let me know if the quotation is wrong because how do i english

Intelligence Isn't Everything

Reid x reader


“Y/N! Wait up…..”

Y/N slowed her pace slightly but not much, allowing her colleague to catch up.

“Christ, for someone in heels you can sure walk fast,” Spencer commented, falling in step besides her as they made their way back to the BAU headquarters.

“Yes, well. I’m cold and I want to get back to the others,” her long hair caught on the breeze and she pulled her jacket tighter.

“Well we’d still be with the others if you’d accepted that I was right about the case.”

Never. Not when Y/N knew she was right. And on this occasion, she definitely was. But Spencer kept pushing it, insisting she was wrong about a small detail from a case that they’d covered four months ago. She should have let it slide but she couldn’t. She was fed up of him always being the golden boy, the genius. She was just as smart, her IQ only being a few points lower than his. Yet the team had all sided with Reid, everyone except Garcia who had backed her up.
And so what was meant to be a fun night out after work, with drinks and dancing, had turned into a full on debate between Y/N and Reid, and now the two were heading back to work to find out which one of them was correct.

Some would have called the pair of them stubborn mules. And she could bet that the team were laughing at their inability to drop the discussion and to agree to disagree until the next day. Still, they’d be back there soon enough, and she couldn’t wait to gloat. She was certain on this one.

They entered the building and Y/N headed straight for the elevator, frowning when she saw her tall, messy haired colleague heading for the stairs that led to the basement. She whistled to get his attention.
“Oi. So called genius. Where are you going?”

“Down to the records room,” he replied as if it was obvious.

“But it’ll be quicker to check on the computers?”

“Quicker yes. But Penelope was backing you up and I know she can remote access the servers. I’m not having her logging in and changing this just so you can feign victory.”

“Oh my God. You have that low an opinion of me that you’d think I’d get her to do that?”

Reid shrugged, “I just want absolute proof that I’m right here, so there can be no question.”

“Fine,” Y/N crossed the room to the basement door and followed him down the stairs and into the basement, muttering obscenities under her breath.

They reached the records room and flicked the lights on, shutting the door behind them and surveying the rows and rows of filing cabinets and storage boxes in front of them. Y/N spied an empty desk pushed against a wall and went and hopped up on it, settling herself back to wait.

“Are you not going to help me find the file?” Spencer asked.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ loudly. “File I want is upstairs on a computer, easily accessible. You wanted to come down here, you find it.”

She watched him roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath which sound very much like “Ane.“

“Did you just call me an ass…. In school boy French?” Y/N was shocked, Spencer rarely insulted his team mates. And using french was just yet another way of him trying to show his intelligence off to her.

He stood staring at the files, trying to work out logically, where the one he wanted would be. Deciding, he opened a cabinet and started sifting through.

“Maybe.”

“Oh grow up, Spencer.”

“Oh cos I’m the one being a child here?”

“Yes! Because I certainly aren’t. You couldn’t let this drop, you kept insisting and insisting that I was wrong. You belittle me all the fucking time, Reid. And quite frankly, it pisses me off. You’re not the only intelligent person here. You talk down to the others too, but they all think that the sun shines out of your ass crack for some fucking reason.”

He sniggered and kept searching through the folders.

“It’s not funny, Spencer. Do you know how many times I’ve been tempted to put my transfer papers in because you make me feel so small and pointless? I was hired for a reason, because I’m good at my job. Because I came top of my class in cal-tech, the second highest graduating marks in the history of that class. Second to yours of course. I should have realised that that was how my career would go as well. Always second best to the boy wonder.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the others consult my opinion first,” he discarded a pile of files onto the floor, searching further.

“No, but you could shut your mouth and stopped interrupting me when I actually start speaking first. Nine times out of ten, you jump in with exactly what I was going to say. And everyone then thinks that it was your fucking breakthrough. Why can’t you just let me have it for once?”

“Because you have everything else… And my intelligence is ALL I have!” he sounded exasperated, as if it were obvious.

“Excuse me?” Y/N stared at him confused. “I have everything else? How exactly? What do I have that you don’t?”

“Erm, A social life outside of the BAU. Parents that are still together. I bet you weren’t bullied and teased all the way through high school either, you had to have been one of the popular girls with how good looking you are.”

“So you hate me because I have friends any family? And because you think I’m attractive?” Y/N was shaking her head know. “Spencer that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard.”

“It might be to you, but it’s not too me. My intelligence is all I have.”

“Sure sure… Cos you’re definitely not 6ft 1 with a sexy combination of hair, eyes and bone structure that most people would kill for.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re so blind sometimes Reid, it’s ridiculous. I literally don’t think I can work around you anymore. I’m gonna ask for a transfer on Monday.”

She started to walk towards the door, intending on leaving. She no longer cared about who was right or wrong here she just wanted to out.

“Wait!” Spencer sounded stricken and Y/N stopped and turned.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t want you to leave the team. You are…. You’re good at your job. And maybe…. Alright maybe I AM a bit too pushy and forward with my opinions sometimes. Just… I can’t help it. But I’ll try okay.”

Wow. An apology. He looked at her, his dark brown eyes blazing. Well… He’d apologised. That was a first.

“You’ll get over the ‘hating me cos I’m beautiful’ thing?” Y/N made air quotation marks with her fingers.

“I’ll try… ”

“Fine. Let’s just go. I need a drink.”

“But I found the file? Don’t you wanna know who was right?” he waved the manila folder at Y/N and she considered her options, deciding that yes, she did still want to know. She nodded and he opened the file, quickly scanning to the information they were both craving.

That was one thing he could do which she couldn’t. Speed read. And it annoyed the hell out of her.

“Well?” She placed her hands on her hips, watching as his eyes flickered to hers and then down to the paper. Looking back up at her, he fixed a grin on his face and announced.

“I’m right!” Spencer closed the file and went to slide it back into place.

“Really? I was so…. sure?” Y/N felt confusion and then idiocy. She’d argued this point for two hours. And she was wrong? Bringing her eyes to his face, she studied his face, detecting a small flicker.

“Lemme see,” she held out her hand.

“No. You don’t need to, I’ve checked and told you. I’m right.”

