#yes she has a door now

[jacarandaaaas]

the year is 2024 why are comments still asking “why didn’t mirabel get magic at the end” BECAUSE ITS NOT ABOUT THE DAMN MAGIC🗣️🗣️ magic is used as framing to show the issues in the family!! why does every tiktok comment section say she needed powers💀 did u watch the movie at all??? Madrigals are MORE than JUST their gifts!! gifts are still apart of them mirabel just got unlucky! and that’s life! bad things happen to good people and there’s nothing we can do! mirabels issue ISNT not having magic is how she feels isolated and unimportant BECAUSE she doesn’t have magic! why cant yall talk about the actual morals of the damn movie and realise magic isnt the point.

[vaguely-concerned]

It's really interesting that Wynne actually has quite a measured, bordering on downright sympathetic response to hearing what Jowan did in the prologue -- if the mage Warden says "I still can't believe Jowan was that stupid", her answer is something like a thoughtful "Stupid, or desperate, or merely curious?". She seems to think of Jowan as a kid who got in over his head, rather than any less charitable interpretation. I do believe she genuinely is as against blood magic as she publicly expresses and as the Circle party line demands, but as a private person she clearly has a more nuanced and potentially kinder understanding of the reasons why someone might resort to it, at the very least.

(related: when she says that part about Irving telling her what happened, there's no dialogue option in the first stage of the conversation (except choosing the 'leaving the conversation' one) that doesn't net you +2 approval! no matter how the warden feels about it, she is ready to recieve it. I think that says something sweet about how Wynne conceptualizes younger mages and the honest real affection she has for them. if you didn't snitch on jowan and say you stand by that decision, though? +3 approval, apparently! what Wynne says and what Wynne thinks is not always the same thing indeed, her idea of where personal loyalty and integrity stands vis-a-vis a mage's responsibility to the circle may be more flexible than she'd have people believe, you'll be surprised to learn lol)

I have always liked wynne and found her interesting, in all her hypocrisies and her earnest care, but with slightly older eyes she's extra fascinating to me in the same ways that Iron Bull is -- seeing someone whose mind has had hollows carved out in it by the need for double-think and compartmentalization imposed by the oppressive systems and ideologies they live under, and the quiet fight of the self to still preserve vital parts of itself that the system deems unacceptable in the hidden backstage areas of the soul, as it were. (and for both of them part of that self is love and protectiveness of specific other people, beyond what their 'role' dictates is acceptable for them.) I think Wynne has managed to sneak more of her internal self through the meatgrinder relatively intact than Bull overall, but it's the same logic underlying it, for me, and it makes me feel such intense affection and compassion for them both to see how hard they try

[sysig]

Go play pretend on your own (Patreon)

[booasaur]

Station 19 - 6x08

[crybabycunt]

Kate: Did you ever think your life as a hired assassin would come to an end because you tossed a girl off a building?

Yelena: (with a coy grin) Not until we made eye contact… then that's precisely how I thought it'd go.

[bending-sickle]

hello internet tell me i’m my hair is pretty

[orchideae]

When I approach Yelan (or anyone else I've written), I don't just look directly at her character, but I also look at her surroundings. Both the ones that she knows by some semblance of necessity, but also those that she chooses. Like here, I talked about the Chasm, and what being 'okay' with existing down there needs to mean for a character, because it's not normal. Someone's surroundings, room, or home say a lot bout who they are and what their mindset, or specifically, their perspective is of the world. And sometimes, I think it says more about people than even the characters realize.

This brings me to the topic of the city of Fontaine. Now, I personally think it's rather obvious that a lot of the nation takes from historical France, and so when looking at it, I think it really adds to remember its monarchy, the view that the 'common folk' had of it, and its inevitable demise to non-existence today in terms of importance as a result. So my first question is, who constructed or decided on its layout? Was it Furina, Neuvillette, Egeria? Whoever it was, there's a lot that can be said about their view of the world and their placement in it when you look at locations of buildings. Look at where Palais Mermonia, its governing body, is located within the city; it sits at a rather astounding elevation in comparison to, well, everything and everyone else in the city. This frequently represents the concept of 'distance' between groups in one way or another, and seeing the consistency in other nations, this is something that is rather intriguing to me, especially keeping Fontaine's characters in mind (and considering this is the nation of 'justice'). Mondstadt has everything almost entirely uniform, with arguably the church on the highest level (but it isn't greatly elevated in comparison to all else), but it's joined with the plaza and statue which are a common gathering site for all people in the city. Liyue had the gods and adepti visibly living among the humans back in the days of the Guili Assembly for reasons of 'integration' (my apologies to numerous from our dear Guizhong!) The fact that numerous adepti now live far outside of the harbor is a different matter entirely, and the one who seems to function within a semblance of separation of sorts is Ningguang with the Jade Chamber (but I'm not one to speak on behalf of her character as I don't bear the knowledge). Inazuma also has the Tenshukaku at a higher elevation in comparison to the rest of Inazuma City. Sumeru is interesting, but ultimately Nahida was kept at the very peak of the city, far out of reach of humanity— but that's exactly the common denominator that has my interest, the distance between the 'governing body' and humanity for one reason or another.

