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giuliettagaltieri · 1 year

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Just Kiss Her Already

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x reader

Synopsis: Craving for academic validation, you find an unexpected challenger who might have hurt your feelings, just a bit.

Word Count: 1724

Success came easy.

With your sharp wit, even sharper tongue, ambitions reaching the heavens and the drive to make them a reality, and of course your superficial charm that could bring people to their knees.

You are at the top of your game. You will get that Latin honor you have been striving for since day one of starting at university.

If only it was not for him.

You will never come to understand him, you figured.

Eren Jaeger was the last person you expected to be your rival.

He was irresponsible, lazy, and basically a manifestation of all things negative.

A biased opinion coming from you, of course.

He is well liked by the professors. His provocative statements stimulate the class and challenges even your mind.

You hate to admit it, you refuse to admit it.

It also does not help that he is just so nice, you almost feel guilty for making him sound so horrible in the first place.

Your leg bounces as you listen to him give his constructive argument regarding the issue asked by the professor.

You had the same idea in mind, you were just too anxious to speak up earlier, not wanting to embarrass yourself by answering rashly and miss the point.

The professor grins at Eren and the soles of your feet run cold as he jokingly tells the class that you should try to see the agreement through Eren’s perspective as he claims it is one of the best ways to approach the issue at hand.

The disdain was clearly painted on your face and Eren had to suppress a chuckle.

“Does anybody want to add to Mr. Jaeger’s statement?” Your professor asks, his old wrinkly hands in a clasp.

The entire class falls silent and you reconsider if you should just let Eren have this or-

“Yes, Y/N?”

Your hand is already up in the air before you could even think about backing out again.

“I do have something to say. But I won’t be adding to Mr. Jaeger’s statement.” You stand up and face your professor with your usual stone-cold expression. “I’ll be contradicting it.”

Eren raises a brow, smirk slowly building on his lips.

“You see professor, Mr. Jaeger mentioned how death penalty could not only bring a sense of justice but will also deter crimes but can we really afford it?”

“As I mentioned, that is exactly why the Department of Justice should be challenged to not make justice a luxury that only the rich can afford.” Eren rolls his eyes.

You turn to him fully. “But before the suspect could be proved guilty and be subjected under death penalty, it would take lots and lots of trials and those aren’t exactly cheap, the government cannot give all their funds to every case.”

Eren scowls at you, as he mutters. “Tell that to a little girl who has to suffer from AIDS after being abused.”

The bell ringing through the entire classroom goes unnoticed by you as you are left staring at Eren, wide-eyed and your throat completely dry. You stand there until all of them has left. Even the compliment from your professor for providing such objective and practical insights falls on deaf ears.

Eren’s words echo in your head and you bite your thumb as you stare at your computer screen but nothing goes through your head.

You shouldn’t have tried.

Hours passed but you still feel so humiliated, having him destroy your carefully built academic confidence so easily.

You rest your forehead on your palms.

He wasn’t even being impartial. He was just being emotional. You made a better point.

But the way he looked at you. You never wanted to be on the receiving end of it. Not from him or anyone. It unnerved you.

You hated having to feel like this. It feels suffocating. You were not even defending the criminals!

If he just kept his mouth shut, you could have even added life imprisonment and instead strengthening the laws that are built to support non-bailable cases.

Eren was just being stupid, getting all snappy like that.

It was very uncharacteristic of him to react like that in class. He was usually very laid-back. Well, you did see him get in a brutal fight before but he was usually kind, which made him likeable just the tiniest bit.

You huff as you glare at your laptop screen.

He didn’t have to be that mean about it.

Exams were drawing near and your professors were trying to stuff every information in your heads.

You hear your last name being called and you look up from your notebook to look at the sweet old lady, your history teacher, who was smiling at you.

“Uh, yes?” You ask unsure, your cheeks growing warmer with every passing second.

“I was asking if you have any clarifications.”

Your classmates groan, knowing that they will be kept for another quarter hour.

Sitting up straighter, you then close your notebook and shake your head, a small smile plastered on your lips.

“No, I’m good.”

Well, that was odd.

The cafeteria was as rambunctious as ever and you let out a sigh of relief when see the last croquette sandwich in the counter. You speedwalk towards it, avoiding the slow walkers, letting out a few insults under your breath.

Why can’t anything go your way for once?

Your face fall when you watch how ring clad fingers pick up the sandwich.

“Sorry, you just looked so adorable.” Eren smiles condescendingly, trying to keep himself from laughing. “So adorable that I just had to steal this from you.”

What was it that made you think he was kind again?

Eren stares at you with his tired looking eyes, daring you to speak up.

But you plaster that same smile again.

“That’s fine. You can have it. I’m not that hungry anyway.” You turn around from him and started walking towards the cafeteria doors.

Now, he’s just being an asshole.

And he knew it too.

He was just teasing you, he wasn’t even going to buy it, just wanted to get a rise from you.

Eren bites his cheek as he watches you disappear behind the cafeteria doors.

He rolls his eyes.

Girls and their hormones.

Eren Jaeger is the resident basketball prodigy and academic extraordinaire, he’s definitely not letting such meaningless encounter get to him.

He will not think about it enough to cost him his beauty rest. It is definitely not the reason why he wanted to go for a morning jog to clear his head. It was also 100% not the reason why the coffee he got three minutes ago slipped from his hands just so he could get inside a coffee shop after seeing what’s by the third window to the left.

Eren Jaeger, the unparalleled ladies’ man did not just take a quick look of himself from his reflection on the decorative tin coffee pot by the cashier to see if his manbun was just averagely disheveled.

Surely, his heart was not pounding in his chest as he casually sat opposite you on your booth as he leaned back and stared off the window, watching the sun slowly spill the colors of wine on the previously dark sky.

“Can I help you?” You ask, your brows furrowed as you take your headphones off.

He glances at you and to your scattered notes.

“What’s your aesthetic preference? Chaotic academia?” He snickers.

You huff, gathering the papers on the table to stack them, muttering a small ‘shut up’.

Eren smiles but no humor finds his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

Shaking your head, you put your headphones back on. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You can stay but please don’t pester me more than you already have.”

There it is.

Eren thanks the waitress who brought his coffee. He takes a sip and watches how you drag your pen across the paper, leaving a baby pink hue underneath a word.

He clears his throat before setting his cup down on the saucer, making a soft clinking sound. Your eyes flit to him for a split second. He hides the smile that almost broke out after confirming that you can still hear him.

“You’ve been awfully quiet in class lately.”

He follows how you bite your lip anxiously, visibly drawing further into yourself, making yourself look small.

“Come on, talk to me.” He chuckles, trying to make light of the situation but it only comes out as a nervous note. “This is so unlike you.”

You pretend not to hear him but your leg started bouncing your breath starting to get uneven, something that he cannot overlook.

“Hey.” Eren stood to sit next to you, almost smothering you.

Warm hands grip your shoulders as your eyes remain staring on the silver chain resting by his chest.

Eren was not certain whether he should continue talking as it may agitate you further but he also cannot bring himself to just sit there and watch you break in cold sweat.

He was almost certain you’d be having a panic attack until you threw him the nastiest glare.

“Hold on a minute, this is all your fault!”

Wha-

The audacity!

Eren’s perfectly sculpted jaw drops. “What the fuck?”

He rests his arm on top of the leather seats. He sits there, taken aback, not being able to keep up with your moods.

You slap away his hand that was on your shoulder still and you pull the headphones off haphazardly, he had to lean back so as to not get accidentally smacked by you.

“If only you hadn’t said it the way you did back in defense, I wouldn’t have overthought and questioned my morality like this!” You poked his chest, cheeks all puffed as your brows furrowed.

Fuck. You’re gorgeous.

And in the spur of the moment, in a total state of recklessness as he finds himself trapped and too entangled in everything that is you, he let the words spill from his tongue.

“Are you free tonight?”

You scrunch your nose adorably. “What, why?”

Eren runs a hand over his face.

You hear a sigh and both look at the waitress who was mopping by the table next to you, rolling her eyes at the two of you.

“Just kiss her already.”