Y/N lunged for the folder, now certain that he was lying to her. Ripping it out of his hands, she quickly flicked through it, finding the information she needed.

“You absolute shit, Spencer Reid. Even after apologising to me, you still can’t admit when you’re wrong.”

She closed the folder, breathing deeply to calm herself down and slotting the folder back into its place, seeing her colleague now red faced. He’d been caught and he didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry?”

Remembering his schoolboy French from earlier, Y/N decided to try some of her own.
“Vouz avez plein de merde,“ she told him, shaking her head.
“Vas te faire encule,” he shot back, immediately looking ashamed at what he said.

Y/N arched her eyebrows and laughed, “You fucking wish, Spencer Reid. You fucking wish.”

His eyes grew wide at her comment, and he licked his lip. She laughed again and went to walk away but felt him grab her arm and pull her back, his eyes suddenly intense.

“I do, actually. That’s part of the problem.”
Y/N’s jaw dropped, quickly replaying the conversation in her head and making sure she’d heard what she had. Spencer’s breathing was slightly ragged and she felt very warm all of a sudden.

The English of what he’d said to her would be ‘Fuck You’.

Before she even knew what she what she was doing, Y/N had pressed herself against her colleague, gripping his perpetually crooked tie and tugging his face down to hers, kissing him.

Her senses seemed to explode with wanting as their lips moved against each other, their arms quickly moving to each others torsos and running over the other persons body.

Fuck. This was such a cliché, the ‘I hate you but I actually just really wanna fuck you senseless’ but it definitely explained a few things. And she was going with it.

Spencer’s mouth pressed harder against hers, sucking her bottom lip in between hers as his hands slipped underneath her jacket, quickly tugging her shirt loose from her skirt and pushing his hands underneath the soft material of her work shirt. Y/N’s lips parted in a moan as his warm fingers danced over the skin of her lower back. Taking advantage of her opened mouth, Spencer used that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, gently searching for her tongue with his.

‘Who the fuck knew the boy wonder could kiss like this’ Y/N thought to herself as she caressed the back of his neck with one hand, the other sliding down his back and over his ass, feeling the firm muscle of it. He let out his own groan as she cupped his butt and simultaneously hit a sensitive area on his neck.

Ugh.. That sound.

His voice may irritate her when he constantly tried to correct her, but my god he had a sexy groan. Low and guttural, raw passion.

She felt herself being walked backwards, feeling the ridge of the desk she’d been sat on earlier hitting against her thighs. Spencer pressed his body against Y/N’s, her almost gasping as she felt how hard he was, nudging against her.

Oh fuck.

Feeling THAT sparked a burning passion deep inside of her, more ferocious than it already was. Her hands went to his shirt, tugging at it, her nift fingers undoing his buttons quickly. Spencer mirrored her actions, although he wasn’t as graceful and nearly pulled a button off as he hurried to undo her shirt. The buttons undone, he pulled the two sides of the fabric apart, splaying his hands on her tummy and breaking the kiss to gaze down at her chest.

Y/N was breathing heavily, her breasts jiggling slightly in her bra with each deep breath she took.

“Fuuuuck… ” he groaned out, licking his lips hungrily. Spencer’s hands ran down over her butt, pulling up the fabric of her skirt and exposing her black panties and hose. She kicked off her heels as his fingers searched for the edge of the panty hose, tugging them and the underwear down her legs and off onto the floor, before he bent his knees and lifted her onto the desk.

She spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist, using them to pull him to her. They both reached for his buckle at the same time, their hands knocking against each other as they worked it loose. The buckle undone, Y/N leant back slightly, watching as Spencer quickly unzipped his pants. She bit her lip, feeling heat pooling between her thighs.

His pants undone, Spencer pressed himself to her again, grinding lightly against her centre. She needed him inside and she needed him now. Long drawn out foreplay was not going to cut it here. She used her hands to push his trousers and briefs down and off his, watching his erection spring free.

“Do we need anything… ” came his whisper, the first words they’d said to each other.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, her words a rasp in her throat. That was all the encouragement he needed and his positioned himself quickly, pushing inside her slit.

They both gasped as they adjusted to each other, and then Spencer began to move against her, the desk knocking against the wall behind them with each thrust. Y/N locked her legs around his waist tightly, squeezing him as he gripped the table with one hand, the other wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him.

“Jesus fuck… ” she gasped as his long fingers dug into her hip, his head lowering to her neck to lick and nip at the skin there as he thrust into her hard and fast.

She could feel pleasure building as the records room as was filled with the sounds of their grunting, the banging of the desk against the wall like a pendulum. Her hand slipped between them, rubbing herself where he wasn’t, the two sensations together making her almost dizzy.

It didn’t take long for them both to finish, surprisingly within seconds of each other. Y/N’s shudders obviously spurring him on,
Spencer thrust hard and deep before letting out his own loud groan and releasing himself.

His movements came to a slow as Y/N unhooked her legs from his waist, shakily lowering them and wincing as she felt his come start to trickle out of her and onto the desk.

He pulled away completely and hurriedly stuffed himself back into his underwear, pulling his pants back up and collecting Y/N’s hose and panties from the floor. He handed them to her, not quite meeting her eyes.
She separated the two garments, pulling the panties on and then balling up the hose to wipe the residue from between her legs and off the desk as she hopped down and redressed herself quickly. Slipping into her heels and smoothing her hair, she cleared her throat.

“So…. Erm. That was interesting.”

“Yep. Very…. ” Spencer sounded lightly strained, as if he didn’t know what to say or do. This was new territory for the both of them, randomly hooking up with a colleague.

“Guess we don’t hate each other as much as we thought?”

“I never hated you, Y/N… But erm.. Yeah. I never expected that to happen when we came down here tonight.”

“Me neither…But erm.. That was fun. Thanks…?” Y/N cringed at how awkward she sounded.

“Yes…erm thanks.”

The pair hurriedly put the room back to how they’d found it before heading back up and outside, flagging down two separate cabs to take them their own separate ways.
Y/N texted Garcia quickly to say that she’d suddenly got a headache from her clash with Spencer and had gone home. She imagined he was sending a similar message to Morgan.

… Monday at work….

