a circuit breaker in his brain, or else you had no explanation for having to explain something he didn't know, and you did.

“A few weeks ago, I was drinking coffee and overheard a woman at the next table talking about how the first three months between two persons are enough to indicate whether they have a future or not.” You began to explain quickly, feeling a bit strange at how the usual roles between you seemed to have been turned upside down. “You know, if they're going to make it as a couple.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your words. “You mean…is like a trial period?” he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of nervous energy coursing through your entire body. “Yes, that's exactly it. So we don't have to put a label on it right away or rush into it. But we could call, text, talk, maybe visit...just see how it feels. And when I officially come back, we'll know if it's something we really want to pursue.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying yours as though weighing the sincerity in your suggestion.

“Okay,” he said, his voice soft but resolve. “Three months. We’ll figure this out.”

Relief flooded you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. “Three months,” you repeated, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “And we’ll talk. Be honest. No expectations and the assurance that we can be friends again if we want.”

Spencer’s smile grew a fraction, and this time, when his hand reached for yours, it was deliberate. “Honesty,” he echoed, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “I can do that.”

For the first time that morning, the tension between you eased, replaced by a fragile but undeniable sense of hope. It wasn't a resolution, not quite, but it was a step forward, a promise to try. And for now, that was more than enough.

Because night before, you'd gone to bed early, thinking you didn't have much of a future at the BAU. But now you had Spencer with you in a way you'd never thought possible, and everything feels right.

[yapileon]

@TacklerCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 1

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader (first fic, be gentle with me pls i'm embarassed, also, i have no idea why i wrote that.)

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

While you had the tendency to be known as a cheeky chaotic teen, you currently felt anxious and shaky. You had spent three years working you ass off to be recognized in the La Masia training academy, it had paid off, since you were on the way to your first training with the senior team.

You're walking to the stadium when you feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket. You picked it up, smiling at the Mapi León wallpaper you had chosen weeks ago. You knew the pings had something to do with the meme you posted on your fan account, @TacklerCulers this morning.

tacklerculers

liked by 2,486 others

tacklersculers: Ona and The Flash have never been witnessed at the same place at the same time, just saying.

—

Like you thought, the meme was doing well, attracting multiples thousands likes from other woso fans. You couldn't help but giggle at the fact that today, you'd get to meet all of the barça squad. No, it was more than that, today, you'd get to become their teammates.

You were so excited when you had made it on the training pitch, you were the first aside from some of the training staff that you had greeted. You picked up a ball and started juggling, trying to get yourself in the flow. Except this is when you had spotted them walking to you.

Alexia, the captain of the best team in the world, and Mapi Leon, the arm-tape icon —and arguably your favorite player of all time—smiling brightly at you. You were so focused on them that you kicked the ball straight to your shin. Smooth.

"Doing good, rookie?" The defender had asked you with an amused look. Though her smile faded away when Alexia elbowed her in the ribs, frowning.

The sound you had made to answer was something between a hurried yes and a cat screeching. So you nodded profusely, not trusting your voice to not betray you again.

"Don't listen to her cariño," the blond had said softly, her hand on your shoulder, and at that moment you swore you could die, your life was complete.

"Big day today, sí?" the capitain added, dragging you toward the group of players who had started arriving.

You hoped you'd be able to find you voice again soon, otherwise today would only be a long and embarrassing day.

You waved to some of the players, high fiving Patri who seemed very happy to see a fellow La Masia made kid. You couldn't help but be star struck, looking around you you saw Irene Paredes. Wall of the team. And Ingrid Engen? Technically midfield goddess but honorary defender in your books. Really what would have the team done last season without her? You couldn't help but chuckle a bit seeing Ona, remember your meme from this morning, though you tried (and failed) to hide your laugh as a cough.

But then training started, and you were definitely better at football than introducing yourself, so you gave your all. You had warmed up with Ingrid, not like Mapi didn't try to get to you before but the Norwegian had dragged you with her, leaving the Spaniard pouting. You were definitely glad for Ingrid right now, you were sure if you had had to play with your idol right away, you would have somehow tripped on your own feet.

After the warm up, the real work started. You had been doing well, holding your own as much as you could against them, trying to time your tackles well, finding your grooves in your passes. You were playing a five-a-side when the incident happened. At some point, you had tried to nutmeg Alexia on a spur of the moment thing, and had blushed furiously when you had inevitably failed —leaving only Gemma to defend the goal. Which in itself was embarrassing enough, but you had recovered quickly, decided on fixing things, you had ran for your life, and somehow managed to kick the ball away from the goal line when Alexia took her shot.

Problem?

It has landed straight on Ingrid's back, hitting her at full strength.

Ingrid stumbled forward, gasping, and Mapi who was right next to her burst out laughing. You ran to them, mortified, half screaming a busted apology.

"Already trying to get rid of me?" The dark haired woman said, chuckling while rubbing her back.

You screamed, trying to defend yourself while slightly panicking. "What?! No. Ingrid I'm so sorry, it's the ball, I didn't-" you stopped yoursel.

It's the ball? Seriously?