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x you #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyoujin #academic validation #chaotic academia

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2goldensnitches · 4 months

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It's just ironic that the Irish tooted their horn about how much more "principled" they are in the i/p conflict since October fucking 8. And then, BEFORE BEING CONFIRMED about a single Algerian attacker, it sends them into an Islamophobic witch hunts and riots. The irony isn't lost. The various regions in Ireland refusing to do anything regarding rising anti-Semitism, and those in authority citing it as just anti-Zionism, to BDS being welcomed with open arms, to various Irish organizations saying disgusting anti-Semitic comments THE DAY AFTER calling Israelis who were raped and murdered "colonial settlers" who are "getting pushback from 75 years of colonism" are just dowsing in hypocrisy and deafness on ME conflicts. Islamophobia was just the next step. I hate the high stool in which so many countries are commenting from, forever proving that it's more about bringing a group of people down by being loud, than uplifting and empowering the disenfranchised. Bigotry goes unchecked and excused for so long because they believe to be the "right side of things" which grows into this ugly thing.

Reminds me of leftists continuously putting any criticism of bigotry in their side as false and stating the only bigoted people being fascists/alt-right, which feeds this self-grandiose image of their own bigotry being morally justified. This in turn makes the far-right look "sensible" because they are the only ones being called out in the media and their outrageous bigotry squandered (though not really). This makes people move right because any criticism on the left is not able to be brought up, thus far-right become self-grandiose, because at least they allow free speech, and thus bigotry goes unchecked because at least it's better than the other side rinse and repeat, with both sides becoming more extreme. It's all so tiresome.

i actually want to focus more on the last paragraph because even though they certainly don’t allow free speech in reality, it’s something I’ve seen been brought up a few times by (sincerely deranged) people like menalez: saying the left has essentially abandoned them. This is why even by prior standards, I/p has become such a polarised issue. Everything about it has become insanely campist to the point that left/right is no longer an accurate sociopolitical descriptor about it at all, and very few have shown themselves to be consistently sane about this in a way that does not invoke the horseshoe, but resentment against a "side" so to speak makes people do a 180 in an attempt to find support from elsewhere. I’ve seen this sadly with a lot of Jews too but it’s a human thing that’s become accelerated between oct 7 of last year and Russia supporting Syria from 2011.

sadly for Ireland’s case, though not unique to them, a lot of this campism manifests on a national level and turns everything into a team sport in politics. Whether someone is a normie civilian or a high ranking diplomat, Irish xenophobia against (mostly black and brown Muslim) migrants is not seen as contradictory to supporting Palestine against Israel because they’re flawed people like everyone else and people have weird contradictory views all the time. I personally think it makes shows of solidarity look cheap because of that prior consistency few show—in any country, really, but I’m trying to be as neutral as possible when I say that Ireland cannot make out "solidarity with the underdog" out to be some sort of innate Irish trait when it’s really not, no matter how some try to cite English control and oppression of the Irish as something that made them magically more sympathetic.

want to know what Spanish colonisation of Mexico "taught" us? Catholicism and a culture of complaining lmao

#inb4 someone wants to call me a hibernophobe #but Conor mcgregor exists and he’s not my country’s problem #asks #waffle knight

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magz · 1 year

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ID: tumblr screenshot of only part of post, by raccooninapartyhat, that say,

“kinda confused about why the dialogue surrounding disability has changed from "we are still worthy and have personhood even if we can't do the things everyone else can, and we deserve to participate in society" to “nobody would be disabled if society was just shaped the right way””

end of ID

at some point, have to try understand what other saying and what meant, to proper respond. otherwise, community discussion become mess.

so in case, I will explain the common intent with social model disability theory, that get simplify as or badly said as “nobody would be disabled if society was just shaped the right way”.

the existence that there would be difference of experience and ability would stay even if society different, yes.

but, no. if society different, disability meaning different. “disability” meaning would not exist how it does today.

if society understanding and response to disability different, then that does a lot to what disability mean.

that include accommodation, but that not all.

the medicalization and pathology of disability - what it mean to be sick of mind and body

what consider normal - what “abled” is

yes, also how it accommodate ‘disabled’ experience….

the connotation of disability as label and “othering” of it - the ableism of implication that put into it by able society, that part….

is not need be inherent to deafness, amputation, brain damage, intellectual disability, blindness, chronic pain, or any other disability.

disability as category in society, decided by ‘abled’ people what is too far from acceptable ‘abled’ experience, and thus what ok to alienate.

what limitations of body and of person, to have implications of not-normal.

of not-normal mean society not accommodate nor expect nor treat human.

humans all history always have varied experience in ability and body and mind. it a physical tangible reality.

but ‘disability’ also a social category.

what decide that be amputee “not normal”?

what decide that not able hear “not normal”?

what decide that not able speak, not able understand same way, “not normal”?

even though the suffering and hardship of body and mind, what everyone able do, can happen and can be different for everyone.

but there a decided line when it “too much” so it need be discriminate.

that is “other people, not like able people who able do lot things, that is what normal.”

even though get old is common, and be old get disabled is common.

even though have accident is common, lose some ability common, born varying is common, and much more is common.

but it not consider “normal”. what “normal” people is, decided the way they want.

because “not normal” carry a lot weight.

and disability a label for broad range experiences not the same. but they all disable.

and what have common is that “able” people decided what kinds experience not-good not-normal not-like-us. and society shape around this. to disable even more.

but they decide be disabled not good thing to be, on top of the reality experience of how be disabled would be.

even what consider disabled - where the threshold between able and disabled - vary depend on time, place, society, and more.

that is what it mean. disability as social label made by able people decide what to dehumanize, and that it could mean that “disability” could even not exist as mean “other people not us”.

to understand disability a social label not contradict belief that if someone not able to do something or have difference in experience, it not bad thing. we have value.

and yes i not able talk “normal” or type good now, but what? it ok i think. even if society make it even harder than already is, with reality of disabilities i have.

disability should not be dirty bad word, but it became so.

#text post #described #long post #disability #sij

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golbrocklovely · 3 months

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Hi, so the thing about the volunteer mods on xplrclub kind of rubs me the wrong way. They absolutely have made millions in their career, I mean their channel has been blowing up steadily for years. Their channel on top of merch sales, tours, xplrclub, they're living rather comfortably. One of the other anon's said colby has admitted to spending 10k a month on just clothing?? 10k is what I make in 5 months of working full time, dropping that on clothing in one year is insane let alone one month. Plus they have 2 mansions and not just rent but own. I'm the same age as them and I'm still living at home because despite having an MA and working full-time, my job doesn't pay me a wage that would allow me to live on my own without going completely broke and ending up in even more crippling debt.

I do like snc, as people I think they're probably really nice guys, but I think they've been in the influencer sphere for too long and no longer have any grasp on the real world. We're in a cost of living crisis right now, so asking anyone to essentially work for free is a bit tone deaf. I know they're not asking for crazy work, but they're still asking someone to give up their free time to put in labor for something they pay snc to be able to access. It's just a bit icky to me. Either don't charge them the monthly subscription if they're going to mod for you, or pay them. It just kind of strikes me as snc think their fans should be grateful to them for allowing them this opportunity to mod for them, that money shouldn't even be a factor. Idk, maybe I'm being a bit too harsh, but in the economy we're currently in, asking people for free labor while you are raking in hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars a year is gross.

Sorry for this long post, I just felt like I wanted to get it all out, haha.

you're totally fine to vent. i agree with a lot of what you're saying. i think it's ridiculous that snc would think mods should be volunteers and not paid employees.

but to defend snc just a small amount….

snc haven't stated what the "perks" will be of being a mod. so it's possible it's negotiable to ask for a free membership as a mod, if not possibly more. on top of that, now that it has been a day and i'm not as upset as i was, i think the reason snc think this volunteer system is okay is bc when they did a livestream on wednesday, they mentioned getting mods and ppl in the comments started asking to be a mod.

not to mention the amount of ppl that have already applied to be mods. i mean the last time i checked the post (and this was yesterday mind you), there was 50+ comments, and only three of them were critical about this whole thing and one of them was me. so a lot of ppl are fine with being mods without being paid.

that, tied with ppl being on twitch and streamers pick randos from their fandom to be mods, i bet snc think this is the best case scenario and way to go about things.

i would like to believe that it's mostly this, tied with a little bit of snc being cheap lol

and look, personally idc how snc spend their money. they made it, they can do what they want with it. even if i think it's outrageous to spend 10k on clothes in a month. reality is, we're just in a different tax bracket than them. i don't relate to them on that level. and i wouldn't want them to act poor, so to speak. so….. it is what it is.

that being said, they should pay for mods. mods should be ppl not in the fandom. bc even tho snc also stated in the post that there is no amount of time you have to be online and moderating, i know there are some fans that if they do it, will be on 24/7 and will neglect their lives just to be in snc's good graces assumingly. and i think that's where an extra layer of problems lie. the lack of money is an issue, the trusting of fans is an issue, the possible future problems is another, and so on.

it would be better to get rid of chat, impo. but they ain't gonna listen to me lol

#ask #personal #snc bs

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medicinanocturna · 1 year

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Pluto: natal and transit. The medicine of dying and rebirth

Being a higher planet, Pluto belongs to the sphere of spiritual growth. It is considered to be a planet that brings complex transformations and often destructive events.

