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#why complicate something that's not that hard to do
nereidprinc3ss · 2 days
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 
You look at it. 
And then you set your phone down. 
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 
He looks good. Almost too good. 
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head. 
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully. 
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 
You cover his hand with your own. 
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm. 
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 
“Yes, please.” 
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings. 
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 
“Spencer?”
“Hm?” 
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK. 
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 
He knows. 
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 
Maybe you have it all wrong. 
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 
24 hours go by. 
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks. 
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence. 
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans. 
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown. 
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration. 
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute. 
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment. 
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry. 
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!” 
He knows. 
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding. 
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more. 
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur. 
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 
“You regret your first time?” 
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 
You want to scream bloody murder. 
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse. 
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 
“Goodnight.”
839 notes · View notes
luveline · 3 days
Note
i would absolutely love a Hotch and stripper reader, him taking care of her after some kind of incident at her club or something? maybe a bit of angry hotch at the beginning, some angst? 💗💗💗
Your throat burns by the time his car pulls up. 
You take the butt of the cigarette from between your lips and ash it next to the first. Your hand is sore between the index finger and thumb from a bad stretch, aching as you press into your pocket for your stolen box of Marlboro golds. You’ll apologise for taking them some other time. 
You press the third between your lips and flick the lighter. You’re not good at lighting them, worse at the first inhale, your throat an agony that rivals the sting of your battered cheek. 
Shoes on the sidewalk, a scratch of loose gravel. Your eyes well with another line of tears that you work hard to hold in, taking another quick, cruel drag. They don’t make cigarettes long enough, in your opinion. They don’t last. 
He stops in front of you. Quiet, Agent Hotchner looks down at you where you’re sitting on the low wall, expression as steely as ever. You meet his eyes, worried your wobbly lip is giving you away, not sure calling him was the right thing to do after all. 
When he raises his hand to the cigarette you let him take it. His fingers wrap carefully around the butt of it, the side of his thumb brushing your lips. 
He flicks it to the ground and steps on it flat. 
You don’t say hello. It’s obvious you’ll cry, he can tell too, and he doesn’t make you. You wince as he raises his hand again, your eyes squinting closed, but he isn’t going to hurt you. His palm is warm where it cups your cheek, turning your face to the light emanating off of the club neons. 
“Do you know his name?” he asks. 
“No.” 
He raises your chin higher still. His frown turns to a glare, the brunt of which is directed elsewhere but intimidating all the same. His touching is gentle at least. 
“What happened?” 
“I told him no.” 
His jaw ticks. “Can I take you home?” 
You sniffle, turning your face out of his hand and down to your lap. He’s kissed you, he’s done more than that, but he knows you’d felt like you had no choice and so he’s giving it to you now. It’s exactly why you’d called him. It’s the man he is, and he should never have ended up looking after you. 
“Sorry I called you,” you say, hiding your face in one hand. Pain flickers behind your eyes as tears mount for the tenth time tonight. 
Hotch gives a sigh, sitting on the wall beside you. He wraps his arm behind your back and with a familiarity you need desperately. You press yourself into his side, sew your arm hesitantly over his stomach, the starch of a pressed shirt crisp on your clammy skin. 
“It’s cold out here,” he murmurs, bringing both hands to your arm, one to hold you tight, the other to rub your cool skin. 
“I think I want to quit.” 
He nods into the side of your head. “I think you should,” he says, “if that’s what you want… honey, you can do whatever you want.” 
“I don’t think I can. I’m trapped and it’s my fault.” 
“It’s not your fault.” He encourages your head under his, your face to his neck. When he talks, it’s a quiet, lulling promise. “You’re not trapped. I’ll do anything you need me to do. If you want an apartment, I’ll get it for you. If you want to shut this place down, I will. The last thing either of us want is for you to work here when you don’t want to.” 
“You don’t have to say work here like I’m not a glorified prostitute,” you say hotly, anger turned in rather than out. 
“You don’t really think that.”
