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reidmotif · 3 months

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Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different.

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age.

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again.

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit.

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out.

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets.

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be, the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular, but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom.

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again.

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide.

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known.

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.”

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion.

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.”

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions.

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself. “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic.

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion.

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated.

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?”

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.”

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong.

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips.

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her.

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft.

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.”

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say, but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile.

“You waited.” She says, softly.

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling.

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought.

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets.

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar.

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her.

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand.

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away.

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.”

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth.

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice.

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words.

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly.

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.”

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that.

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me.

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says.

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later.

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.”

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says.

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me. And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious.

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart.

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.”

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs.

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her.

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.”

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.”

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

“6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.”

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.”

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely.

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup.

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there.

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here?

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?”

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly.

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze.

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine.

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was.

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one.

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such.

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-”

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine.

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.”

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan.

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want.

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion.

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly.

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before.

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-”

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine.

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us.

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me.

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her.

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her.

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.”

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out.

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut.

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her.

“What about?”

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly.

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her.

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers.

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one.

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

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acesw · 4 months

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The School System of SPDM

The School Primary Defense of Mankind is a private institution where every few years, they take in orphaned arcanists around the world to train them for the purpose of becoming members of the Foundation. Many of the graduates go into the military/investigative sector of the Foundation and a handful are assigned to offices, given positions in headquarters and in rare cases accepted by the political councils. There is also a chance to work at Laplace, but thus far, Mesmer Jr. is the only one who had been placed there because of her lineage.

Not much is known about how the school works, but I will be mapping out as much information as I can find about the school, and make sure its organized as possible.

Disclaimer: This is solely based on Chapter 3, Green Lake, and the characters we have thus far who were students at SPDM. The only graduates we have are Horropedia (oldest graduate), Sonetto, Mesmer Jr., Vertin, and Matilda (youngest graduate of the group). I'll be referring to them as the "Foundation Kids", since the name sounds fitting enough. There are going to be spoilers for Chapter 3 and the characters' stories, so tread carefully.

Additionally, I'm going to be rarely using images because I really do not want to go into the effort of making screenshots after screenshots right now.

So buckle up and get ready for a big wall of paragraphs and sentences.

Known Staff Roles of the School

Principal - The head that manages the affairs of the school and responsible for all the matters that happen within. The current principal as of chapter 3 is Richard. Instructors - Their main purpose is to teach students varying subjects, a few that can be named are biology, music, potions, and arcane history School Physician - The person that takes care of the overall health of the students. It can be assumed that there are two per semester, since Tooth Fairy in particular would only stay in the school as its physician for half a year. Janitors - Of course, people that clean up areas in the school, and they have the freedom to interact with the children. Some are referred to as uncles and aunts I'd assume. Monitor Assistants - Students or Student Graduates that choose to help monitor the students of the school as a means to train them for instructor roles. Matilda is the only known monitor assistant so far. Monitor Students - Students that are given the role to monitor their peers. There seems to be a head role given to the school's high-achieving students like Sonetto. They are changed routinely every day and can increase/decrease depending on the necessity.

Level System and Enrollment

Of course, a school would not exist without its level system. The SPDM has a curriculum in place that sections off the varying different age groups of the orphaned arcanists after taking them in. The average range of the arcanists they take in are between a few months to 4 years old at its possible max.

The youngest student that had arrived in the school is Vertin at 1 month old, while Matilda is the oldest known student that had willingly enrolled at around 6 to 7 years old. This means that enrolling at the school is possible if the arcanist family is known to the Foundation. (For our Foundation kids, Sonetto and Vertin are the only ones to have been adopted into the school, whereas the other three have family or at least a guardian prior to enrollment)

The age of which arcanists graduate from the school seem to vary, in which Vertin, Sonetto, Matilda, and Mesmer Jr. had graduated at 13-15 years old. Whereas Horropedia, claimed to have been "several grades above" the group when the breakaway incident had happened. He's estimated to have been 17 at the time of the incident, while the rest of the group were around 10-12. This makes the information conflicting at first glance.

But of course, figuring out this level system would be rather helpful. This would be considered as a K-10 or K-13 curriculum, and it seems that the students can be categorized by as "Academic Year # Semester #".

Nursery & Kindergarten (1-5 years) - Where new baby and orphaned arcanists who were taken in by the school are raised in the first few years at the school.

Early Stage (5-10 years) - Young arcanists start their academic journey in the school, where they learn about the world around them while being isolated from the outside. They also begin their physical/arcanum training as a means to strengthen them whilst their afflatus and arcane skills slowly develop and awaken over time.

Late Stage (10-12 years) - The age of which arcanists begin to awaken their arcane skill. They are given the materials and training to develop their arcane skills and are slowly introduced to the world around them, being shown the opportunities they could take based on their skillset and possibly being invited to explore the work environment. (Its also in this stage that the students have a change in uniform.)

Work Immersion & Graduation (12-15 years) - The arcanists will begin to do work immersion in the fields they choose to specialize in, to familiarize themselves in the environment and even make their placements in these fields early on. Eventually, they graduate and go into official work for their sectors within the Foundation.

Higher Education (15-18 years) - Student graduates who might choose to seek higher education as a means to train for more skilled positions in their line of work. This can give them more opportunities and guidance on their first few years of work.

Rules and Education

"May the peace be with us. May the peace be with mankind." The school's main pursuit for its students are some philosophers' exhortation: "Heritage, Honor, Rationality, Responsibility"

The education in SPDM is rigorous, and goes in depth about many of the topics at hand and also putting their students through difficult trainings to ensure that they are at their best physique and readied skills. They tend to be strict, and would have a consistent flow of tests to ensure every student studies well.

Their rules are also just as meticulous, wanting to make sure that their students' conscience and goals stay close to the ideologies of the school and the Foundation. Going from disallowing them from artistic/literary media that is "not advocated or approved by" the Foundation, treating outside attachments as "meaningless", and teaching students that they are meant to sacrifice themselves for the safety of mankind.

The school has a Student Handbook that goes through these rules and guidelines. The main idea and rule that the school imposes is to pay no heed to the world outside, as creating an attachment would only bring harm and regret. They are to focus on training themselves to serve their mission towards pursuing peace and order in the guidance of the Foundation until death, since all of the students are taught that they would die martyrs for the cause.

"To live is to lose things around us until the day we lose life itself to death. That's why we should only focus on the supreme missions." - Sonetto, Frogs and Toffee (3-2)

Some of these rules include the standard things (no skipping classes, no in-fighting) while also having rules such as no mass gatherings, conspiration against the school, acquiring and keeping contraband, leaving school grounds, etc. However, there are some liberties that are taken, such as having freedom with hairstyles, free use of arcane skills, etc.

Interestingly, one of the rules is that discussion about the "Storm" is forbidden. Its also forbidden to go out when its raining, and discouraged to discuss any incident that had occurred within the school.

There are routinely inspections that are carried out to make sure no rules are being broken, such as dorm checks and head counting. Monitor staff are also in place to ensure there is order among the students, and as mentioned previously, the school would have a head student monitor that would cooperate with the respective school monitor and monitor assistant. If strict supervision is required for any reason, the Foundation will step in and arrange to deploy their own units or Zeno recruits from the academy. (Like in the case of the Manus Vindictae's olitiaus having to be scouted out by Zeno recruits like Lilya)

Punishments

Punishments are of course, carried out based on the rule that is broken. Normally, these punishments wouldn't be so harsh (it just so happened our little troublemaker just actively likes to break major rules). The most normal of the punishments that have been given out so far is a timeout and confiscation of contraband. Of course, there is the more…extreme side.

With the little shit I mean Vertin having this tendency to break rules, one of the punishments we see her go through is isolation. There is a guardhouse in the school's campus where students who break major rules stay in it for a specific amount of time based on what rule is broken. The most merciful would be only a mention of the "Storm" (1 day with no food/water), the worst of it is mass gathering and what can be classified as rebellion (2 weeks with no food/water).

Campus

We currently have a complete map of the school thanks to chapter 3 and the manus. The school is walled off and has watchtowers to ensure that there are no outsiders (and of course, escapees). There seems to be air raid tunnels beneath the schools as well, why they were built in besides its main purpose is not known, but as we know it has been rarely used. In these air raid tunnels we find that there are also blast doors that border between the tunnels and the watchtowers.

