#this ended up a lot longer than i expected

[reiding-writing]

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

[sleighhethereal]

— poor first impressions

WARNING: slight nsfw, bunnies

imagine being one of the only female best friend's of Mei, and somehow you haven't met the Monkey King at all the first season or two

you didn't really give a shit to begin with

sure, it was amazing having MK as a best friend AND successor to some immortal jackass

all you've heard from MK is that Wukong was—

"HE'S THE BEESST!" MK squealed as he swung the red staff around in the air, swiftly doing stances with each turn. "Just as the legend says, [Name]! He's strong, handsome, and- and- he taught me that you should ALWAYS believe in yourself—"

"MK, I could have told you that myself."

though, there was a small part of you that wasn't atleast curious of what or who Sun Wukong is

it seemed MK talked about you alot, because sometimes Wukong asked for you to join

"Hey [Name]." MK would approach you as you held twenty dishes in hand, "Monkey King asked me... to ask you, if you wanted to- sort of- join in on the training—?"

that'd be when MK would receive a wooden spoon to the back of his head, sending him flying to the ground face-first

"HELL NO! HE GOT ONE OF YOU, I'M NOT LETTING HIM TAKE THE OTHER!" Pigsy would screech, somehow spawning another wooden spoon in his palms.

after that, MK stayed for shifts a bit longer than expected‐ you'd ask why and he'd tell you Monkey King seemed like he was sulking, so he gave him a break

weird stuff

it was during personal training that you'd finally meet the Great Sage‐ not under great circumstances

and no, it wasn't for the end of the world

MK was prepping his own moves, with you on the side for... support? Mei came around in a bit, sitting beside you.

"I wonder what else I can do.." MK mumbled to himself, pushing his hand out as it began to glow a bright yellow. "YAAAAAAAHH!"

everything went black

and you slowly opened your eyes to see Mei beating the absolute shit out of MK

"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY—"

"YOU TURNED MY BEST FRIEND INTO A BUNNY- CHANGE HER BACK, NOW!"

you blinked, looked down, and screamed.

you quickly rushed- well, hopped‐ towards a full-length mirror and gazed upon yourself.

you turned into a life-sized bunny

half the day was spent with MK trying to turn you back but nothing worked, just a sweaty man on the floor and a whole lot of sobbing apologies

it would've been fine but you were starting to do strange things

like, you hated Pigsy for example

"Kid, what the hell is up with you?" Pigsy asked, his eyes filled with nothing but concern.

"Don't TOUCH me!"

you found some menstrual pads, chocolate, and some take-out noodles on your bed the next day

you weren't on your period.

you nudged people, head-butted, and didn't sleep at all at night

sometimes you'd watch MK sleep and he'd wake up to your purring, and then others would wake up to his terrified screams

finally, MK took you to Flower Fruit Mountain- he couldn't turn you back himself, but someone can

that'd be the Monkey King himself

you were especially weird this week- you had made a dirty den in the shop, growling at anyone who came near

so, yeah, that was kind of the last straw for Pigsy

when Monkey King came out to greet MK and Mei, he never did

he squealed at the sight of you, pushing the kids aside (quite roughly, sending them flying off the stairs) and rushed you with open arms

he kissed your face, nibbling your cheeks— a part of him actually thought you were an early birthday gift

"O-M-G! You're so cute! What brought you here, hmmmm? Oooooooo, I just wanna eat you up and put you in my pocket-" He babbled nonsense as he carried you, pinching your cheeks.

that was until you practically pounced on his face, pulling his nose close to yours as you stared into his eyes.

"You'd give me great kittens."

"...Oh?"

It took MK a while to try and separate you both and it took a while longer convincing Wukong to turn you back

"Look, man, I need you to bring her back to her- you know, normal self."

"But why????"

"You KNOW why!"

"If dealing with her is so difficult, I could... take her off your hands—"

"MONKEY KING." "DON'T YOU DARE!"

"WHAAAAATTTT?"

eventually, after like two days, MK convinced Wukong. it would've taken longer if it weren't for you actually telling him that you wanted to be yourself again

after Wukong's dramatic tears and hard hugs, he turned you back

lucky for you, you don't remember anything that happened after being converted

well, lucky for like a few seconds after you got back to the shop

"So you kind of asked Monkey King to, uh.." MK got close to your ears, whispering the rest."

your face went red, "I did what?"

"I think he was into it too—"

"WHAT?"

[mymarifae]

these two are linked in some way. 100%. i'm hesitant to add mem to the theory board because idk if they'll be related to march too or just cyrene (being an entity that sort of embodies cyrene's... essence? like ELF elysia in hi3) but the similarities they have with Both are too big to ignore completely

unsure if they're about to go the route of cyrene and march being the same person or if march is simply like... a fragment of cyrene that was sealed and sent away to maybe give her a chance to live on since this girl is doomed to die in virtually every universe and iteration. amphoreus's time and space displacement is fucked up and it seems like we're going to be spending a lot of the adventure split across concepts of "past," "present," and "future." so that mayyyyy be why we were able to see cyrene interacting with and talking to stelle in the nameless faces video, if she's no longer "whole"/dead/...whatever.

she does appear to be emerging from a place of... non... physicality. also it's worth noting that in the first picture of her i included, she's sinking - into water or a water-like substance. that can presumably freeze over...... and become the ice block himeko and welt found march 7th in....... hm? 🤨

it's hard to say how much cyrene will have in common with elysia - it's unfair to expect them to be the exact same character, and maybe these points i'm about to bring up mean little in the end because we don't know for sure where the story is going to go, but

elysia was "born from nothing" which doesn't quite have the same connotations as march 7th's "birth" but you know. they both found themselves in a sudden state of existence with next to nothing to fall back on and they defined themselves

elysia is not humble about her beauty and speaks often of it (as she should; she is very pretty). similarly, march frequently boasts about her cuteness and describes herself as the cutest girl in the world (as she should; she is very cute)

"never forget your roots" is one of the mantras elysia lives by. this stands out to me because despite not... really needing those memories, march is pretty insistent on remembering her past. the lesson that the garden of remembrance and just the universe and her adventures in general have tried to teach her ("your present defines you; so long as you're happy here, you don't need the memories of your past, and retrieving them might destroy what you've come to love now") just doesn't appear to be sinking in. perhaps because she subconsciously has a core belief stating the opposite

as for how mem would fit into this i have nothing for you because we don't have anywhere near enough info on them for me to begin thinking about that. but it seems like they'll be a pretty big deal.

like i'm spitballing more than anything here. if march IS a fragment of cyrene i think it's also obvious that she has grown into her own, entirely separate person and her origins are inconsequential - though she might not think that if/when she learns this about herself. that might also offer an explanation for why the garden of remembrance won't let her have any part of her old memories, not even a hint. because learning that she's technically a piece of someone else might be too heavy a blow to her sense of identity and she'll be entirely too focused on all the wrong things. uncovering her past will slow her down at the most inopportune moment... make her vulnerable in all the worst ways. which might be why she appears so absent from the adventure.

it's also possible that like. all three of these guys - march, cyrene, and mem - are fragments of a titan (don't ask me which). or that march was given cyrene's coreflame (don't ask me which) before being catapulted into space. or march was the previous owner of the coreflame cyrene has now - if they can be passed on to other people - before being catapulted into space. or i mean, the coreflame cyrene HAD because i'm not convinced this girl's fully alive and well. mem IS the coreflame, brought to life/imparted with cyrene's memories and will.

do you see... there's just so very much to think about... looooots of story spoilers got thrown at us if we can just... untangle the mess... can anyone HEAR me

[mafuyussweater]

My favorite SVSSS fics

>my favorite non-bingqiu focused fics.. I have a bingqiu specific fic rec list that is much longer hah<

Be sure to read all the tags!