Pluto's key principle is to teach humans how to die and be re-born. As well as how to develop and own our inner power (something that we inevitably learn in the pain of transformation).

Pluto is associated with deep psychic energies, which are difficult to trace, and as a rule, its work is only visible over time.

By bringing upheavals, Pluto aligns us with our higher mission, as well as the collective karma.

It brings critical adjustments or eliminates all that is no longer valid for our further growth. Sometimes it is only possible through the entire destruction of the external (or internal) reality we are holding on to.

The position and aspects of Pluto in the natal chart show the area where the experience of critical upheavals will occur.

This is also a sphere of your chart where you have access to some hidden resources where the energy of transformation is available to you and you intuitively know how to manage it, but often can only do it unconsciously (especially before the age of 40). Instead, it feels like these hidden resources are running you through the position and aspects of your Pluto.

If Pluto is harmonious in the chart, then this point of power will attract people (Pluto in the first house, for example, can give some well-pronounced charisma), if vice versa, Pluto is aspected inauspiciously then its force can be oppressive and destructive.

The principle of Pluto's work in the transit is such that by making a deep restructuring and transformation in your life, it simultaneously makes your psyche and inner world more flexible and responsive in relation to the outside world.

Purifying the subtle bodies, Pluto clears the space for a more harmonious, powerful and precise action that is aligned with one’s higher mission.

Unlike Uranus, which acts with lightning speed and sweeps everything to the ground, Pluto always gives hints, and some backlash for a reversal, before it dismantles a certain area of one’s life.

The more deaf you are to Pluto’s signs, the lower is the level of vibrations it brings you at. In some critical cases, it may be a complete elimination of a person from the physical plane.

The most tangible of all Pluto’s transits occurs at the age of 38-42 when it makes a square aspect to the natal planet.

Your personal natal Pluto is the best teacher to be prepared for this remarkable transit.

All people in our lives with who we have meaningful connections should also be viewed as transits. So Pluto’s aspects in the relationships can give you no less work to do than the transit. (Here I write more about Pluto in a synastry).

Pluto teaches us to be fully responsible and honest in the face of the unpredictability of the external circumstances and develop the adequate intensity in response to it.

One of Pluto's manifestation is when you can't no longer lie to yourself about your deepest wounds and fears.

If you do this work with diligence, Pluto will give a lot of energy to fulfil your mission. As an add-on, once its life - changing aspect is passed, it can enhance the psychic abilities of a "good disciple", such as intuition, paranormal talents and personal magnetism.

Pluto is always considered being strong in a chart when it is in the angle houses.

A retrograde Pluto in a chart will cause psychic energy to flow inward rather than outward, and thus transformative events will often be only internal, without visible turmoil.

With proper work, this can give amazing intuition and the ability to control one's own thoughts and emotional states, as well as the gift to transmit the priceless experience of this inner work to others, which a person with a direct Pluto, even a very strong one, won't be able to do.

Drop me a line for a personal look at your chart...

Yours,

AlSheren

#astrology #astrologymedicine #pluto #power of pluto #plutopower #pluto mystery #pluto square #natal pluto #pluto transit #transformation #deep astrology #occult #esoteric #astrology observations #astrology on tumblr

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isthehorsevideocute · 2 years

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Hot Take of the Day: Animal Rights Activists Don't Actually Like or Care About Animals

The more actions and "justifications" i see out of folks who say they stand up for "animal rights" the more convinced I am of this.

First off let's talk about the false pretense of "animal rights" and why actual animal behavioralists tend to oppose the ideas pushed by it.

Let's make it clear right now, advocating for animal rights is not the same as advocatong for animal welfare.

Advocating for animal welfare is advocating for the proper treatment of animals. It's advocating for animals to be in environments that satisfy their biological and physiological needs in a way that gives them a life of minimal suffering.

The idea of "animal rights" inherently anthropomorphiezes animals by presenting animals as having the same needs and desires as humans. A lot of how animal rights advocates try to present their issues has little to no basis in how animals express themselves and what their actual needs and desires are. Some examples:

-"Animals inside of a barn with mud or manure on their bodies and say they are neglected and forced to live in unsanitary conditions"

-The reality is animals don't mind being dirty like we do and for many species being caked in mud or feces is actually beneficial for helping keep them cool/protect themselves from insects or the sun

-"Animals' young being taken away from them is just as traumatic to them as it is to humans"

-The reality: no species of domestic animal has anything remotely similar to the relationship that humans have with their children. Some are very quick to abandon their babies shortly after birth, some will attack or eat their young, and others will kick their kids out of the family the moment they don't need to nurse anymore. Animals do not hold familial relationships like we do and their success as a species often relies on them getting rid of their young asap before they reach sexual maturity or else the end result would be inbreeding.

-"Animals in any kind of service work or labor are being exploited and it's basically the same thing as slavery"

-First of all that take is completely tone deaf and shows how little you know about actual slavery. Second animals do not have a concept of exploitation. That's literally not a thing they have the necessary parts of the brain to understand that idea. Second domestic animals are purpose bred, so much so it is in their genetic makeup to perform the tasks they were bred to do. In other words they will serve those functions whether you want them to or not. That’s why dog breeds like boarder collies will try to herd your kids when they've never headed anything and have always been a housepet. It's ingrained in their biology. For these animals they need some kind of outlet for these instincts to live a happy and engaging life.

-"AI is rape"

-Again tone deaf. AI is not traumatic to animals and is the safest way to breed in most cases. The only way the animals' caregivers even know when to administer AI is when the animal is showing willingness to be bred. Animals are not "forced to be pregnant over and over" they will only be impregnated when it is deemed necessary and unlike how it would be in nature, we won't impregnate animals every breeding season. Even if breeding is the only task they are expected to perform, they given periods of rest to prevent over stressing their bodies with pregnancy after pregnancy.

-"Animals on trailers or in holding pens are afraid and stressed because they know they're about to be slaughtered"

-Travel and new environments are inherently stressful to animals of all types under all sorts of circumstances. It doesn't mean they are in any actual danger or are aware of why they are in a new place.

Animal behavioralists work closely with the people who actually work with animals, especially people who raise livestock because it benefits BOTH the people and the animals. Animals don't provide well when they aren't well taken care of.

And of course they LOVE taking things out of context to try to push their ideas that anyone who has animals for any reason is a sadistic animal abuser. More examples

-Posing a farmer using machinery to help a downed cow get back on her feet as them "taking an exhausted and sick cow to force them into the kill chute"

-owners of carriage horses in cities are required by law to provide evidence that their horses got rested in paddocks outside of the city for at least four months but people pushing the idea that horses are kept in stalls in city buildings 24/7

-posing pigs in birthing/nursing chutes as "having to spend their whole lives in cramped cages" when they are designed for the sows to be able to move in and out of freely

All that being said let's talk about what I've seen advocates of animal rights do and the ideas they've pushed to bring it all home.

-Touching and spraying trailered animals with water (obviously stressing them but claiming to be trying to "help" and "comfort" them)

-Holding up trailers with animals prolonging the stress of travel and preventing them from getting their needs met at their destination

-Stealing animals and killing them

-Throwing rocks at and pepper spraying animals and their handlers

-Literally saying outright that all domestic animals should be killed off

The whole "animal rights" movement is not a legitimate movement for the betterment of the quality of life of domestic animals. It never was and never will be. It's more akin to religious extremism than anything. It's not about helping animals, it's about control. It's about parading around with an ignorant "holier than thou" attitude so you can call everyone around you evil and feel like a hero in your little echo chamber. It's easy to sell to people because the idea of "being a lover of animals" is basically ingrained into the human brain but there's so much ignorance that comes with how animals actually work. All species have their own unique ways of expressing themselves and when that expression is foreign to us it's easy to misread or use it as a way to mislead. And well I guess that's why blogs like mine exist where people like me who understand how our species of interest behaves and can say if what is assumed is a correct assessment or not. So I guess the best I can do is to keep doing me and keep people educated.

