#this is why i'll never be rid of glee

[tuiyla]

"#and people can be so fucking performative about mertina but that's another topic"

can you talk more about that? I have noticed some people on reddit resenting Faberritana’s popularity because three of them are white (and one is viewed as the epitome of pretty privilege) and another is a slender, lighter-skinned and mixed-white Afro-Latina (aka Hollywood’s “acceptable” version of a black woman, akin to Zendaya) and while that’s a discussion to be had, imo some in the fandom take it too far and suggest that racism, colorism and fatphobia are the main reasons why they're the four most popular female characters on Glee in general and idk that also rubs me the wrong way.

Yes of course, because it can be a controversial topic but honestly fuck whoever takes issue with me saying this.

Like, let's start off with this: I get that the Faberritana thing can be annoying. I myself find it grating, particularly when I see stuff from the height of the Glee fandom 2011-2012 and it's very clearly centering on Faberritana, at the expense and exclusion of the two other main girls who are less conventionally palatable for, let's be honest, racist and fatphobic reasons. And Glee itself was very, very bad at centering them. So like, I Get It. Faberritana feels like elevating the three white ladies of the group and "allowing" Santana to also take on that fan favourite role. I'd wager, because of the queer storyline and yes, Naya's undeniable conventional attractiveness. Although I do take issue with the baffling backlash people like Zendaya face because shifting the blame onto women of colour for Hollywood deeming them more screen appropriate is in itself fucked up. Particularly in Naya's case because her mixed heritage was constantly ignored to boil it down to something more easily consumable, such as in the context of Glee her being the token Latina and her Blackness all but erased. But anyway.

The answer to this being this, like you say, taking it too far and creating a counter movement is just all wrong. To me. Not only because putting some women down to elevate others NEVER should be the fucking case oh my god it's 2023, but because appreciation for Mertina being born out of spite towards Faberritana enjoyers is... not real appreciation. I could start stanning St Berry sooo hard but if it's just because I find Finchel more and more repulsive, that ain't gonna be the great win for St Berry I sometimes see people posit Mertina appreciation as. I know this sounds strange but it's the fandom equivalent of trying to make an ex jealous via your rebound. You're not actually taking the rebound's feelings into consideration. Alright okay out of left field simile but you get where I'm coming from.

I think that's what annoyed me the most in my reddit days, which, *shudders* are thankfully over. This childish need to counterbalance to take extreme. X ch is popular? Well I don't like them so there must be a moral reason as to why they're The Worst, actually. Y ship is well-liked? I'm going to passive-aggressively show appreciation for Z shit all while implying that all who support another ship hint hint wink wink are Wrong and basic. I think all who spent time on the sub will be able to relate to this. But like I say, that's not real appreciation. If you feel like showing appreciation for, say, Mertina because they're statistically less like to be talked about with the same fervor, good! Please do that. But make it come from a place of authenticity or I, for one, will not be able to get fully behind it.

It's slightly different on tumblr. One, because you curate your own dashboard and experiences and I've fortunately seen the love get spread around a lot more. There are entire blogs I associate with loving Tina (hello tumblr user @tina-cohen-chang) and though Mercedes love is less "centered", I guess, it's ubiquitous as far as I see. And sure, some chs will always be more appreciated than others, but I don't see people throwing a hissy fit about Artie not being even close to being as popular or Klaine, or similar things. Liking the Glee boys is basically synonymous to liking Klaine + Sam + Mike but people never used the term Klainesike so I guess that's okay. And to be clear, it is okay! Like who you like, call it what you want. I'm happy to see things like Tina week or the relatively smaller but constant portions of Mercedes love. It's never the people complaining about Faberritana supplying it, though, which is why it's so performative. You don't have to be a content creator, no one does, but also no one owes you anything and supporting less fan favourite-y chs out of pure spite just makes you look like an ass.

Circling back, even with all this said I too find the unironic use of the Faberritana portmaunteu cringe and I do think Mertina deserve more appreciation. And I think there are layers of racism as well as the show's own issues playing into why that isn't the case. They were less featured and that in itself is a problem. And that's worth investigating within fandom circles. But that's never what happens when the people of reddit complain about Faberritana's popularity and instead it just becomes this resentment party where no one wins but they give themselves brownie points for even pretending to like the Black and Asian women of the show. Congrats I guess, real win for intersectional feminism right there. Really kicked racism in the gut with that.

Basically it just becomes grating, far more grating than unironically using the term Faberritana, when people get into petty passive-aggressive counter-movements in fandom. It becomes not about love for Mertina but bitterness that chs they happen to not like are popular. And I know I just said in my reply that I don't vibe with what I perceive to be inauthentic appreciation of chs, but I also don't like when fans start policing within fandom. So I'm not doing that with anything I'm saying, in fact what I'm trying to get at is to enjoy and let enjoy. Heaven knows I don't have the energy to spread all my Glee love equally and that's okay. I do try to express the love I have for chs other than Santana, or other than my usual suspects but at the end of the day, I know what I like and I like it because I want to enjoy it. Getting sort of off topic, anyway, so just like stop be an ass about people's love for things and mind your own business. If your own business is liking thing X then that's great, enjoy the fandom content and create your own if you wish, but why be mad about what people like about a 10 year-old show, particularly if you're too lazy to actually have those discussion about race and gender and other larger societal issues. You know?