Leave authors kudos (and comments)

Enjoy ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ (to be added to as a read more)

Bros before... well everything I guess by: icannotthinkofapenname

Teen+ • Canon Divergence (found family)

Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua find out they are both transmigrators as soon as Shang Qinghua visits him after he recovers from his "fever". They cope with the crazy world together and end up closer with the other peak lords than either of them ever expected.

(This is a bros fic, binghe is barely even here (sorry binghe))

˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚

Master of Dual Cultivation by: esama

Explicit • Time Travel (series!! not complete)

Shen Qingqiu gets sent back to the beginning by the system when he fails to save the world during the events at Maigu Ridge which leads to his and Luo Binghe's death. He is haunted by the events of his past (and potential future) and decides to do things differently this time around. It doesn't always mean things are better.

(Hint of Shen Qingqiu with others! Also he is a mix of Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu in this in such a delicious way)

˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚

Wild Wild Heart by: Thy_glorious_death

Explicit • Canon Divergence (series!!)

At the edge of the Abyss Shen Qingqiu makes the impulsive decision to follow Luo Binghe down into hell. Liu Qingge sees them fall and spends all his time trying to find a way to them.

(This is Shen Qingqiu (yuan) harem so skip if it isn't your thing but he is very well loved here heh)

˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚

Paper Faces on Parade by: TheChocoChick

Teen+ • Canon Divergence (identity reveal)

Two years after Luo Binghe began his journey through the abyss, Shen Qingqiu gets a system notification with the objective to talk to Yue Qingyuan. They both learn a lot about each other and become even closer friends. (It's still a bingqiu fic but it focuses on the friendships that Shen Yuan develops in his time without Binghe)

˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚

A Pairing of Souls by: muzu

Teen+ • Canon Divergence (series! not complete but just one extra/continuation)

After self detonating, Shen Yuan discovers Shen Jiu has been existing in a weird liminal space and has seen some of what has been going on while Shen Yuan took over his life. They both make it out together when Shen Yuan's soul hops into the mushroom body which is ready very early. He discovers that giving Shen Jiu his old body back is going to be much more difficult than planned because Luo Binghe is currently protecting it... aggressively.

(This is still bingqiu endgame but it focuses more on Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu than any Bingqiu romance)

˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚

[moonmaiden1996]

Bound By Fate Chapter 15 - Epilogue

Shanks basked in the warmth of the sun, the hammock swaying gently under him as the summer breeze caressed his skin. His crimson hair gleamed in the sunlight as he lazily glanced down, bleary-eyed, at you. Your head rested on his broad chest, hair cascading over his bronzed skin like a soft veil. For now, the world was quiet, the moments serene. Soon, though, the Red Force would leave the cove, its sails unfurling as the crew ventured out to claim the seas once more—with you by his side.

He smiled faintly at the thought, his arm wrapping around you possessively. He’d considered keeping you tucked away in his cabin—a space no longer scented just with you but of the both of you. Shanks had been thorough in making you peak on every surface, staining you forever in the very wood that shielded you from the raging sea. He made it the only witness to his love and unwavering devotion. His grin widened as his gaze fell on the hammock. Perhaps he’d add this to the list. Maybe you'd ride him here, he mused with a sly smirk, pulling you closer. There was no rush to venture out onto the open sea.

“Blubber blubber blubber...”

The sound of a transponder snail broke through the peaceful reverie. Shanks groaned, burying his face deeper into the hammock.

“Blubber blubber blubber...”

“Beckman, throw that damn snail into the sea!” Shanks growled, though his irritation softened as you stirred against him. ''Damn it... Yassop shot the damn thing.''

“I’m awake,” you murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Go back to sleep,” he cooed, his voice a low rumble as he tightened his hold.

You pushed yourself up, resting a hand against his firm chest. “I said, I’m awake.”

Shanks’ grin turned wicked. “Hmm, this feels a little familiar. Maybe it’s giving me flashbacks to our earlier... escapade in the crow’s nest.”

The crew’s laughter erupted around you, and you glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Tsk. Is nothing sacred with you?” Beckman growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. “And you lot why ae you laughing?,” he snapped at the chuckling crew, “you'll be the ones disinfecting it.”

He tossed the transponder snail onto Shanks’ chest with a smirk, earning a dark glower from the captain. Beckman, ever unfazed, merely allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch upward.

Shanks pressed the snail to his ear. “Yeah? Hmm... Right... Oh, they did what now?” His boisterous laugh echoed across the beach. “Well, you don’t say... Oh, that one, huh? Didn’t think they had it in them!” His shoulders shook with mirth.

The voice on the other end erupted in an unintelligible stream of curses. Shanks chuckled, then slammed the snail shut, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock as he stood, taking you with him.

“It’s time, lads!” he roared, his voice brimming with energy as the crew surged forward.

“What’s going on?” you asked, barely keeping up with his pace.

“It seems your friend, the old man, has been making his rounds with that pollen of theirs,” Shanks replied, grinning mischievously.

“And...are they okay?”

“They’re fine I am sure—causing no more chaos than usual I expect. Still, we’d better check they’re not kidnapping anyone... that’s my move.” He gave your rear a playful smack, laughing as you shot him a murderous glare.

Shanks watched you storm off toward the gangplank, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Captain?” Beckman’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Shanks didn’t turn as he replied, “I think it’s time we start her Haki training.”

“You sure she’s got it?” Beckman asked, skeptical.

Shanks nodded. “The first time I saw her, it practically vibrated off her. She has it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Shanks’ tone turned serious, his gaze sharpening. “Whatever’s coming, it’s big, and it’s coming soon.”

Beckman nodded. “Understood.”

“Good. Set a course for a little catch-up with the Straw Hat.” Shanks smirked, striding after you onto the ship. He paused, calling over his shoulder, “Oh, and Beckman? No disturbances. I think I will start her off on her first lesson break her in a little before you bore her with your training.”

Beckman scoffed but saluted with a sly grin. “Aye, Captain.”

I was going to wait to post an epilogue/ but I honestly I am really enjoying writing this series/arc. The plans I have just give me goosebumps.

Laws fic has just started if anyone wants to have a read of the first chapter.

Ideas for the Straw Hat are...happening. I am just having so much fun creating a reader for Sanji and Zoro. If your interested in my Zoro musing please have a look here. I would love to know what you think of my idea.

Thank you so much for all your likes and comments. They really have made me want to write.