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thanakite · 2 years

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It's always a little bit of a bummer to me when I watch One Day At A Time that they don't translate the Spanish that is spoken because it is literally a contributing factor to people not watching it, and realistically it doesn't make sense to do that

Like, I speak Spanish so it isn't a problem for me, BUT it's also a show my mom would likely really enjoy, but she doesn't speak Spanish and it would legitimately bother her that she couldn't understand what was being said so there isn't a point in trying to get her to watch it (which we've actually discussed, so I know it is a legitimate stumbling block for her) and it is utterly ridiculous that we do that quite honestly

This doesn't even necessarily need to apply to English but is generally more often the case with it due to the global influence England and the US maintains, but the reality is that people can't be expected to be able to know whatever language is before them even in the case of Spanish when the US is in such close proximity, because the reality is that unless schools here are required to teach Spanish (or any other language) to fluency level in childhood there is a major struggle to attempt to learn on your own, even today with apps like Duolingo, and some people just don't have the time, energy, or ability to do that, and it isn't their fault they have been failed by the US educational system, and even if it was it isn't logical to keep doing this

Like, there are so many people like my mom who would enjoy One Day At A Time, but end up not continuing to do so because of the issues they have with not understanding the Spanish that is spoken, and maybe if that wasn't the case One Day At A Time wouldn't have been cancelled by Netflix and ended up on another network (that I believe only ended up doing one season, but I'm not sure because while my family has live TV I never watch it since it requires me to watch an episode a week and be okay with that but I'm not) which would have allowed it to continue to make salient points and provide a real voice and opportunity the way it had been during the 3 seasons it had on Netflix

And One Day At A Time isn't the only show where this is the case, like I do totally understand the argument that a lot of shows are made in English and not translated well for audiences that have different first languages and so putting lines in other languages without translation forces English speakers to experience what you have been forced to deal with all the time, but it is actually causing more harm than good because it alienates part of an audience that could contribute to being able to provide your message longer and is actually an accessibility issue for some

Like at least in One Day At A Time when you have closed captioning on they still put up the subtitles, they're just in Spanish, but a lot of shows will just have [speaks Spanish] instead (or even will have subtitles but if you have closed captioning on it, it blocks the translations with [speaks Spanish] from the closed captioning), and it is incredibly frustrating for me with auditory processing issues and must be even more frustrating for those who are deaf or hard of hearing, and really none of this should be an issue in the first place

All shows should have all words in their captions translated into those caption's language exactly (or the way that will be best understood) because if you don't have that you alienate part of your potential audience and that is completely illogical

Shows that want to be progressive should want them to be as accessible as possible so they can reach as many people as possible, instead choosing to act in ways that limit the audience doesn't make sense and is going to cause more harm than good always because I can almost guarantee that more people watching One Day At A Time and seeing and understanding everything that goes into it is much more important than alienating part of your potential audience trying to stick it to people who made you feel that way at one point or another or trying to appear more "progressive" by doing this, because in the end everyone should be given the opportunity to understand what is being said so that everyone can have the opportunity to learn from the shows that have the most potential to teach them in addition to also just providing entertainment

#one day at a time #spanish #accessibility #auditory processing issues #look i get the argument for why this is a thing but again it is doing more harm than good long term

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chiaralibitina · 7 months

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How I usually go? How I usually talk? How I used to work? How I used to....

I kick around myself a lot. Scream at everyone else, for my flaws. Blame everything on someone other. Never seeing my own mistake. Then I would go to my own space: 'I am right, they refuse to accept that!'

Then the first hit came, when she left me in the flame. I cried and kicked again. Blaming her for not being able to forgive my mistakes. I threw trash and rubbish all over her. Not seeing the toxic waste I pour.

I never took the time to look back. To see the broken ways and paths I take. To see the devastation I leave behind. The destruction, the pain, the cracks after I got to talk.

Left everyone feeling helpless, making them feel like I was the center of everything in this mess. They said: 'I wish I could help! To save you! Heal your never-ending pain!' What I should've heard was: 'Maybe you should... look at yourself first.'

But... they did say that. They yelled it in my face! I turned a blind eye. Went deaf. Ignored all the facts they threw my way.

How I hurt people for my sake. How they sacrifice their needs for my health. How they cry in my name. How they wish, I would just change.

If I realized all this sooner, it might've all been different. I read my past messages. Saw my voice, noticed the mistakes.

The selfish mess I made. How I yelled: 'No one is as selfless as I!' When in reality it was all for my own gain. Nothing out of it. All for naught. I lost people, to my own web of flaws.

So I read. Read it again. Then once more.

And when the last friendship started to crack, I saw that I am the one ripping it all for my own sake. Making a case of loneliness, when I am the one who made the file in the first place.

Looking back at who I was, who I thought I am. I can safely say: 'I was and still am a fucking disgrace.'

Tearing people's minds apart. Making them feel like they are meant to put me back

part by part.

As if I was their mess to fix. Their problem to solve. Their issue to go through. I made them... feel like they are never enough.

And with that in my heart. I took some time to reflect in my mind.

If I had a time machine, I'd go back to the crucial moments. Give my past self some signs: 'Look, you are not someone else's task!'

Only now I realize how much they have struggled. The pain I put everyone through.

Dear best friend, I apologize. For all the times I made you feel like my happiness depended on whether you are or not by my side. For all the times I blamed you for being in love. For all the times I blamed you for being someone else's number one. I get why you had the need to leave. So with this, I hope you will find in your heart to hear my apology. This time a sincere one, not the fake ones I gave.

Dear first love, I apologize. For all the times I made you seem like you're supposed to fix my mental health. For all the times I made it seem like I will die if you take a break. For all the times I forced you to stay with me. For all the times I blamed you for choosing another way without me. I get why you needed for us to split. And now, I hope you find someone who won't make you feel like I did. I hope you will be happy. I hope you will be able to smile at me, forgive me. This time I apologize and I accept my defeat. You had to leave, because you knew that you were being drowned by me.

Dear mum, I apologize. For all the times I made you feel like you never tried. For all the times I yelled that you don't listen. For all the times I seemed like I don't see how hard you fight. You would bring on a world war for me. You fought the hardest for me. Just so I could walk out of my room again. To see me smile like when I was merely ten.

To all of you, sincerely sorry. I hope you all have the heart, to forgive a selfish mind like me.

Now I will fight to be better. Not for you anymore, for myself. So I don't drown someone else anymore. So I don't put anyone else, through the same shit I did to you all.

Sincerely, Chiara. The selfish person, who now knows where to start.

#self reflection #self reflect #poem #realization #apology

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tielt · 1 year

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Heya.

I’d like to state that I would certainly be a disappointment as a guru or spiritual practitioner. If you are Christian and wish to be more open Baha’i people learn from all world religions and are Christian similar to druidic practice. If I was Christian that would be where I would be if even just for the please toss my body in a hole at my house and be done with it... strange and legal funeral, only and specifically for Bahai I think. A Klingon rite haha. She, a Baha’i, was my best friend at 17 when I left the nest; spent 1-2 years smoking and drinking coffee all night at the Denny’s, she formed more of my current beliefs than did the first 14 years of my life as LDS and she has also influenced me later in life. Helped me become slightly less naive. She has a mosquito tattoo maybe because the existence of a entity as thoroughly irritating parasitic and useless says something about god and reality, it’s seems maybe anti-Daoism, she would ask as if you really feel kinship to Trump who has absolutely no human value and yet supposedly is just another us in a different washing machine at another time. Fierce human being and honestly a harder hitter than me spiritually. Has a deaf child which has given me a curiosity towards sense disabled people I've never been able to entertain. She is a writer/teacher hardcore punk. My wife in some other life where I didn’t leave rural Oregon. (Maybe, but definitely first soulmate)

Religion/spiritual studies follow definitely skip-able just leaving access if anyone wants to know.

I have an affinity to Shinto because it’s warm bubbly paganism without any specific carnal or violence worship. Modern Shinto is for me hayao miyasaki on the positives and mushishi on the destructive, it’s acceptable stories for children to learn how to coexist in a ecosystem and the scientist bits of me approve and there’s no doctrine which is why I am openly recommending it as it is entirely non hostile and about coexistence. Shinto does believe one obvious principle that Kami pervades all things like us in that radishes are essential of the same stuff. This feels like what I learned from shaman type journeys.

I fibbed before when I said I blame objects I did that specifically to elicit a response in opposition as I want you to be on the side of your stuff as you should want to protect sacred things and have that state of mind. That rare use of false manipulation was slightly premeditated, but it is a unusual thing for me and it was done intuitively. I like to believe stuff can have magic in it. I think the guru/teacher archetype is hard wired in all of us but my relationship to that part of me is not one trained to nor would recommend to others but for fun and enjoyment of being aliveness.