“Agent Y/L/N, Dr Reid. Can I see you both for a moment?” Hotch leaned out of his office, calling out into the bull pen.

Y/N’s head shot up from the file she’d had her head buried in since Spencer had arrived. They made eye contact, both blushing before they made their ways into Agent Hotchner’s office.

“Close the door and sit down,” he told them.
Spencer closed the door quickly, alarm on his face as he joined Y/N in the two seats opposite their boss.

Aaron took out a silver disc and placed it on the table. “Do you know what this is?”

Y/N could guess, and as she glanced at Reid, the look on his face told her he’d guessed too.

“So I guess you two managed to work all of your differences out then? In the records room, of all places.”

“How much of it did you see Sir?” Y/N asked quietly.

“Enough to verify that it was you two. I didn’t need to see any more. This is the only copy and I’m going to hand this to you on the understanding that if either of you are caught doing that on these premises again, with each other or anyone else, there will be severe consequences. Do you both understand?” his voice was assertive and his face was stern.

Y/N took the disc and nodded, “Yes Sir.”

Spencer parroted her words.

“Do NOT let this affect your work either, okay.”

They both nodded.

“You’re free to go.”

That was it? That seemed a little….. Lax.
Y/N stood and was almost about to leave when a thought occurred.

“Who gave you this, Sir?”

Hotch’s mouth twitched slightly.

“Michael, the security guard. And it’s not the first or the last one he’ll ever hand over either. That poor man has seen a lot. Trust me. Now go. You both have work to be getting on with. And if you need anything fetching from that room, for God’s sake, send an intern to fetch it.”

Spencer left first, waiting outside for Y/N.

“Erm… What are you going to do with that disc?” he asked her.

“Take it home.. Destroy it.”

“You’re not going to watch it?”

“I wasn’t…. Wait… Do you think we should?”

Spencer shrugged and she had an idea.

“My place. 8pm. Practice your French and don’t be late, okay.” She told him and he nodded, getting ready to walk off.

“Hey Spence…” She called after him, watching him turn to her.

“Do you think Garcia and Morgan have one of these?” She cracked a joke, lightening the atmosphere between them.

“Almost definitely. And I bet Rossi’s had a fair few as well,” he retorted, smiling.

“I bet Rossi is the sole reason there’s cameras in there. I can’t believe we forgot about them.”

Good Girls Are Bad Girls- Peter Parker One Shot

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Prompt: You, the daughter of Clint Barton, are seen as a good girl, but you really aren’t. You are a bad girl: a partier and the most popular girl in school. Peter is caught in the middle of your separate personalities, as he knows you from the Avengers and also school. When your reputation at school falters, Peter is there to pick up the pieces.

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: Drinking, Slurs, Make-Out Scene, Mentions of Sex, Abuse

Inspired by: ‘Good Girls’ by 5 Seconds of Summer

A/N: I have had this idea brewing in my head for months now and I was finally able to finish it. This work is unusual for me because the reader does not reflect myself. I connect more to Peter in this one shot than the reader (which normally I picture myself as the reader). I want to say this is one of my “darker” one shots, simply because it digs into the misery of a girl trying to be the perfect angel for her family while also trying to be the popular, normal chick at school.

~~~

“Well, I’m off to study. I’ve got a big French test tomorrow.” You said, standing up from the coach. Peter watched as you vanished up the stairs, acting as if nothing had happened earlier that day.

But something did happen. He had gone to the library after school to look for a book on quantum physics. That’s when he found you and your boyfriend (he didn’t even know if 'boyfriend’ was the proper term for the other boy). Peter stood frozen as he watched you make out with your boyfriend, Brad, between two shelves. You opened your eyes for a split second and stopped kissing Brad as you noticed Peter was there. Brad’s lips moved from your mouth down to your neck. As you turned to face Peter, he noticed your button up shirt was completely unbuttoned and open.

“Brad,” you cleared your throat, pushing him slightly.

“What is it, baby?” He asked, peppering your neck with kisses.

“I think this section is too crowded. Maybe we should take this elsewhere.” He groaned at your response and looked up, finally realizing Peter was there.

“Nerd.” Brad scoffed, “I’ll be in my ride, baby.” He told you, shoving past Peter and leaving the library.

“I’m, uh, sorry.” Peter said, regaining his stance. You laughed softly, buttoning your shirt as you walked up to him. You leaned in close to his ear and whispered,

“Forget what you thought, Parker, good girls are bad girls that haven’t been caught.” You kissed his cheek and then left with a silky “Goodbye”.

As Peter now sat on the Avengers couch several hours later, he felt uncomfortable recalling the memory. After all, your father, Clint Barton, is right beside him.

“Peter, you look a little flushed. Are you all right?” Steve asked.

“I’m just feeling a bit unwell. I’ll be back.” He got up and followed your path upstairs. He knocked on your door and you opened it up a few moments after.

“Hello Peter.” You said casually.

“Hey, Y/N, I just wanted to talk about earlier today.” He said.

“Come on in.” You opened the door wider and let him enter. He took a seat on your couch as you returned to your vanity, applying a new coat of eye liner.

“So, yeah I just wanted to ask about earlier. I don’t want it to be-” he coughed, “awkward between us.” You rolled your eyes as you began to apply mascara.

“Look, Parker, what I do is none of your business and my dad doesn’t meed to know either. Do not breathe a word of anything I do to my father or anyone else. You wouldn’t like the ending if you do.” You turned to him with your make up finished, “Are we clear?”

“Y-yeah, we’re clear.” He nodded nervously. You stood up and stripped your grey robe off, revealing a short dress underneath.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked.

“Like I said, none of your business. Close my door on the way out.” You stated, going over to your window. You slid through it and left without another word. Peter sat there for a minute before finally getting up and leaving your room.

~~~

The next day, Peter saw you walk into English late with sunglasses on and disheveled hair. You gave the teacher a pass and sat down in your assigned seat, just to the right of Peter. You hunched over in your seat and adjusted the sunglasses on your face. Peter didn’t know much about your social life, but, based upon what he witnessed last night, he could only assume you were hungover.