Lots of Love

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST.

[velvetvexations]

As a nonbinary person my biggest problem with enby has always been the fact that it's not ever felt like a word. It's quite literally just saying nb out loud but written out. It's never felt like a real identifier. For as much as the shitty I'm just a girl jokes or saturdays are for the boys sayings are like. Scuffed and bad. The words actually sound like they fit and flow in the sentences. Saying I'm gonna go hang out with the enbies later doesn't sound like a word. It sounds like I'm saying an abbreviation in place of a word. Because that's what it is at the end of the day. It never stopped being just an abbreviation of nonbinary but longer this time and it kinda pisses me off that it's treated like a really Good word. It isn't infantilising or anything bc tbh. It's not any more or less mature than someone just saying the damn letters out loud, but it sure as fuck lacks any sense of formality. People can say they're an enby all they want but it doesn't feel like an identifier if I called myself one, it feels like a descriptor. I think nonbinary people deserve a word for themselves that isn't just. The term for their identity but shortened and then made long again. Especially considering that we don't exactly refer to men and women as ems and doubleyous do we. It's petty, but it keeps me from liking it all the same. If a term that took absolutely Zero Effort to come up with is something that a Big group of who it was supposed to describe really don't fucking like, I dont think it's that big of a deal to put in a little more legwork to make something different

That's an interesting perspective. I guess every word needs an origin?

Idk maybe it would be easier if we made some distinction between internal/personal gender (how you conceptualize yourself) and external/social gender (how you are gendered and treated by others) cis people and post transition trans people usually have an internal gender and an External gender that somewhat match. Pre transition trans people have mismatched internal and external genders, which can produce dysphoria. I personally don't have much of an internal gender at all, but my external gender is "woman" based on presentation and socialization. When i say "trans women are seen as men" what I actually mean is "non-passing trans women are perceived and treated as men by transphobes, a role which has a very narrow set expectations and requirements in order to fully access its privileges, otherwise they get the same treatment as all queer/"failed" men, which is different from the experiences of people gendered externally as women in a lot of complex ways." there's no universal experience of gender and no such thing as a "real" man or woman, that's what "gender is a social construct" MEANS. But still! Our society treats men/boys different than women/girls. And the way people are treated affects how they behave! It's not misgendering anyone to point out and analyze those differences, it's just sociology and gender theory. It can be trans inclusive if you're not an idiot.

Post-transition trans people still generally risk discovery even if they're completely stealth. Besides that, I think it's too close to saying one is that gender also if we split it between the two, since why would one take precedence over the other when gender is fake either way? Identity is personal and people who tell you you're wrong about your identity are just incorrect, it's really simple.

someone i see often in transmisogyny discourse (not gonna drop the user) liked a post saying "intersexism isn't real and it's transmisogyny to say it is", unliked it and denied it when it was brought up to them, and is now pretending it didn't happen. what do you even do about that

I have no idea who you're talking about, but that's bad, I guess?

The ‘transmasc headcannons are all self indulgent, illogical and antifeminist. but transfem headcannons are all intelectual, narratively complex, feminist praxis’ thing reminds me of the ‘yaoi is all self indulgent, illogical and antifeminist. but yuri is all intelectual, narratively complex, feminist praxis’ thing (idk how common it is in fandoms that aren’t homestuck (cus istg that fucking fandom))

it's so deeply annoying

ngl I've been repeating "fellas, is it transphobic to admit that transphobes are transphobic?" ever since you said it (or at least something close to it? I don't remember if this is a direct quote or paraphrase because I was very tired that day) in one of the ask compilations because it sums up the whole thing so succinctly and also just feels good to say

Sorry about all the assclowns who are so eager to assert their bone-deep conviction that yes it totally is -__-;;

we live in a bad timeline

For the "trans-inclusive" cis girls who still insist "transmascs are BETRAYING WOMANHOOD" -

Riiiight...so, COMPLETELY irrelevant question, but how did you and your friends feel about the weird girl in middle and high school? You know, the anime fan with the punk clothes and dyed hair? Started hanging out more with boys than girls around the middle of the year? You DID extend the "bonds of sisterhood" to her too, didn't you?

No? You called her a traitor and a freak too? Even before she started hanging out more with the boys, you thought she was just being a holier-than-thou snob because she wasn't interested in the topics usually considered "girl talk"?

Yeah, I can't imagine why she would have felt more comfortable with the boys either...truly a mystery...yeah she really did totally betray you...yep...

women throw around "pickme" like it's the worst possible thing to be but most pickmes have a pretty good reason for being pickmes and women who complain about them should do some introspection

I think Androhomophobia is the word for MLMs speaking on their unique oppression!

noted!

"Why do trans men need a special word" why do trans women need a special word 🎤 do you just consider mens experiences the default 🤔

for transfem TRFs: because men is what trans women are transitioning away from so it literally was the default for them and they have a hard time understanding the idea that some people want the thing they don't want and don't want the thing they want

for transmasc TRFs: because of course they want to think they're the alpha dogs society revolves around they're all misogynists

As someone who wasn’t on tumblr when that “kill all transmascs�� post was going around, what was that about?

I reeeeally hope there’s some context that I’m missing and it wasn’t just one of those “kill all men” jokes from 2012 with “trans” inserted into it.

Also, it’s really disheartening to see this kind of behavior from people who you would otherwise trust.

if it's older than this past March I wasn't around either but there was a post going around just a couple weeks ago

As a nonbinary person: the entire enby thing could be fixed if we just could have terminology without it being relentlessly mocked.

Some people are going to be uncomfortable with enby because it sounds similar to baby and that can feel infantilizing. Some people will not think it’s infantilizing. Some people will not care. This is normal. I think enban is a good term even if enby wasn’t made to be used similarly to boy and girl. I think more explicitly nonbinary terms are good. I want to have more terms to describe myself. Only having enby is annoying.

Yeah like...not having the infrastructure of entrenched and codified language is difficult.

I think there's a degree to which this sort of thing is "spreading", insofar as I see an uptick in random cis people making flippant transandrophobic jokes and then acting like it's antifeminist to disagree. HOWEVER, I also think the hardcore TRFs' views are escalating over time to the point that when their posts break containment they often sound so obviously fucked up that people who aren't as discourse-poisoned are noticing it, rather than just blindly boosting like "Trans rights, I guess!".

the legacy of trans radical feminism: making cis people a little more transphobic

did that one op imply trans men can all just girlmode like its no big deal and takes no effort. like i do girlmode at work but that entails shaving daily and trying to keep my voice high despite having dropped like two octaves.

i feel like all that saves the façade is that my coworkers have known me since pre-T plus my tits are gigantic

he did imply that!

I think all the transmascs on here talking about how being seen as a girl is a privilege should try being a girl not wearing a bra. Or binding. Just letting them hang out. It's amazing how poorly you'll get treated. Bonus points if you're also obviously autistic and generally GNC at the same time

(On that note I think there should be more of a movement for people with boobs to not have to wear a bra because they are so uncomfortable for me and make me extremely dysphoric and I'm sure I can't be the only one-)

That used to be a feminist thing but it seems like everyone retreated from that issue.