Ingrid raised an eyebrow at you while her girlfriend was practically rolling on the grass from laughing too much.

"I think the ball did exactly what you wanted, little devil." the Norwegian had said smirking, leaving you audibly gasping.

"I- What?" You stumbled on your words "I'm an angel I would never willingly hurt another defender!" you added, gesturing.

Mapi, who was still holding onto her belly from how much she was laughing interrupted, "An Angel? You just tried to murder Ingrid with a football.”

You whined your disagreement, unaware that most of the team had stopped their training to watch you three arguing on the sideline, most with a smile on their lips. You heard Pina laughing in the background, saying something along the lines of you perfectly fitting in already. Alexia had made her way to you. Her voice surprised you when she spoke teasingly, "Would that mean that you'd willingly hurt someone who's not a defender?" You could see on the blonde faces that it was meant as a joke. You watched, half amused half desperate, as the three women burst out laughing at the face you made.

Thankfully for you, the Norwegian did not seem to hold a grudge for the way you had attacked her with the football, leaving the training session to continue.

It was the end of the day and you were making your way to the locker room when Mapi had ran to you. She ruffled your hair, putting her arm around your shoulder when she was satisfied, "You did good today kid, looks like you might have a nice future ahead of you."

Your mouth fell open, before you started scrambling to say thank you. You just couldn't believe Mapi of all people was the one to compliment you. All the team had welcomed you with open arms, pulling you in conversation, praising you when you did well, giving you tips when you were struggling. You always knew they were good people, but witnessing it first hand was leaving you a bit emotional.

You guessed your starstruck eyes were obvious when Frido, who was passing you to sit at her locker said, "Well, no need to ask who your favourite player is, uh?" You felt your body shrink in your seat and went straight back to blushing as the team giggled. After the first moment of embarrassment, you laughed with them.

You had behave fairly well, until you were presented with the perfect opportunity by Irene, feeling like the team had a good vibe, you decided to show a bit of mischief.

"So," Irene asked curiously, "what made you decide to be a defender?"

You froze for a second, your filter failing you, before smirking. "Because defenders are the hottest."

You saw Mapi nearly choke on her water while the whole team burst out laughing. And suddenly you felt very proud of yourself. You laughed with them while kicking away your cleats.

The tattooed Spaniard had recovered from her cough, tears in her eyes, "You're a cheeky thing, aren't you?"

You smiled, wiggling your eyebrows, "I mean… am I wrong?"

"No lies detected," Ingrid chimed in with a wink, making everyone laugh harder.

You leaned back into your locker, not believing how well you were going along with the team. That's when you saw Aitana giggling and grabbing Ona by the sleeve. "Look! Someone edited you on a The Flash meme!"

Uh oh.

[cheer-nympho]

Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

[fortheloveofarchons]

The Harbinger and His Arranged Bride

(A Capitano x Reader fanfic)

Full chapter down below on the Ao3 link!!!

.

.

.

“Remember, it’s all for him. For them. For… yourself.” 

It should be an honour to be selected by one of the greatest harbingers, The Captain.

A recognition. 

A sense of gratitude that someone out there decided to choose someone like you. 

However... What made him feel proud? Why would one of the most powerful Fatui Harbingers in Snezhnaya, The Captain, would pick someone who lives outside that frozen realm? 

He had never come across someone like you, so how could he be pleased about choosing you?

Nevertheless, arranged marriages usually come about as a result of elders' obligations or business.

“Mama? Is it true?” 

“...Yes, it is.” Your mama’s words ring in your ears, which serves to further unsettle your stomach. “Out of all the beautiful maidens in Snezhnaya, he has chosen you.” 

“But… I’m from Sumeru.” The sunlight from your window kisses your dark tawny skin, as sweet as chocolate and as solid as oak. “Why would he choose someone like me? I don’t even know if he has ever been to Sumeru before.” 

“Perhaps it's due to after everything The Doctor, Dottore, did to damage the Akademiya’s reputation and harming the livelihood of our people.” Your mama folds her clothes on the floor, tucking the sari neatly to ensure that there aren't any wrinkles. “Aside from rebuilding a part of the Akademiya and importing new goods to Sumeru, marrying someone from this land would be some kind of a peace offering. As odd as it is, think of it as a trade tactic.” 

“So I’m just some scapegoat to them?” You fold your arms. “Figures, it’s always been that way.” 

“Now, now. Don’t be like that.” Your mama finishes folding all of the clothes. “I know it seems scary to you, but I assure you that you are in good hands. The Captain, arguably, is much better than half of the Fatui Harbingers.” 

“And how would you know that, pray tell.” 

“Well,” Your mama turned her head around to face the wall. “Your father and I have met him before. A meal, actually.” 

“You’ve met him?!” You immediately sit down next to your mama, taking her arms to inspect them. “Are you both okay? Are you hurt? Is baba hurt? Did he do anything? Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Would you stop that!!” Your mama slaps your hands. “Of course we are okay. If we’re not okay do you think I will be sitting here talking to you so nonchalantly, ah?” 