[self-awared]

The Anemo Archon

Genshin SAGAU Imposter Au!

Part 1 <— You are here! Part 2

Trigger warnings: Violence, not proof-read, not well written

Everything hurt.

Your whole body was on fire from running, from being stabbed, from tripping... If there was something that could hurt you, it did.

—

You had no idea why people stared at you with hatred as you entered the city of freedom. You were the Creator, after all.

It wasn't until you were jumped by the Knights of Favonius that you realized what was happening. They screamed at you, calling you an imposter that dared to steal their Creator's face.

You barely escaped with your life.

—

"The wind? What about it?" You spoke curiously as you held a small wind spirit in your hand. Istaroth had named it Barbatos. It had the ability to talk, and had a mind of its own. It had also become quite close to you as you made and molded Teyvat.

"Whenever you're hurt, follow the wind! I'll help you!" The spirit's glee brought a smile to your face.

"Will you, now? Who says I need protecting?" You responded, teasing the small and adorable creature.

"Me! I do! And the wind!" Barbatos's childish nature was nothing new to you. It was always refreshing to hear their giggles and watch them fly around you as you took a break from exploring your creation.

"Very well. The great Barbatos shall be my protector until the end of time!"

—

The memory brought a small smile to your face as you rested in the den of a cave, a squirrel huddled in your lap, a bird perched on your shoulder, and a snake around your neck like a scarf.

You had felt the wind comforting you as you ran from your attackers. The wind blowed past your face and almost pushed you forward, as if trying to get you to run faster before an arrow struck your shoulder.

You had managed to get away from your attackers, deciding to take the advice of an old friend and follow the wind. It led you to a deep cave, one that would provide you with shelter. The animals brought you food. Squirrels brought acorns, rabbits brought leaves and carrots, birds brought worms, snakes brought dead animals... The worms did creep you out though.

You ran a finger over the squirrel's fur, finding comfort in the feeling of something so soft after going through something so harsh. The peace was interrupted by a soft whisper in your ear, making you jump and scaring the animals.

"Seems like you do need the wind's protection after all!"

You were flooded with relief upon hearing the familiar voice of Barbatos, before panicking at the thought that he might believe that you were an imposter.

"Barbatos... You... Do you believe it's me?" Your hands were shaking just as bad as your breathing. It terrified you at the thought of having to flee from a beloved friend—

"Of course not, Your Grace! The wind never lies! And it's certainly not lying about the fact that your attempts at bandaging are quite poor." Barbatos teased as he sat next to you.

"May I?" Barbatos reached out to you, a hand hovering over the makeshift bandage over your shoulder.

You nodded ever so slightly, internally sighing at his normal playful nature.

As Barbatos tended to your numerous wounds—mainly the one on your shoulder—you couldn't help but notice that he looked different from what you remembered.

"Did you get a change of style?" Curiosity plagued your voice.

"I took the form of a friend." Barbatos's smile became rather dim as he spoke softly.

"Oh... I see." You paused. "What happened while I was away...?" You were reluctant in asking, as if afraid of the answer.

"Well, Your Grace... Someone claimed to be you. They fit the description told in the tales, and even the one I remember you looking like. Everyone believed them, and I'm no longer as strong as I used to be." He spoke softly, in a quiet tone, weary of any passersby, even though you were in the depths of a cave.

"So, I played along. I'm trying my best to find out how to get rid of them, I swear on my life, Your Grace." His smile was comforting as he finished tending to your injuries.

"And what should I do?"

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

Olay well-

Can- Can I ask 2 prompt for Sanji, 5 for Ace and 23 for Luffy? If its okay of course.

I apologise if two of this will be shorter than usual. This prompts have sold out, and so are my ideas

Prompts:

"don't worry sweetheart, i'll never leave your side"

"i'd do absolutely anything for you"

"don't even think about anyone else beside me"

"BLACK LEG" SANJI

If there was a time where you hoped to get rid of him, that would have been when you were stuck in Totto Land. You dearly hoped to be saved from this crazy bunch of people, but alas, every hope of yours had been shattered.

He had to do one job, one job only. Why did they stop the marriage? You would have been safe then, free to do as you pleased. Free to live your life without a fucking weirdo being at your beck and call.

You hated him, so so much. But of course, when the Strawhats never have pulled off a feat like this? It wouldn't be the first time.

You were hiding in one of the rooms of the Chateau, waiting for them to go away. You even met some of the Charlotte, and you liked those people. But it would be shortlived.

After not even five minutes, you heard the familiar shouting of Luffy, and with him those of Sanji. They were close, and they probably knew were you were. You bolted away, running without looking back.

You nearly reached your safe haven, when a hand blocked you. You crushed into a familiar chest. No, it couldn't be. Without sparing a glance to neither of the two, you simply knew. You couldn't escape them. Nor now nor tomorrow.

You gave up, it had been a long time coming. It was tiring, and you never managed even a single minute without one of them coming to look for you. It was a waste of time and energy.