What are your thoughts on the idea that TERFs genuinely do hate men the most and the only reason they specifically target trans women is because they see them as men that are "trying to sneak into womens spaces"? I think it makes sense on the basis that they treat trans women badly but sometimes ally with cis men who also hate us because those men aren't "explicitly trying to trick them"

I mean yeah exactly lol TERFs see trans women as men in the middle of actively doing a misogyny or trying to perform a fetish in front of them

[theloveoffootball10]

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ- ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ɴ ɪ ɴ ᴇ

s e r i e s m a s t e r l i s t / c o m p l e t e m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ɴ ɪ ɴ ᴇ

The last few months have been crazy. I'm currently stood in the kitchen of Lando's Monaco apartment waiting for him to get home from China after the first two races of the season, both of which have ended in him on the podium giving him a better start to the season than last year.

Since Lando gave me a key to his place I've found myself spending more and more time here. I only really go back to England to see family and friends if Lando's going to be away for a few weeks or if I have to be in the office for whatever reason. I've found myself wanting to be here in Monaco waiting for him when he gets back from races, I don't want him to come back to an empty apartment.

Knowing the state Lando would get himself into last year I like to be here for him whenever he might need me. I've learned over time to read his behaviour and have an idea of what to expect after each session on the sim or in the car. It's crazy to think this time last year I never would have imagined I'd be stood here practically living in Monaco with a boyfriend who means everything to me.

"Hi baby" hearing Lando walk through the door I take one look at him and can tell he's exhausted.

"Hey. How you feeling?"

"Good but ready to sleep" Lando says pulling me into his arms. It's so nice to have the familiar feeling of being in his arms back after a long two long weeks without him. The time difference has made it harder to speak to each other but we've made it work "I missed you"

"I missed you too. It's been quiet without you. Why don't you go and chill, I'll make us something to eat"

"Thank you. You're the best baby" as Lando pulls away he kisses the top of my head and I leave him to do what he needs to while I throw together a quick spaghetti carbonara. He's probably too exhausted to eat but at least it's there when he wants it "baby have you seen this new trend of me on TikTok?"

"You need to be more specific Lando. There's a lot of things going around TikTok of you" I say sticking my head in the living room to see what Lando is talking about.

"There's pictures of me and all it says is 'five minutes and a hair tie' they're all good photos of me to be fair" rolling my eyes I lean over the back of the sofa so I can look over Lando's shoulder at the videos he's talking about.

"They're all amateurs. I don't need five minutes or a hair bobble when I've got your hands pulling my hair into a ponytail"

"Fucking hell Lu you can't say stuff like that after two weeks without you"

"I'm just saying babe. Your girlfriend knows what's she doing. I won't be too much longer, this carbonara won't cook itself" standing up I walk back into the kitchen leaving Lando to ponder over what I've said.

"I just couldn't stay away after what you said" feeling Lando behind me within minutes of me leaving him in the living room he steps closer, his hands landing on my hips, pulling me against him.

His lips hover over my neck, teasing but not quite touching. Each time he exhales on it sends shivers down my spine. His hand slowly slides up my back, his fingers grazing my skin, making my whole body tingle, I can't help but let out a low groan.

Lando's grip tightens as he turns me around in his arms, his lips crashing against mine, the tension of the moment releasing all at once cementing just how much I've missed his physical touch over the last two weeks. Our kiss is urgent, we're like starved animals.

The feeling of being back together has awakened something new in him. I tangle my fingers in Lando's curls as my back hits the edge of the kitchen bench, I am physically aching for any kind of touch.

"You drive me insane Lucía" His voice is low as he pulls back, watching my every move his eyes darken with lust.

"So do what you want with me. I'm yours Lando"

As the words leave my lips, Lando's hands slip under his hoodie that I'm wearing, his rough fingertips sending a waves of heat across my skin. My body responds on its own accord, as I find myself turned in Lando's arms and my body bent over onto the kitchen bench.

Every kiss, every touch, the anticipation of Lando's next move makes my body ache with need as I feel my clothes being removed from my body. His lips move down my neck and across my shoulder, while his hands roam along my thighs.

I can't see what Lando is doing but I can tell he's  fumbling with his joggers to get them off and eventually he does. I bite my lip as I feel my underwear being moved to one side giving Lando access to exactly where I want him.

"I need you badly Lucía. You're absolutely perfect" leaning into Lando's body I feel how hard he is against my wetness "you're so wet baby. Just for me. Is this how much you missed me?"

"Lando please" I'm aware how desperate I sound but I just need him to fuck me hard. He continues teasing me, frustrating me even more before finally giving me what I want. What I've been craving.

I don't attempt to hold back my moans. My body reacts to every movement as Lando fills me. It's like he was made for me, we fit together perfectly. His movements are deliberate and slow, I know he's holding back wanting this to last but I need him to let go.

"You feel so good baby"

I want nothing more than to dig my nails into Lando's back but my current position doesn't allow for that. My hands are flat on the bench desperate for something to grab onto and I pull the closest thing to me into my hands which just happens to be a tea towel.

Trying to match Lando's speed with my hips I feel the tension in my body building. I know I won't last much longer, every touch is bringing me closer to the peak of the much needed climax. My back arches as Lando pulls my body up by my hair causing me to scream out his name in pleasure as he thrusts deeper keeping the same rhythm going.

Hearing Lando's moans so close to my ear as he lets himself go is enough to send me over the edge. I've never been one to find it attractive when a man lets out moans of pleasure but there's something about the sounds that come from Lando that are like music to my ears. Letting myself go limp I lean against the kitchen bench supported by Lando as we both regain our composure.

"I love you so much my girl. You're perfect" his voice is soft as he pulls me into his arms placing a soft kiss to the top of my head "you're the one for me" Still basking in the afterglow, there are only three little words that need to come out of my mouth.

"I love you" wrapping my arms around Lando's neck I pull him into my arms. He might be taller than me but I love holding him in my arms.

"I think we might need to order food in. I can't cook but even I know that carbonara looks ruined" as we both get dressed I take one look at the pan on the hob and know there's no fixing it.

"Yeah we're definitely ordering in. I have a question" I say as I start clearing away the ruined food.

"What is it?" Lando asks and I can tell he's confused.

"After all of the months I've been coming to see you at home, why is today the first time you've bent me over the kitchen bench like that?"

"I have no idea but I can tell you now that's not going to be the last time because that was fucking incredible"

"I hoped you'd say that" seeing my phone start ringing next to me I see a FaceTime call from Liv "hold on it's Liv. Hiya!"

"You okay?"

"Yeah I'm good. You look amazing by the way! This whole being pregnant thing has suited you so much!" I don't think I've ever seen Liv glow this much before.

"Thank you. Is Lando home?" Liv asks and I see Max join her on the sofa.

"Look at his face! He's just had sex!" Max shouts as Lando comes into view on the camera next to me "that man is always exhausted when he comes home from a long haul flight, there's no way he'd usually still be awake let alone smiling!"

"All I'm saying is that it's been a long two weeks" Lando says with a shrug as he rests his arm around my shoulder.