“...What’s he like?” Your eyes subconsciously twinkle from curiosity. 

“He’s quite a gentleman. A polite, yet strong man.” Your mama couldn’t help but chuckle at the past memory. “At first, we were both hesitant to meet him when he sent in a letter of arrangement, but after meeting him all of our expectations were demolished. Though, I wish he would have worn something lighter and… less darker. Knowing how humid it is everyday, I’m surprised he didn’t break a sweat. Just watching him wearing that large coat made your baba sweat. Plus, black is bad. It's bad luck, after all!” 

“What do you mean by ‘expectations were demolished’?” You curl the two fingers at your hand, making air quotes. “What did you even expect from him? And what did he do to demolish them?” 

“Admittedly, we expected him to be more brute and intimidating.” 

“And then…” 

“When we meet him for the first time, he is exactly brute and intimidating.” 

You throw your hands in the air, exasperated by your mama’s audacity. “Oh come on! What’s even the point of–” 

“But,” Her words cut you off. “The Captain is also very direct and straightforward with his intentions. He was also very considerate and polite too, he told us that should we ever need anything we could just write to him, and that he will take good care of you under his arms. Plus, he told me that a wonderful mother like me has raised you very well~ He certainly is knightly~”

“Mama…” Disgust danced in your eyes in silent judgement. “You’re married.” 

“Ah, an old woman like me can still dream~” She playfully smacks your arm. 

“Still… Do I really have to go? I guess if I refuse this, he’ll kill us?” 

“About that, now that’s what surprised us.” Your mama explains. “He told us that it’s okay for you to reject the offer, and that there won’t be any consequences for it. Although he chose you out of anyone else, he said he’d understand if you refuse.” 

“Wait… what? Really?” 

“ Meree jaan, ” Her hands on your cheeks feel warm. “I understand if you don’t want to go, but I can tell that he really cares about you. If he didn’t care, he would’ve just swooped you away before you could ever see your home again. The Captain… is much better than all of the people that you have dated before. I’m sure that he will make your life much more contentful than before.” 

“Mama…” 

“Yes, sweetie?”

Like a vinyl player being halted to a pause while rolling the music, the moment between you and your mama dissipates. 

“How much did The Captain offer you?” 

~~~~~~

“That… was a lot of money.” The pride that had reverberated in your baba’s voice when he told you the amount of mora that The Captain sent nearly made you spin. Though, it doesn’t really unsettle your stomach. It made your parents happy, after all. 

“ I’ll miss you.” You mutter. “I’ll miss home.”

Her kiss on your forehead reassures you a response. 

It’ll all be okay.

A stuttering breath slips past your lips as your eyes drop to the ground. 

Looking outside from the plain looking carriage, where the trees and grass were kissed white, and rivers run beneath deep set icy. The more you look at this scenic view, the more they remind you of those landscape paintings from the cover of the old puzzle boxes.

You notice that your entrance to Snezhnaya has been… very quiet. You can only assume that The Captain, despite his status, wasn’t much for personal fanfare, understandably so. 

At least you are betrothed to someone who values privacy. Your heart makes excuses for him. 

You let out a sigh of relief. 

No ostentatious carriages or trumpets announcing your arrival.

No people swarming in to ask you many nosy and invasive questions. 

No sight of him… for now. 

You are surprised that despite The Captain's good reputation, there is little interest in his affairs from others. Perhaps the people of Snezhnaya know better than to pry in confidential knightly affairs, or perhaps they were scared upon being found out snooping into his business. 

“I guess someone like him would rather be covert than flaunt like a peacock...” 

After slipping and bouncing the carriage against the freezing streets, you stumble out of the carriage like a ball hurled from a tin cup. Upon your arrival, you are greeted by a couple maids and butlers who lead you inside his private estate that’s east of the palace’s direction. You didn't even have time to take in the cold wind and what his estate even looks. They rush you in his estate, voices from both sides drowning out your thoughts. 

"Please, allow me to help you with your attire. Goodness, it's soaked with melted snow."

"Remember, do not stroll out at night. It is unwise to do so." 

"Make sure to take all of your meals when the servants send it in your room."

"Your wedding dress is already prepared, we'll send it out to you the day before your married day." 

...Perhaps, in your baba’s words, The Captain wanted you happy and well.

~~~~~~

Days passed by, and the most you’ve ever done is being kept inside his estate. You were left alone in your own private quarters of the estate, windows sealed shut so the wind can't intrude and that you couldn’t escape. 

Every day, when the clocks struck at nine, two, and six, food would be brought in by the maids, all in perfect portions on plates and bowls. Though lacking in spice and herbs, the flavours were adequate and delicious enough for you to ask for seconds. 

Gifts were brought in too: Exquisite jewelled gowns made by the finest tailors in Snezhnaya, fresh and luscious bouquets grown from Mondstadt, sweet, flowery perfumes being concocted in Fontaine, vials of cream and soaps and herbs from Liyue, all anticipating for your acceptance. 

You accept them, of course. Though partially overwhelmed by such luxury being handed to you casually, you can’t say no to free stuff. 