There are no labels on where the guardhouses are, but they are of course meant to discipline the students. There are critters and tools at the kids' disposal, to mostly alleviate immediate problems. The guardhouse is checked regularly, and is cleaned up weekly. Though, some messages left behind by previous dwellers are left as is for the next to help guide them through.

George the Oak is a tree possibly situatied near the lake on the map, and is known to be a famous tree for the kids because of its age and its size. There, they can go in the tree hollow or even just sit under the giant leaves. Either way, it looks to be like a nice spot to go to for the students when they have free time. Sad it got cautioned off after the parade incident.

Employees from the Foundation headquarters have the freedom to enter the school campus and visit the facilities as they'd like, as we see with Constantine and Druvis meeting in the library, and Madam Z and Katz meeting in the sports field in chapter 4.

Lastly, the school is most likely situated next to the official headquarters building, and there is a town that is near the school since there was a time where Vertin and Sonetto went to watch an outsider parade from a distance.

Events

There are 3 important events for SPDM: The Annual Evaluation, Parade Ceremony, and the Graduation of Year 10 & Higher Education students.

The Annual Evaluation is where they evaluate the overall performance of their students, and rank them based on the evaluation. -Sonetto and Matilda had made it to the rankings prior to or during the 4th Year of the Storm. Sonetto made her way to rank 1, while Matilda had achieved rank 3.

The Annual Parade is to showcase the school's best image and boost morale, and with it, the school selects their best students to participate in a three-month intense training. Through this they would become the school's honor guard and represent the students in the best way possible. Before this, a pre-parade ceremony is held out to help practice and for the principal to send his regards/support to the students. -As again, one of the most outstanding students, Sonetto's "Parade Anthem" garment seems to be the honor guard uniform that she had been given, signaling that she was one of the chosen students for the training course.

And lastly, Graduation. Of course, the main focus here would be the year 10 students of SPDM; who officially become workers for the Foundation. We're not really sure how this ceremony happens, but it can be thought that the students will be given the choice to choose their paths immediately after the ceremony, or, it would be assigned to them.

Vertin and Mesmer Jr. are excluded from the choice/allocation, as they were both put into roles early on for special circumstances. For Vertin it was because she became the Timekeeper after the breakaway incident, and for Mesmer she had been put into the role of working in Laplace because of her lineage and heritage.

While Sonetto seemed to have chosen to be a field investigator, Matilda was assigned to her role as a Monitor Assistant.

Horropedia on the other hand seems to have sought out higher education since he stayed in the Foundation a bit longer than others, and thus graduated with such an honor. This made him able to start working in the external inspection unit as it seems.

Other notes on the Foundation kids before ending this megapost:

Sonetto has proven to be the most outstanding graduate of SPDM, and has been rewarded medals (i.e. Merit Medal of Session Eight) and even a ceremony stick because of her role as an honor guard.

Its very likely that Vertin was isolated from the rest of the students to train her for her role as the Timekeeper. Besides that, she is one of the most unique students of the school.

Mesmer Jr. had been assigned to work in Laplace's Rehabilitation Center at 12 years old, making her the youngest person to have started work among the five.

Besides Sonetto, Matilda has technically not seen her former classmates since graduation, and possibly has not seen Vertin for an even longer time.

Horropedia is the only person who had stayed in SPDM past the assumed graduating age, which makes me believe that he had received higher education or was held back by troublemaking…I can see both possibilities.

Overall, these are the observations that I was able to rule out. There are still some things that I might not have considered or taken to account yet, but that's just because I can't really tell if it can be added here + I wrote this at 5 am. SPDM's school system is a bit screwed because of the punishments and everything, but this entire guide feels like it can be comprehended better.

Thanks for reading to the bottom of this post. I'm open to answer questions as well as add into/fix the information here!

#reverse 1999 #vertin #sonetto #matilda bouanich #mesmer jr.#horropedia #spdm #lore analysis #vertin and mesmer need therapy for going through all that #the ring would've been a good field investigator just saying #isabella would have gone to work in one of the offices #man the storm and plot really said “no”#wdym horropedia had his horror-themed magazines confiscated???#give them back to him !

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gunsandspaceships · 15 days

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Tony’s Childhood. Part 1: Identifying facts

In the MCU, Tony sometimes acts like a kid. There is a reason behind every behavior, so I wondered what it was like for him when he was a real kid.

So, the questions of the day: what do we know about Tony's childhood? Did he have one? And, most importantly, how did it affect him?

Let’s first list what we know from the movies:

At age 4 Tony built his first circuit board (IM1)

At age 6 built his first engine (IM1)

Was sent to a boarding school by Howard (IM2)

Cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school on a dare (AoU)

Had a nanny until the age of 14 (IM3)

Went to college at 14 (IM1)

Built Dum-E and U when he was there (IM1)

At 17 graduated summa cum laude from MIT (IM1)

Continued his education until his parents’ death (CW)

Tony’s genius gave him two things: the brain and the pain. And by the pain, I mean that instead of interacting and bonding with his parents, enjoying life, playing, having fun, making friends, taking care of pets, and all the other things children do to gradually prepare for adulthood and grow up "healthy", he got this list of achievements. That doesn’t make a person normal.

Parents

We know his relationship with Howard was complicated. Howard loved him in his own way. He had too many things to do to be a good father: SI, S.H.I.E.L.D., scientific projects, trying to build a better future with clean energy, etc. All good, except when you want your child to love you back. Especially if in the tiny amount of time you spend with him, you don’t show him any signs of affection.

What do we know about Maria? Her name, what she looked like, that she played the piano, and died at Winter Soldier’s hand on Dec 16, 1991. That’s it. She didn’t spend much time with Tony either. Remember, he even had a nanny, instead of a mother. Tony's words about her showed that he loved her, but he didn't talk much about her. Because she wasn’t present in his life enough. Why? Because…

School

Howard sent Tony to a boarding school.

Here’s in the S.H.I.E.L.D.s file we have this information about the school:

“Phillips Academy, Andover, MA 1977-1984”

This means he was there from age 7 to 14. Howard sent him to a boarding school when he was SEVEN.

Phillips Academy Andover serves grades 9-12 only (it is a college preparatory school). Thus, either this is a mistake by the creators of the film/file, or Tony, due to his genius, became an exception. Since the early age he was already at school was also mentioned in IM2 tie-in comics, and in Earth-616 that was also 7, we can mark 1977-1984 as valid.

Think about it again: Tony was sent to boarding school in another state when he was 7 years old. He spent another 7 years there, alone, among high school-aged teenagers. No parents around, no peers.

For example, even Hogwarts accepts 11-year-old children, and they live with their peers. Now imagine Harry Potter, at the age of 7, is thrown into a dorm with 7th-year students and locked there. Doesn’t make a person normal either, does it?

Nannies and Jarvis

Since Tony was at the boarding school, there are two options for how he could have a nanny (mentioned in IM3) and spend time with Edwin Jarvis:

1) He was at the boarding school with a nanny. There is almost no possibility that the nanny was Edwin Jarvis because Jarvis was Howard’s butler and had other responsibilities.

2) He had a nanny at home in the summer and during short school breaks. In this case, his parents couldn’t even give him this little of their precious time.

In any case, he could only see Jarvis at home, a few months a year at most.

Note: There is a date error in IM3, stating Tony was 14 in 1983. This is clearly an error and we can omit this detail.

Bullying

Remember this dialog between Tony and Harley in IM3?

0:45:15 – Harley asks him how he knew he was being bullied at school. Tony doesn't answer. He gives him a non-lethal flash thing to "discourage bullying."

We see that Tony knew exactly what was going on with Harley at school. Because that’s exactly what happened to him there. Harley reminded him of himself. Brilliant kid with no friends and practically no parents. He was bullied by 9th-12th graders.

If he had a nanny with him at the school, that probably made things even worse. He would be bullied because he has a nanny, and despite he has one to look after him.

In Part 2 we will discuss how all this affected him. Stay tuned.