"My innocent ears!" Liv practically screams at us unable to hold back her laugh "anyway we've got something to show you both, I had to wait until I knew Lando was home to ring you"

"What is it?" I ask confused what Liv needs to show me from her sofa for Lando to have to be here as well. As the camera is flipped I'm met with the sleeping face of a newborn baby. Liv and Max's baby. I let out the most high pitched screech in shock that my best friend actually has her baby in her arms "Oh my god! What the actual fuck! Oh my god"

"You two kept that quiet! Congratulations to you both and congrats on leaving Lu speechless" Lando says looking at the baby on the screen in front of us.

"I can't believe he's here! I'm so happy" feeling the tears roll down my cheeks I can't believe the happiness I feel for Liv and Max.

"Lucía don't cry or you'll set me off!" Liv warns through the phone. I have to get home to see her.

"I'm just so happy Liv" feeling Lando pull me into his arms I try to stop myself crying "does he have a name?"

"Yeah he does, meet your nephew Rafe Bradley Fewtrell" Liv says as she rests baby Rafe on her chest to snuggle him in. All I can say is that she looks content, there's no other way to describe it "he was born early yesterday morning but we wanted to tell you both together when we knew Lando would be home"

"Thank you. I'm pleased you've told us together because now I'm just going to cry at Lando about how perfect he is. I'm going to come home and see you both is that okay?" I ask not wanting to intrude when there's a newborn involved.

"Lucía you're welcome any time. If you'd both been home I would've had you visiting us in hospital or I would've at least invited you over when we got home. You're my sister, I'd let you visit anytime, no invite required" as we end the call I promise to get home in the next few days to see Liv and so Lando can see Max. I've never wanted to get to England so quickly.

"Lando..."

"I'm already on it. We can fly tomorrow afternoon" Lando says cutting me off knowing exactly what I'm going to ask. This is why he's so perfect, he can read me without me having to say anything.

The next day we arrive at Liv's house straight from the airport. I don't want to hang around, I need to see Liv to make sure she's okay and to meet baby Rafe.

"Hiya!" I say walking into the house knowing exactly where I'll find Liv. We have the kind of relationship where we don't have to knock when we get to each other's house, it's practically a home from home for both of us I think she'd be offended if I knocked. "Hi Max. I know I've made this all about Liv and Rafe but I'm happy for you. You'll be a good dad" I say hugging Max as I see him sat on the sofa.

"I appreciate that but I get it. Your friendship with Liv is special" Max stands up to greet Lando and I leave them to it as I sit next to Liv cuddling her.

"I'm so proud of you Liv. I don't think words will ever be enough. You're going to be such a good mum and Rafe is going to be so loved"

"Love you Luc" as Liv rests her head on my shoulder I listen as she tells the story of Rafe's birth and how her world instantly changed the second he was in her arms "you can hold him you know. I can't be bothered to stand up but you're more than welcome to get him out of the crib for a cuddle. I know you're desperate to"

"I am but I'm also here for you. You're my best friend and my priority was talking to you first" standing up I look into the crib where Rafe is swaddled in a blanket. He's truly beautiful, I know everyone says baby's are cute but he genuinely is the cutest baby I've ever seen. Taking him in my arms I feel an instant rush of love. It's like something clicks in my brain and I know I'll love this little boy like he's my own and I'll do anything to protect him.

"It suits you having a baby. I don't think it'll be long until you two have one of your own"

"Maybe one day but we're too selfish right now. We're just enjoying each other and honestly? I don't want to share him" I feel like because of the time Lando and I spend apart, I have to appreciate every second I get with him and selfish as it may be I want them moments to myself for as long as I can.

"Right Lu, I love you baby but it's uncle Lando's turn for a cuddle" Lando says walking into the living room with Max trailing behind. I try to huff and protest as Lando takes Rafe from me not wanting to let him go but it doesn't work.

"Luc will you help me get ready? I fancy going for a walk. I'm sick of being inside after spending all weekend in hospital" agreeing to help Liv we make our way to her bedroom where I French plait her hair and do her make up. She's capable of doing it herself but there's something about having it done for you that makes life easier.

"I'm not going to lie Liv seeing Lando holding Rafe has made me feel so broody"

"Why do you think I said it won't be long until it's you two with a baby. Honestly I thought I loved Max until I saw Rafe in his arms for the first time. That's a whole new level of love that hits like a ton of bricks" listening to Liv talking about Max I don't actually think I could love Lando any more than I do without combusting.

"I'm not saying never, I'm just saying not yet. We've already said we're both not ready and want to wait a few years and I'm happy with that. I'll just enjoy being an auntie first" my relationship with Lando may have taken off quicker than a formula one car in pole position but I'm happy with where we are now. We're in love and we're happy that's all that matters.

esmelucia

Liked by maxfewtrell, livdavies and 43,198 others

esmelucia we take aunite and uncle duties very seriously landonorris. Rafe Bradley Fewtrell you're my favourite human, I will love and protect you always 👶🏻 🩵 

View all 9163 comments

user43 you and Lando would have the cutest family

↪️ landonorris she'd be the biggest milf 🔥

livdavies thank you so much for today, we appreciate you so much! Rafe loves his auntie Lucía and uncle Lando 🤍

↪️ esmelucia we're here for you any time! We love him so much 🥹

user747 omg stop! uncle Lando and auntie Lucía are real!

user547 this is the best news! Imagine baby having Max’s curls!

user638 you two should definitely have a baby so it can be best friends with Rafe!

↪️ esmelucia maybe one day if that's what the universe has planned for us.

• • •

This hasn’t been proofread so there’s probably typos galore (I’ll check tomorrow night) but there’s probably only one part of this story left (😭) however my new story should be up at some point this weekend, either tomorrow or Saturday. Most likely Saturday to be completely honest .

[asexualbookbird]

I didn't complete my 24 in 2024 list, but that's okay. I read a lot of short books and that's okay. I tried something new and wrote a small blurb in a draft after finishing it, instead of cobbling together feelings from what I remembered throughout the month, and I liked that a lot. I'll continue to do that, it made this a lot easier. Officially gave up on Ga'Hoole, and don't feel guilty about it. There are better books in the world and I will find them. That is a threat.

The Screaming Stair Case by Jonathan Stroud ⭐⭐½ - I want to watch the tv show, and I always feel weird doing that before reading the book. I'm not sure what I was expecting but it wasn't another Jackaby. I will not delete my blog over it, but it was. Not great. Fine. Fun at times. Would be more fun if the author didn't hate fat people so much. A pet peeve of mine is when the main character is a girl but the series is named after the main boy in her life. Icky. Not the worst, but I'm not sure I want to continue the series. The audio narrator was Delightful.

The Shattering by Kathryn Lasky ⭐⭐ - GaHoole book five. I know I said at the start of the year I'd read what I owned, but I'm no longer having fun so this will be the last for me. I'd rather be reading Animorphs. The owls can't save it for me, I'm sorry. Still counting it towards my yearly list though.