"My dear, I was so worried. I thought you had been taken by these monsters. But don't worry. I'm here." you just scoffed, hearing those words. Look who was saying what.

After returning back to the Sunny, he made sure to check you for injuries, and who knows, maybe it was your defeated expression, your slunched posture, it broke his heart. " Oh I'm sorry it took me so long, I'm sorry. Don't worry sweetheart, i'll never leave your side. Ever I promise. It hurt you to much when I did, and I'm feeling bad for that".

You simply nodded, you couldn't care less, you already gave up every hope you had. Maybe something will strike you soon, to put you out of your misery. But you doubted that any of the sort would happen. They are incredibly lucky, after all.

PORTOGAS D. ACE

He said time and time again, that he would lay his life in a moment, if you wished so. At first, you didn't thought much about it, the rambling of a mad man where not to be taken seriously. But this attitude went on and on, and on.

You were so fucking tired, after Marineford, the death of Whitebeard, the disbandment of the crew. You didn't have a time to breathe. Everything came and went so fast.

You saw how Ace slowly became even more and more obsessed with you, trying to fill a void in his heart for the loss of his father.

It was a night like the others, when you thought back on what he said, that day he found you. Slowly, a smile crept on your face, a sick idea making you purr with glee. If you couldn't get rid of him, then he would do so himself.

"Ace dear, do you remember what you said to me all those years ago?". Of course, how couldn't he? He meant every word of it, and you played your cards well. It was finally time. " of course y/n, I remember them. I'd do absolutely anything for you. And I still mean it ".

You went up and brought back two glasses of ale. One laced with a heavy poison. Perks of being a pirate you see? Giving him the spiked one, you asked for a toast, to all the good times.

How foolish of him. He drank it without thinking. And soon, his face went blue, his hands clawed his throat. He couldn't breathe, he was going to die. He looked at you with his pleading eyes, but you were laughing. Finally, finally you were free.

"Well then dear. You did wonderful. Oh don't bother, it's not gonna save you. Your time is up, Portogas. Time to say goodbye".

You laughed. You were finally free

MONKEY D. LUFFY

His character scared you. It was similar to that of a Puppy, a dangerous and possessive puppy. One minute he's smiling, the other he's launching himself to me cause someone looked at me for a second to much.

It is suffocating, I can't even think, he is in my dreams, he is everywhere. I don't know how he does it. I don't know, but he can always feel when I'm thinking about anything else. It doesn't even have to be a person, he just knows.

I'm tired, too much pressure on my mind. I feel like breaking, I just can't go on like this anymore. You know, I would have liked to fall into the clutches of Stockholm Syndrome, at least I would have been happy,but not even that worked.

He's doing it again, what did I do this time? What did I do? Please stop, don't come near me, don't please.

"Y/n, what are you thinking about? You seemed a bit spacey there." his tone immediately changed, it went lower, it became deeper. I'm scared, that's what. I'm afraid of what he'll do to me if I answer wrong.

"I'm just tired, Luffy, that's all. I haven't been sleeping well this past few days.". And it was the truth, this paranoia has to stop, it can't go on, I will die before if I can't break this cycle.

"mhhh, you are not thinking about escaping or anything like that, are you?". How could I escape him, even if I tried? He is attached to my hip, day and night. I can't even fathom a way to even begin to start with.

"No, Luffy, I'm not. I'm just... Exhausted, like mentally, I think I need some sleep.". It seemed the correct answer, cause the next thing I knew, I was carried to Chopper. Dear Chopper, one of the few that's still sane on this ship.

He saw my condition, and he knew what was happening. After checking in with him, I finally went to sleep. But I couldn't sleep, not with his face in my mind. And then, his voice boomed from somewhere around the room.

I startled so hard I probably bruised my wrist. "Y/n, I know what your are doing. Don't even think about anyone beside me, got it? It won't be pretty if you do.".

I just nodded, who could I think for? I didn't have any friends, my family was probably dead, and those few who knew me, probably forgot me already. He and his crew was all I could think for.

"I'm not Luffy, I promise. I'm thinking only about you and the crew. It's just that.... These few days have been hard on my mental health. Past memories.... But don't worry. I'm gonna be okay". Well that seemed to work, cause the stark facade changed to one of compassion.

Leaving a kiss on my forehead, he left me to sleep. For the first time, maybe I was starting to adjust. Maybe, I needed only to keep this burden of my shoulders.

Could it finally be the Stockholm syndrome? That would be a blessing at this moment.

[abovethesmokestacks]

Hidden Love

Title: Hidden Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: All audiences

Warnings: None. Or me, probably butchering the Victorian era. Also, you know, slight angst, because I can’t help myself

This story sparked from a moodboard I made a while back, of Victorian King!Bucky and maid!reader, and it kinda got away from me, as everything tends to do these days. And listen... I know. The term Victorian really only relates to the history of the United Kingdom during Queen Victoria’s reign, but please bear with me on this and suspend belief and step into a world where during this era, Bucky is king, and enjoy the stay.