When night falls, you’d lay in a giant bed, with white sheets like the colour of snow and a red velvet lace canopy. At first, you couldn’t sleep, petrified that The Captain would barge in the dark and rest his body on you. But thankfully he didn’t come, though your heart tinges with a bit of disappointment from the fact that he hasn’t even bothered to come and visit you before the big day. 

Apparently, from what you overhear from the butlers, The Captain is still on an expedition in Dragonspine so he won’t be able to return to his estate until a week later. Then again, you’ve also heard that he doesn’t stay in his estate much, other than to rest and rejuvenate from his missions. 

“Excuse me,” The intrusion of a soft voice broke your train of thought about him. You flinch slightly, your heart leaping at the thought of being found lost in your thoughts despite that it isn't a crime to do so. The doors to your private quarters had opened, and in the space between them, stood a smaller lady in a maid uniform. She gazes at you with a rather curious expression, and you can’t help but avert your eyes to the window. 

“Apologies,” You turn back to find the maid’s cheeks burning with embarrassment. “My Lady, I– this maid is wondering why you aren’t in bed yet. The other maids could see light leaking out of your room…” 

“Sorry, I just couldn’t sleep well.” You shake your head in response. “If… If it’s possible– Could I go out for a walk?” 

“Tonight?” You could tell she’s hesitating from the way she clenches her dress. “But it's a bit late…” 

“I will be outside for just a moment. And I’ll be back in here.” You reply bluntly, with only a little room for bargains. “I promise.” 

You assume that your request, something as simple as a walk within the estate grounds, would be rejected. But the maid turns her head left and right, and then speaks in a hushed tone. 

“If someone else found you, please don’t tell them that I allowed it.” 

Happiness swells in your heart hearing her words. 