#tony stark #iron man #marvel #mcu #the avengers #iron man 3 #iron man 2 #avengers age of ultron #captain america civil war #harley keener #phillips academy andover #edwin jarvis #howard stark #maria stark

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ro-rogue · 17 days

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the tragic thing about john doe is that he was doomed from the start.

he was likely born in a low- or mid-tier district: new bostin high's old king, zirian, was the only one john had trouble beating, before he figured out how to amplify abilities, and at the time he beat zirian, zirian was a 3.7. zirian, pre-john, was considered incredibly powerful, nigh unbeatable. in new bostin, someone who was barely an elite was considered incredibly powerful.

god-tiers are already incredibly rare. they're even more rare than high-tiers, and whenever remi, blyke, and isen visit a low-tier district as vigilantes, everyone regards them almost as royalty - unbelievably powerful, unreachable, divinity on earth. they are with dozens, and they’re terrified of a single, non-hostile girl. also, some of the background characters say: “what’s a high-tier doing in branish?” “yeah, they would never come to a place like this.” most low-tiers likely have never even seen a high-tier in the flesh, let alone a god-tier.

add to that that wellston is supposed to be the most powerful school in the province, at least, and before john, there were only two god-tiers in attendance: an 8.0 and a 6.3. and before arlo became king, rei was, and rei was a 5.8. the king of the strongest school in the province was a 5.8.

jane doe was raised in a god-tier family. she knows, presumably, what it means to be a god-tier, when everyone around you is weaker than you, and not by a little bit. but jane has been gone since john was a toddler - and the only person left to raise him was his father. his cripple father, who has lived his whole life being spat on, disregarded, considered less than.

and then you have john. john first discovered his ability in his last year of middle school. unordinary doesn't give us an exact timeframe, but it is mentioned that he first uses his ability towards the end of the school year. if we assume that the education system in unordinary is comparable to the us education system, then that makes john about fourteen years old. it is never mentioned when most kids discover their abilities, but sera mentioned that she got martial arts lessons for a few years when she was a young child, but stopped when her ability came in. assuming sera's development is normal and abilities usually come in at the same age regardless of level, that would place the average age well before ten. another thing: everyone around john seemed to assume he would never get an ability. they considered him a cripple. which either means that late-bloomers are so incredibly rare that it isn't even considered a possibility, or john was so far past the age of ability manifestation that no one thought it was possible.

of course, his dad was also a cripple, and since genetics are a thing in uno, it would make sense for people to assume john would be a cripple even before he passed the manifestation age. (and treat him accordingly)

john got expelled in his second year in high school. when, exactly, doesn't really matter. once again assuming that the uno education system works like the us education system, that would place john at 15-16 years old.

so you have this kid, sixteen years old, who's had his ability for about two years. he spent most of his life being considered the lowest of the low - spat on, disregarded, less than. his dad, his only parental figure, has had those exact same experiences, and the only thing he can tell his child is that that is just the way the world works. it's unfair, but that's life.

but then he gets an ability. and within two years, he is almost twice as strong as the second strongest kid around. none of the adults have ever met someone as strong as him. him, the former cripple, with the cripple father. former lowest of the low, now a god amongst men. the kids, though, his classmates, his peers, they don't really understand his power. how much stronger he is than them. to tell the truth, he doesn't either, not fully. he's never met someone as strong as he is, at sixteen. but his classmates, they just remember when they used to walk all over him. when they would beat him bloody and then complain about getting his disgusting cripple blood on their shoes. and now he dares to stand above them?

they don't like him. of course they don't. cripples aren't able to become gods. they can't comprehend that john did.

and john, obviously, lashes out at his former bullies. he finally has a chance to pay them back, for all the cuts, bruises, broken bones he'd received from them over the years. he's stronger than them, and it's his turn to make them hurt. he goes farther than they did - their abilities are useless against the might of his power - but he doesn't really care. (they never held back, so he doesn't either, and the damage he does is much, much worse. the adults are mad, and he doesn't get why. he's only doing what everyone else does.)

the adults have no idea how to handle him. he's out of control. but they've never seen an ability this powerful before, except on tv, or in stories. high-rankers are supposed to keep order. (but no one listens to john. why would they? he's just a cripple, the lowest of the low, who managed to cheat the system.) his dad, kind-hearted william doe the cripple, has no idea how to help him. he can't relate to his problems at all. (is there even a problem? who wouldn't want to be powerful? for william, for adrian, for claire, it'd be a dream come true. it used to be, for john.) there is no one around who even vaguely knows what it's like to be a god-tier, or even a high-tier, or even just a high-ranker in general, except for zirian, who's barely a high-ranker at all, and who hates john for dethroning him. there is no one who understands him.

so then you have john. sixteen years old. god-tier. angry at the world, and the world is angry at him. how was he ever supposed to win?

#thanks for reading my incredibly long rant #i just. have so much to say abt john's character #unordinary #uno #john doe #unordinary webtoon

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jmdbjk · 4 months

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Episode 2: Adolescence

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

They begin by conveying how important concerts are for them. Concerts. Not performances. Concerts.

They thought they “made it” in 2016 when they booked the Olympic Gymnastics Arena for a concert. It was the dream venue for idols at the time and are amazed they are performing there and never imagined they’d have a concert that big.

During the interviews where they are expressing their thoughts about what performing during concerts means to them, we see footage of different concerts illustrating what they are trying to explain.

Hobi harkens back to their first concert in October 2014 for The Red Bullet tour, at Seoul’s AX Korea with 6,000 in attendance. He says they didn’t care about how many hundreds or thousands were there, they were just so thankful for the fans who came to see them.

Attendance rose at each progressive concert. Their fourth concert in 2015 had 13,500 in attendance at the Seoul Olympic Handball Gymnasium, and their fifth concert in May 2016 at the Olympic Gymnastics Arena, mentioned at the beginning of this episode, had 25,000 in the audience. They were in awe at how huge it was when they first arrive at that venue, looking out at the empty seats before they began rehearsing.

They were always so emotional during their ending ments, so thankful for what they were experiencing after knowing how hard they’d worked from debut up until the end of each one of those concerts.

In the early years, the hearts of those young men were bursting with passion and to see so many fans supporting them had to be an overwhelming relief, its no surprise their emotions overflowed.

Though they finally saw their hard work being appreciated, the joy was tempered with having to deal with pushback.

One of the things I noticed that was not mentioned yet in Episode 1 was how much pushback, bullying, negativity and hate they received from their peers and other fans outside their team and company from the very first day.

Working their asses off to fulfill their dreams while being faced with all that makes it even more amazing that they stuck with it.

It was them against the entire kpop industry. We all know how much BTS is hated by other kpop fandoms. We see it daily on the X timeline. The jealousy is real, it's destructive and it's dangerous.

BTS is untouchable now but in 2013, Jungkook was 15 years old. A CHILD! Jin was 20! BigHit had no money. There was a point after debut when they were asked to move out of the dorm because the company couldn't afford it anymore. Underdogs is an understatement, truly what the hell did they think they were doing up against all these established kpop groups, their fandoms and the big 3 companies?

Now, in Episode 2, we start to hear how the guys handled all this. For some of them, they did not handle it very well. Namjoon talks about his panic attacks and how he avoids the internet and going online during a song/album release.

In Episode 1 we saw Hobi and Jin so thrilled and excited, anxiously waiting and monitoring online their very first album release at midnight on June 13, 2013 and for Namjoon to tell us now he can’t enjoy the thrill of that is so devastating to me.

When an artist sends their art out into the world, it is like a living part of themselves, an extension of themselves that they lay bare to the world. The visceral reaction of panic when seeing people hate you for it…and the amount of courage it takes to ignore that and keep going and make more art to release into the world…I challenge anyone to show me they have THAT amount of courage.

And I implore you to understand the depths these guys LOVE their fans ESPECIALLY BEFORE THEY WERE BIG to keep doing it in spite of the hate.

Yoongi was incredibly diplomatic when he says “we had a lot of unreasonable controversies.” I would have said "we had a lot of total fucking bullshit that meant nothing thrown at us by a bunch of stupid butt hurt people." There, I fixed it for you, Yoongi.

They had a ludicrous amount of people gunning for them, hating them for being successful, hating them for being different. Jealousy drives people to do the most hateful things.

Jimin says, “having to deny the bad rumors was always so upsetting.”

Namjoon recieved death threats during the Red Bullet Tour. Early on they were accused of chart manipulation because they sold so many albums. This is the company had no money, there was no money to spend on chart manipulation!