The sounds of crystal clinking together should be like silver bells carrying over the din of hushed conversation, but to his ears, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The food before him is rich and each bite seems to swell in his mouth, forced down in thick swallows and gulps of wine. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and his feet itch to leave, to stand up and walk out. He could.

"More wine, your highness?"

He could, he is king.

The server's voice is low, bowed down appropriately to only be heard by him. He shouldn't have another glass, for the sake of his mental faculties. He should, to keep up appearances. He can already sense his mother's eyes on him, the calculating gaze he has known his entire life. The dowager queen, a mother only as it serves her image in the kingdom than anything else.

"Everything all right, James?" she asks, and oh, that tone is deceptive. Kind on the surface, but weighed just so with the barest hint of concern to draw the attention of the other guests.

He wants to grimace, his name sounding contrived and wrong in his ears, granted with the weight of legacy, set aside for a few blessed years of childhood and then thrust back upon him when illness took his father and forced him back into a mold he would much rather escape. The coronation had his stomach in knots, a chill persisting in his bones and a simmering dread as he was crowned - anointed by God, what god would place their faith in someone so flawed as man? - His Majesty James, by the Grace of God, King of the Nation, Defender of the Faith.

"Nothing, mother. Pondering my choice of drink."

He tries for amicable, jovial. It is the annual Christmas feast, why shouldn't he be happy? His mother quirks an eyebrow, holding his gaze just long enough for the hairs on the back of his head to stand on end before her eyes glide from him to take up the conversation she left.

Some defender of the faith he is, he doesn't even have faith in himself.

An eternity seems to pass as dishes pass before him, plate after plate until he feels nauseous. Around him, the atmosphere has relaxed, emboldened by wine and spirits, and even his mother is no longer sparing him a glance to keep track of him. Somehow, he would have thought being king would have meant finally being free of her shadow, but she is still there. No longer a shadow, but a presence right behind him, a metaphorical foot on his robe to remind him of his place, and hers. He wonders if anyone has noticed that his glass of wine has not been refilled in a long time, that he has been nursing it steadily and that his boisterous laughs have all been hollow.

He could leave, but not without drawing attention. Just a little while longer. He glances at the opulent grandfather clock, feels its ticking like a heartbeat. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

Each tick of the clock is an endless journey. Through rigid traditions, glasses of brandy, sweet sugarplums and fragrant pines, all he can feel is the passing of time, one second after another without an end in sight. Gifts are exchanged, crackers pulled with cloying glee and he feels more like a fool than a king when one of the footmen is coaxed into slipping the thin paper crown on his head. His mother bows out with effortless grace, sparking hope that maybe, just maybe, he can make his escape.

"Let me accompany you, mother," he asks, begs, voice low as he stands up to offer his arm for her.

Take it. Please, for the love of all things good and holy, take it.

Her smile is not exactly smug, but it hides a kind of joy that he thinks must be sour.

"Nonsense, my dear. Don't leave on my account, stay, be merry."

It's loud enough to be heard, for plenty of people to hear her deny him his exit under the guise of a mother not wanting to spoil her son's fun. He tries not to let his gaze harden or his forced smile to weaken, instead kissing his mother's hand and bidding her good night. Propriety will keep him here another hour at least. The clock ticks, chipping away at the span of time before he can have his freedom.

He thinks he might finally be going out of his mind when the clock strikes midnight. His other guests are either half-asleep, lulled by brandy and the late hour, or eagerly playing cards for the trinkets they received in their crackers. Enough. He takes his leave, wanting to roll his eyes at the hasty displays of respect and deference. No matter. He is free. A quick trip to fill up a plate from the abandoned dinner table, something for the road, as he jests with his escort. The palace is quiet when they traverse the corridors to his private chambers, their footsteps echoing ominously with nothing but a candelabra to light their way.

"I think I'll manage myself tonight," he tells his escort when they're outside his door. "Go sleep, I won't tell on you."

They put up the token protest, but still leave, hastening down the dark hallway while he lets himself in. The world feels more manageable inside. It's still a constant reminder of his privilege, of the opulence of his station, but it's his. No one can enter without his permission, no one can disturb him without just cause. Sometimes he wishes this was his entire kingdom.

Setting down the plate on his bed, he loosens the ascot, glad to be rid of the strangle-like hold around his neck. Off with the tailcoat, unbutton the waistcoat. Breathe.

Thunk.

He whips around, gaze falling on the large armoire in the corner. The silence that follows is deafening, but he knows what he heard. With a smile curling his lips, he swipes a treat off the plate, hiding it behind his back while he closes the distance, pulling the doors open in a rush, only for his ears to ring with a piercing shriek.

"Hush! Good god, you'll wake the entire wing, calm down! It's just me!"

The girl cowering into the corner of the armoire claps her hands over her mouth, eyes that had only moments ago been wide with fear now glaring at him as she breathes  through her nose to calm down. It’s strange, how his heart beats quicker, how the heaviness of his mind lightens under her fierce gaze. Years ago, they met by accident, he was still prince, young and cocksure, and she was, as she is now, a maid in the vast household that served his father the king. It wasn’t prudent, but he enjoyed giving her his attention, little flirtatious exchanges that somehow grew into a tender love with stolen kisses in hidden nooks. She has never asked for anything, much as he has offered to help her. She has declined promotions, slapped him for trying to sneak a small pouch of coins into her apron, made him promise not to do anything that would change her status in or outside the court.