Being a sex worker is complicated. You don’t know how you feel about it, and you can’t ever understand why Hotch would bother with you. You’d worried at first that your vulnerability is what attracted him, like a kid with a broken bird, but he’s proved a hundred times that your job is pretty much separate from why he likes you. He thinks you're pretty. He loves your voice. You make each other laugh, and somehow inexplicably he’s the first person you call when things go wrong. 
“Quit your job,” he says. “Even if it’s just to dance somewhere else.” 
“You can say strip.”
He nods. “You shouldn’t have to worry whether your ‘no’ will be met with a backhand. You know that breaks my heart?” 
You blink and pull away from him. He isn’t unemotional, but it’s a surprise nonetheless to hear him talk like this. “Aaron–” 
“Please,” he says. “I shouldn’t ask you to. But there are better places for you. You deserve more.” 
If it were anyone else you might get defensive. Only people who do your job could understand why you do it, it’s a hundred different things to you, but you do deserve more. You’re sick of leery men, sick of wolf whistles and bad tips and other people's hands. Hotch has never asked you to stop, but now he is, it’s to keep you safe. 
You can’t begrudge him. 
“I’m sorry,” you say. 
“No.” He rubs your arm. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. And I’ll make it right.” 
“It’s not your fault.” 
“I’ll make it right,” he promises. “No matter what. No one gets to hurt you.” 
You could quit. You want to. Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks, just so you don’t have to pretend you know what you’re doing. You’ll think about it in the morning. “Could I stay with you for a bit?” you whisper. “Just tonight. Please.” 
Hotch taps your back for you to stand. He stands with you, brushing down your coat, his eyes impassive where they look over your face, your purpling bruise. 
“You can wait in the car,” he says quietly. “I’m going to ask a few questions inside before we leave.” 
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kelocitta · 3 days
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I'll say that I have been in some fandom with extremely impressive and dedicated artists but consistently some of my favorite artists are ones who technically make 'unimpressive' art to outright loving posting 'low effort' doodles. I love skilled work thats beautiful, but I also deeply admire a freedom from perfectionism and ambition. Sometimes those are just non-complicated but still clearly skilled works, and sometimes thats loving the wobbly simplicity of crude lines vs. rendered beauty. One of my favorite artists back when I was big into Hollow Knight was a korean artist who could absolutely make some extremely beautiful stuff, but many of the pieces I remember most and loved the most looked like this
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Even here I know I mentally worked harder to make this imitation than they did for the OG. I can't draw fast and loose, and I like work that is clearly faster and looser than I can do. I envy people who can do things imperfect and carefree. Sometimes thats still very obviously skilled work, sometimes its very stupid doodles that were blatantly done in 30 seconds in mspaint. I don't think its say, disrespectful to love the doodles more than the rendered stuff said artist makes- but my love for it comes from a place that a lot of people wouldn't guess. That is to say, its hard to tell who, why, or when something you make might click with people- and it doesn't take a masterwork for someone to see something in your art as inspiration.