“Peter.” Someone whispered, getting Peter’s attention. Derek, the boy to the left of Peter, handed him a piece of paper, saying, “Give it to Y/N.” Peter took the small folded paper and passed it over to you, without saying a word.

You ignored it for a minute before you decided to open it. You grimaced reading the humiliating note. You tossed it onto the floor as Derek and his friends snickered nearby.

The bell rang a few minutes later and you raced out of the room. As everyone else cleared out, Peter grabbed the note off the floor and stuffed it into his pocket. He followed the crowd outside and headed to his locker. A few bullies had tripped him and called him names on the way there, but he was so used to it that he no longer bothered to care. Once at his locker, he opened the note and began to read it.

'Heard what you did to Brad last night, what a skank.’ 'You deserved what you got, slut.’ 'Stupid cow.’

“Hey, Peter. What’re you reading?” The bright voice of Liz Allen filled his ears, making him jump.

“Oh, nothing. What’s up, Liz?” He asked, hiding the note in his pocket yet again.

“I was just wondering what you were reading. It seemed very important.”

“It was just a random note I found. Nothing much. Not too important.” He stammered as he lied, trying to push his worries about you and what exactly happened last night to the back of his mind.

“Okay.” She laughed as one of her friends came up to her.

“Liz! Did you hear what happened to Y/N and Brad last night?”

“No, what happened?” Liz asked.

“Apparently Y/N got super drunk at his party and she was hitting on other guys, so Brad took her into his room to "talk”.“ The friend used quotation marks to emphasize that their talk, most certainly was not a talk. "Y/N ran out crying several minutes later with scrapes and bruises all over her. Hilary said she threw herself at Brad, but he wanted to break up and she got the bruises from falling.”

“Of course Y/N would do that. She’s the school whore. I don’t understand how her grades rival mine.” Liz stated.

“I know. She’s such a slut.” Her friend said.

“I’m going to go.” Peter spoke up, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you in physics, Liz.”

Peter didn’t see you the rest of the day and his head hurt thinking about all that could have happened. You were hurt-mentally and physically-and no one really knew why. Peter wouldn’t allow himself to believe everything Liz’s friend said. He just could not see you as the “slut” everyone else thought you were.

~~~

“Kid! What brings you here?” Tony asked, seeing the teenage boy and Avengers Tower later that day.

“I-um-I wanted to talk to Y/N. We have an English project.” Peter lied quickly.

“You know where to find her.” Clint said, shrugging his shoulders. As your father, Clint saw you as a good girl with high grades and the highest level of respect. He believed you could never do anything wrong, so he trusted Peter with you. Peter nodded in reply and headed upstairs to your room. Loud music was blasting from inside and Peter cautiously knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” You asked, walking to the door.

“It’s me- Peter.” He stated and you opened the door a crack just to see him.

“What do you want Peter?”

“I want to know about last night.” He said in a hushed voice. You opened the door wider and gave him entry. He sat on your couch as you went into the bathroom. You emerged after a moment with a bottle of dark liquid. You wordlessly sat next to Peter and you took a drink from the bottle.

“It’s my dad’s beer. I hate drinking, but I don’t want to be 100% here for this conversation. It’s going to be a painful talk.”

“Well, I read part of that note. I’m sorry. If I had known what it said, I wouldn’t have passed it on.” Peter said as you drank from the bottle once more.

“I had it coming. I made myself the perfect angel for my father, but that image is too hard to maintain with the world. I decided being bad would allow me to fit in. I thought I would have more friends if I fit into the popular crowd, so I melded into the flow of things. I started drinking and I started being promiscuous. I got too promiscuous because, last night at Brad’s party, I got drunk. I’m a flirty drunk, so I was, of course, going to hit on the other football players there. Brad saw me and he was beyond angry. He tried to-” you cut yourself short and looked down in humiliation. The bottle began to shake in your hands as you started to cry. Peter shifted to put a comforting arm around you. You continued with a shaky voice, “He tried to take advantage of me. Although I was drunk, I still knew it wasn’t right and I didn’t want to. I tried getting away from him and I fell, hitting my head against the side of his bed. He hit me a few times before I was able to stumble out of his room. I don’t remember how I got back here, but I did. Now, the whole school believes I’m some trashy whore.”

“That’s not true.” Peter said and you looked up at him through your tears, “I don’t believe you’re a whore. You got caught up in bad things, but I believe you’re still a good person.”

“Thank you, but I don’t believe that will change anything. It is kind of nice being able to talk to you about this stuff. I feel like it’s so humiliating and personal that I can only open up to special people.”

“You can always talk to me.” Peter said and you let out a dry laugh.

“You really don’t get it, do you, Parker?” You paused seeing the confusion on his face, “I like you, Parker. You’re the only person I can actually talk to- at home and at school.”

“Me? You like me?” He asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept that such a popular girl like you would go for such a nerd like him.

“Yes. I figure I have nothing left to lose, so I might as well tell you now.” You shrugged, drinking some more of the beer.

“I do too.” Peter murmured quietly after a moment.

“Pardon me?” You asked, not hearing what he had mumbled.

“I like you too. I never tried to ask you out because I had always assumed you would go for a jock-not a nerd.” He stated.

“So you like me too, then?”

“Yes. Very much.” Peter nodded.

“Well, then, Parker, why don’t you kiss me already?” You said, leaning in slightly. Peter laughed lightly before closing the gap to give you a kiss.

~~~

The next day, you walked into school holding your head high, completely opposite of yesterday. You ignored the stares and harassment as you went straight for Peter’s locker. He was already there with Ned, discussing something about math

“Hey, Peter. Hi, Ned.” You greeted the two boys.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Peter’s cheeks turned a light pink, telling you that he had not yet told Ned about last night. You smiled and held his hand firmly. Ned stared at you two for a moment before a massive grin spread across his face.

“You two are dating? You two are dating! This is the best news I’ve heard all year!” Ned exclaimed, making Peter’s blush darken.

“Ned, calm down.” Peter mumbled. You just laughed at your boyfriend and pecked him on the cheek. You were free and you were happy.