“Thank you so much!” 

~~~~~~

“It’s really cold…” Even with the heavy, dark blue coat that was gifted to you, it still doesn’t change Snezhnaya’s temperature. Still, you were surprised at how long these coats are, as it reaches down to your ankles. 

And how heavy it is… since it’s made from thick wool. You hypothesised that this coat is lined with fox fur, a touch of luxury for sure. 

You thought that winter would be pretty like those fairytale books that you read as a kid, but perhaps looking at it at night feels… different. 

Outside of the estate’s garden, or if you’d even call it a garden– The winter trees shiver in bitter wind, naked branches adorned with snow. The clusters of twigs, gnarled and twisted, extend like the hands of a writhing old man. 

You snug your head in between the high collar that is trimmed with fur, exhaling mists out of your plump lips. 

When is he coming back? 

Is he… really a good partner for me? 

Thoughts swirl in your mind, and all you could do was to shake your head in resignation. 

Sitting on the bench, you fiddle with your gloved fingers. Your heart is already content with the idea of a loveless marriage. As long as he doesn’t cast permanent scars on your body or even ask you to conceive a child for him, that’s fine, right? 

…

What a bare minimum. 

“Mmmph–!!!” 

Just as you are about to head back, the sound of what sounded like a muffled scream made your blood run cold, and your body froze. 

“What the…”

As much as you know the best decision is to immediately run away and hide in your private quarters, you know that whatever it is… will haunt you in your sleep if you don’t satiate your curiosity. 

The crisp winter air bites at your cheeks as you carefully crouch and tiptoe through the snow-laden garden, the soft crunch beneath your boots muffled by the thick, frost-covered ground. Your eyes flicker to the ground and to the scene of the moment, trying your best to avoid the crunch of broken twigs or frozen leaves that might give you away.

As you slowly round a frozen fountain, your eyes catch a faith glint of steel ahead. 

“Is that…” 

[hollowed-theory-hall]

If the age restriction was done away with, do you think Harry's name would have been picked for the tournament at 14?

Maybe.

Like, how the goblet chooses a champion has nothing to do with age. The age restrictions were added by Dumbledore with his age line. The goblet only cares to pick out the "most worthy" champion:

An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.

(GoF, ch12)

is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion

(GoF, ch12)

Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools.

(GoF, ch16)

"Most worthy to represent the school", now worth could be measured in a bunch of ways, but let's take this quote at face value and assume it means everything. That a champion would be a decent person who is very magically talented. As in, judging on character, intelligence, and magical skill/talent.

At 17, Harry would be picked no questions asked. He's magically capable, he's clever, he's a great guy — he is the perfect champion.

The question is if a 14-year-old Harry would be considered by the goblet more magically skilled and worthy of competing than Cedric. To that, I think the answer is yes too, actually.

Maybe it's because I love Harry a ton and am, therefore, biased, but he can resist the imperius at 14 and cast a patronus at 13. He can cast intuitive magic to rival adults at 14. His accio charm in the first task was incredibly magically impressive. Even if Barty/Moody wasn't helping him, I guarantee Harry could've gotten past the obstacles in the 3rd task as easily as any of the other champions.

Additionally, I think Harry is a nobler person than Cedric. I will remind you Harry chose to tell Cedric about the dragons on his own accord because he wanted things to be fair:

Cedric still didn’t know about the dragons . . . the only champion who didn’t, if Harry was right in thinking that Maxime and Karkaroff would have told Fleur and Krum. . . . [...] “Cedric,” said Harry, “the first task is dragons.” “What?” said Cedric, looking up. “Dragons,” said Harry, speaking quickly, in case Professor Flitwick came out to see where Cedric had got to. “They’ve got four, one for each of us, and we’ve got to get past them.”

(GoF, ch20)

While Cedric Diggory, the poster child for just and fair Hufflepuff house, gives Harry way less helpful information and he does it as a transaction — as returning the favor and not because he thinks it would make things fair:

“Listen . . .” Cedric lowered his voice as Ron disappeared. “I owe you one for telling me about the dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?” “Yeah,” said Harry. “Well . . . take a bath, okay?” [...] “Tell you what,” Cedric said, “use the prefects’ bathroom. Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password’s ‘pine fresh.’ Gotta go . . .

(GoF, ch23)

Also, there's a reason Harry stays behind in the second task to make sure all the hostages are saved, he's the noblest competitor there. (Maybe because he doesn't care about winning as much as the others, but still).

So, yes, I think, if the age line wasn't there and Harry's name was placed in the goblet, I think he very well could've been chosen by the goblet as a champion. I think he's more than worthy.

[leoruby-draws]

I did a whole bunch of drawings for Jason's team two weeks back, so now its time to concentrate on Steph's team! Here we've got 4 new characters for her team, with a couple extra tomorrow as well. Lets go into to them, one by one.

First up is the lantern for the group, more specifically a Violet Lantern apprentice aka Miri Riam! Her reasons for coming to earth is unknown at the moment but they seem to have some connection to Carol Ferris. Carol's also a Violet Lantern and Hal's(Green Lantern) on-and-off girlfriend and occasional antagonist. Perhaps Miri was sent to become Carol's apprentice? I've got more info on whats happening there, but thats for later.

As for why Miri was chosen for the group, I knew I wanted some kind of Lantern for the team, but couldn't find a green lantern that was both in Steph's age group and have fun interactions with them. But then I thought, does it have to be a green lantern? I had a red lantern for Jason's group after all. I looked around and found Miri! I don't know her exact age but I knew she was a young adult, so I'm just gonna have her be around Steph's age group.

The Violet Lanterns Corps are very ...enthusiastic about the power of love and Miri's no exception. She wants everyone to know the joy of Love, she's honestly kinda annoying about it. I remember this one GL issue where she was destroying a city just to get Kyle and Soranik to resolve their love troubles. That pretty much became the basis for how I'm writing Miri's personality. Like I said above, I'll get more into Miri at a later time.

Next is Maxine Hunkel aka Cyclone, granddaughter of Ma Hunkel aka the golden age Red Tornado! I already posted a drawing of her a while back, I thought she'd make a fun fit for the team. She's has such high energy and so much enthusiasm I couldn't help but find her utterly endearing. I think at a later point she'll end up joining the JSA but for now she's just having fun with this team.