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koiiiiijiii · 20 hours
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being in big deals from beginning with Sinu, but leaving with Samuel after
pairing ; samuel seo x reader x jake kim
tw ; polyamorous, mfm, possessive! samuel
author note ; my first time writing for lookism and for this two, also im on chapter 343 only, so if something not accurate enough im sorry!! ALSO celebrating 400 followers!! and even tho ask box is closed, i still want to do something nice for you, so if you want you can leave your requests for SHMOL sketches under, i will do it super short and put it in one post!! lookism and windbreaker💋✨💐🤸🏼‍♀️
author note 2 ; not proofed, i wrote it after work with one eye open, so i just throw it to chat gpt to check any mistakes, if you find any you know who you can judge😤🫸🏻
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⋆𐙚₊˚ you have been with big deals even before Jake and Samuel joined, which means you were more close with Sinu, who was like a older brother figure for you
⋆𐙚₊˚ you always were good with calculating and make predictions so you literally was the reason why big deals didn’t have any debts to any other gangs or companies
⋆𐙚₊˚ when Jake and Samuel joined big deals they firstly didn't pay too much attention, just another girl spinning around Sinu, nothing new
⋆𐙚₊˚ but then they started to notice that you always appears at every meeting, even if it were just for big deal, not including girls who work on their street, always whispering something on Sinu ear and checking some papers
⋆𐙚₊˚ it was slow burn in beginning, they payed you more attention on meetings, started more small talks time to time, as soon as they caught that you are actual part of big deals. also, later they learned that you actually liked Sinu as older brother, and that was the moment when they start... acting…
⋆𐙚₊˚ of course you had your small moments together before. like you accidentally fall asleep on Jake’s shoulder when everybody celebrated another holiday, or when you asked both of them to show you some actions, - in case if you will be alone on the street, so you can protect yourself - and seemed that Samuel got a little carried away and pushed you too hard, but catching you by your wrist just moment before your head was about to hit the ground
⋆𐙚₊˚ there were always that moments between three of you
⋆𐙚₊˚ but first one who started to show off were Samuel
⋆𐙚₊˚ he already were jealous over the fact that Sinu choosed Jake as his favourite one, so he can’t let Jake to have yours attention as well. later it will be worse, when he will learn who Jake’s father was
⋆𐙚₊˚ Samuel would always flirt with you making it crystally clear that he likes you, and you wouldn't even notice it because of amount of work for big deals and of homework you still had in school
⋆𐙚₊˚ and when Samuel brutally flirts with you, trying to get your attention, Jake would snort, turning his eyes somewhere else, trying to ignore it and telling Jerry to "stop say stupid stuff like this" when he, once again tried to push his boss to admit his feelings towards you
⋆𐙚₊˚ for Jake it's complicating because he see how Samuel likes you, so he doesn’t want to ruin everything even tho he himself had so many feelings towards you
⋆𐙚₊˚ and Jake waited for too long...
⋆𐙚₊˚ when Samuel took leading position in big deals you were forced to stay by leader side to help him earn as much money as possible to pay to big four, but when Samuel left big deals for workers he asked you to go with him
⋆𐙚₊˚ Samuel was far from gentle man, but when his huge arms hugged your shoulders from behind, softly murmuring into your ear to come with him in new gang, to join him and stay by his side, offering you simply better life, where you won't need to calculate how to save more money until next month, where you will be able to buy expensive clothes, where you can offer yourself jut... more... it was hard to resist to Samuel espesially when you lived your whole life expecting how to safe money to the next month and economize as much as you can
⋆𐙚₊˚ so thats how you left big deals with Samuel, still with heavy heart for Sinu and big deals in general
⋆𐙚₊˚ Jake was feral when Jerry told him that. in his head it was more like Samuel forced you. oh, Jake were fully aware that Samuel were able to use power over girls, and Jake blamed himself for the fact that you had to leave the big deals
⋆𐙚₊˚ when you and Samuel become part of workers, he won’t let you go far away from him. you would be his personal assistant and manager. everything but always by his side. you always. by his side. always. Samuel even went that far that he rent big apartments for both of you, of course with separate rooms, you still didn’t accept his feelings and were naive about what kind of emotion you rise in him
⋆𐙚₊˚ Jake tried to contact you few times but, oh wow, what a surprise, Samuel always were the one to pick up the phone, telling him to leave you alone
⋆𐙚₊˚ to say less Jake felt terrible back then, things that happened to Sinu, Gun Park and his big four gangs, praises about money and the heir at his place, big deals, everything at one time…
⋆𐙚₊˚ and then prison… Jake felt like biggest loser on this planet
⋆𐙚₊˚ and he would never wish you to see all horrors of this place, but here you are sitting on the other side of safety glass, looking too beautiful to place like this, too pretty in your fitted white shirt and pleated skirt. Jerry probably yanked you right out of the office. another self note - to chastise Jerry next time for bringing you to place like this
⋆𐙚₊˚ “Jake… im sorry, i had no idea what happened to you” you murmured softly into the receiver of the phone connecting the two sides. “Samuel never said anything about that… I was shocked when Jerry just caught me near office and crammed me in the car”
⋆𐙚₊˚ after that day, you came to Jake more often, slipping away from Samuel under the pretext that you wanted to meet an old friend from school and he didn't need to attend girls' gatherings
⋆𐙚₊˚ when Jake finally got out of prison, one of the first things that he did was ask you to eat ramen together. you told him everything about your new life, that now you live with Samuel and he takes care about everything, starting with payments for apartments, finishing with fuel for car, as he always ready to ride you to any part of city
⋆𐙚₊˚ Jake felt feral when you told him whole story.