Stay - a Rocketshipping oneshot

To @rocketshippingassbutt, @jessicarocket, @estrelarabyss thanks for always supporting me and my stories. A little gift for you guys <3

Attention: Since English is not my mothertongue you might find some spelling mistakes or syntax errors. I apologize in advance. My mothertongue is Swiss-German so I normally imagine a sentence in German and try to translate it as well as possible into English, sometimes there is a lack of vocabulary or I don’t find a match or the appropriate idiom but I want to improve my English and become a better writer. Another thing I want to make clear is that I use „…“ to introduce direct speech! „ are not commas but the German quotation marks, just to avoid confusion.

Stay – a Rocketshipping oneshot

Jessie remembered this dark and cold hallway. It led directly to their common room where they stored the worn-out and partially broken toys. The one-eyed, blonde doll, the gnawed rubber duck and that patched up teddy bear she had always been fond of. The other children used to exclude her, wouldn’t let her play along, because she was different. They were only trying to poke fun at her. Jessie walked down the corridor, making a bee-line for the solid wooden door. She reached for the doorknob, curiously opening it slightly ajar. Casting a glance into the room, she spotted the matted teddy bear sitting on an upholstered chair. A smile whisked over her face. She entered the recreation room, finally able to hog the toys without fightning for them. Jessie gave the stuffed animal a gentle squeeze, feeling for once secure and in good company.

Suddenly, she felt a firm grip on her shoulder. „You ill-bred cheeky little miss,“ a voice screeched, immediately freezing the blood in Jessie’s veins. She turned around, staring into two iron blue eyes, looking daggers at her. Madame Gavotte was holding a ruler in her right hand, ready to teach Jessie a lesson. She dragged her to the desk, placing both of her hands on the wooden board, willing to truly forget herself and penalise this naughty girl. „Who do you think you are?“ Madame Gavotte shouted, beating Jessie with the ruler. „Are we enjoying a special status? Do you think you’ve got the right to roam around this building after bedtime?“ another strike. Jessie squalled in pain. Her fingers were swollen and completely red. She suppressed her tears, trying hard to not show any weakness, but the pain was unbearable. „Stop it!“ she cried out. „No!“

Jessie was woken up by rolling thunder and pattering rain interrupting the silence of the night. She looked out of the window, observing lightning bolts cutting the pitch-black sky. A shiver ran down her spine. She hated tempests, bizarre harbinger of misfortune and disaster. As a kid, she used to hide under the bed, surrounded by pillows and her cuddly blanket. The nurses at boarding school had never been sympathetic, they scolded her, calling her a coward and scaredy-cat. How often had Jessie wished to be carried in somebody’s arms?
Somebody who would allay these fears and malaise. Somebody who would come to her defence, telling her that flashes are nothing more than pictures taken by the nature.
She sighed deeply, pulling the duvet over her head and paved the way out of her unlit bedroom.

Jessie walked down the corridor of Team Rocket’s provisional base, scurrying by Meowth’s basket, eventually standing in front of James’ bed-chamber. She rapped at the door, hoping that he was still awake. It wasn’t long before it was opened, her best friend peering through the crack of the door. He stifled a yawn, his hair tousled and unkempt. Jessie eyed him up and down, supressing a heartfelt snigger. „Nice shorts,“ she dropped a dry remark. He was wearing light green boxers with a Sudowoodo print on them.
„What’s wrong, Jess? Another nightmare?“ he asked her, scratching the back of his head.
Jessie nodded silently. Another bolt hit on the peak of a nearby building, she winced. James smiled at her, switching on the ceiling lamp. „Come in,“ Jessie pressed past her fellow agent, curling up in his bed.

„Did I rouse you?“ she wanted to know, but then she noticed the open book on his nightstand. James joined her, shaking his head. „No,“ he closed the bedtime reading, dedicating his full attention to her. „I was just finishing the chapter about ancient Egyptian medicine. Did you know that they were aware of antibiotic ingredients in excreta?“ he giggled. Jessie wrinkled her nose. „Ew! That’s gross. Don’t tell me those are your usual bedtime stories?“ she shuddered with disgust. „Let’s just say that Egypt has always been a mysterious and far away land, full of untold riddles and secrets,“ he replied, laying an arm around her shoulder.

„Again Madame Gavotte?“ he inquired after those recurring incubi. „Yes. She wanted to punish me for my infantile behaviour,“ Jessie nestled into his chest. He began to stroke her hair, pushing one of the strands behind her ear.

„Don’t worry. It’s only a dream. No one means any harm, I’m here to protect you,“ he breathed a brief kiss on her head. Jessie had been tormented by nightmares for the last couple of months and despite of her confident side, she always seemed to seek shelter in his close proximity. That’s when he wanted to show her that he wasn’t a craven, but a reliable person. There were not many possibilities to convince her of his good character traits. He had often messed up chances and opportunities to be a man and not a chicken, but right now, he wanted to guard her and dispel her fears. She could be egocentric and blasé at times, but in moments like this she revealed her vulnerable and misconstrued face. They remained silent, eavesdropping the groaning and rumbling bowling alley in the sky. Jessie was nervous, she flinched at every little noise, but still trying to cover up her fright.

„I think I’m turning back to my room now,“ she decided, secretly hoping that he would detain her. On the one side she felt slightly overstrained with his advances, on the other side, she enjoyed nothing more than him making a shy pass at her. He wasn’t much of a romantic, rather reserved and afraid of emotional intimacy, but sometimes, she could see the longing look in his eyes, the desire to admit feelings.

As if he were able to read Jessie’s mind, James grabbed her by the wrist.

„Please, stay,“ he mumbled, pulling her back into the blankets. Jessie laid down next to him. „You’re not alone anymore, Jess,“ he caressed her cheeks, carefully spooning her. She felt his arm around her waist, reaching for her hand and holding it tight.

James had pledged to not fall in love ever again, but he had failed. He needed to be close to this persuasive woman, she was nobody’s fool and he admired her strong-minded attitude. Her occasional temper tantrums were nothing but the desperate cries for attention and he had learned to cope with them. She could be stubborn and froward, still he relished every minute he was allowed to spend with her.

He loved her delicate scent of lemon balm, he loved her infectious laugh and her sulking when she was dissatisfied with the overall situation. He loved her hands-on work, her power of persuasion, her passion for Pokémon. He loved every inch of her.