Btw I thought that maybe her grandmother, Ma Hunkel, could fit a similar role that the other Red Tornado did for Young Justice, helping out a young hero team. Just a way to emphasize how Steph and Tim's teams can serve as foils to each other.

Next up is the archer of the group, Mia Dearden aka Speedy II. Tho she should probably have a different name due to Roy still being Speedy atm. Maybe Speedette? Ehhh, gotta workshop that.

Anyways here's Mia and Steph meeting as civilians, with Mia showing off her bow. Mia seems to be in some sort of school uniform, perhaps Oliver is sponsoring her to go to a fancy academy? Her backstory is similar to canon, with Oliver saving her from bad people. I'm not sure if her story should be exactly the same as canon, since Mia is 10 but terrible things like that do happen in real life to young children. But I don't know if a goofy au like mine is the best place to show that. But for now lets just say Mia is currently trying to heal and become a hero like Green Arrow.

I imagine Steph and Mia get along really well, they just get each other in a lot of ways. Steph can see Mia might be hurting inside and wants to cheer her up, hopefully with all of Mia's new friends she can.

Last up is Jaime Reyes aka Blue Beetle III. Unfortunately I haven't drawn him all that much so no individual drawing for him, tho I do like him.

As for why Jaime, I remember liking him in the YJ cartoon and found him pretty likeable in the comics as well. But I've always like the spiderman hero archetype anyways, which Jaime fits really well (I mean, it was done on purpose). Static and Sideways also fit the archetype and are in the team as well. Arguably you can say add Steph to this too, probably more than Tim in my personal opinion.

Another reason I wanted to add Jaime is that he and Steph almost became teammates in canon, in a failed Young Justice project. What could have been huh. Third reason is more silly tho, if Barbara and Ted Kord start to date in this au, imagine how grossed out Steph and Jaime will be lmao.

So there's four new teammates for the team, but! I've got a couple extra for tomorrow! And later on I hope to finally post some more doodles of these characters (some of them are real old, more than a year old). Especially Miri, she turned out to be such a fun character, and I've always liked the all the lantern corps. Here's a bonus doodle of them btw (with bonus unmasked Sideways):

So many new members, well, hope you liked all that!

[princeseerow]

oh man, i tried to classpect the animorphs once! never really finished, but from what i remember:

rachel - knight of rage

jake - rogue of blood

tobias - breath

marco - seer of mind or seer of heart

cassie - maid of heart or maid of space

ax - possibly light? i was always least sure of him

david - void

rachel is definitely a knight, probably a knight of rage. knights are said to protect their aspect or protect with their aspect, and rachel's primary motivations throughout the entire series are to protect the people she loves. (the knights we meet in homestuck also tend to struggle with facades and their sense of self which, like, hello?) rage meanwhile, while it can be the aspect of anger, also encompasses fear and skepticism -- sometimes healthy, sometimes not. one of the most important parts of rachel's character to me, besides her protectiveness, is the times we see she's afraid. not really afraid of the yeerks or even of dying, she's afraid of herself and who she's becoming, afraid of losing her friends and family, which is what drives her protectiveness. plus, the berserker getting the rage aspect is so on the nose that it works

jake is blood for sure, but i never settled on a class for him. it feels like a fandom cliche to make the leader a blood player but like. come on. he's absolutely blood! blood concerns itself primarily with interpersonal bonds, connections, and responsibility which is A) jake's main drive for the fight (ie, saving tom) and B) the reason he was chosen as team leader to begin with. the other animorphs primarily know each other through their relationships with jake, and in turn, jake can read his teammates so well that he could near accurately predict how anyone would respond in a given situation. if i had to pick a class for him off the top of my head, he might be a rogue. theyre said to steal their aspect for the benefit of others (whatever that means tbh) but i also just think it would be so funny if the "andalite bandits" were headed by a rogue

tobias is breath easily. its also kind of on the nose when you consider that breath players get air/wind powers, but more importantly, breath is the aspect of freedom and disconnect. thats just... tobias. i dont have to explain myself. thats tobias. and also importantly, breath is the opposite aspect to blood, which for the purposes of this analysis do well to help emphasize how opposite he is to jake.

marco i can see as both a mind and a heart player. theyre opposites, but its pretty common in homestuck for characters to embody traits of their opposite aspects anyway. mind is thinking and rationality, while heart is feeling and emotion, but mind and heart both have a lot to do with identity and self. mind is to obscure the self and heart players is to embrace the self, but then, part of a character's journey is struggling with what their aspect means to them; the comic's most popular heart player has very obvious mind tendencies after all. marco is the Thinking Man of the group but he's not a robot. he's honestly pretty susceptible to letting his emotions get in the way of his decision making, particularly when it comes to his mom. he's either a mind player with very strong heart leanings or vice versa. as for him being a seer of either, seers are the class of knowledge and observation, which make them well suited for being tacticians.

cassie is hard to pin down tbh. she has the feeling empathetic nature of heart for sure, but space being the aspect of creation just feels so fitting for her in a way i can't explain. either way, i'm thinking maid -- maids are said to be particularly close to their aspect which can be both beneficial and detrimental if they don't learn how to strike balance. maids are also commonly headcanon to be a healer class and i just like the idea of cassie being a healer of heart/self or healer of space/creation

oh, aximili. he's the hardest for me to classpect which is why he's last*. my only real argument for ax as light is that light is the aspect of knowledge, among other things, and he's the closest thing the team has to an IT guy and alien expert. no idea about class.

okay yes of course i had to do david. he was an animorph too for a while!

david is void definitely. besides being appropriately edgy-sounding, my reasoning is also kind of mean, and i love being kind of mean to david. so, his actions in the series are honestly pretty light-y. because, besides being the aspect of knowledge, light is also pretty attention-seeking which imo david's role as a traitor who tries to align himself with whoever has the most power in a given situation, only to eventually attempt to weasel his way into power himself... right up until he gets bested by those he underestimated and cast into literal obscurity. light's opposite, void, IS the aspect of insignificance and obscurity. it's the aspect of "nothing." and wouldn't it just piss him off to learn he was destined for nothing?