They were accused of plagiarism and brought to court and were exonerated because it wasn't true.

Jimin received death threats at the end of the Wings Tour.

Being the humans that they are, with feelings and emotions, Yoongi says they and the fans were getting desperate and spiteful in the face of all this backlash and hate.

The fan song “2! 3!” was an anomaly. It is somewhat somber for a song dedicated to fans. Most fan songs are light and cheery. But this song fit the emotions BTS was experiencing and bonded them closer with their fans and was again, another instance of the members being sincere and genuine in their expressions.

The emotional scenes of BTS standing on stage, Army singing the lyrics back at them, waving their purple plastic bagged Army bombs, has to be one of the best memories for them. A truly bonding moment between artist and fan.

December 2016, Mnet Asian Music Awards, they win Artist of the Year. It is their first major award. Yoongi says “in a movie, the ending credits are supposed to roll at this point.”

They’ve reached the top… as they knew it. End of story... 2016? Nope.

Early the next year while they were on the Wings Tour, they were told they were going to the United States for the Billboard Music Awards. No other Korean act had ever done that before. They had no expectations for that trip. They had no idea what they were supposed to do when they got there.

It’s kinda cute seeing them prepare and wondering what to expect. They are so young and you can tell they are trying to figure out if they’re supposed to try to emulate the image of a western pop star.

When they get out of the van at the red carpet event, they all look around the back of the van to the other side of the street and see the fans screaming at them. They knew who the real fans were and they wondered what everyone else thought: perhaps people were just curious about who they were.

Namjoon wonders how different it may have been had they, the members, been a little more culturally proficient, meaning at that time, they were inexperienced, naive and ignorant about the impact they were making. It was all a big wonder to them at that point. They were thinking “do they even know who we are?”

Then they win Billboard’s Social Artist award, not a major award but still, it had been won by Justin Bieber for many years prior and now it was BTS’ opportunity to kick in the door. And they did. With all seven pairs of feet. Western artists began to take note and wanted to collaborate with them. The thorn in the western music industry's side had arrived in the form of this team of 7 and their fans.

Yoongi thought it was a one-off token award, but then they were invited to perform at the AMA’s. They can’t believe they’ve made it that far.

They are soaring and going places they never imagined they’d go. Everything seemed like a fairytale, the success, the adulation, the global attention…

But it was happening too fast, their young minds, their emotional development and sense of self never had a chance to mature and catch up to their work load and the pressures and expectations their image and success placed on them. They never had a chance to stop and assess themselves personally and consider if this level of fame was something they even wanted.

Literally, they never. stopped. working. When they say "we just kept running forward" that is not a euphemism, it is literal.

As soon as one event, concert, appearance, fan meet, photo shoot, shooting Run BTS, music shows, whatever was over, it was on to the next one...from plane to hotel to venue back to hotel back to plane, to be repeated over and over.

In mid-2017, by the time they talked about resting for a while, it was perilously close to being too late. They still had the rest of the Wings Tour to complete through December. Some of them had already considered quitting. Some did not possess the confidence to endure the burden. Some of them wondered if pausing was the right thing since they were doing so well.

They were confused by how they could be feeling like this after they’d worked so hard to get to this point.

The title of this episode is "Adolescence" and it pertained not only to the members who were just emerging from it and their careers that had gotten past the starting line and now riding an almost out of control rocket to stardom. It also was a point in time for the company trying to get its feet under it, for its leader Bang PD trying to steer this team, to figure out how to manage this worldwide sensation they'd created.

Bang PD had to learn how to deal with his team's enormous success as he watched them begin to burn out. He embraced a philosophy of focusing on the importance for an artist to have autonomy and be happy as a person which was not a thing in the kpop industry at that time. He was worried about their mental well being and their happiness. He suggested a break.

They knew there was an "end" coming eventually. End of contract, military... et al. They pondered the inability to enjoy the fruits of their hard work and that it couldn't "end" with them being unhappy.

We know in 2018 they renegotiated their contracts.

For a group as close as they were, as committed as they were to their careers and to each other, they had to come together and discuss how they were feeling while being burned out, they had to admit to each other they wanted to quit. We don’t know the nitty-gritty details of how it went down but they worked through it and re-committed to each other and their team.

They didn’t give up and that tells me not a single one of them are quitters.

My own personal thoughts are that they recognized they needed to stop at that specific point in time and regroup. They knew enlistment was coming eventually and the typical life-cycle of a kpop group had been about 7 years when idols aged and younger ones took their place. But they'd reached places in the stratosphere that none other had before. I think they paused, recalibrated and actually let themselves seriously think of a future after enlistment that would allow them to keep up this level of success, to keep pushing boundaries...and therefore they re-evaluated what was in that contract to include things that ensured their well-being so they could grow. That new contract was set to expire this year, well after Jin was supposed to be back from the military and most likely all of them. I am curious to know what that original 2018 contract planning included...

Anyway, I accidentally rambled a lot adding extra context and my own thoughts while watching this episode.

Review of Episode 3 next…

#bts beyond the star #jimin #jungkook #jin #taehyung #namjoon #hobi #yoongi

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sungbeam · 3 months

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BIRD HUNT — one

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of insomnia, bank robbery, mentions of assault/violence, mentions of weaponry, depictions of death and blood, dead body

▷ word count. 3.8k // taglist. open

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FILE_01 : a thing for strays

gotham city.

[beomgyu & yn are 15, soobin is 16, yeonjun is 17.]

The incessant, distinct cry of meowing drew 15-year-old Choi Beomgyu from his warm covers and his state of sleep. (Technically speaking, it was only partial unconsciousness, but this wasn't about his insomnia.) He had long accepted the fact that good night's rests were rare in this world and with his condition, so there was less irritation and more plain curiosity in his mind. In other words, he cared very much about how a cat could meow so loud over the city’s infinite soundtrack more than sleeping.

He dragged his palms over his eyes, scrubbing away the stinging in his irises due to sleep deprivation. The dull buzz at the back of his head kept him awake constantly anyway. As he made his way toward the window, his eyelids fluttered like the shutter of a camera lens, actively adjusting to the warm glow of a light radiating from the apartment across the alleyway from him and streaming into the darkness of his.

Beomgyu peered out of the window, hand idly scratching his chest while the other leaned on the sill. It wasn't completely uncommon to see at least one person wandering the streets late at night in Gotham City. No sane person would be out, but whoever said Gotham residents were sane in the first place?

In the alleyway below, he could make out a shadowy form crouched by a dingy cardboard box at the foot of a dumpster. You knelt there before the box; Beomgyu quietly lifted his window open to hear what you were saying. You didn't look much older than he was, and you were bundled in a straight trench coat that left much to the imagination. A pair of slippers peeked out from beneath you, however, where you braced yourself against the grainy gravel ground.

"I'm not gonna — yah! I'm trying to help you, you st—" You huffed, hands raised in the air. "Sorry, that's mean of me to say."

A small laugh fell from his lips.

Your head perked up at the sound, and he mentally praised your alertness. That was a critical skill to wield here. Your head whipped around, eyes searching the alleyway, before meeting his eyes. You narrowed your own. "Have you just been there watching me this whole time?"

"Depends; how long have you been out here?" He drawled back, his upper body leaning out of the window and his elbows bracing against the window sill.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the cat in the box. "Creep."

"Weirdo."

That got you whirling around for him again, and this time, he stared at the way the amber streetlight posted just at the mouth of the alleyway illuminated your features and the feisty gleam in your eyes. There was a feline likeness to your eyes and tendencies—your posture and crouch stance, narrow-eyed cynicism, alertness and awareness. "The fuck d'you just call me?"

He shrugged with a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "You called me a creep first."

You scoffed at his teasing. This was much more fun than tossing and turning for sleep that would never come.

"Are you not afraid of catching something from the animals out here?" Beomgyu queried, now leaning his chin in the palm of his hand. He was Juliet leaning out of her window to lament her dramatic soliloquy, unaware of Romeo's presence below. His father would scoff at such a romanticized view of life, but it was all said with an undertone of cynicism anyway. "I mean, have you seen what crawls out of the gutters? Ngh," he shivered.