⋆𐙚₊˚ not only that bastard not tell you what happened to Jake, but he also controlled the calls and forced you to live with him. Jake knew what Samuel's feelings were for you, even if you perceived his care and relationship as friendly or brotherly, Jake still guessed what was behind it. but he never imagined that his friend would get to the point where he would keep you with him 24/7 and secretly control your phone calls from anybody from big deals
⋆𐙚₊˚ after that meeting Jake knew that he can’t offer you to stay at his small room he rent, even if he really wanted you to stay more by his side. he didn't tell you about his guesses about Samuel, you don't have to worry, yet you were safer with him than with Jake now. the only thing he did before sending you home in a taxi was hug you so tightly - tightly, it seems that his hands were a little lower than he should have allowed himself, and his hot breath was a little off when his lips were too close to your neck.
⋆𐙚₊˚ in the end, Jake pushed your hair off your forehead, and pressed his lips firmly to your forehead, shut his eyes and quietly promised himself to deal with Samuel later
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lovebvni · 22 hours
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“what’s stopping me?” (pap)
what’s holding up your manifestations from coming to fruition?
it’s a common question i got throughout the intuition readings. and i remember asking myself the same thing. one thing i want to preface with is nothings stopping you. the 3D is just lagging. it’s usually just how you feel that’s wondering what’s stopping you!
but in this pick a picture, we will be diving into what’s stopping your manifestations, and how to get over them in order to receive everything you want and more!
please note the phrases/alt text for each pile will have little to nothing to do with the pile you choose. do not let it affect your decision.
disclaimer, this pick a pile is not legal advice or anything like that. you can take everything with a grain of salt, because not every fact will apply to you. do not take my words as final say, as anything can change.
inhale, exhale, and let your intuition flow. now click 'keep reading' and select an image from down below. (be sure to look at the image description !!)
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all image credits to their rightful owners. if you know any of them, please lmk.
Pile I — Flower Body
hello pile 1!! i hope ur doing well :) im wishing u the best!
whats holding you back is the material and ONLY focusing on it. nile heard “sitting on your laurels/hands.”
youre allowing urself to sink into the quicksand and not doing anything to fight it… when there’s a branch right in front of you to grab onto…?
like… why just sit there and do nothing when there’s something you can do? you may be stuck in your own mind, honestly. just breaking yourself down, over and over again — only allowing yourself to believe what is in front of you. you don’t trust the whimsy, you don’t trust the signs. your motto is “if i don’t see it, it isn’t real.”
im going to break the news to you, pile one, if you keep this mindset nothing is going to come to you instantly. and i hope that motivated you to stand up and do SOMETHING, because doing nothing isn’t helping.
your advice from spirit is connect with your emotions to better yourself. don’t allow this depression to gain the best of you. another thing is allow your imagination to flow — even if you don’t see it right now.
sociopath by stay loose and bryce fox came on.
i feel like you’re like “it hasn’t worked in the past, it isn’t working now, so it can’t work in the future.” which is NOT true at all. let the vast be the past, do what you can in the present to shape your future. don’t look in the rear view mirror when driving. don’t let someone else grab the wheel when you’re driving — this is YOUR car. YOUR journey. do it, and don’t let the 3D, your thoughts or ur doubts get in the way of it. run them over.
that’s all pile 1, please take care of urself and don’t listen to the voices telling you to give up — i promise it will get easier.
extra signs/confirmation : “drive. DRIVE DRIVE!”, “they’re in the past”, someone who shuts down when things get hard, scorpio, “loser/loner”, may have been bullied/put down before, not moving because you’re scared of the chain reaction, not understanding that the past is done, “quit looking at the material. it ain’t shit, bitch.”, “don’t trust everything you see!”, shifttok, complicated methods, potential, sitting on your ass, taking the punches, allowing yourself to be destroyed, crying.