I know you didn't get into Homestuck but on the offchance your followers have opinions what would the Animorph's classpects be?

I will float this to the followers. People who know Animorphs and Homestuck - thoughts?

[lord-squiggletits]

Thinking about IDW Optimus again and the fandom's aversion to even acknowledging he exists bc he's a cop or whatever and like. Most of the time people literally just replace him in fic with some white bread knockoff archivist/librarian, not even bothering to keep in IDW OP's personality (which just bolsters my theory that the problem isn't him being a cop the problem is that he's too multifaceted but I digress).

And it's annoying because you could totally write IDW Optimus as not a cop while still keeping his canon personality. You just have to realize that the reason IDW OP became a cop in the first place is because his formative experiences when he was young shaped him to basically have two priorities: 1. To help people and 2. To do it by being on the ground actively doing something about the bad things happening to people.

IDW OP would not be a fucking librarian or archivist because even though those are noble pursuits that can help people and change the world, and Optimus is educated/smart enough for the profession, he wouldn't be satisfied just teaching people or spreading information about activism or social-historical studies or whatever. He's a mech of action: he needs to be doing things right now, in front of him, to people he sees/interacts with in his own eyes, improving society with concrete actions rather than indirect action or abstract inspiration.

So basically the alternate job ideas I can think of for IDW Optimus are something like being a firefighter (or any first responder really) or even whatever the equivalent would be to international charity organizations, those ones that send volunteers across the world to do stuff like build housing/infrastructure or distribute food or whatnot. I mean I can't imagine that the equivalents to these things would be exactly the same in IDW Cybertron, so you'd have to get a little creative with it, but these are just some ideas of jobs that would fit IDW Optimus' personality while still filling the niche of "not a cop" for people who are just that opposed to it.

Though I think the revulsion against coptimus is annoying in general tbh because IDW is already a continuity that rejects the idea of easily defined good/evil people or groups. It feels like people really want Optimus to be a good person in a very sanitized and academically approved way, so he has to be nice and squeaky clean but also like, a perfect leftist who knows theory and holds the most progressive opinions on every single issue....

There is no room for the idea that good people join bad institutions, there's no room for the idea that the reason people think cops are good guys who help people is bc of the government propaganda everything is saturated with. Hell there's even later issues of the Optimus Prime series by John Barber where Optimus like, MULTIPLE FUCKING TIMES, is shown in flashbacks grappling with the fact that he as a cop/Zeta's regime that he works for might not actually be improving society like they say they are, and dealing with the fact that he feels more like a lesser evil compared to the Decepticons (perhaps not "lesser" at all).

It's like there's this idea in fandom of like, fictional media and opinions on media having to strictly adhere to progressive ideals at all times. So people just go "cops bad, this character is a cop, therefore they suck" without being willing to engage with the idea of like. IDW OP is born wanting to fight injustice and protect people -> a good way to protect people is to fight the people who are hurting them and committing crimes -> surely following the law is a reliable moral code to guide him in this -> becomes a cop because he's been indoctrinated into a society (much like our own) where he was told that the state/the law exist to protect the people and being a cop means you get to fight bad guys that hurt people. There's really so many interesting concepts there that could be (and CANONICALLY IS) explored about how good, well-intentioned people can be led to harmful actions simply because they have been fed the idea that the things they're doing are good/helpful/noble. Which is especially important for a character like Optimus, I think, who has a cultural icon status as The Irrefutable and Perfect Good, so it's really important actually to use IDW Optimus as an example of how even the most noble people you know have held problematic beliefs or done bad things at some point in their life. You know, because no one is born perfect and ideologically pure, and in fact society is constructed in exactly a manner to make people drink the kool-aid and believe that the systems designed to hurt them/others are just a normal, if flawed, society.

I mean the writing in IDW literally has Optimus deal directly and indirectly with the harm he's done as a cop and how people don't/didn't trust him because of that. I don't know what the fuck else this fandom wants if the source material literally saying "OP realizes that cops suck and he hurt people and earned their disdain by doing the things he did" doesn't stop them from going EW cop bastard sucks and is the worst Optimus. Like the narrative barely stops short of outright saying ACAB and Optimus himself would agree with this sentiment.

At that point, the collective fandom beef with IDW OP isn't because he's a cop and the narrative didn't do enough to condemn that. The problem is literally just that people don't read and don't care

TLDR: Consider the fact that good people can do bad things sometimes especially when living from birth in a corrupt society that thoroughly disguises its vices/oppressive structures as completely normal parts of existence

[forcedhesitation]

*wheeze* slowly, but surely, working on art of them all

[moxtoons]

Hello! I have been watching your drawings for a long time, and I really like your work!

Can you draw Fancy tickles Stickler?^^

Cuphead

Thank you I really appreciate that!

I don't usually do requests, but I'll take any opportunity I can to draw FancyxStickler! (featuring their daughter Audri!)

Sometimes they have to really distract him to get the man to take a break, even after "work hours" 🤭

Reblogs are appreciated please don't repost

[bhaalsdeepbat]

just to add:

Using Poe rather than any other Dark Romantic writer that was his contemporary to pull a quote from was such a good choice. Of his sotries, "The Tell-Tale Heart" was the perfect one for Astarion, but Poe very specifically believed stories should be written in a circular manner - like a snake biting its tail - which fits so perfectly with all the little ways Astarion's story and romance references itself.

Direct quote from my source:

Poe believed in “fashioning a tale like a kind of ouroboros, with its tail in its mouth, beginning with the final effect and working backwards to that the story’s beginning is a natural derivation of its conclusion.”

It's the setting up of the Romantic Astarion in act 1, finding out he's not as fine as he keeps insisting as the narrative swings into Dark Romantic territory, the paranoia starts to really come out (relating back to tell-tale heart), and then he is literally given a choice: continue the cycle or break free. The cycle of abuse is literally a circle here. He can take up Cazador's place in the ritual and step into his role entirely, reentering the ouroboros I mentioned earlier.

The "Thank you" when he first bites the player being referenced later when they see past his paranoia and how unreliable of a narrator he is about his own feelings and seeing that he doesn't want power. He wants safety in a world that he believes isn't capable of kindness or good.

I love how Astarion quotes The Tell-Tale Heart every once in a while. It's a rarer line, and initially I thought it was out of place (Neil is very well versed in theater, so I assumed it was a riff from him), but since reading an analysis of the work I think it was pretty purposeful.

The piece is all about fear and paranoia, things we know Astarion is plagued by despite how he might act. Similarly, the narrator of the story also tries to convince the reader that they are not as troubled as they seem. In the end, the narrator is consumed by the beating of the heart of the old man he killed and dismembered, the sound growing louder and louder until in a fit of rage he reveals the body to the police to absolve himself from the persistent beating.

Except the police never heard the heart beat, because it wasn't the old man's heart at all. The narrator was consumed by the sound of his own heart beating more and more rapidly in his chest from fear. He was the owner of the thing that forced him to reveal his true nature, he is the owner of the tell-tale heart.

And what happens with Astarion after you romance him? He realizes over time that, while he tried to deny his feelings and was initially only interested in manipulating you for his own means, he actually has grown to care for you. You have done something to his heart that hasn't happened in centuries, you have made it feel as if it has started beating again.

Therefore, his tell-tale heart leads him to admit his transgressions, which were committed out of fear and paranoia for his safety.

So the line is actually very, very apt. His confession during Act 2 is his own version of "Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!" Except, of course, it is his own heart that he is unearthing for us (and it's not so hideous, after all).

[im-still-a-robot]

Sailor Merope!!!

[sschmendrick]

I kinda miss hanging out with old people. All my friends used to be old people.

But the older I grow, and the more I'm expected to behave well like a normal adult, the harder I find it to keep those links. I'm lost between trying to stick to a script I don't know the words of to have a proper normal and interesting relationship for them, and allowing myself to screw up a little, be boring, be interested in stuff they aren't, having opinions they don't agree with (for silly stuff like music, though yk me), not be cool. Cause the latter stresses me out. Cause I see no reason for people to want to be friends with me if not that.

[deathbind]

Serot's own arsenal of spells and generally how he applies necrotic magic differs from modern day Anactaci. You can clearly see the foundation he laid, but it has been over a thousand years. The order has evolved considerably in that time. There's also the fact that he was reborn at level one and has structured his skills to suit his present needs, but [hand waves]

There are different sects and roles within the Anactaci who call on the Plane of Death in different ways, but certain generalities can be relied upon. Their magic is largely geared toward what would be considered divination. They are the bridge between this life and the next, the messengers of eternity. They commune both with the souls of the dead and with spirits — chiefly spirits / entities on the Plane of Death but spirits of all types, including those like Refhremmit. Indeed, every City of Eternity has one Anactaci dedicated to communing with their patron. It is a sacred office.

Beyond that, their magic is deeply focused on the soul and the threshold between life and death. They are adept at identifying and countering curses or maladies of the soul. They are adept at identifying and addressing possessions or spiritual attachments. The skilled can manipulate the ravages of time on a body or object (a skill shared with the Manthu). The most skilled of all can leave their bodies behind to inhabit ritually prepared objects; these become the teachers of the Anactaci and keepers of the deepest mysteries.

Yes of course, they animate and preserve corpses, either directly or by calling a spirit to inhabit it. This is part of Meketi funerary rites. But, simply making dead things move is only part of their skillset. Indeed, it's the most basic part.

Anactaci are bound by sacred oaths to turn their magic to holy purpose and with a thought for balance always. However, a truly irate or unscrupulous Anactaci could do serious damage. Particularly if they are skilled. Insidious curses and nigh-undetectable possessions (i.e. slowly driving a person to madness with ill luck or nightmares; far worse curses are possible). Yanking a person's soul directly from their body, either holding it captive or causing it to become lost. Learning secrets from spirits or from souls that can utterly destroy a person. Causing them to rapidly age, turning to sun-bleached bone before their eyes, one limb at a time. Or causing them to wither, then return to their correct age, then wither, then return to their correct age — over and over until they don't know whether they're alive or dead. If capable of severing their soul from their body, they can possess others directly, influencing or totally overriding their will. They might not touch a person at all; they might sap all life from their home instead.

Fortunately, such corrupt Anactaci are rare — and swiftly dealt with.

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread

Star Eater

fantasy world under religious rule by an order of nuns who practice ritualistic cannibalism to gain magic

one young Sister who’s plagued by visions wants to get out, and ends up caught in the complex politics between factions vying for power and the revolution wanting to get rid of them

[rosecreates]

Raven and Astarion are basically just "Charlatan to Charlatan communication" without either realizing it because neither of them are very open about their pasts at first and in the scenario where Astarion enacts his simple plan on Raven he has no idea he is breaking Rule 0: Don't try to con another conman (or conwoman in this case).

Raven knows exactly what he's doing but she just doesn't tell him she knows until later because the game is fun.

Both of them thought this would stay a game but then they both catch feelings lmao. Absolute losers (affectionate).