But Fontaine really takes separation to a different level in my opinion (and again, think of this when you think of the person having designed the whole city), not only because of the above which I'll elaborate more on in a moment, but also its separation from the outside world. Now, this is interesting to think about if you keep in mind that it was perhaps done in eventual protection of the city's inhabitants in terms of the prophecy (which means that this would have been constructed anywhere during or after Egeria's reign), but then why is only Palais Mermonia far above the water's reach? If the walls surrounding the city were ever breached during said prophecy, all its inhabitants are pretty much immediately caught in the flood and would drown, which tells me nothing positive of the city's 'architect' or whoever signed off on the designs. But if not done for the prophecy, then why? Stand in the middle of the Court of Fontaine and really look around you, the only sights you really have of the outside world are the sky, and it's obstructed by a fair bit of the waterways and gardens that hang overhead, which you can only properly enjoy when you take the ages long elevator to the upper level where the palace is located (which, credit due, seems freely accessible to everyone in present-time). But if you don't venture up, how much of the outside world do you get to see? It feels very secluded, very much under lock and key. On some level (and this is one of the many reasons why I think that the Meropide is so excessively important in Fontaine and it's likely why we spent so much time there; it's all to show the ever, ever important contrast and nuance between this 'autonomous nation within Fontaine' and, well, 'Fontaine'), it almost feels like a prison, regardless of how pretty it may look or come across (and despite not 'lacking rights'). And considering how people in the Meropide speak of not always wanting to return back to the 'overworld' following their sentence, I think that there's definitely quite a bit of truth in that. But again, stand there and look around for yourself.

Now to return to the original topic, but keeping the last one in mind as well, look at one other thing that I'm unsure how many have really kept an eye on: the massive effect Palais Mermonia's level has on the rest of the area (inside and outside of its walls). Have you ever walked through the city of Fontaine at any given time of day or night, north to south, east to west, clockwise or counter-clockwise circling through it; have you ever seen how it overshadows an immense part of the streets below it either entirely on its own (which to me signifies a very domineering presence), or together with those outer walls that surround the city? I know how I've spoken thoroughly with people before about how much I enjoy Fontaine and how dark it is in its storytelling, but despite how gorgeous this region with its water- and landscapes are; its city bears quite a heavy weight to me. I don't know who designed it, or ordered it to be constructed in this way, but nothing about the city itself truly, rationally, shows a healthy perspective versus its citizens.

Me: /continues on to ramble in tags because I'm me and I'm a nuisance with always more to say than I know how to coherently put into these posts.

[figuerockfaeth]

I NEED TO MOVE OUT NOOWWWWWWW

[salted15]

you ever just realize something that you've been doing your whole life is confusing in the bordering fucked up kinda way . this sounds more serious than i intend it to . i just logically processed the fact that my mom yells for me and my sister to open her bedroom door slightly so our pets can go in/out while she is in said room and i am left very confused

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

aww i just read a comment on the cat subreddit i frequent where somebody was asking about getting their cats used to a closed bedroom door and the comment said: Cats like to be with their owners for safety. This is why the cat wants to enter the room when you are in there and the door is closed. (Also why they guard you in the bathroom). and all i could think is, wow kinnie loved me SO much. no cat was ever as devoted to my bathroom safety as her and if i tried to keep her out she cried like i would die. i very rarely kept her out because it was so upsetting for her, i just got used to the lack of privacy and often had to wait for her to follow me if i was heading to the bathroom, because if i shut the door first she WOULD wail. it’s still been less than a year and i can’t believe she’s gone, even though i know she is. i’ve stopped automatically pausing on my way into the bathroom, which i guess is a sort of progress. tbh i hate it though. i miss having a cat who was so used to constant access to me since kittenhood that any closed door was an emergency. i miss kinnie.

[robertsbarbie]

watching this insane video on tiktok and the comments somehow make it more insane

[erwinsvow]

young, shy reader and price who is just a little too old for it be considered fine. it’s not like that’s stopping either of them. soft spoken, jittery shy reader who’s really sick and tired of boys her age—she can barely hold a conversation with them—who is just so taken aback at how assertive price is. they meet, and plans for a first date are cemented before the end of the hour. he actually comes to pick her up—and while she’s scrambling to get shoes on, thinking she needs to rush outside to meet him, he knocks on the door.

he’s brought flowers. the whole thing seems like something out of a movie. everything about price is so… gentlemanly. the way he holds doors open, pulls chairs back, walks on the side of street closer to the road. the way she doesn’t have to fret and die over bad communication. no, he does all of that, without even being asked. it’s a little dumb, but that’s the state of dating right now. so this is such a breath of fresh air it’s like getting the wind knocked out of you. as enamored you are with him, you hope you’re not reading into it too much—is he like this with every girl he picks up in a bar?

but then days turn to weeks which turn to months—and john price has become the most consistent part of your life, the best part of each day and whose voice can lull you to sleep each night. and you settle nicely into the role—a cute pretty thing in a sundress that fits perfectly on his arm, attached at his side. and maybe you are just a little too young for him, but you can hardly care when he has you creaming all over his dick once, twice, three times a day, sometimes. yes, your boyfriend is a little older. just a little.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

My mom just came in my room right after I got home to be like how did it go???? What happened???? When are you going back?? How do you feel??? Are you ok???? What are your hours???? What did they say??? And I know she means well but

[ixchelish]

i have introduced shrimps. i have done my urgent housestuff. i have registered for college classes. i just need shiT TO STOP HAPPENING SO I CAN SHOW OFF MY LIL GUYS!! MY GUYS!!!!!!!!

[mostly-imagines]

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What��cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.”