He extends his hand to her, helping her up and out, twirling her around the room, making the skirt of her black dress flare around her, and his soul soars at the way her face settles into a sweet smile. With an exaggerated bow, he holds out his hand with the hidden treat, a sugar plum. She plucks it from her hand, delight colouring her features as she takes a small bite. 

“I thought you were…” she begins, swallowing before dropping her gaze, slipping the rest of the sugarplum into her apron pocket. “I wasn’t sure you were alone. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

They come to a halt by the window of his room, and instinctively, he positions his back to the window, protecting her presence with the frame of his body. This may be his private quarters, but the palace has eager eyes and ears.

“My mother.” 

It’s answer enough. Their love lives in the shadows, in the small kingdom of his room, in the hidden passages of the palace and with notes tucked into cracks only they know about. His heart aches, because she deserves so much more, wishes the world knew about this generous soul that holds his heart in her palms, whose smile lights up his presence even during his darkest days, who will take nothing but the reassurances of his affections and the kisses he bestows freely.

“I came as quickly as I could,” he adds, bringing up her hands to kiss her knuckles. They’re cold, worn from hard work, but he loves them as dearly as the rest of her.

“She knows.”

It’s simple. A statement, not a question, and her hands slide from his grip as she takes a step back.

“We don’t know that. She enjoys tormenting me, we’ve known that for quite some time. And even if she knows…” He closes the space between them again, wraps her up in his embrace, and nudges her chin to make her look at him. “Even if she knows, she won’t do anything overt. She can’t.”

“She’s the-” his love starts, eyebrows knit together, mouth set in a way that he knows she won’t let this go.

“She thinks she owns me. She thinks she controls me. In her eyes, I am as much a servant to her as anyone on staff. And I’m happy to let her keep her delusion, if it means I get to be with you, if it gives me time to…”

“To what?” she asks, tilting her head. “If it gives you time to do what, Bucky?”

To fight for that, he wants to say. His nickname, falling sweet from her lips and making him feel like a person. It’s a treasure from those happy childhood years, when he’d only hear it from his string of governesses and teachers, a concession to play pretend at a normal life. It felt like stepping out of a pleasant dream when he had to leave it behind, had to step into the heavy legacy of James, into the title of king. He looks at her, the only one to call him Bucky these days, and feels courage rise with the beating of his heart.

“To figure out a way for us to be together,” he tells her resolutely, continuing on his next breath. “We’ll go away, I’ll make sure we’ll have means to live until we can settle down. We’ll go far away, we’ll cross the sea if we have to.”

He twirls them around in a dance, away from the window, away from vulnerability of unseen eyes. Away. Gone. Together.

“Bucky…”

“We’ll live in a cottage, you and I. I’ll… I’ll learn a trade. I can tend horses. I can hunt. We’ll have a life that’s… that’s ours.”

“Buc- Your highness!”

The title cuts him down, poleaxes him and pulls him out of the dreams like someone has poured a vat of cold water on him. She’s no longer in his arms, once again removed, three solid paces between them, and she looks so small, so despairing, hands folded in front of her. This time, she finds her voice before he can find his.

“I can’t ask you to do that. You’re king. You… You have responsibilities. You have a realm that depends on you for guidance and rule. You can’t just… I’m no one. I’m not important. I’m- You are king, and kings marry queens and live happily ever after. I don’t fit into that story, your highness.”

He takes a step forward, she takes another step backwards. Even so, it hurts more to hear the way she talks about herself, makes herself small while he grows to something fabled and grand, when truth be told, he feels like all this time, he’s been walking on stilts and wearing a costume to hide the person he really is.

“Neither do I,” he starts, winces inwardly at how trite it sounds. “I didn’t want this. To be king, I mean. It’s not for me. I don’t care for politics and mind games, I don’t care for frivolousness and rigid customs. This is a prison to me. It’s beautiful, and grand, but it’s a gilded cage nonetheless. Outside this room, away from you, I am not myself. I am weak. I am a pawn in a game. My desires don't matter. You…” He takes a careful step forward, hope springing when she stays where she stands, “are everything I want. Everything I need.” Another step. “And I will do anything to be with you, anything to make this my story. I’ll bide my time, I’ll weigh my options, I’ll make every preparation, but one day…”

Another step. He’s back in front of her, and though she avoids his eyes, she’s not running, not putting distance back between them.

"Your highness…"

“My love,” he interrupts, offering her the depth and width of his affection, his voice low and ardent as he kneels before her, prostrating before the only person worthy of him. “My sweet, my… my everything. One day, I’ll find a way for us to be together.”

[unicyclehippo]

having truly brain explody levels of glee writing this fic...

'Everyone is important to someone. Even if it's just one person. Even if it's just for one minute. Don't mind it being me, for this minute.'