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons ⭐- by Peter S Beagle This was trying to be a T Kingfisher novel but couldn't figure out the right balance between humor and devastation and how it fits into a small amount of words. It tried to be a Terry Pratchett novel but couldn't figure out what satire was. Disappointing considering I was hyped for it when it was announced. Dragons eventually showed up, but it was too late for them to save it.

A Psalm for the Wildbuilt by Becky Chambers ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ - reread for book club! Still adore it! This time around I was able to pinpoint WHY I adored it! It's because I too feel Aimless and Without A Purpose. So. Ouchie. It's also helping me figure out what I want out of a "cosy" novel (or novella). Internal personal conflict! I would still do anything for Mosscap.

A Prayer for the Crown Shy by Becky Chambers ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ - reread for book club! Once again, Becky Chambers has flayed me open and picked apart my soul! Reading Monk & Robot is like sitting down and being given a cup of tea while I cry my heart out.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - "Is this what it means to lose someone? The pain never goes away, it just gets buried?" I think this ending hit me hard for different reasons than most people are going wild for. It was Fine. Not mad I read it, but don't see myself ever wanting to reread it. I like the idea of the library as a living thing and a character itself, but there were a few plot points that just seemed to be brushed aside.

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I needed a safe tragedy I knew the end of and this did it. First time I actually shed tears over these words, but I needed it. It was fun to see and note the pieces that were laid out for later books, and I wonder, knowing some teasers we've gotten for Alecto, what TMuir means by Gideon wishing she could marry her sword.....

I don't have 2025 reading goals at this moment. Maybe that will change. It will probably change. I mean, there's the Usual, read the books I own, dangit, but that seems so. Boring. Typical. Everyone's doing that. Let me be ~Different~. I have a few fiber arts projects I'd like to do and finish, and I'd like to finish the sewing projects I started if only so I can pack all that up and put it away for a while. We're still hoping to move, so paring down my book collection is still an ongoing endeavor, and I do have a couple of art pieces I'd at the very least like to get sketched out. I want 2025 to be slow. I want 2025 to be quiet. I want 2025 to be kind. That's all I ask of it. Be kind.

[serpentface]

Faiza performing the Kagnoma Odo (pretty literally 'lion dance'), a weapons dance and one of the more important ritual duties of Odonii priestesses. A relatively new addition to this traditional dance involves the musket as the primary weapon, which is fired mid-twirl into the ground at the climax of the dance. Faiza is experiencing an 'oh fuck' moment because her shot is more than ideally diagonal, but she’s being so cool with it.

This is a wholly ceremonial performance at the onset of the pilgrimage, performed in full regalia and lion skin (of the small, semi-domesticated strain) but no armor. It’s also distinctly a display of political allegiance between the powerful and beloved Odonii priesthood (and its loyal military) with the increasingly reviled and destabilized imperial family, with Faiza prominently wearing a bracelet of the royal serpent, which was gifted (along with the musket) by the usoma Stavis Amanti himself (Usoma is the Wardi word for king, which has been retained in the context of emperors).

The Kagnoma Odo is the ultimate demonstration of the Odonii as an embodiment of the Lion Face of God and living vessel of military might and sovereignty, demonstrating her fitness and proficiency with weapons and as a spiritual unifier for soldiers. It is accompanied by drumming and occurs in stages, running through the three keymost weapons used in war- the spear, the sword, and the musket. The musket is of the most significance, given the weapon has developed a particular esteem as the ultimate embodiment of might and superiority. Assistants (almost always other priestesses, occasionally high ranking soldiers) load and prime the musket to be fired at the climax of the dance, where it is shot into the ground as the priestess leaps out of range of the shot. The firing signals the end of the dance and the rite itself.

While not the utmost exemplar of trigger discipline, only fully inducted and senior (and therefore very thoroughly trained) Odonii are permitted to perform the dance, and injuries during actual performances are quite rare (though are known to occur during training, more than a few Odonii have burns and wounds on their feet).

The most important renditions of this dance are performed upon declarations of war and before battles (in this case, generally done in full armor along with the lion pelt). It is also done during some trainings (while a dance, it is carefully choreographed to include naturalistic maneuvers of the weapons involved and helps soldiers limber up and learn to move their weapons). It is regarded as an impressive and motivating sight and a morale booster, and, seen at a distance, potentially intimidating to enemies.

A special variant of this dance is performed as means of fully incarnating the Odomache, which is done in full nudity with the body covered in the blood of the freshly sacrificed lion and cloaked in its raw pelt (the lion has become the corpse of Odomache in the moment of death, as part of its recreation of God's sacrifice). Her public, full nude appearance once (and only once) in this act is what allows the Lion Face of God to incarnate within her. Those in attendance see the spiritually vulnerable, naked human body obscured with the sanctified and deified blood and cloaked in the sanctified and deified skin. It is a merger of the contradictions of mortality and divinity, the boundaries between the two indistinct in flickering firelight and the flash of musketfire. She is witnessed by her people, dangling in between humanity and divinity and leading them in dance, and and is thus transformed.

[shortbreadly]

well barbie and blitzo’s interactions killed me just as i expected, but i just want to talk about this:

we can see that barbie’s mad at blitzo for whatever reason, but something about this scene feels off to me. and i think i’ve pinpointed why

blitzo is no stranger to people being mad at him, in fact it happens in most episodes. of course some people‘s feelings mean more to him, such as maybe m+m, stolas or even fizzarolli, but he doesn’t shy away from defending himself and speaking his mind to even them. he always has some shit to say, and always sticks up for himself in his own blitzo way

but with barbie he doesn’t, he just stares at her with that sad little look of regret on his face. even in this scene:

blitzo recoils away from barbie. doesn’t defend himself. doesn’t argue with her. just recoils.

blitzo obviously feels shame and regret over whatever has happened between him and barbie, otherwise he would’ve stuck up for himself. however i also think he views barbie as completely innocent and out of the wrong regarding whatever happened, instead possibly blaming himself, due to one thing:

barbie was never in blitzo’s bad trip. striker, fizz, verosika, moxxie and stolas were, but not barbie. all of these people he views negatively (or has previously viewed somewhat negatively in moxxie’s and stolas’ case) but barbie is no where to be seen. obviously something has happened in the past with her as with the others, but unlike them he can’t bring himself to hate her for it

edit: just gonna throw it out there that blitzo recoils when barbie presses their mother’s choker. make of that what you will

[youling-the-ghost]

Hello, sfth fandom! I've noticed that there's been a surge of sfth fanfiction lately, so here's a friendly guide to tagging on ao3.

(quick note: none of these are de facto rules as much as they are advice from someone who's been using ao3 for years; you don't have to follow these tips at all, they're just to help new ao3 users navigate the tagging system)

Rating

There are 5 different ratings that your fic can have: Not Rated, General Audiences, Teen and Up, Mature, and Explicit. The rating tag tells the readers what level of mature content is in the fic.

Not Rated

It's best to avoid this as it tells nothing about how much mature content is in the fic. If you tag your fic as Not Rated, it's probably best to go a little more in-depth in your additional tags or fic summary to prevent accidentally triggering people.