The original Kino’s Journey is a really interesting combination of Buddhism and what it is to go through living and dying and how to act ethically. Little bit like Starmaker(Olaf Stapleton) or maybe Star Trek but old school. The remake is decent additionally but i stan the original. I dislike the stodgyness of Buddhism and it seems like they washed their historical humanitarian abuse from what they claim is their origin, they also believe that abortion should not be allowed which if you believe that you can be warmer there than I feel about that. I do think they are a good thing for the world in a cognitive and modern compassionate sense. Similar to why I didn’t find to much interest it Aboriginal cultures I’ve gotten to know it’s often a old dude being traditional in a lot of cases. Every tribe is different though right.

I have weird feelings saying it, but I’m much into liberation of bonds and freedom of choice where your choices are within proper ethical standards of harm and kindness and I didn’t really realize it till my 30s how U.S. of an ideal this is. About Buddhism if you didn’t know rebirth doesn’t work the way most external parties believe of Buddhist reincarnation. Death means heaven or hell realms and what is reborn is the continuation of the causation that was your imprint or dharma and following your death that thread is continued by another entity and that is prev/next life connection. A different person. I don’t believe in heaven or hell but just the hum of matter becoming energy becoming matter again but I disbelieve more of my superstitions than I believe. I may discuss random superstitions later who knows but a lot of them are obviously caused by anecdotal patterns. (Synchronicity aka pattern match which the brain excels at)

It seemed necessary to write this, if you want faith or devotional sources I don’t currently practice those intentionally and don’t see it happening. I was into Krishna for a while, but I like worship through what is in my presence in a complete form. I like not knowing; that can be uncomfortable if you are used to faith. I think it’s mystifying and amazing that there are so many mysteries that seem to be agnostic as the only rational principle of access. I just know I’m ruled by magic of emotions and heart and the brain forges through in disregard. Curiosity and convincing yourself to try on belief is something I hope is of wider utility to the human experience. I do not believe doubt is bad for you and I feel no need to apologize if I have created it in you. Repeating the intro I’m not an answer guru nor plan to be I’m just another curious cat.

Safe Journeys

#bio #spirituality #religion

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sokkastyles · 3 years

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I was thinking about the moment when Aang burned Katara's hands. It's funny that there are people who blame Katara for her injury (because she was standing too close to Aang), although it is obvious that Aang is to blame for this. And only now I realized that Aang treated firebending as a game just like he treats his airbending, which is why he couldn't stop in time and burned Katara. It seems to me that this is the reason why fire became the last element that Aang had to study, for his full growth as a character, to start taking things more seriously and responsibly than before. While Zuko is learning on the contrary to be more free and liberated, like air.

I agree. I've said in the past that I feel like a lot of the hate Katara gets is because of the way the narrative positions her in opposition to Aang, both as a love interest and as the no-fun caretaker who is always trying to get him to take responsibility, and that's exacerbated when the narrative won't hold Aang responsible for things, such as the kiss in "Ember Island Players," which is why even people who like Katara argue that she really actually secretly wanted to be kissed (blegh), but Aang burning Katara is actually a place where I feel the narrative does do a good job of holding him responsible, and it's actually a huge part of his arc, so people who try to argue that it was Katara's fault for "standing too close" are not even paying attention to the show. There are other problems with the way that situation is addressed, and plenty of people have pointed out how Katara is the one who ends up having to comfort Aang over him burning her, while her pain is just magically healed, but it is something the show holds Aang accountable for and a big part of his development.

And you are right about him treating it as a game, just like he does with airbending, and this is an aspect of Aang's character that I feel is often overlooked. This isn't a criticism of Aang, it's very understandable that he is this way. He's a kid who grew up in peacetime. There's a tendency to idealize Aang's pacifism that I've seen in the fandom, and to portray him as someone who hates fighting, but that's not the case. He's a martial arts master, for Pete's sake! And he was just as hyped to learn firebending as any twelve year old boy would be. He thought the freedom fighters were super cool and didn't believe Sokka when he told them that Jet was dangerous. Even in "The Avatar State," which opens with his nightmares about the violence at the North Pole, he was totally into General Fong's plan and wouldn't listen to Katara when she warned him of the danger until Katara got hurt.

And this makes sense, if you think about it. Because Aang is a kid who grew up in an idyllic setting and was raised by pacifist monks, because airbending came easy to him, and because he wasn't there for the genocide of his people, he doesn't quite understand the real consequences of violence the way the other characters do. I'm not saying he takes violence lightly, because of course he doesn't, but he hasn't experienced things the way Katara and Sokka have, particularly how dangerous the Fire Nation can be, so it's more of a game to him until it becomes serious in a very real way, and by then it's unavoidable.

Look at when they go to the Fire Nation festival in "The Deserter:"

Katara: Aang, hold on! Where are we going?

Aang: I don't know, but there's a big crowd so it must be good.

Sokka: [Sarcastically.] Knowing the Fire Nation, it's probably an execution.

Aang: I gotta learn that trick!

It's not that Aang is naive, it's just that he doesn't have the same experience with the Fire Nation that Sokka and Katara do. Katara is cautious and fearful, and Sokka assumes the worst, while Aang is excited. Katara and Sokka grew up fearing violence from the Fire Nation, and lost their mother to that same evil, while Aang, despite the trauma of losing his people and witnessing the devastation at the Southern Air Temple, still remembers having Fire Nation friends. He's excited to be part of the firebending show while Katara is clearly terrified.

Aang didn't grow up in constant fear of raids like Sokka and Katara did, and he didn't grow up in a violent and abusive environment like Zuko did, so it makes sense that the consequences of violence aren't as real for him (this is also an aspect of what Zuko says to him in "The Southern Raiders" and why it annoys me when people say that Zuko was in the wrong to say what he said). And because Aang is also twelve, his initial feelings about firebending are more "fire cool" than anything.

That's why he's impatient with Jeong Jeong, and also why he's so shocked and upset when he does accidently burn Katara. And because of this he does a complete 180 and is afraid to ever firebend again. I also think that both Katara and Sokka's reactions were unexpected for him. Katara's terror and hurt is so palpable and Sokka's reaction towards Aang, tackling him to the ground, becomes horribly tragic if you think about how much Sokka wanted to be like his dad and was raised to be a warrior and protector of his tribe and family, and the flashback we get later of Hakoda running towards Kya, who he will find dead.

It's also made clear by the narrative that it was Aang's fault. I mean, I'm not saying Aang should be blamed, because of course it was an accident, but the reason Aang lost control of the fire was because he was being reckless, and playing with it. Part of it is also Jeong Jeong's fault, because Jeong Jeong has the opposite problem, and I do blame Jeong Jeong largely for Aang developing a complex around firebending. Both of them, because of their bad experiences with fire, become so afraid of hurting other people that they don't know how to handle it. And Jeong Jeong was actually the last person who should have been teaching Aang, because of his fear of his own fire. Aang disobeys Jeong Jeong and is too reckless, but Jeong Jeong also is way too timid and doesn't teach Aang, who is eager to learn more, how to keep his fire from going out of control. He teaches Aang to be afraid of the fire because he is afraid of it.

(I actually also think this is tied to why Aang is afraid of Katara's desire to face Yon Rha in "The Southern Raiders" as well. When Aang is exposed to situations where he is confronted with the reality of violence, he becomes incredibly fearful and loses control. That's why he's afraid of Katara losing control and falls back on Air Nomad aphorisms that land on deaf ears to Katara and Zuko.)

This is ultimately why Zuko ends up being the perfect firebending teacher for Aang. Zuko had a lot of the same problems, and had to learn the hard way how to control his fire, but because he's had those experiences and learned from them, and decided that he wanted to become better, he's able to teach Aang how to have a more balanced view. Zuko had to learn how to be more like air, but one of the things I love about "The Firebending Masters" is how Zuko and Aang's roles are somewhat switched, and Aang is constrained by his own fears while Zuko is more free than we've ever seen him:

Aang: [Scared.] Zuko, I think the past is trying to kill me.

Zuko: [Kneeling down to inspect the spikes.] I can't believe it. [He picks the tripwire up and examines it.] This booby trap must be centuries old and it still works.

Aang: There's probably a lot more. Maybe this means we shouldn't be here.

Zuko takes two steps back and runs toward the wall adjoining the path. He runs on the wall before jumping on the other side of the spikes.

Zuko: [Dusting some dirt on his shirt.] Where's that up-beat attitude you were talkin' about?

(This is also a rare scene of Zuko bending air.)

Because in the end, it's all about balance. Aang learns to have more confidence and Zuko learns to be more wise. There's a great message there about learning from your mistakes. Yes, you should be careful especially when you are in danger of hurting others, but if you're too hesitant then you'll always be held back by your fear, and you might end up hurting others more in the end.