Bodies pressed against each other, she could finally close her eyes and fall asleep hand in hand with James, her safe haven. 

This message will probably catch you by surprise, but a while back I was Googling, using search terms like “Laurens,” “Hamilton,” and “Massey,” my last name, just to see if my work was making an impact in the historical literature, and I came across several blogs that deal quite a lot with Laurens and Hamilton, and, by implication, sometimes cite my book on John Laurens. Your blog is the best of the ones I’ve seen, and you’ve done some thorough research and nice writing on Laurens.

I appreciate your work and respect your views on the Laurens-Hamilton relationship and on JL’s sexual orientation. I do hope, however, that you won’t assume that in drawing a different interpretation from you and other bloggers that I selectively used evidence to prove my points. For example, on p. 45 of my book, I left out part of Hamilton’s famous first letter to JL, putting in an ellipsis. I wasn’t purposely omitting evidence that would go against my argument; I was trying to shorten a quotation and blend Hamilton’s words with the text. The section I omitted, where Hamilton wishes it were in his “power, by action rather than words” to convince JL of his love, doesn’t cinch the case that their relationship was sexual. But I can see how some readers think that these words lend strong support to that conclusion. I wish now I’d included the omitted words, so there would have been no later questions about my motives, but at the time I was simply making a stylistic choice to shorten the quotation.

When I wrote the JL biography twenty years ago, I considered the question of his sexuality. I did see how the evidence could be read either way, but I believed the context of their time, particularly the way younger men expressed themselves to each other with such emotion and love, supported an interpretation that the JL-Hamilton relationship was platonic. A French translator who helped me translate into English the letters of L. de Vegrobre, a friend JL made in Geneva, remarked that “these men sure spend a lot of time writing about how much they love each other.” Were all or most of them gay? Or were they employing the conventions of sensibility? Or is it possible that the answer to both questions is yes or a partial yes?

In drawing conclusions on JL and Hamilton, I opted to write a decisive statement that they were platonic. It fit what I was doing throughout the book, since I was making similar decisive statements about what motivated JL’s recklessness in public life, areas of his interior life that none of us can be certain about and about which we can only speculate. Bill Benemann, author of the fine book, Male-Male Intimacy in Early America, rightly took me to task for making such a confident assertion without sufficient evidence to back it up. Benemann, however, made the mistake of imputing motive to me and also questioned the ellipsis I mentioned above. He asserted that I shied away from the possibility of a sexual relationship between JL and Hamilton because I was afraid to go there. After his book was published, he and I exchanged some cordial emails and he admitted that he shouldn’t have made that assertion without consulting me first. I assured him that if I could’ve made a definite case that the JL and Hamilton were gay that I would’ve sold a lot more books. It wasn’t something I was afraid of. I just saw their relationship differently, based on the eighteenth-century context of the letters. I also told Benemann that he was right to call me out on my definite statement that the relationship was platonic. I shouldn’t have done so and I used the Preface to the new paperback edition of the JL bio to say that publicly.

I go into all this detail just to say that I still think people can read the evidence and either draw the conclusions I made in my research or the conclusions you make in yours. There’s evidence that JL was attracted to women on a superficial, physical level: You’re already aware of the reference on p. 44 of the book, when JL asked Francis Kinloch “to kiss all the pretty Genevoise for me.” Also I encourage you to take another look at pp.47-48, and p. 250, n. 5, which suggests that the JL-Martha Manning relationship was far from platonic. I don’t expect those references to change your judgment on this issue, but I hope you’ll see that I didn’t draw my conclusions lightly. Although I still lean toward the JL-Hamilton relationship being platonic, I could be wrong. That’s the risk all historians take. Our knowledge of the past is provisional and we may be wrong on some of our assertions. We also bring our biases to our work, which doesn’t negate our research, but it does create the arguments about the past that are what history is all about. History matters greatly and I appreciate blogs like yours that take it seriously and also promote more understanding and discussion of unsung individuals like John Laurens.

Best regards,

Greg Massey

Hello Dr. Massey.  You are quite correct in assuming that your message surprised me.  I must say that I never expected to receive a message from you, nor did I ever expect my blog to be as popular as it has become over the past few months.  When I began this blog a little over two years ago, I could not have imagined how this blog would transform into my own way of informally publishing my research on Laurens, and I certainly never expected to see my blog on the first few pages of search results when one googles John Laurens.  I thank you for your kind words and am pleased that you find my blog to be a thorough source for John Laurens information.  Likewise, I also appreciate the research you have done on John Laurens and often refer to your biography on Laurens when I need to fact-check.

We do have differing opinions in regards to Laurens’s sexuality, and I agree with you that we probably won’t be able to change each other’s views.  When I read through your biography on Laurens, it did seem to me that your selection of quotes and use of ellipses was done to withhold evidence that suggested a relationship between Hamilton and Laurens that went beyond platonic friendship.  I don’t think that the inclusion of “by actions rather than words” would have confirmed that Hamilton and Laurens loved each other in a romantic sense, but I do think it can be used to support that argument, especially when considered with the other evidence I have compiled.  Upon reading this message, I appreciate the explanation you have offered regarding your use of ellipses, and I agree that you should have included the omitted words.  They add extra meaning to the quotation, and it would have been better to include them and let the reader make their own interpretations from the complete passage.  I also appreciate your admission in your new preface that it would have been better to leave the Hamilton/Laurens relationship up for interpretation rather than definitively claim that the relationship could only have been platonic.