General Audiences

This rating is for fics that basically have no mature content whatsoever. Essentially, it means that the fic is suitable for anyone of any age. A rule of thumb that I use is to imagine a 10-year-old reading your work. If the thought of that makes you uncomfortable, then General Audiences is probably not the best rating for your fic.

Teen and Up

This rating is for fics that contain content that may not be suitable for readers younger than 13. This can involve swearing, discussion of mature topics (sex, mental health, etc.), or mild violence.

If you don't feel comfortable with children reading your fic, but your fic doesn't have any explicit content, then Teen and Up is probably the best rating for it.

Mature

This rating is for fics that contain adult themes, such as sex or violence. Usually, fics with this rating have heavy themes but aren't very explicit about it. A sfth-specific example would be Inside the Mysterious Cube, as it has violent themes but doesn't have any crazy brutality or gore.

Explicit

This rating is for fics that contain heavy adult themes, including explicit sex and graphic violence. Generally speaking, most (if not all) smutfics should be tagged as Explicit.

Warning(s)

Warnings are used to warn (surprise surprise) the reader for any potentially triggering content. It's good fanfiction etiquette to always tag warnings, even if you're concerned about spoilers. If you're especially worried about spoilers, you can tag your fic as Choose Not To Use Warnings and add a TW in the notes for chapters that include triggering content.

The warnings are pretty straightforward for the most part, except for one thing.

Choose Not To Use Warnings vs No Warnings Apply

This is something that can be very confusing for new ao3 users (and even some old users). It essentially boils down to this: No Warnings Apply means that none of the warnings that ao3 provides are in your fic, while Choose Not To Use Warnings means that you don't want to explicitly tag any of the warning, either to avoid spoilers or because you're unsure about which warnings you should tag.

I personally use Choose Not To Use Warnings when my fic deals with heavy topics non-explicitly. For example, I have written a fic before that involved heavy instrusive thoughts and similar mental health issues, which I thought could trigger unwanted thoughts for the reader, so I tagged it as Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings.

Fandoms

(quick note: "common tag refers to tags that have been wrangled by an ao3 tag wrangler (you don't need to know what that is) and can be used to filter works)

This is the thing that seems to confuse most sfth fanfiction writers. The "Shoot from the Hip - fandom" tag redirects to British Comedy RPF, which is pretty common for niche RPF fandoms.

What I personally do is tag the fandom as Shoot from the Hip, along with any longforms if they apply, which should have their own common tags.

If you're writing a fic for a longform that doesn't have a common tag yet, you should format your tag like this:

[longform name] - Shoot from the Hip Improvised Sketch (e.g. The Unrelenting Aubergine - Shoot from the Hip Improvised Sketch)

I would advise for you to tag both the longform(s) and Shoot from the Hip - fandom. As an example, this is how I tagged my Unrelenting Aubergine and Wild, Wet & Worrisome fics:

(the order of the tags doesn't really matter here)

Relationships & Characters

Okay, this is probably the weirdest thing to tag for the sfth fandom since there are pretty much no common tags for these. For the characters/relationships that have no common tags (which is pretty much all of them), it's best to format the tag like this:

[character/relationship] ([longform where it originates from) (e.g. Derek (The Unrelenting Aubergine), Bubba/Jeremiah (Inside the Mysterious Cube))

The other way to go about it is to use the most common tag. For example, I tagged my Ditch fic as Derek/Titch without the (The Unrelenting Aubergine) since most of the fics were tagged as such.

Just for reference, here are the boys' common character tags for the RPF writers:

Additional Tags

Here is where you can go wild with the tags. These tags are used to give the reader a brief idea of what the fic is about, and you can feel free to add as many or as few tags as you wish. However, it is good etiquette to not add too many tags, so make sure that just the essentials are covered. For example, if your fic features a chair, there's no need to put "Chair" in your tags.

Tags You Should Probably Include

Now, these are all my personal opinion, but I feel like these tags are almost essential for any fic so that the reader can get a quick idea of what mood/genre the fic is going to be:

Fluff - cute and non-sexual things happen (cuddling, kissing, general affection, love confessions, etc.), isn't exclusive to romantic situations.

Angst - sad things happen (breaking up, crying, self-esteem issues, etc.).

Hurt/comfort - one character is physically and/or emotionally hurt, and another character helps them. There's a separate Emotional Hurt/Comfort tag for the character going through emotional struggles.

Anything sexual - do any sexual things happen in your fic? If yes, then you should probably tag it. If the sexual content is only implied (e.g. two characters waking up in the same bed naked), there's an Implied Sexual Content tag for that.

Any heavy content - things like abuse and violence should be tagged, even if you already have a warning for it. This is just to prevent anyone from reading something that might be triggering for them.

Other than that, add as many tags as you need to describe your fic.

A PSA About RPF

Finally, since this is a fandom that involves real people, here's a quick PSA for RPF writers and readers alike:

Please do not share any RPF fics with the boys. This goes for any work, explicit or not.

Also, please respect RPF writers. You may not feel comfortable with RPF, and that's totally fine! Just please don't harass RPF writers just because you believe that RPF is wrong. If there's a fic that you're uncomfortable with, just don't read it and please don't go leaving hate comments on that fic.

I know that this fandom is full of lovely people, but I feel the need to get this out of the way as it's an issue that many RPF fandoms have to deal with.

I really hope this helps!! :]

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

There's this one meme that's like "Came home drunk last night, and got way too excited to see my cat." And you see the white cat covered in lipstick smooches in the picture.

That's me with Tinyformers! Bumblebee, or Rodimus, or Optimus, or Drift, or Swerve, or- (I don't wear lipstick though. So I wouldn't have to worry about washing the lipstick off of them. The point stands though.)

I would also hug them lots. I think I'd probably want to take care of an affectionate Tinyformer, bc I'd see the little guy(s), and want to hug them a whole lot. And give them little kissies.

Bumblebee might be a little embarrassed at all the affection at first, but he loves to snuggle with you and receive kissies once he gets used to it. Rodimus and Swerve are always up to be yoinked and showered in affection, although Swerve is a little less of a brat when he wants attention (Rodimus may commit small acts of arson if you don't respond in a timely fashion). Drift is also very cuddly, but he definitely needs his alone time too. If he's not in a mood to be held though, he'll try to bring you a plushie or something that you can squish instead; he knows you do it out of love!

If you've got a tiny Orion Pax, he'll be a lot more open to receiving affection in the form of kisses and snuggles, even if he may wriggle and beep at you in embarrassment. If your tiny is Optimus though, he'll either aggressively bap at your fingers to put him down, or he'll begrudgingly accept his fate and just lay there limply, his finials twitching. Optimus takes himself very seriously, you see.

Other affectionate tinies include: Red Alert surprisingly! He takes a long time to get fully comfortable with you, but once you've crossed that hurdle he is practically inseparable from you. He will not sleep in his own habitat because he needs to be pressed against your heartbeat the entire night to "make sure his human doesn't die".

Brainstorm also requires a lot of attention, but after a bit of snuggling he's squirming for freedom so he can crawl around your shoulders or sit on your head or just fly circles around you.