There was something he couldn't place in your features as you suddenly scooped the mewling cat into your arms and stood facing him. Beomgyu watched in awe as the cat began to purr and nuzzle into the warmth that your body provided. Your hand gently smoothed over its fur, even if the feline was matted with dirt and grime.

"I have a thing for strays," you said simply. On the surface, it was a quote of defiance, but beneath it all, he sensed there was something else to it.

Beomgyu's heart stuttered when you had said that and looked him right in the eyes.

As if on cue, a pair of black and white cats padded their way out of the shadows toward you. From where, he had no clue. But they circled your legs, rubbing against your sweatpants adoringly. He guessed these were yours, but he shouldn't assume simply based on their cleaner and maintained coats. (Sarcasm—that was sarcasm. He was definitely going to guess based on that.)

The apartment across the alleyway opened up at ground level and more of its warm light streamed out into the alley. A woman stood at the doorway with one hand on her cocked hip. "Yn, you know we can't…"

"Oh, but mama," you pleaded. You lifted the purring mass of fur in your arms as if it would plead your case for you. It was kind of cute, really. "Look at her."

The woman's eyes twinkled. "Ah, all right. Let me see if we have more—" Her words died upon her tongue when she caught Beomgyu's frame at his window.

He marked the spark of recognition in her eyes. He wasn't completely surprised.

"You're—You're one of the Choi kids, aren't you?" She asked. Perhaps it was less of a question than a statement, because Beomgyu had no doubt she didn't need confirmation. He and his brothers' and his father's faces had been plastered all over the society columns since birth. "Beomgyu, isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am," he said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Her head tilted to the side, and he saw the curiosity in your features, as well. It seemed you hadn't recognized him though. "You're quite polite for…" She shook her head, dismissing her previous thought. "What're you doing on this side of the city?"

Ah, and that was yet another mystery, wasn't it? Besides the mystery of his entire family, it was the fact that the Choi kids, despite hardly being adult aged, did not live at Choi Manor all of the time. Eventually, Beomgyu figured they'd all amass there once more and dwell there more frequently, but for now, he liked his dingy, crumby, little apartment in this specific Gotham gutter. Folks usually didn't expect the child of a multimillionaire to pick this dump to have his own apartment in.

But that was the strategy, wasn't it? Not only to prove people's judgements wrong, but to also let himself live and breathe and learn from his own mistakes.

Oh, and learn to deal with his insomnia on his own. So far, the only solutions he'd found were copious doses of melatonin or just caffeine. But even those things were hit or miss.

"Got kicked out," he joked.

And then he regretted it immediately afterward when he realized how real that felt. It was sticky and metallic in his mouth, like blood, and it felt too real.

You and your mother were surprisingly sympathetic and neither of you made any brash comments concerning his status, his money, his family and being "kicked out." He expected something like "spoiled brat got an apartment to himself when he got kicked out of daddy's mansion," but nothing of the sort came forth.

I have a thing for strays, your words echoed in his mind.

The doorway to your apartment seemed to open just a little wider. "How about you come over for a little hot chocolate?"

Despite it being the beginning of summer, hot chocolate sounded nice. (Hot chocolate and company sounded nice.)

Beomgyu's eyes subtly flickered over to you, expecting some kind of catty objection, but even you stayed quiet, your eyes peering up at him. Waiting. I have a thing for strays.

"Okay," he swallowed. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

[3 years later.]

"You're a little young, don't you think?"

Nineteen-year old-Choi Soobin's head perked up at the question posed toward the current interviewee. Your name was Ln Yn, according to the manilla file folder of your records, application, and supplementary materials—all of which were quite good for someone of your age. When you presented yourself before the panel of interviewers for the opening of a job here at Choi Enterprises, you had done so with perfect posture and a professional vocabulary. You acted a lot older than your age, which was why Soobin thought that question was so goddamn absurd.

You didn't even fidget, all to your credit. You didn't shrink once under the stares of the interview panel, plus Soobin. He was just there to observe and learn, but he was given permission beforehand to step in if he felt any desire to. "Pardon?"

The man who had posed the question was one of Soobin's least favorite people here. Along with a balding head, he had a balding personality. Balding of what? Balding of humanity. He elaborated, "You've only just graduated from high school, you have yet to even begin a college degree. Do you not believe that you could learn and experience a little more?"

You cleared your throat. "With all due respect, sir, the hiring page said that this was an entry level job."

Yeah, Soobin thought to himself, that's what they always say. You must have been surprised by the extensive hiring process for said "entry level job." He really needed to have a talk with the people in Hiring and Recruitment; he picked up the pen tucked behind his ear to note it down in his little notebook to remind himself later.

"And yet, we also prefaced the description with a college degree requirement," added another member. Soobin begrudgingly admitted that that was true.

"I don't believe a college degree is particularly necessary for secretarial work, especially when most of the duties will be taught to me on site."

That is also true, he thought. Professional, calm… blank. You'd fit in great here.

"It would be difficult for partners and businesses to take a girl like you seriously—"

Soobin leaned forward and sent a look down toward the idiot who decided to open his mouth again. He sounded like he had a stick up his ass; Soobin wouldn't be surprised if he did. His posture said otherwise, but his attitude? Jesus fucking Christ. He cut in, "Excuse me."

As his father had told him time and time again: Sometimes you have to do things yourself.

The room shifted its attention to him. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his hand raised slightly with his pen, gesturing vaguely. "Your age is not really the main concern, Miss Ln. Not for me, at least." Your eyes had narrowed slightly on him, and he straightened in his chair. "The concern is that, while your résumé and references are good, your experience is lacking. This would be your first corporate job and we're looking for someone who could reliably carry out what we have outlined their duties to be."

That was how it should have been worded. That was how his father would have worded it.

"Then based off my references, Mr. Choi, would it not be safe to say that I am a reliable person?" It was definitely safe to say that you knew your way around words and requirements. There was a defiance about you that he couldn't deny, something rare that prodded at the back of his mind. It told him that if he didn't snatch you up now, someone else would.

When the interview ended, Soobin tucked the pen behind his ear once more. It was customary for interviewers to wait until the interviewee had left the room before they could leave, as well. They would think over their notes tonight before coming to a decision on all of the candidates tomorrow morning.

That feeling pricked at the back of Soobin's mind as he stood from his seat and hustled over to the elevator. He went down to the lobby, where he spotted you just pushing out the main glass doors.

"Miss Ln!"

Your head perked up at the sound of your name being shouted over the hustle and bustle of the Gotham City streets. Strands of your hair, windswept under the forever-overcast sky, blew across your face and you reached up to brush them out of your eyesight as you marked the young Choi heir making his way over to you. He was tall—perhaps around six foot or taller—with a crisp suit and that blue ballpoint pen behind one ear. The dark circles rimming his dark eyes were charming like his black bangs swept up by the breeze.

You didn't know what to say to him, really, but here you were—stopping and awaiting his thoughts. Soobin was grateful you did. There was something irking him about you, something he couldn't put his finger on. Anyone else would have stopped him, begged him for the position. He was younger, impressionable, a Choi.

You waited.

"I just wanted to say," he said, nodding, "good luck." He choked out the words, not because they tasted bitter on his tongue, but because he hadn't even known why he had chased you down in the first place.

Your eyes glanced at him up and down, but you were nodding back at him. You suddenly looked so uncomfortable in that formal wear. "Thank you."

Soobin heard the distant cries of his name from down the street—aw fuck. Just as he ducked back into the building, you had disappeared into the crowd. He hoped he might see you again.

[1 year later.]

"H-he has a young woman in ther—"

"Sick," twenty-one-year-old Choi Yeonjun said, patting the man on the head. The bank teller quivered like a leaf in the wind in the presence of Gotham's Red Hood. "Thanks, man."

As Yeonjun stepped over the fallen bodies of his victims—they didn't even deserve the label of "victim" when they had been the ones robbing this joint—he replaced the cartridge of his pistols. They were twins, pearl handles with just a touch of gold that he loved to twirl around in his hands. His father always rolled his old man eyes when he showboated, but Yeonjun never thought of it as showboating, rather an art. There were moments where he preferred the heft and damage of an AK-47, but his babies were always there for him, too.

He adjusted the crimson mask seated securely over his entire face; the metal was warm with his breathing, but he had gotten used to the suffocating feeling.

His old man would murder him if his face was seen while he was "serving justice" or whatever.