#the firebending masters #atla meta #katara #aang #zuko #the deserter #jeong jeong #the southern raiders #sokka

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a-room-of-my-own · 3 years

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A while before the latest hoo-ha about Judith Butler, I had just been reading her again. Though she claims her critics have not read her, this simply isn’t the case. I read Gender Trouble when it first came out and it was important at the time . That time was long,long ago. She was just one of the many ‘post-structuralist’ thinkers I was into. I would trip off to see Luce Irigaray or Derrida whenever they appeared.

I got an interview with Baudrillard and tried to sell it to The Guardian but they didn’t know who he was so its fair to say I was fairly immersed in that world of theory. For a while, I had a part time lecturing job so I had to keep on top of it. Though Butler’s idea of gender as performance was not new , it was interesting. RuPaul said it so much more clearly in a quote nicked from someone else “Honey ,we are born naked, the rest is drag”

What I was looking for again , I guess is not any clarity – her writing is famously and deliberately difficult- but whether there was ever any sense of the material body. She wrote herself in 2004 “I confess however I am not a very good materialist. Every time I try to write about the body, the writing ends up being about language” .

Butler from on high ,cannot really think about the body at all which is why they (Butler’s chosen pronoun) are now the high priestess of a particular kind of trans ideology. The men who worship Butler are not versed in high theory. The fox botherer had a “brain swoon” at some very ordinary things Butler said. Mr Right Side of history nodded along in an interview. Clearly neither of these men are versed in any of this philosophy and would be better off sticking to tax law and the decline of the Labour Party. Butler is simply a totem for them.

Butler said in the Guardian interview for instance “Gender is an assignment that does not just happen once: it is ongoing. We are assigned a sex at birth and then a slew of expectations follow which continue to “assign” gender to us.”

So yeah? That’s a fairly basic view of the social construction of gender though I take issue with the assigned at birth thing ,which I will come back to and why I started reading her again in the first place.

This phrase “Assigned sex at birth” is now common parlance but simply does not make sense to me. I am living with someone who is pregnant. I have given birth three times and been a birthing partner. I know where babies come from. There is a deep disconnect here between language and reality which no amount of academic jargon can obliterate.

Babies come from bodies. Not any bodies but bodies that have a uterus. They grew inside a woman’s body until they get pushed out or dragged out into the world.

The facts of life that we are now to be liberated from in the form of denial. Only one sex can have babies but we must now somehow not say that. The pregnant “people” of Texas will now be forced into giving birth to children they don’t want because they are simply “host bodies”. The language of patriarchal supremacy and that of some of the trans ideologues is remarkably close, as is their biological ignorance.

There is no foetal heatbeat at six weeks for instance. When a baby is born , doctors and midwives do not randomly assign a sex, they observe it and they do it though genitalia.

There is a question over a tiny percentage of babies ,less that one percent with DSDs but even then they are sexed with doctors having difficult conversations with parents about what may happen later.

Somehow, though when I read the way in which this is now all discussed it is clear to me that the people talking have never been pregnant, never had a foetal scan, never been near a birth , never miscarried, do not understand that even with a still birth babies are still sexed and often named.

If you want to know the sex of your baby you can pay privately and know at 7 weeks ((*49-56 days from the first day of the mother’s last menstrual cycle). A 12 week scan will show it. That is why so many female foetuses are aborted . I have reported on this.

Talking to paediatricians about this is interesting because they do indeed have to think through these things that we are being told are not real eg. that sex is just a by-product of colonialism for instance. Sometimes pre-conception , geneticists will be looking at chromosomes because certain diseases are more likely in men or women. Males have a higher risk of haemophilia for instance.

One doctor told me “When babies are premature, the survival advantage of females over males is well known throughout neonatology. This is sometimes something we talk about with parents when there is threatened premature labour around 23 weeks' gestation and options to discuss about resuscitation and medical interventions. In fertility treatment (or counselling around fertility in the context of medical treatments) it is pretty inherent to know whether we need to plan around sperm, or ova + pregnancy.”

She also said that if she involved in a birth that “assigning” isn’t the word she world use. “Observed genitals a highly reliable observation, just like measuring weight or head circumference which is also done at this time. “ Another doctor said that anyone involved with a trans man giving birth would be doing the best for the patient in front of them.

Sex then is biological fact. A female baby will have all the eggs she will ever have when she is first born which is kind of amazing. It is not bio-essentialist to say that our sexed bodies are different nor is it transphobic to recognise it.

Except of course in my old newspaper ,The Guardian who are now so hamstrung by their own ideology they have got their knickers in such a twist they can barely walk. They completely misreported the WiSpa incident , basically ignored the Sonia Appleby judgement at the Tavistock. Appleby was a whistle blower ,a respected professional concerned with safe guarding. She won her case. The cherry on the cake this week was an interview with Butler, themselves (?) in which they went on about Terfs being fascists and needing to extend the category of women.

Does anyone EVER stop to think that most gender critical women are of the left, supporters of gay rights, often lesbian and that this is not America? We are not in bed with the far right. This is bollocks. Just another way to dismiss us.

As we watch Afghanistan and Texas ,to say Butler’s words were tone deaf is to say the least. But they didn’t even have the guts to keep the most offensive stuff in the piece and overnight edited it out without really explaining why : the bits where Butler described gender critical people as fascist. Perhaps because the person their “reporters” had defended against transphobia at WiSpa turned out to be a known sex offender, perhaps because someone pointed out that Butler was throwing around the word fascist rather like Rik Mayall used to do in the Young Ones.

All of this is rather desperate and readers deserve better. When I left that newspaper I said that I thought and expected editors to stand up for their writers in public. Instead they go into some catatonic paralysis. I may have not liked this interview but it should never have been cut. Stand by what you publish or your credibility is shot.

But this is about more than Judith Butler and their refusal to support women . Butler is not really any kind of feminist at all. What this is about is the large edifice of trans ideology crumbling when any real analysis is applied. Yes, I have read Shon Faye’s book and there are some interesting points in it and I totally agree that the lives of trans people should be easier and health care better . I have never said anything but that.

What Faye does in the book is say that there can be no trans liberation under capitalism so there will be a bit of a wait I suspect.

Yet surely it is the other way round and what we are seeing is that trans ideology (not trans people – I am making a distinction here ) represent the apex of capitalism .

For it means that the individual decides their own gendered essence and then spends a fortune on surgery and a lifetime on medication to achieve the appearance of it. Of course lots of people spend a lifetime on medication but not out of choice. Marx understood very well that the abolition of our system of production would free up women.

Now it is all about freeing up men. Who say they are women. Quelle surprise.

Nussbaum’s famous take down of Butler is premised exactly on the sense of individual versus collective struggle “ The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. “

Such thinking now dominates academia. There is simply an unquestioning rehearsal of something most of know not to be true thus Amia Srinivasan writes in The Right to Sex “At birth, bodies are sorted as ‘male’ or ‘female’, though many bodies must be mutilated to fit one category or the other, and many bodies will later protest against the decision that was made. This originary division determines what social purpose a body will be assigned.”

What does ‘sorted’ mean here? A tiny number of intersex babies are born. A tiny number of people are trans and decide to change their bodies. The feminist demand to challenge gender norms without mutilating any one’s body no longer matters. What matters now is this retrograde return to some gendered soul. This is not something any decent Marxist would have any truck with . Of course one may change over a lifetime and of course gender is never ‘settled.’ We are complex people who inhabit bodies that often don’t work or appear as we want them to.

But not only is there a denial of basic Marxism going on here , what becomes ever more apparent is that there is a denial of motherhood. Butler said “Yet gender is also what is made along the way – we can take over the power of assignment, make it into self-assignment, which can include sex reassignment at a legal and medical level.”

Self-assignment is key . One may birth oneself. No longer of woman born but self -made. This is a theoretical leap but it also one that has profound implications for women as a sex class. We are really then, just the host bodies to a new breed of people who self-assign.

Maybe that is the future although look around the word and there isn’t a lot of self-assignment going on. There are simply women shot and beaten in the street, choked to death or having their rights taken away. There is no identifying out of this , there is no fluidity here . This is not discourse. It is brutality and do we not have some responsibility to other women to confront male violence ?

Instead the hatred is aided and abetted by so called philosophers describing other women as Terfs. It is utterly depressing.