First Aid and Ambulon both enjoy being picked up and cuddled, but First Aid is far more willing to reciprocate the affection; he'll try to hug your face when you lean in to give him kissies and he'll softly bonk his faceplate against you to return them! Ambulon is more content just to stay put and snuggle into your hands.

The first two or three times you pick Trailbreaker up for snuggles, he'll probably panic bubble out of instinct, but he does very much enjoy the affection. He'll generally find his way into your lap if you're sitting down and fall asleep to being pet gently. He is a lap cat. And yes, his lil engine purrs.

[bananasfosterparent]

I definitely think there are more AA enjoyers out there (including some Spawn fans who claim otherwise, remember how many of them were salivating over AA's sex scene in the beginning but now they're all saying they actually hate it because he's dissociating in it) but the thing is AA fans have become the fandom's punching bag which makes it really difficult for a lot of people to publicly come out as liking this route without potentially being called delusional, told that you may end up being abused irl and other crap like this because how can you not see his toxic and abusive behavior. It also doesn't help that even one of the writers who worked on his character claimed that players who chose this route only saw him as a sex object lmao

I know there are spawn fans who like AA because every time I see AA romance scene posts in places like OnlyFangs and the Astarion facebook groups I'm in, I ALWAYS see comments like "I can't ascend him but this is so hot!!" or "thank you for posting this! I'd never do this to pookie, but I have to admit this is got me🥵🥵🥵" or panty dropping gifs and things like that. So they can thirst after AA (but we are the only ones sexualizing him, remember!), yet simultaneously talk about how much they hate that version of him. It really makes no sense. Just enjoy all of Astarion! No guilt, excuses, disclaimers, or abuse required!

It's really unfortunate. I understand why some AA fans keep quiet in the fandom. There are a few people in one of the AA discords I'm in, who are only active in that discord and nowhere else in the fandom because theyre just tired/afraid of the negativity. That's ridiculous to me! The fact that people literally can't even comfortably just exist in the fandom without the fear of being bullied for NOTHING.

I have been told I'm "romanticizing abuse" directly and indirectly more times than I can count and it doesn't get better with frequency. And when you factor in that many AA fans ourselves have had experiences with abuse and trauma, it's just such a poor taste statement that literally has 0 ground. I mean, if any romanticizing of abuse were happening, wouldn't it be Larian doing it anyway? Aren't they the ones allowing the romance to continue after ascension with positive dialog choices, and sharing the AA kisses on Valentine's Day posts? Why not come after them instead of fans? If the relationship between AA and his Consort was "written to be abusive" then shouldn't Larian write that so clearly that literally no one can argue about it and there is no doubt in anyone's mind? So why then, is that not shown in the game? And why come after the people interpreting the story differently instead of the company for not making the story's message so airtight, it can't be argued?

Hint: because it's not written to canonly be an abusive relationship, that wasn't Larian's intention and nor should it be. The intention was to create an evil romance route and that's exactly what it is. Anything outside of that is up to YOU.

I think that's where the superiority complex steps in though. That whole "you AA fans just aren't media literate and clever enough to understand the deep, meta meaning of this cautionary abuse tale!" thing.

It also feels like an underlying misogyny thing too. A majority of Astarion fans in general are women and AFAB people. I see spawn fans always calling us "AA girlies" and I never see the reverse. And when it comes to AA fans, it feels a lot like a "let's save/educate the poor naive girls from themselves and their foolishness." When many AA fans aren't even female and certainly aren't naive or young impressionable people looking to have a real life AA.

As for the Co-Writer Who Will Not Be Named... that whole situation is a perfect example of someone abusing their position/influence. They knew players would take their word as law, without actually thinking about it in the context of it being a rolepaying game. So their opinion and agenda is taken as a canon fact when they only did minimal writing AND they can't speak for anyone else's Tav/Durge but their own.

Saying "When Tav ascends Astarion, it means they only see him as a sexual object." is just like saying "Tav keeps Astarion a spawn because they want control over him." Can you roleplay both of those things? ABSOLUTELY. But for most Spawn fans, I'm sure that is NOT why your Tav did it, especially if they're romancing him.

What Welch said is exactly the same type of statement. Their position and professional contribution to the game holds no water in context of their statement being universally applied to all Tavs and Durges that ascend Astarion. It may be how they see it, it may be the impression they tried to get the dialog to convey, but it's all up to each individual player how it's interpreted.

[solaestial]

Namid[A]me - Hitorie 🌧

old main version now swapped with the realistic raindrops one here because i've realised i kind of just prefer it a lot myself visually HAHA, despite this one fitting the vibe of the song better

[antiadvil]

wait i don't think i ever said but there was someone who i assume was a straight boyfriend at tit (he was there with someone else and didn't seem to know what was going on and didn't want a bracelet) and when i went through all my bracelet options i got to the "i <3 tits" one and he was like oh i relate to that one (i don't remember the exact phrasing but it was something like that)

[l3st1b0urn3s-707]

I'm watching all of the Studio Ghibli movies starting with Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, so let's talk about it!

This film was released a year before the studio was created, but it's often considered part of its catalogue. It's based on a manga of the same name by Hayao Miyazaki, who's also its director.

It's a post-apocalyptic film about a world that's mostly covered by the toxic jungle, a poisonous forest, result of a huge war that happened on Earth arroud a thousand years before the story takes place, and it's filled with mutant insects. Nausicaä is a princess from one of the few human enclosures that still exist at the time, and she likes invesigating about the toxic jungle and its creatures. One day, an army from a neighbouring kingdom invades the Valley of the Wind, the place where she lives. They are determined to destroy the toxic jungle, and they want to use a Giant Warrior, one of the old gods that destroyed the world in the previously mentioned war, to complete this task. Nausicaä will try to free her people and stop this army from potentially ending the world.

I first watched this film in the cinema earlier this year on its 40th anniversary and I remember feeling furious throughout the whole film. Don't get me wrong, it's amazing, but seeing how this pacific people had war forced onto themselves made me feel a kind of rage that I can't really describe. It's sad because they didn't want anything to do with it. And it's also sad because it reminds me of current situations happening right now in the world, which sadly don't differ much from fiction.

The film has a clear pacifistic and ecologist message, both very common on Miyazaki's works. One thing I really like about this film is how it explains that every piece of an ecosystem is as important as the rest, even if you think it isn't helping. Humans die after breathing in the toxic jungle, but the trees that form it purify the water that people drink. If you mess it up, you'll die. Nausicaä is also a very strong heroin, guided by her ideas and her love for the people arroud her. Miyazaki's films also tend to have feminist topics.

Even if this film isn't my favourite from the studio catalogue, I think it's very, very good. It really sets the themes for future Ghibli works, specially Miyazaki's. The soundtrack is also absolutely amazing. Joe Hisaishi is one of my favourite music artists, and the songs he composed for this film are definitely some of my favourites from his works.

I usually love stories that make me feel strong feelings and make me think a lot, and this one definitely did. I think this film is super cool and beutiful and really worth watching. And it's also the kind of film that I like to rewatch over and over again. So maybe, this post will encourage someone to discover it and have fun watching it :)