It was a shame that this last dude had taken a hostage though. That meant traumatized victim, a much more careful shot needed, and a whole lot of—

"Fuck you!"

He stopped clean at the threshold of the main vault at the back of the Gotham Bank (yes, the so-called "joint") as he watched the young woman in question, you, twist your captor's arm behind his back and pin him to the ground beneath the sole of your three-inch heel. He had gone red in the face, him and his bald ass head.

What a view. Yeonjun whistled lowly before he could stop himself.

Both heads looked up to watch him walk in. He caught the way your shoulders tensed at the sight of him, and he opened three of his fingers in each hand and showed his palms like his own way of raising his hands. "Hey, darlin', we're on the same side."

Your hair fell in disarray around your head and face, and your mascara had smudged around your eyes, but it didn't discount the sharp narrowing of them. "What took you so long? Aren't you supposed to be the hero or something?"

"Okay, first of all, I'm not a hero—" he blinked and sent a bullet through the robber's upper thigh. You shrieked, leaping away from him and Yeonjun, who suspected that you now thought of him as a maniac. Good. "—I'm just the dude who's trying to serve justice or something."

Yeonjun holstered his two baby pistols into the holsters on either side of his belt. "And second, that was—"

The sharp cry of sirens pierced the air, and he could hear the caws of incoming cops and their thundering footsteps heading right toward his and your location. Yeonjun swore under his breath, his instincts kicking in.

"Well, that's my cue to leave." He whirled on his heel and saluted you. "See ya!"

He ducked into the shadows of the hallway just outside the vault, and waited for the police to run past him with their blaring walkie talkies. They would find you in the carnage, no gun in sight, but with a wounded bad guy at your feet and a bullet hole in his thigh.

Yeonjun's head thumped back against the wall; he bit his lip beneath the mask. Fuck it, you were gonna be fine.

He had thought that, and yet, here he now sat, lounging in the passenger seat of your car in the alleyway by the bank, biding his time. His mask and dark brown leather jacket laid discarded at his booted feet, his aching arms given breathing room through his white muscle tee. He stretched out the kinks in his neck, hand running through his damp, black hair.

He was waiting.

Literally waited an hour and a half. Or maybe it was just half an hour. Sue him, he was hungry.

Finally, you rounded the corner to the symphony of your car unlocking. It gave a delightfully loud chirp and it knocked the drowsiness right out of his brain. Thank god there was still some light out or else you might have screamed. Instead, you stopped right outside your car, in front of the windshield with your eyes wide. (Actually, you didn't feel like the "scream in fright" type. It was more like "inhale sharply.")

Yeonjun didn't know what he was doing, to be honest. Then again, he never knew what he was doing. He smiled lazily at you and gave a small wave.

You must have had some kind of death wish, because you approached the car with him still in it, and he hadn't even introduced himself yet. Or maybe, he didn't have to introduce himself.

Your eyes narrowed again for the second time he had seen you. Was that your tell? Your thing?

Carefully, you tugged the driver's door open, but remained behind it and did not get in with him. Smart girl. "What the hell do you want and how the fuck did you get in here?"

"You kiss your mama with that mouth, darlin’?" He teased before he could stop himself. What could he say? He was a "shoot first, ask questions later" type of guy. His father hated that about him.

"Why are you in my car?"

He shook his head and let out a noise akin to feigned exasperation. "Just tryin' to make sure they didn't give you shit."

"I didn't see you in the bank, Choi Yeonjun."

Bingo. He smiled. "I like to be noticed when I wanna be noticed."

Your head cocked to the side. "I guess I believe you." You gestured to him vaguely with a lazy hand. "D'you mind?"

He sat up in the passenger seat and gestured his hand back toward you and the driver's seat. Maybe if his smile had widened, your eye would have twitched. There was something so amusing about him gradually frustrating you. "No, not at all."

Your pretty eyes rolled; he laughed.

"Okay, okay. Got the message." He briefly raised his hands in mock surrender, then leaned down to collect his red mask in the fabric of his brown leather jacket. He hadn't even bothered to remove or hide his pearl-handled pistols from his side holsters as he removed himself from your car.

A smirk flickered to his lips—out of your sight, of course—when he heard you sputter, "Wait—"

"Later, darlin'!" And then he was gone, out of your sight, as if he had been only a shadow from your memory.

You wondered if this day could get even weirder or even worse than it already was.

Exhaustion coursed through your veins as you slipped into the driver's seat and pulled out onto the main street. First, it was the strange email you'd received about a problem with your bank account. Then, it was whatever that interaction was. Choi Yeonjun as the Red Hood? Or perhaps only covering for one of the city’s resident vigilantes? But then, for what reason? If not for all of the trouble, you would have been home already; your joints loosened at the thought of coming home to your mom, pets, and something warm for dinner.

Brain muddied like a Gotham gutter during the wet season, the last thing that you wanted to worry about right now was how a Choi heir was connected to a vigilante.

When you arrived on your street, you pulled into the alley beside your complex and pushed back out into the grainy, Gotham evening.

Your head cocked to the side at the sound of loud meowing. As you approached the door, you could hear scratching from the other side.

Strange. Your cats usually knew to not scratch the doors anymore, and why wasn't your mom getting them to stop?

With a reprimand on your lips, you pushed your way in. “Guys, who is…”

A scream was left caught in your throat.

You felt yourself stumble forward into your home, the floorboards patterned in bloody paw prints, multicolored fur swarming your legs and meowing at you in distress.

Out—had they been trying to get out?

“Mom?” Your voice sounded strangled. “Mama?”

Bile crawled up your throat and your palm slammed against the side wall to keep yourself upright. You couldn’t get your eyes off of your mother’s taut and ashen skin, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, a bullet hole through her temple. Blood seeped into the floorboards to stain the wood beneath her limp body, and you were choking, hacking at the metal filling up your lungs.

You stumbled toward her body and blood oozed into the material of your pants as you knelt by her body to feel for her pulse.

Dead. Deaddeaddeaddead.

Your hands stained with your mother’s crimson life force stained your hands and trembled as you searched your body for your phone. You—what were—what was the number? Who did this? This couldn’t be real.

Blood rushed into your ears; you couldn’t hear the sirens, couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the phone.

Your mind had gone blank, mouth dry, and you sat down on the ground next to your mother’s body, your tears slipping down the slopes of your cheeks to land on her own face.

Dead, how could she be dead? How was this real?

A mass of fur appeared in the corners of your vision and you followed their gaze back toward the front door. And for a chilling moment, you were stone-cold sober. There was a note staked into the doorframe: A Debt Repaid.

a/n: pls remember to comment and reblog!

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juliettedunn · 1 year

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Amity Hasn’t Lost Her Personality

Amity didn't lose her personality after Season 1; she found it. I am genuinely baffled by people who seem to think she has become flat or just "the love interest."

When people say they "miss Season 1 Amity," it's strange to me, because the Amity we see in Season 1A isn't the real Amity. It's a mask personality she constructed after being forced to by Odalia.

All that ambition and aggressive competitiveness was something that ODALIA wanted. Amity dropped it so fast, almost immediately after Episode 7, because it's not her true nature. Like it or not, Amity's real personality includes her being a nerdy, awkward teenage girl. Thanks to Them shows her at some of her freest moments, and what is she doing while being so happy? She's trying out fashion, falling flat on her face, watching silly movies with her friends, doing "cringey" couples costumes with her girlfriend...all very typical interests of a girl in her demographic.

Yes, she's an abomination prodigy and she is epic in fight scenes, but other than that, she's really not all that "special." And that's good!

Amity WANTS to be a basic teen. All of her happiest moments are in the silly, quiet things. Volunteering at the library, reading to kids, doing cheesy tunnel of love rides...these things are what make her most joyful.

And yeah, she's obsessed with Luz. EVERY teenager is obsessed with their significant other when they first get in a relationship. It's not a writing issue; it's a very realistic depiction of what someone would do in her situation, especially given Luz is someone who gives her unconditional love and actively enjoys her dorkiness, something she hasn't had since being friends with Willow.

We expect this larger than life character, someone who is always cool and competent, an edgy badass. Sometimes she is that way, but she’s not all the time. Why do we want her to always be like that, or even worse, to be the mean girl persona her entire arc was about escaping from?