The sexed body. The pregnant body. The dying body. The body is in trouble when we can’t talk about it . I thought of Margaret Mary O’Hara’s beautiful and strange lyrics and what they might mean. I await my child’s return from the hospital as hers is a difficult pregnancy and thank god they are on the case. The sex of the child she carries does not matter to me at all .

It simply exists. Not in language but within a body.

Why is that so difficult to acknowledge?

#gender critical #feminism #transgender #judith butler #suzanne moore

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

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Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #here to misbehave #h2m #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #spencer reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #reid request

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mossybank · 3 years

Text

Baby You're a Haunted House — W. M.

Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Y/N helps Wanda grieve and gain closure on Pietro's death in their own special way, a perculiar way to flirt in the eyes of others. — au/non-canon accurate timeline

A/N: Baby You're a Haunted House is a song that's been stuck in my head on a loop, and although it was only meant to be a place holder title I've actually become quite fond of it.

semi-proofread

Y/N had been meaning to talk to Wanda for a while, amongst all the chaos of Ultron, they didn't get a proper opportunity to introduce themself; and to do it afterwards, as the girl realised she'd lost her brother, just seemed crass. They thought that maybe now they'd left it too long to introduce themself, coming off as rude and tone deaf for not doing it earlier, but the longer they avoided doing this the worse it would become.

In order to give themself an excuse for waiting so long, Y/N made Wanda a welcome hamper of sorts. They'd scoured the Eastern European aisle at the shop in hopes of finding something Sokovian, hoping it would remind Wanda of what was once her home, but they also feared that would be cruel, they didn't want her to feel anymore homesick than she most likely already did.

Eventually they threw a few things together, mostly sweets and snacks of the sort that they thought she'd enjoy, and anxiously knocked on her door before entering sheepishly.

"Hey, uh, I—" They glanced at Wanda and then at her TV before fixating their gaze to the floor, it was much less intimidating, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, no," Wanda shook her head and paused the TV, the laughing track stopping, "Nothing important."

Y/N knew Wanda would have a Sokovian accent, she was from the country for gods sake, but that didn't stop the tips of their ears from heating up at the sound of it. It was typical, but Y/N simply had a thing for accents, and they hoped Wanda hadn't noticed.

"I wanted to introduce myself, I've know we've met before," Y/N cringed, righting a robotic threat to earth seemed like a bit more than just meeting, "But we haven't met-met... I, um, I brought you a gift!" They held the gift basket out awkwardly, a lopsided smile overtaking their face.

Wanda chuckled quietly at Y/N's antics and shuffled from her position of the edge of her bed, making space for Y/N to sit beside her and patting it. Y/N quickly obliged, placing the gift basket between them.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like so it's a bit of everything."

"Thanks.. No one else has done this for me." Wanda said fondly, looking through the basket with a content expression, "You didn't need to do all this."

Y/N looked down at their hands, and shrugged, "I just wanted to make sure you felt welcomed here and stuff, y'know? I know what it's like to be a new Avenger, it's a lot of change at once so I just want to make sure you're doing okay."

After some small talk, the two decided to watch one of Wanda's sitcoms together. Y/N wasn't too sure what it was called, but they'd definitely ask her later in order to binge it themself.

"We used to have movie nights as a child where we'd only be allowed to speak english to help us learn it," Wanda's expression dropped temporarily, gazing to the side. Y/N followed Wanda's gaze, eyes landing on a framed photo of her and Pietro.

"... I'm sorry." Y/N said hesitantly after a second of silence, "If there's anything I c—"

Wanda's expression caused Y/N to stop talking, she'd clearly heard that phrase repetitively from everyone.

"The only thing you could do to make me feel better would be to bring him back." She said bitterly before looking at Y/N, her sour tone dropping off of the end of the sentence as her eyes met their, "I didn't mean that, I shouldn't... It's not your fault."

Y/N shook their head, cutting Wanda's apology short, "No, no! You have every right to be upset and excited, but.." They trailed off, a moment of debate in their brain, "If you, um, really wanted to see him again, I could try help?"

Wanda raised a brow, frowning slightly as if she thought Y/N was making some sick joke.

"The little ghost army thingie back in Sokovia when we were fighting Ultron? That was me! Uh.. Trying to reach Pietro would take time though.. Usually ghosts follow people around but I haven't seen him.."

Wanda sighed and shook her head, "You don't have to do that for me, you looked exhausted from how you used your powers back there."

"But I'd like too! And it'd be a great bit of training even if it didn't work, I've never been able to summon anyone specific before." They tried to reason, but ultimately they wouldn't do anything without Wanda's permission.

"... I'll think about it."

It was a week later when Wanda next spoke to Y/N regarding their conversation about Pietro, they'd spoke in between but dancing around the topic of a dead brother was difficult work. Eventually, they had to discuss it once more.

"I'm willing to try, but if anything goes wrong, that will be it." Wanda comes to the compromise, presenting her deal to Y/N one morning in the kitchen. Y/N looking at Wanda and nodding, zoning out slightly and taking in her features, only snapping back into reality as boiling liquid came into contact with their hand.

They cursed, almost dropping their mug, foiled by the classic sitcom trope of overpouring your coffee and burning yourself as the result of some stupid crush.

"Oh, Y/N! Are you o—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" They reassured, shaking their hand dry, ignoring the sting of the burn, "If you give me an hour, we can try immediately!"

Wanda nodded and promptly left, she longed to truly make sure Y/N was okay but held back,she’d dread to come off too doting this eraly in their relationship. Y/N's shoulders slumped and they let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. They'd barely knew Wanda, whatever they were feeling had to go away soon, it was just unprofessional when their whole thing right now was helping the girl talk to her brother one last time!

The medium was pulled out of their deprecating thoughts by a boisterous chuckle, turning their head, they recognised it to be Thor.

"Ah, young love," The god teased, giving Y/N a firm but well-meaning pat on the back, "Good luck, young Y/N."

Y/N blushed and defensively assured Thor that is was 'nothing like that', but it was clear to everyone else that it absolutely was.

Arriving to their semi-impromptu séance, Y/N gave Wanda a run down on what was going to happen. Usually, when summoning a spirit, Y/N only summoned those already around, but it seemed Pietro had already moved on from this world- it made sense, his death was somewhat honourable and he didn't seem to have any unfinished business or grudges- that just meant Y/N's process would be a little more difficult and required a few more attempts. For a summoning like this, they'd have to temporarily leave the mortal realm, appearing to those around them as unconscious. Luckily for Y/N this was something they were particularly good at, often doing so accidently and getting stuck when their powers first manifested as a child.

Laying down on the floor, Wanda knelt beside them with a soft grip on their hands ready to wake them should something go wrong, Y/N closed their eyes, the last thing they felt before slipping away being Wanda tenderly stroking her thumb across their knuckles.

With a start, Y/N woke up, sitting slowly and looking around their surroundings. Blue, everything was blue here and although usually a tranquil colour, here it was chilling and made everything feel off. Standing up, Y/N thought of a game plan, there was no point wandering around the blue plains of this realm, they'd get nowhere; not that there was anywhere to go or find regardless. The best way to find a spirit was to call out to them, and so that's just what they did.

If they steadied their breathing and kept quiet enough, they could make out distance conversations in hushed tones, they sounded like gibberish to them though— whether they were speaking English or not, they didn't want Y/N to know what was being said, and so that's how it stayed.

Their first few attempts at summoning were futile, each time they'd wake up with a start, taking a surprisingly deep breath and breaking out in a coughing fit, Wanda vigilantly by their side to help them through it, always offering a glass of water or a cough drop.

The pair began to hang out outside of Y/N’s attempts to contact Pietro, by now the two both knew they most likely wouldn’t find his spirit, but neither of them mentioned this, thinking giving up on the summoning would mean they’d stop hanging out. Of course this likely wasn’t the case, but anxieties between the two certainly made it seem so.

One thing the two seemed to bond over a lot was food; it was what Y/N used to introduce themself to her and now Wanda was teaching Y/N a childhood recipe, opening herself up to them. There were little things the two did that everyone on the team seemed to notice except for them; for example, when telling Y/N to stir the food, she place her hands softly over their own to show them how to do it, her touch lingering longer than it should have. Occasionally other avengers would point this out, only being met with blushes by the two of them and various statements of denial, but with those statements of denial came coy but questioning looks from one to another as if to ask if they really meant that.

“It’s always best to try summoning on a full stomach, you never know how long it’s going to take so you should always be in good condition.” Y/N explains, cleaning the plates they’d just used to eat.

“How did you get your powers?” Wanda asked, warily, getting her powers wasn’t the best experience of her life and she’d hate to know something similar had happened to Y/N.