//

'Oi! I'm not weird! Am I?' 'A little bit. I don't mind, though.' A warmth entered the Doctor's eyes then. It was hard to tell, past the faint amber glow that surrounded her at all times, but Yaz swore she could feel it. An excitement, a consideration, a settling. 'Maybe that can stay,' the Doctor said softly, so softly Yaz didn't think she was meant to hear it. 'If anything does, this time.' 'What do you mean?' 'Nothing. An old man's ramblings.' Yaz squinted at her. 'Woman. Sorry. I'll get used to that at some point. Probably.'

//

The Doctor winced in sympathy. 'Hard to ignore me, sorry. Really quite brilliant at getting people's attention. Was an official Attention Seeker in the Gravnib-12 sector for a solid two years - won a medal, as a matter of fact! Or was it a trophy? Never got to go to the ceremony, I'd attracted the attention of a Trseffliod swarm and had to do some quick thinking to get rid of them. Forgot to go back for it. Which is better - medal or trophy? Hello - why are you looking at me like that?'

//

'Yasmin Khan. You've been brilliant.'

[toomanyfandoms02]

The Transporter ~Part Three~ // Spencer Reid x Reader

Sorry this took so long!! I have been so busy with work lately, but here she is.

Word count ~ 2,900+

Hope you guys like it :))

I stepped back through the transporter to be met with an empty room. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 10:15, that wasn't *that* late. Christine is probably still awake.

I made my way to her room, which wasn't incredibly far from mine. Her door was cracked open and I could see her laying in bed, reading a book in the semi dim lighting. I knocked lightly, pulling her out of her fictional world of Harry Potter.

"Oh! Y/n, I didn't think you were coming back tonight. How was everything?" She gently set her bookmark in the book, placing it on her nightstand.

I couldn't hold back the smile on my face. It was the coolest day of my life, what could I say?

"It was so amazing Christine! I accidentally set myself right into an investigation that I knew about. I met all of them, and it felt different than I thought I would-"

"Did you talk to Spencer?" She asked, nudging my side. I could feel the blood rush to my face.

"Uh, yes." I smiled, looking down at her star clad comforter. "It was incredibly surreal and I can't wait to go back. It was kind of a funny interaction, the first one. He asked me to profile him, which was obviously easy because I know him like the back of my hand. Well I thought that was gonna be the end of our interaction that day. But I accidentally left my laptop at the Bureau."

"Oh yeah *accidentally*." She smiled, throwing air quotes.

"Shush, it was actually an accident." I giggled. "Anyway, he looked up my address I guess and he brought it to me. It was sweet."

"I guess now he knows where to send flowers." I shook my head with a smile. "Well I'm glad you had fun. I hope everything works out well, don't forget there's an actual case though." She winked.

"Thanks Christine, for everything." I waved as I slinked out of the room and down the hall.

I flopped down onto my bed with a simple grin, quickly falling asleep after my eventful day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slapped my hand over my phone as the alarm began blaring at 9:30. I wanted to fully commit to this whole thing, just like I was in real life. But in reality, I was waking up pretty late, considering I was going to go into their universe at 8:30.

It appeared that Christine was already awake, she was softly knocking at my slightly cracked door.

"Hey sweetie, I take it you wanna head out soon?"

"Yeah! And I'm gonna have to be gone for a couple of days for the case. Get all integrated and such. Is that alright?"

"Yeah of course! Just document some experiences, or anything that seems weird or off about their universe." Chris left the room, shutting my door with a light thud.

I slipped on a white button up, putting a maroon sweater over it to add my own little touch. I looked in the mirror to make sure my dress pants were fitting me correctly and stepped into my two inch black heels.

Since I would be gone for a few days, I grabbed a suitcase plus my go-bag that I had already had from my time interning. The navy blue bag was slung over my shoulder as I walked out my door, immediately bumping into someone. I looked up to see who I remembered as Violet Glynn, who went into the Zombieland Universe.

"Sorry, Violet, right?" I shook her hand. "How's your universe going? I've always loved that movie. Please tell me Columbus is just as sweet and endearing as he is in the actual film?"

I could see her eyes light up with glee, clearly she hadn't had anyone to fangirl properly to, I could tell she was about to explode with information.

"Yes! He is incredibly kind. Talahassee is already trying to dad me, Little Rock and I are already pretty good friends but Witchita is still kinda weary of me, which is understandable. I talked to Ryan, and he said I can only change a few major things so one I chose to do was to keep Columbus from killing Bill Murray. Bill is so fun to live with so far! I just - I am totally talking about myself for too long. How is everything going for you?" I offered her a kind smile of reassurance.

"It's completely fine, I get your excitement. It's really cool, kinda different from the real job I was working. Maybe that's because I'm permanently gawking at one of my coworkers." We both laughed for a moment. "But I'm gonna be gone with him for like 3 days straight so, I guess I'm gonna have to figure something out. When I come back we should talk more." Violet nodded enthusiastically and waved as we walked to our Transporter rooms.

"Of course! See you in a few days."

I could hear Christine's heels clicking not far behind me as I began typing in the date and time.

*February 12th, 8:30 am. 2009*

"Good luck, I will see you in a few days time, yeah?"

"Yep!" I shoved my 'Come back device' in my go-bag and turned on it's much larger counterpart, nodding at Chris as I stepped in.