I for one absolutely adore Amity in Thanks to Them, I would go as far as to say Thanks to Them shows Amity at her best. One of the things TOH does so well is capture the awkwardness of teenagers; even when they are facing world-ending issues they're still dorks and they make weird faces in photos.

There is nothing wrong with being an average dumbass teen. It's really all Amity's ever wanted, a life free from expectations and ambition. She doesn't want to be a prodigy, she wants to be a kid. And in Thanks to Them, she gets to be a kid. So yeah, she doesn't "do" much, but she’s happy.

We as a society are so afraid of being cringe, and it's stifling us. People worship the cynical, edgy antihero characters.

The world is depressing, and so people turn to cynicism as a survival mechanism, but that's not what makes life worth living. Deep down, EVERYONE is cringey and dumb, and if we didn't spend so much energy trying to be exceptional and cool, we'd be a lot happier. With Amity, here is a person who has finally found the freedom to be as cringe as they want.

She has no worries about overwhelming expectations from her parents, or hierarchy battles with her peers to compete for social status. She’s 15 years old, and she’s free to embrace her happy, clumsy nerd side. In Thanks to Them, for the very first time, Amity is truly free. And if that means she's "boring" now, well so be it.

#amity blight #THE OWL HOUSE #the owl house season 3 #thanks to them #TOH #amity #lumity

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virgilisspidey · 9 months

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I never understood the complaint that the 12 turtles weren't "teen" enough, just because they are less likely to do stupid shit as often as the rise or mm gang doesn't mean they're not realistic teenagers they're just more disciplined (not in like the abusive way) then them

There's different kinds of teengers!!

I am a teenager currently and I don't act like Rise.

I act more like 2012 and maybe that's why I have more of a connection to them than other iterations.

It's not that the other iterations are bad, it's just the fact that we're born in different times and therefore experience being a teenager differently from each other.

I'm the "school, home, school, home" type of teenager. I don't get into trouble and I don't have many friends that I can hang out with. The 2012 brothers are almost exactly like that. They go to missions, they go back home, repeat again and again. They only just started being actual teens at 15 years old. They only started to finally go out and be with their peers, or well, if you can call being around Casey and April their peers, then yes. They're still learning to discover themselves. They're much more sheltered than any other iterations. Maybe you can compare them to conservative asian households.

I didn't have my phone until I was 15, same for them, they didn't have it til they were 15 and even then it was limited to what the phones can do nowadays. They have social media but they don't use it often, they just choose to hangout in person and watch TV which not many teens do nowadays because they have netflix and tiktok. I also just started hanging out with some of my friends alone without a parent at 17, that's a bit too late to experience that.

The point is, the 2012 brothers represents the teenagers that just grew up in an environment where the internet is not a big deal. They're still teenagers. They still break the rules, they're still overconfident and cocky, they still do silly goofy things, they smack each other around, they vandalise, all that jazz.

Don't expect all teenagers to be the same as teenagers today because that's the year 2012, it's like a whole different time back then. That's realistic in that time.

Remember, they're still learning to he teenagers.

They're the older side of gen z so I understand why some of the younger generation can't relate.

Just because Rise and MM are more accurate to the younger gen z doesn't make 2012 invalid.

Different iterations happen in different times and what makes a teenager become a teenager is their environment.

You don't expect a teenager from the 1980s to know modern slangs or fandoms. You don't expect a teenager from the 1800s to understand punk rock or taylor swift. You don't expect 2012 to understand tiktok when all they had is vine.

Being a teenager isn't a competition, it's an experience.

Make sure to live it.

We're not the same people.

#tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #tmnt mm #tmnt

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vacantvisage · 6 months

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My portrait at Mi Vida Trans

A project featuring portraits of Chicano trans mascs put on doors with our stories taped to the side, red carnations left at our doorsteps

I did my story as a poem:

MI VIDA TRANS

I had thought about my gender at an early age. About 5 or 6. Kindergarten.

I wasn’t like the girls.

I wanted to be like the boys, but they told me I was gross, that boys don’t play with girls.

I never really felt “like a girl” even when I knew a “girl” could be a lot of things.

I didn’t feel at home in my body.

When I told myself I was going to be a boy, I was 10 years old.

In the small, rural towns full of white folks, I was the Weird Kid and the Mexican.

Eventually I became the Queer Kid, too.

I told my friends I wanted to be a boy.

They told a teacher. That teacher told the principal.

The principal called me. He said “we don’t talk about that here.”

I was given detention.

I looked up “girl becomes boy” and “how to become a boy” and so much more until I found a website with a big, ugly gray background and giant red letters that said “ TRANSEXUAL”

It talked about people who had surgery and lived lives as a different sex.

Girls that became boys. Boys that became girls. Neutrois who did what they wanted.

I printed it, 25 pages, front and back, a hundred times until the library ran out of ink.

I passed out the packets.

I was given detention.

I was called a tranny-fag-dyke. I was 15.

Girls were afraid of me in the locker room, boys spat on me, my teachers gave me failing grades.

Everyone and everything was trying to confine me, trap me, I wasn’t allowed to explore my identity without being pushed from all directions. It made me realize I will always be a pariah to my peers. I had to own it or die trying.

I came out to everyone, everywhere, all the time. I was given detention, kept after school, my parents yelled and screamed at me when they found out. It was a monsoon of rage and sorrow, I was trapped trying to be free.

Alternative subculture became a new home to me. I could find peace exploring different standards of beauty, masculinity, and femininity. Goth and metal subculturas helped me stealth both as a trans man and a Latino, where white people think celebrating the dead is evil, morbid, and grotesque.

My mother said if I was “really” a boy I should get rid of all my clothes and makeup and live like one for a year. I put everything in boxes. She called me a rat.

My father said if I was “really” a boy I should cut my hair. I cried, but I did. I cut all my hair, 5ft of it. And I cried. And cried. Our hair means so much, it carries our soul. And he called me a cunt.

I told my best friend. She said she could never see me as a man. We’re no longer friends.

I told my teacher. She told me to tell another teacher. They both told me to tell the nurse.

The nurse told me I was brave and if I ever needed help I could ask her.

They fired her.

I heard all the words for what I was, good and bad and everything between. Transexual, Transgender, Tranny, Fag, Dyke — Patlache.

I hunted for more, more knowledge of these secret lives that people lived, and even more of the open lives that people lived – people like me who found peace in their souls and friends among peers.

I started college.

Without my parents looking over my shoulder I could finally play with the names I wanted.

I made friends with a trans girl who showed me how to be a boy, and I showed her how to be a girl.

I did her makeup, she tied my tie.

I gave her my dresses, she gave me her vests.

And I finally started to feel at home in my body.

I have long hair again.

I say “dear” and “darling” and all the things I heard from gay men growing up.

As a girl I was taught to be loud, to have my voice heard.

As a girl, it’s encouraged, to fight against oppression.

As a new-man I’m told to shut up and sit down.

No one wants to hear more men speak up, even when we’re drowning.

But I’m feminine for a man, so people call me a girl.

And I’m masculine for a girl, so people call me disgusting.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

I will never win this silly game of life. I can only live it the best I can.

And I’m so close to feeling at home in my body.

But still — not yet.

#transgénero #transgender #trans #patlache #trans masc #trans man #trans men #art

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arabellavernierwrites · 11 months

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Hii! I saw you're seeking requests and I may have one for Spencer Reid if that's okay. What if Spencer is invited to hs school reunion, and he really hesitates to go and maybe even getting emotional because that kid went through so much trauma. And reader (his girlfriend) being all supportive and ultimately he decides to go if she comes with him. It's up to you if you continue the story, them being on the reunion (it's always up to you!). If you not want to write this, that's totally okay, but if you do, can u tag me? Much love

Maya

reunion. s.r.

summary : spencer gets invited to his high school reunion, when it proves to be more difficult that he anticipated , you’re there for him.

word count : 1709

warnings : mentions of bullying , panic attack

a/n: hello ! oh my gosh i have missed you guys so much. this is my very first request ! thank you so much maya for requesting a really awesome idea , you have been so lovely and so supportive and i really genuinely thank you so much for it ! go read maya’s work !!! and my requests and dm’s are always open if any of you want me to write anything for you ! you all have continued to show me so much love and support , and from the bottom of my heart, thank you, it truly means so much to me. for some reason, when using tumblr on my phone , i am unable to follow back or reply to comments, so i will be trying to figure it out on my computer. but just know i see all of your comments and they mean so much to me, and even if i can’t follow you back, i check all your accounts and stories out all the time ! thank you again for all of the support, this one is a bit long, but i wanted to make sure it held you over for my absence. having the most amazing and wonderful day ever ! love you !