Pile II — See No Evil
hii pile 2!! i hope you’re doing well!! wishing u the best :p
for your energy, we pulled 10 of swords — which isn’t that great of a start — but at least it gives us some information. you’re someone who feels burnt out, tired, stressed and neglected. nile got a similar energy, saying she “felt a self-relinquished energy. Feeling small weak, diminished, low-power, half-effort smiling. They know things are less than okay. Telling themselves/pretending to appear to others that they're not as shaken about things being stale and scarce as they are actually feeling inside.”
you’re not reflecting your true self, which is really self-demeaning. you’re limiting yourself by hiding yourself. and maybe you’re being forced into a box — and i am being too!! find a way to cut a small hole out the box and get the fuck out without anyone noticing. find yourself, even if you just need to sit there and breathe for a while. sometimes that’s all you need to do — find one thing you love.
whats holding you back seems to be obsession, and we pulled queen of pentacles combined with 3 of swords. that’s insane.. maybe obsession of a past love?
get off their social media, block them, they don’t matter! they are not ur partner anymore. if ur friends, our distance between you two. not separate yourself fully, just take a step back. don’t let them be a huge part of ur life, they aren’t anymore. i feel like this is the reason you shut down, the reason you’re repressing yourself now. maybe they were ur out, your sense of joy.
i remember a quote i saw a long time ago, “to have a healthy relationship, there must be self love and love of the other person (or people) involved.” you wed to distance yourself and find some love for urself before u do anything else.
to get other this, you need to be angry in a way. you need to finally stand up and walk out. this isn’t serving you anymore. you need to stop. don’t let this control you. stop letting it control you. i keep hearing “get out, get out, get out.” which is scary. you’re not trapped, pile 2. you can get out. just stand up and walk out — or i’d TRULY that simple.
i love you pile 2, please work for urself and not other people.
extra signs/confirmation: “the final straw”, finally stepping out the box, red, repetition, affirming, false belief, not standing up for yourself, vomiting, crying a LOT, keeping things to yourself, looking outwardly, not confirming with yourself, needing to take a leap of faith, 999, “hopeless and helpless”, “BULLSHIT!”, “gone”.
Pile III — Black Mirror
hellooo pile 3!!! how are you??!! i hope ur well!!
your energy feels “convoluted yet diluted.” there’s so much going on, but somehow it’s so watered down and so deep down. like you can’t find yourself, because the there’s so much going on around you. it’s like you’re just caught in a tornado — being mixed in with all the mess.
im so sorry pile 3. i really hope it gets better, but let’s get onto the reading. what’s limiting you is the way you’re overworking yourself. and honestly, the solution is to work through it. keep going pushing, keep working, and don’t stop.
this is something that you are going to have to power through. the song that came on is paralyzed by nf. i’m going to link it
it’s such a touching song, i used to listen to it a lot. you’re stuck in what feels like a cycle. you don’t feel like yourself. you don’t know why, but it’s because you’re currently in a state where you HAVE to work through this. it isn’t gonna last much longer, but whenever you can take a break.
don’t overwhelm yourself, but also don’t always step back. don’t forget what you need to do. always work as hard as you can, but do not neglect yourself. and i know that is SUCH a hard reading and a complicated situation, but you will find it. you will find the balance, the key. it will work out. i’m rooting for u, pile 3.
extra signs/confirmation: chaotic life, in school or uni, being really tired, neglecting work, working long hours, not prioritizing time, sad rap, lil peep, black jacket, hopeless, helpless, not allowing yourself to find a solution, finding distractions, never doing what needs to be done until the last minute, “why is nothing working?” hyper fixating on self-pleasure and manifestation instead of what also needs to be done.