I was immediately greeted by my apartments bedroom, I could hear my phone buzzing on my side table. I lifted it to see a text from a certain favorite person of mine, and she didn't even know me yet.

*Penelope G*

*Hey sweets! The plane will be ready to be boarded at 9:15. The team is meeting at the BAU first for a carpool, so be there or be square! Have a good time on your first mission, from what I've seen, you're pretty amazing. :)*

I held back a small smile from my lips, this world is just as good as I always wanted it to be.

*Thank you M'lady. I've heard amazing things about you. I hope we can gossip sometime! ;)*

I sent the text and slipped my phone into my back pocket. I chucked a piece of toast in the toaster, quickly spreading peanut butter on it and checking my watch.

*8:45*

I began my walk to the BAU, probably looking extremely weird walking down the street in work attire and a piece of toast slathered with peanut butter. But I was pretty content, continuing to eat it as I reached the doors of my favorite place.

I brushed my hands together to rid of the many crumbs that had accumulated there, seeing JJ and Penelope talking at Jennifer's desk.

"Y/n! Come over here." Penelope waved me over, I pulled at the sleeves of my sweater as I walked over as confidently as possible. "Are you ready for your first case?" She leaned in a little, clearly trying to search my face for a quicker answer.

"Yeah, I think I'm pretty ready. I've done this kinda stuff before but, I'm way more nervous about this."

"I wouldn't worry to much about. I think you already impressed Hotch and Spencer, you read people extremely well. Did you seriously gather all that stuff from Reid just by knowing him for a few minutes?" JJ was clearly now invested.

"Well, yeah. He's relatively easy to read, as long as you're paying attention." JJ nodded with a smirk.

"Well, you certainly made a good first impression, you honestly sound a lot like Reid, maybe you can..." I watched as she peered behind me, her words trailing off. Her eyes darted back and forth between me and whatever was happening behind me. I whipped my head around to see Spencer walking in, he was distracted my a book, which made me smile. But that smile quickly faded as I scanned my eyes over his outfit.

He was wearing a white button up with a black tie and a maroon vest over it with black dress pants. Sound familiar? All but the black tie.

"Maybe you are even more like Reid than I thought." JJ smirked at me. All the blood had run to my face and my feet felt bolted to the ground. Why this? Why on my first official day? I could hear Garcia holding back a laugh behind me.

"This is adorable I'm sorry." She said, giggling a little.

Spencer finally looked up from his book, hearing Penelope laughing. He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting a bit. Probably wondering why I looked like a deer in headlights. He looked down at himself.

Then back up at me.

Then down at himself again.

He just smiled at me and closed his book all the way, adjusting the go-bag he held on his shoulder. I nearly dropped mine.

"What just happened?" Penelope nudged my shoulder. I shrugged and shook my head.

This was clearly going to be quite the day.

I ended up carpooling with JJ, Morgan and Reid. JJ and I sat in the back while Morgan drove, Spencer spitting facts to him about cars and traffic.

"Well, according to the DC Department of Motor Vehicles, there are almost 450,000 active drivers registered in the District. However, millions more drivers commute to DC from neighboring communities in Maryland and Virginia. D.C. is also host to millions of tourists from around the world. In 2014, more than 20 million people visited D.C., many of them renting a car or driving their own vehicle to visit." He rambled.

"Reid, all I said was there was a lot of traffic today."

"I mean he's right though." I piped in. Spence looked back at me with confused eyes. "Washington D.C. is also home to some of the worst traffic in the country. Analysts estimate that the average driver will spend 7 hours a year in traffic, wasting 6 gallons of gas. However, for D.C. drivers, one estimate found the average driver is spending 67 hours a year in traffic, wasting 32 gallons of gas while sitting in traffic." I think hearing him so much on the show, made me a little bit like him in some ways, my friends always rolled their eyes at me whenever I rambled. The only real one who listens is my uncle. He had turned around, but I could tell he was smiling.

Success.

"Good lord there's two of them."

I'll take that as a compliment.

We boarded the plane and I decided on a window seat, leaning my head up against the cold glass. My hand was unknowingly gripping the armrest a little too tightly.

"Are you a nervous flier?" I would obviously know that voice from anywhere, but right now it was coming from right across from me. I leaned my head back on the headrest.

"Not necessarily, I've flown quite a few times. I've just never been in a jet."

"The key difference between jets and propeller planes is that jets produce thrust through the discharge of gas instead of powering a drive shaft linked to a propeller. This allows jets to fly faster and at higher altitudes." He loosened his tie a little. "So I wouldn't worry too much, it feels about the same."

"Well thank you."

It was silent for a bit, but once we were in the sky we began talking about the case. Emily was talking about how she wants to be cremated because being buried was gross and weird.

"I actually agree with you. I think cremation is more personal too, I want someone to sprinkle my ashes somewhere. Not have to visit my grave and waste money on flowers every year."

Me and Emily got into that conversation as the rest of the team slowly started to do their own things. Spencer was back to reading his book, one page every 5 seconds. He peered over his book for a moment, but only a moment.

"I like your outfit by the way." He mumbled, still focused on his book, he lowered it a bit. I could see a smirk creeping onto his features. My ears began burning as the blood rushed to them.