@c-m-stuff

as another successful day of work had come to a close, you found yourself setting your handful of personal belongings on the kitchen counter. purse, pile of documents from work, the mail. you slid your shoes off and sorted through the stack of papers.

the usual. bills, local advertisements, paychecks. an envelope from an unfamiliar address caught your eye.

you’re invited! 15 year high school reunion. event information and rsvp directions stated below. hope to see you there!

“spencer?” you called, making your way to meet him in the living room.

“oh!” you caught him off guard as he peered up from his book, “how was work?”

“it was alright,” you took a seat next to him on the couch, handing him the card, “you got an invitation to your high school reunion. 15 years”.

“what?” a look of bewilderment struck his face, “why would they want me there?”

it’s no secret that spencer’s high school experience was tougher than most. years of harassment and relentless bullying plagued him. faces he couldn’t forget, names that danced around his mind, traumatic memories that kept him on edge for a lifetime. they were demons that followed spencer everywhere he went, forcing him to treat his life like a fortress that most people never got access to.

“spencer-” you started, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i’m not going,” he interrupted, tossing the invitation off to the side.

“alright,” you smiled, placing a kiss on his nervous lips.

you were quick to throw the card away, not wanting a reminder of high school sitting out at all hours of the day for spencer to reminisce on.

•

a few days later, you and spencer were wrapping up dinner and getting ready to get in bed. he put the dishes away as you grabbed the trash to take out.

opening the lid of the trashcan, you noticed the paper with the words ‘you’re invited!” splayed across the top was gone. you furrowed your brow, thinking spencer could’ve thrown it out on his way to work, maybe he tore it up, the details weren’t important.

“i think i might go,” spencer spoke quietly, noticing your confusion.

“you think that would be good for you?” you asked, wanting to take the matter seriously for his sake.

“i think i’m old enough now to feel more removed from it, more comfortable facing it again,” he responded, unsure.

“if that sounds like it will be a positive experience, i’m all for it,” you stated, wanting him to be sure of himself, no matter what decision he makes.

“there’s a possibility. it’s just,” spencer placed the stack of plates down in front of him, taking a shaky breath, “it’s hard”.

you walked over, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him close to you. he dug his face into your neck, trying not to sniffle as he squeezed you.

“i’m sure it is,” you replied, giving him the chance to elaborate.

“when i think of high school, i think of names and faces. people who put me through hell, people who watched. i just don’t think i can do it alone. i think it’ll be too much,” spencer whispered.

“well, you don’t have to do it alone,” you offered.

you knew what spencer had endured in high school. you knew what it meant for a child to be stripped naked by a teenager, you knew that those were traumatizing years for spencer, and you wanted to be there for him in any way that he needed. even if that meant catching a flight to las vegas to attend a high school reunion.

spencer released himself from your grasp, standing to look you in the eyes, “what do you mean?”

“well, if it offers you any support, i’ll go with you,” you reached up to brush his pretty hair behind his ear, “if you need encouragement, a hand to hold, anything. i’ll go with you”.

you both paused.

“you’re sure?” he asked, appearing timid.

“it’s up to you. if you feel like this event is something you would like to attend, and you need someone to go, of course, i’ll be there,” you assured, holding his hands.

spencer thought about it for a few seconds, looking down and chewing on his lip, “i’ll go if you come with me”.

you cheered, “vegas!”

he laughed, swooping down to kiss your lips, “thank you”.

“anything for you”.

•

the next few days had been chock-full of planning. making arrangements with your bosses about needing a few days off, purchasing plane tickets, and booking a hotel room occupied most of your time. but you mainly wanted to keep an eye on spencer, making sure that he was still okay with this somewhat spontaneous trip, and prepare yourself to cancel everything if he changed his mind.

packing was a breeze, the flight was quicker than expected, and the hotel room was nice. overall, spencer seemed to be doing fairly well. aside from the usual stresses of traveling, he seemed to be slightly more stressed than normal, but that was expected.

“how are you feeling?” you asked, straightening spencer’s bowtie in the mirror.

he swallowed nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing, “fine”.

“whenever you’re ready to leave, just let me know,” you promised, knowing it would comfort spencer to have some kind of an out of the event.

“okay,” he nodded, “you look beautiful”.

you tried not to blush, but were unable to keep the heat from rising to your cheeks, “thank you. you look very handsome”.

spencer looked down, a small smile forming on his face, “thank you”.

“ready to go?” you asked, fixing a strand of his hair.

“let’s go,” he reached down to give you a quick kiss.

the journey wasn’t too far from the school, you arrived within a few minutes of leaving the hotel. spencer kept his hand intertwined with yours the entire duration of the ride.

the front of the school was decorated nicely, streamers softly swayed with the breeze, balloons populated either side of the gymnasium doors, and a large “class of ‘94!” banner framed hung from above.

“this is cute,” you nodded at the decor as you and spencer got out of the car.

he was silent. he squeezed your hand uncomfortably, as if you were one of the balloons tied to the front of the school, and he was worried you were going to float out of his grasp. it took him a moment to be able to step through the double doors. his breath wavered as music pounded the walls in front of you.

“you can do this,” you placed a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes in an attempt to ground him, “we can leave whenever you begin to feel uncomfortable. okay? step by step”.

spencer nodded, “step by step”.

he took a deep breath and walked in. he kept his head low, paying more attention to his shoes than the scene in front of him. a gym full of people, mostly in their early thirties, standing around talking, drinking, and fluttering about tables to reintroduce themselves to their former peers. the lights were dim, the dj seemed to be having a nice time, and nobody was without a smile.

spencer looked up, trying to keep himself stable. he continued breathing in and out, making sure his grasp was comfortable in your hand, and allowed himself to appreciate the vibrations of the booming music. if things continued like this, he could even picture himself having a decent time.

the two of you walked a lap around the tables, not quite ready to engage in conversation yet, but allowing spencer to become more comfortable. he poured the two of you a small glass of champagne to nurse while you chatted with each other. you smiled, proud of the man in front of you.

“spencer reid?” a voice called out, approaching the two of you.

spencer turned to look, all color draining from his face as he realized who it was, “alexa lisbon”.

“oh my gosh, i haven’t seen you since you were just a kid!” she chuckled, “how have you been? i’ve heard you’re working for the fbi now”.

spencer was speechless for a few moments. he was finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe, let alone form sentences, “yes”.

“nice to meet you, i’m spencer’s girlfriend,” you shook her hand politely.

“i’m sorry, we have to go,” spencer choked out, grabbing your wrist and practically dashing out of the room.

he threw his back against the side of the car, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and sliding down slowly, “i’m sorry”.

“don’t be sorry,” you sunk down with him, rubbing his arms.

“it was just so dark, and so cold, and all those kids were just watching. they watched and they laughed. i couldn’t- i couldn’t even tell my mom about it-” spencer’s breath quicked.

“spencer,” you took both of his wrists in your hands, pulling them away from his eyes before he hurt himself, “look at me”.

he looked up, panic exploded behind his eyes like a menacing firework show. his hands shook, his lips quivered, he was lost inside his own mind.

“you’re here, with me,” you looked deep into his eyes, “we’ll go back to the hotel and get a great night of sleep, then we get to take a lovely flight home back to our warm bed. you’ll go back to work and morgan will ask you how your week was, he’ll ruffle your hair and you’ll roll your eyes as hotch tells you guys to focus. you’ll come home and we’ll have dinner and a bath. we’ll get in bed and you’ll read to me, or i’ll update you on the latest gossip magazine that you definitely don’t care about. you’ll kiss my lips and i’ll kiss yours. we live our own lives now, you aren’t that kid anymore. they can’t hurt you”.

“right,” spencer nodded his head slowly, gaining control over his thoughts again. you held him until his breath evened out, until his hands stopped shaking, and until he was feeling okay again.

you made a promise to be there for spencer, and because of it, he couldn’t be more in love with you.

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