Please know that I by no means mean to suggest that all use of emotional language between 18th-century men was indicative of a romantic or sexual relationship.  I understand that such language was quite commonplace between men in platonic relationships.  However, I do believe that men who experienced same-gender attraction could have used this practice to safely express their feelings for one another without revealing the true romantic or sexual nature of their relationship.  This is what I believe Hamilton and Laurens did with their correspondence – and I believe that in some instances their correspondence went beyond the bounds of propriety as dictated by their society.  This is perhaps best illustrated in the April 1779 letter from Hamilton to Laurens that you mentioned.  In it, Hamilton fills a paragraph with multiple sexual innuendos, and five words were scratched out by (presumably) John Church Hamilton.  Said editor also wrote at the top of the page, “I must not publish the whole of this.”  (Again, I think it is odd that you did not include this in your book – it once again seems like an attempt to withhold some information about the nature of their relationship.)  Furthermore, as the editor’s quote implies, most of this letter was not published – in his publication of his father’s papers, JC Hamilton omitted everything in the letter from the paragraph about Martha Manning Laurens onward (the postscript, however, was included).  This means that the paragraphs wherein Hamilton wrote to Laurens about the size of his penis were omitted.  If this was just an example of “bawdy humor,” as you suggested in your book, and was common language between male friends, why did JC Hamilton feel so compelled to exclude it and permanently etch out five words?  Why did he seem to fear for his father’s reputation because of this letter?

I must say that I take issue with your comment that writing the Hamilton-Laurens relationship as a romantic one rather than a platonic one “would’ve sold a lot more books.”  While possibly true, I can tell you that the readers who have been upset with the way you wrote the Hamilton-Laurens relationship were not upset because a heterosexual Laurens wasn’t very interesting or controversial enough.  I know that many people who follow my blog and agree with my interpretations of the Hamilton-Laurens relationship are queer.  One could claim that they are biased and view Laurens as gay simply because of their own queerness.  Perhaps.  Or perhaps they can view Laurens as a gay man because they see his struggles and his relationship with Hamilton and can identify with them.  They know what it’s like to grow up in heteronormative societies and be forced by societal norms and religious beliefs to seek romantic and sexual relationships with someone of the opposite gender.  They know what it’s like to feel confused about one’s feelings for a close (same-gender) friend.  They pick up on the language and phrasing and actions that are used to convey romantic feelings to one’s partner while giving off the appearance of a close, platonic friendship to the rest of the world.  Queer history has been erased for so long, but when people try to reclaim it and suggest that a historical figure was queer, they are all too often met with outright rejections of their claims.  They are told time and time again that their favorite historical figures were heterosexual because “queer people didn’t exist in that time period” or “that’s just how they wrote to each other back then.”  Many historians seem to follow a “heterosexual until proven otherwise” rule and set heterosexuality as the “normal” or “correct” sexuality.  I don’t know if that is in line with your beliefs, but your writing of the Hamilton-Laurens relationship did come across this way.  And honestly, this viewpoint is offensive to anyone who is not heterosexual – it just reinforces the idea that being queer is somehow wrong.  So writing Laurens as a potentially gay man isn’t about selling more books.  It’s about identifying with a man that could represent queer people and their history.

Additionally, I also take issue with the way you use Laurens’s possible attraction to women to prove that he couldn’t have been gay.  This implies that liking men and women are mutually exclusive and ignores the existence of bisexual and pansexual people.  (I realize that it may seem like I try to do the opposite – that is, use Laurens’s possible attraction to men to prove that he wasn’t straight.  When I try to show Laurens as a gay man, I do try to find instances that exhibit his lack of attraction to women and instances that exhibit his attraction to men to show that he was likely not straight and likely not bisexual/pansexual.)  That being said, I do agree with you that Laurens and Martha Manning were friendly with each other – at least before their marriage.  I do see how their interactions can be interpreted as romantic, though my interpretation is different.  Laurens lived in a heteronormative society that encouraged people to seek out romantic and sexual relationships with people of the opposite gender.  This likely was reinforced by Henry Laurens, as he was a strict Christian father.  I believe that Laurens was likely gay and that his interactions with Martha Manning were born out of these religious and societal pressures.  I do believe that the two got along as good friends (and I do take note of your three references), but I think it is possible that Laurens felt pressured to pursue a sexual relationship with Martha – even if he did not desire it – to both follow what society/his father expected of him and possibly to prove to himself that he was capable of loving a woman (that is to say, to prove to himself that he wasn’t gay).  If Laurens did love Martha in a romantic sense, why did he leave before his child was born?  I understand that Laurens was very eager to return home and fight in the war, but for a man who had to live through seven of his siblings dying (most in infancy/toddler years) and had to watch his mother die after a difficult childbirth, it seems a bit odd that he did not want to stay at least until his child was born to be sure that both mother and child were well.  He also failed to communicate with Martha while he was in France despite the fact that only a channel of water separated them, making meeting much easier than it had been while he was in America.  If he truly loved Martha, why was he not eager to reunite with his wife after four years or see his daughter for the first time?  I see that Laurens and Martha Manning got along quite well before they had sex, but after having sex, Laurens seemed to want to distance himself from Martha as much as possible.  To me, this suggests that their sexual encounter was a negative experience for Laurens and could be explained as him lacking a sexual attraction to women.  I do understand how you can interpret this as a romantic relationship, but this is my interpretation of the events.

As I said earlier, it seems like we will have to agree to disagree.  We both have our own interpretations and supporting facts, and I don’t think either of us is likely to be swayed anytime soon.  I do appreciate you coming to my blog and offering an explanation for your views, and I hope that through my response you can understand how I have formed my opinions.

Punctuation Horoscopes

I was looking at stuff and saw a bunch of out of place commas, and I thought, ‘Ooh, Punctuation Horoscopes!’ Then I thought, ‘Wait…which symbols are considered punctuation? Are there enough?’ So I googled “what is considered punctuation”, and ever so helpful Google told me exactly twelve different things. Perfection!

(I used the signs’ mottos to help me determine which punctuation they were, so I included them as well.)

Aries – Exclamation Point! I AM! This is me says Aries! Take it or leave it! Why am I shouting! Because Aries is just so exciting!!!!!!!! It is like squeeing over a newborn baby! SO CUTE!!!!!

Taurus – Apostrophe’ I HAVE’ Sometimes the Taurus motto is ‘I POSSESS’ so it makes sense since often the apostrophe is used to show possession’ which makes it confusing for some when it is also used for contractions and it’s is not possessive but its is’

Gemini – Parentheses (I THINK) (Let me give you an example or explain further what I am trying to say or what I think you are trying to say) (This part is not so relevant but must be included anyway) (Parentheses are also helpful for smileys and frownies)

Cancer – Colon: I FEEL: let me make you a list of all of my feelings: here is also a list of ingredients I need for my baking project: it is called: I Need to Eat My Feelings:

Leo – Period. I WILL. End of story. Stop. What Leo says goes. Enough said.