"Thanks." I really wanted to say more to him, but it felt like my jaw was wired shut.

Morgan was not so discreetly looking over at us with eyebrows raised. But I kept my eyes out the window.

We landed about 2 hours later. I had kept myself occupied by writing down everything that just happened, so I wouldn't forget, and for Christine.

"Morgan, Reid, y/l/n, you go with the police search party and find what you can. Prentiss and I will talk to their chief. Rossi and JJ, set us up in the station."

Once we were there, we were put on a search party with the police, they quickly found the body of another woman covered in mud and holding a cross necklace. We were bringing the evidence back to the station with the others. On the way back, Spencer was telling me about the history of gold cross necklaces. I could practically hear Morgan rolling his eyes the whole time, but I just loved hearing him talk.

Once we were there, Rossi showed his blatant coldness towards the psychic that was telling a scared mother that her daughter was okay. Hotch began sending us off again, and we were off to see the bodies.

Days here moved so fast.

Once we arrived I stared at the body on the table. I lightly touched her arm, cold as ice. Seeing these body through the screen was one thing, but knowing these are real people, it's even more sad. Of course I had seen many bodies in my time, but the thought that this wasn't fictional anymore made my stomach churn a little.

"I found trace amounts of seamen, but there is no sign of sexual assault."

"Are you saying this was consensual?" Spencer tilted his head a bit. No no sweet child.

"She's saying it's happening post-mortem." I said, looking down a little. Morgan nodded and Reids face scrunched. This poor woman.

I knew I couldn't change much, because that could royally screw some stuff up, si throughout the whole thing I decided I would change things little by little to move it along faster. What I did this time was make it so we didn't waste time and interrogate the random man who was accused of being a necrophiliac, because his timeline wouldn't match up.

We made it to the house just a smidge earlier, Brooke was found on the operating table in the abandoned home, completely fine.

The days had become exhausting, as soon as we got on the jet I sat in the same seat, dropping my bag down and grabbing a small pillow out of it. I set the pillow against the window and drifted off to sleep fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to JJ shaking my shoulder, opening my eyes to see a blanket that read *e=mc²* all over it.

"What is this?"

"Oh, I believe Spence put that on you while you were asleep. You were shivering and he happened to have it in his go-bag I guess." She shrugged. "Everyone is heading home, so you want a ride?"

"That would be amazing, thank you."

"No problem."

It was only 5 pm, and Christine wouldn't be expecting me back until tomorrow. So I decided I was gonna get some stuff done with my time, more specifically one big thing.

I grabbed the wad of money that Chris had given me and waved down a taxi. I had them take me to the nearest car dealership. I made a hasty decision and bought a 2007 Mini Cooper. Now I could do what I really wanted.

I looked up Spencer's address and grabbed his blanket, which I had neatly folded and threw on my coffee table. He appeared to live around 15 minutes away by car.

Once I was there, nerves had set in, but I ignored them as I reached the door and knocked 3 times.

I heard a faint "Coming!" From the other side of the dark oak door. He answered with his phone propped up on his shoulder, talking to someone.

"Sorry Mom, I gotta go, love you." He hung up and pulled his phone from his ear. "Hey, what are you doing here."

I presented his blanket to him.

"I figured I would return the favor of you bringing me my laptop by bringing you your blanket." I flopped it into his outstretched arms.

"We have got to stop meeting like this." He smiled, bringing the blanket to his chest. "Would you like to come in?" He brought his hand to the collar of his shirt, attempting to loosen the strain it clearly had on his neck. "I just made a pot of coffee. And since you're just about the only one who actually listens to my ridiculous amount of rambling, I figured we could ramble together? I mean I don't know you very well and I honestly want to be the first to befriend you, you're very intriguingly different. Not in any kind of bad way I just-" His face was slowly getting more red and I could see that his grip on the poor blanket was almost white knuckle.

"I would love to." I stepped into his apartment with a sigh.

Was this a dream?

Maybe.

If so, I wanna be asleep *forever*.

Taglist!!

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[hopefulobjectmiracle]

No romantic blam, but do you like blaine and sam as friends?

seriously - it varies all the time, lol. one minute i'll be enjoying platonic blam and the next minute they'll be the bane of my existence. it really depends on my mood, tbh. but the reason why i don't solidly love them is because A) i hate that glee forced blaine's crush on sam instead of simply allowing them to be friends, B) i feel like the show went out of its way to show off to the audience that they had a gay guy and a straight guy being friends, which made it feel unnatural at times never mind the fact that sam had already befriended kurt first in his initial appearance on the show, and C) blaine and sam's friendship often took precedence over the actual, important canon gay relationship on the show - both in the show itself and in terms of promotion and marketing (see here).

i will say, though, that i enjoy them far more in fanfic than i do in canon. i always, always find klaine fic with supporting blam(tina) friendship in the background super enjoyable, and i generally like how their friendship plays out in fanon because it gets rid of my three major issues with them in canon and allows them to be what they should've been onscreen: a fun, chaotic natural best friendship with zero romantic undertones, and with no one trying to prioritize them over the main ship.