Drying up the plates, Y/N leans against the counter and faces her, “They run in the family.. sort of .. I mean, everyone on my mums side has some kind of fascination with the supernatural, but I’ve by far shown the most power in generations, apparently.”

Hearing that put a smile on Wanda’s face, she was glad it was something that came naturally to Y/N and that they could so easily embrace it.

Done with the washing, Y/N held an arm out for Wanda, her gladly taking it, and the two walked side by side ready for another attempt.

Y/N found themself once again in the place they'd now dubbed their own personal blue hell. They shivered, fiddling with the fraying hem of their sleeves and looked around. It was empty, of course, it always was. Occasionally they'd accidentally summon someone, but sensing that they weren't wanted, they often left quickly.

"Pietro?" Y/N yells, cupping their mouth to try enhance the sound of their voice, it was no use, "Wanda misses you.."

They were yet to find a buzz word to pique the spirits attention.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Y/N sat down, they sighed exaggeratedly,

"Quick bastard, powers probably made him move realms quicker too.." They muttered angrily in defeat, about to begin their process to return back to Wanda.

Just as they closed their eyes, Y/N felt a sudden gush of air pass them, jumping, they looked around. Nothing.

Groaning, Y/N put their head in their hands, at this point they were just being teased.

Another gush of wind went by and Y/N swore.

There was one final gush, stopping when a bright light stood in front of Y/N. It was impossible to make out what, or rather who, it was, no features discernable through the blue light that shone out the figure, so bright Y/N had to cover their eyes.

After a few seconds, Y/N knew they needed to question it, ".. Pietro..?"

The figure moved, tilting its head and trying to speak back, but just like everyone else here, it was distorted and hard to make out.

The longer Y/N looked at the figure, the less it began to shine, features becoming more readable.

Just as its face was finally revealed, Y/N only just catching a glimpse of its face, they awoke back in Wanda's room, the red-head leaning over them with a worried expression.

"Y/N!" She exclaimed, helping them sit up and handing them tissues, it was only then that they realised their nose had been bleeding, "I was so worried." She kept her hands on their shoulders.

Y/N looked at her confused, tilting their head in question.

"I—.. You, you starting shaking and mumbling something, then your nose started bleeding," She looked down nervously, "I've been trying to wake you up for ages, nothing was working.."

She was clearly distressed, her hair a mess from running her hands through it and tears brimming her eyes.

"Wanda..." Y/N pulled the girl into a tight hug, "it's okay, I'm fine," They reassured.

Wanda sniffled and pulled back, "We.. We should stop trying to do this.. I don't want it to hurt you." She says sternly after calming down.

Though disheartened by the comment, Y/N knew it was coming, Wanda’s one condition from the start had been that they stop immediately should something go wrong.

As Wanda and Y/N had feared in their heads, they didn’t seem to speak as much since stopping the seances. It was weird, like something had changed, Y/N would try make conversation with Wanda but she’d only give them a guilty sort of look and make an excuse to leave the interaction.

It started to frustrate Y/N after a while but they didn’t want to push her, they knew they never should of suggested summoning Pietro, it would only bound to cause more heartbreak for the poor girl. Knowing this, they wanted nothing more to fix it; they never wanted to go against Wanda’s wishes, but they were just so close the last time they tried and knew that they couldn’t give up till they succeeded.

A week later, Y/N was content, but clearly exhausted, they would try summon Pietro’s spirit often, thinking that they could surprise Wanda, but they’d gotten so used to trying with her by their side offering comfort that it know became difficult to carry out this ritual alone. By now they'd accepted that perhaps this one spirit was just too far gone to bring back.

Reluctantly, contradictory to their original plan of letting Wanda approach them first, Y/N decided they needed to say something. They refused to go see her empty handed though, they made her an overly extravagant mug of hot chocolate in order to satiate her sweet tooth. Besides, it was much better to talk over a drink.

Opening her door after knocking was awkward, making a mug for themself too, the whip cream and marshmallows piled high, Y/N had no hands free. This caused them to need to do an awkward elbow maneuver with the door handle, the drinks threatening to spill. Wanda gave Y/N a funny look for a second, questioning their difficulty to open the door, before noticing the two mugs in their hands and quickly made her way over to them to take them.

“It’s just the way you like it..!” Y/N says, looking down at the floor and grimacing at where some of the hot chocolate had stained right outside of Wanda’s room; they’d have to remember to clean that up later if a janitor didn't get to it first.

Wanda smiles, humming, she thanks Y/N and puts the drinks down. The two sip on them awkwardly for a minute, unsure of what to talk about without addressing the elephant in the room. The two of them seemed to think alike, breaking the silence in unison,

“I missed you.”

Both seemed shocked by the others words, eyes widening and cheeks dusting a warm hue, before laughing.

Wanda held her hand out for Y/N and they took it, hands resting intertwined on the coffee table, “I’m sorry for avoiding you, I just... seeing you like that.. I felt like it was my fault.”

Guilt pang in Y/N’s chest and they shook their head, giving Wanda’s hand a comforting squeeze, “It’s my fault, I should know my limits, I do know my limits, but I decided to exceed them anyway. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Maybe,” Wanda starts, a teasing undertone in her voice which lightens the mood, “You could take me out to apologies?”

The suggestion alone was enough to knock the wind out of Y/N, they did a double take before finally bringing themself to respond, “Like a.. like a date..?”

“If that’s what you want.” God, this girl could be the death of Y/N.

“You know, this whole time I’ve been berating myself in my head for liking you.” Y/N chuckles, letting Wanda in on the secret, knowing from her amused expression that she had been doing the same, “so, its a date then?”

A wide smile spread across their face being able to say that, widening further as Wanda nods in confirmation. This whole time Y/N had thought the only way they’d be able to get to Wanda’s heart was to bring her brother back, that ended up not being the case at all.

They realised when thinking this, zoning out, they’d been staring at Wanda this whole time, who looked back at them with a bright red blush across her face, the sight was almost too adorable for Y/N to handle.

Wanda looked at her and Y/N’s joined hands and then back to their eyes, “Could I.. kiss you?” she asks catching Y/N off guard, “To seal the agreement to our date!” She adds on flustered, the line sounding much smoother in her head than it did aloud.

Y/N didn’t seem to catch the awkwardness in her words, nodding enthusiastically, then toning it down quickly thinking that it was too much, and lent forwards, Wanda doing the same.

They closed their eyes, tilting their head to the side in order to not ruin the moment by accidently bumping noses or heads.

As their lips touched, everything felt just right, it was like electricity and fireworks, like the perfect first kiss every book seemed to describe. It was like a gush of fresh air, and as the two pulled away they gave each other matching coy smiles. Fully invested in each other, it was like nothing else existed around them. Maybe that’s why they failed to notice a new addition to the room.

A fake gagging sounds comes from behind the two, causing them to jump and quickly look for the source of it. Like the realm Y/N had traveled to many times before, this figure was blue, but now in the realm of the living it wasn’t as bright nor did it sound so distorted. It took a second, but the two finally realised what, or rather who, was in Wanda’s room; Pietro.

Wanda gasped, letting go of Y/N’s hand and standing up, hesitantly approaching Pietro who gave her a smug smile. The two looked at each other for a while before going in for a hug, Pietro spinning Wanda around. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight , though it also frustrated them a bit, if they’d known all it would take to summon him was to get with Wanda, they would have made a move much sooner.

Y/N got up and nervously stood behind Wanda, not wanting to say anything and ruin their reunion. Tears brimmed in Wanda’s eyes, but this time they could tell they were from happiness. She stepped away from Pietro and put a comforting hand on Y/N’s arm.

“So you two are a thing now?” Pietro questions, crossing his arms and giving Y/N the classic look of an over protective brother who would kill them should they hurt Wanda. Looking back at Pietro, Y/N noticed he was still slightly transparent, he wouldn’t be able to keep up a physical form in this realm for long.

Wanda looked down, blinking away her tears and looking back up with a smile on her face, corners of her mouth quivering slightly, “You didn’t see that coming?” She uses Pietro’s catchphrase against him, voice wavering slightly as she does so. Hand still on Y/’N’s arm, she lead them and Pietro back over to the table, the three would have a lot to talk about till Pietro had to leave once again.

Taglists;

Wanda Maximoff Taglist — @tatesimper

#wanda maximoff x reader #Marvel x reader #Scarlet witch x reader #Wandavision #Mcu #Avengers #Pietro Maximoff #Quicksilver #One shot #Headcanon #Imagine #Drable #Elizabeth olsen x reader #Gender neutral reader #Male reader

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