Virgo – Question Mark? I ANALYZE? It is good to question things as Virgo so often does? This skeptical sign is the most intellectual of the feminine signs? Maybe? I mean Virgo is ruled by Mercury so there is that?

Libra – Semicolon; I BALANCE; I feel like this is the most underrated punctuation mark; it is incredibly useful; I have been told one is enough in an essay; I beg to differ; semicolons save the day when something is too bloated with commas; whatever is before the semicolon and what comes after can each stand on their own;

Scorpio – Hyphen-I DESIRE-everything must be connected-hyphens are the best to tie a string of things together so you know they belong together-also I plan on keeping my last name and adding yours when we get married-yours can go before all the other exes whose names I have kept-cool beans

Sagittarius – Quotation Mark “I SEE” “Philosophers love to quote and be quoted” “It is good to be exact on what people say instead of paraphrasing all the time” “Quotation marks are also conveniently used as “ditto” marks”

Capricorn – Comma, I USE, please use commas, but do not overuse them or misuse them, commas are by far the most misunderstood punctuation, omg, how hard is it to memorize all of the comma rules, not that hard, yet I have argued with English majors about the proper use of commas, learn your shit,

Aquarius – Dash – I KNOW – so here is an aside just so we are clear on things – please do not confuse me with a hyphen – I am an add on – because blah blah blah  – and more

Pisces – Ellipsis…I BELIEVE…but I can also see your point…so…I dunno…I mean…well…it probably does not matter…I still strongly believe…but maybe…I can be wrong…I feel right…but I think you could be…so….

I'm a game design student trying to learn C++, part one

My teacher keeps telling me the best way to learn is by teaching so here we go.

I’m reading C++ for Dummies before the semester starts to get a head start on this class. I hear it’s soul crushing and life sucking and to make things worse, I suck at programming. I’m in game design because I’m good at art.

Here I will teach you, Tumblr, how to C++ because by reading C++ for Dummies and trying to teach you, I am the single-celled organism evolving up the chain, growing legs and walking on land for the first time in an attempt to survive and thrive in this big, cruel world.

This is all in hopes that my professor doesn’t eat my GPA and my self esteem for breakfast.

When I asked Niqoole about C++ (which she just took and got an A in), she replied: It’s a lot like C.

When I asked doctorlocke for help:

I quickly realized this is an endeavor I must pursue…alone.

Here’s what I learned from chapter one of my book:

Shit son, you are really going to want an IDE. That means “integrated development environment.” That shit is going to save your life. That is going to tell you where all of your errors are; and trust me, you’re going to make so many errors. Because you are a person. And you are kinda dumb. I’m sorry, but if you’re desperate enough to try and learn from me, it’s true. Besides, being kind of dumb is the human condition. I know for a fact that I am really dumb. I am going to be using Visual Studio 2010 because I get it for free from my school. 

One time, the difference between C# and C++ was described to me like this: C# will let you shoot yourself in the foot a lot, but you’re shooting yourself in the foot with an airsoft gun. C++ won’t let you shoot yourself in the foot a lot, but when you do, you blow off your entire goddamn leg.

Moving on.

You’re going to be working inside a console application. A console is basically a window. Hence, “Microsoft Windows.” Get it?

“cout” is NOT pronounced “cowt” and I feel like a dumbass. It’s pronounced “see-out”, as in, “console-out.” As in, that’s what the console (window) is displaying. So basically, they took the phrase “console out” and abbreviated it to “c. out” and then mashed it together. Along came filthy casuals like me herp-derping around, saying “COWT” like it’s some cross between a cow and a cot.

“Main” is really important. Your code is organized into chunks and “main” is the chunk that is run first. It tells the computer which other parts of the program to run. Main is the pimp-daddy of your code.

Always end your statements in C++ with a semicolon because if you don’t things will blow the fuck up. I guarantee at least once in your programming career you will fuck up your code with a missing semicolon.

Here is an example line of code from my book:

cout << “Hello world!” << endl;

The “hello world” bullshit is called a string, apparently because the letters are strung together. Cute, right? Wrong. Programming is not cute. It is never cute. There are some cute programmers, but they are probably married. This is the thunder dome.

Your code-y motherfuckery won’t work inside a string because your computer thinks it’s not code because it’s a string, basically. There are a few exceptions, such as the backslash. If you insert \t inside of a string, it will not show up because it’s devil magic. Instead, it’ll insert a tab inside your stringy string. If you actually want a backslash inside a string, you have to type two backslashes. If you want a quotation mark inside, you have to type \“ because it’s all Satan worship.

"endl” is pronounced “end-el” and I still feel like a dipshit. I thought it was pronounced “endle.” I should stop trying to pronounce things in my head because phonics doesn’t mean fuckery in programmy-land. I guess it makes some magic words appear at the end of your code that say nice things like “press any key to fuck off” or something. Can you tell I’m getting increasingly frustrated with this as time goes on? I DON’T LIKE YOU SCREWING WITH MY ABILITY TO ENGLISH, C++.

You can do math in your code! To an extent. Because if you try to do big math, things go very wrong. But we don’t know how to fix that yet, so stick to your small numbers. Christ, you could probably do this shit in your head, I don’t know why we need to program it out at this point.

+ for addition

- for subtraction

* for multiplication

/ for division

In theory, if you code cout << 6 + 10 << endl; and compile and run, you will simply get 16 when the window pops up. Wow. They should just give you your degree right now. I’m up for that. Don’t forget order of operations and shit, that still applies. But I’m assuming you passed the eighth grade so I’m not gonna lecture you about Aunt Sally.

Finally, save often. Like, all the time. Here’s my rule of thumb: Every time you think about sex, boobs, butt, penis, or video games, save your fucking code. Ctrl + S that shit. And every time you’re done for the day, save a copy of it to your personal Google Drive, just in case! Just do it. You will thank me later. “Gee wow that seems excessi–” NO IT’S NOT.

No.

It’s.

Not.

Mmmkay that about sums up the concepts of chapter one in my book.

Uhbuhbye. :D