Pile IV — To See
hello pile 4! i hope you’re doing well! i feel the need to mention that ive been seeing 444 a lot, but 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️
your energy is every much “the knight in shining armor”, the one who always wants to save and help others — usually neglecting themselves in the process. you stand up for those being bullied, possibly because you were bullied in the past and feel for them. you don’t want people to be broken down like you (and i relate so much — this pile lowkey feels like a callout)
your issue is that you’re holding onto the past, and allowing it to control you. u may say “i let go of that a long time ago”, well there’s a part you’re holding onto and you know it. i feel like exposure therapy may be good for you — ask someone you trust to put you in a similar situation and try to react now. like not as you were, but as you are.
spirit is saying to get over this, you must find balance and peace within yourself. you may have never gotten an apology, never gotten help, or never opened up, but you need to seek it now. cut off the past. it isn’t your friend — and it will not change. don’t allow acknowledgment to take control of you. knowing is not accepting.
that’s all i have for u pile 4!! i hope all goes well, and after you get over this and find balance, i feel like it’s going to come to you immediately. you may not even know you got out the situation!
song bc i forgot to do it earlier 💀💀
extra signs/confirmation: aries, ray of sunshine, false energy (putting our positive energy although you are feeling negatively — specifically got a visual of golden/yellow energy with grey in the center), yellow energy, spontaneous, growth is required, growth is coming, pain, ribs (?), getting over an ex, boys a liar (original).
what’s limiting you is your need for control ALL THE TIME
Pile V — Death’s Harvest
hello pile 5! i hope you’re doing well!! this is probably one of the most intense piles based off the name, but we’ll see!! your energy is very much “i’m in control, i am the man” with king of cups coming out. also kinda getting u have ur head in the clouds, and you don’t rlly see things as they are, but as u want them to be.
what’s limiting you is your need for control. you want it took much, so you have decided “i’ll just ignore everything i don’t like!” which isn’t good. you have to acknowledge the things you don’t like and find a way to change them. don’t just ignore them — stop trying to deny thing are bad? because they ARE.
to get out of this energy, you need to clear the plate. literally. you nee to decide “this isn’t fo me, i’m not having it.” and dump the table. i feel like you know how to do this, but you won’t. decide to do it, stop carrying what you don’t need. very clear message, pile 5!!! i hope all goes well :)
extra signs/confirmation: “i cleaned the plate” (u threw it in the trash), talkative guides, yapper, lots of love. your guides love you, but they really need you to know that this isn’t for you., braggy, injury (smth w a p), health issues, tiara, “homosapien, homosexual”, devil town by cavetown.
Pile VI — Earth’s Hello
hi pile 6!! you guys have such a calming energy, i must say, and i love it. i get an image of blue and green, obviously in relationship to earth. you may he a motherly figure, or someone that people can talk to easily.
what’s holding you back is “bitching and moaning, but not working.” you want things to work, but you won’t take that action. you want something, but all you do is sit and wait for it to happen. it’s like sitting at a bus stop but never standing up to get on the bus.
you’re letting yourself rot. your potential is draining out of you second by second. and i don’t think it’s truly because youre lazy or burnt out, but it’s out of confusion. dont know what to do, but because of that, you wont do anything. if you’re confused, ask for help, dont just decide to give up.
your advice is to cut down your options and hyper focus on ONE activity. don’t allow everything in your mind to jumble up at once, give yourself space to work and think. you can’t sit there forever and expect your manifestations to just fall in your lap when you don’t even have hope.
extra signs/confirmation: i felt like blood in my throat? it smelled like blood and it kinda hurt on my left side, babies, pointy shoes, TV by billie eilish, paralysis, overwhelmed, “you’ve got this!”, babies (again), not working when you need to, 777, the letter T.
Pile VII — All Seeing Cat
hii pile 7! let’s get straight in. your energy can be very calming. you’re a hard working and you work until you get the rewards. you’re not someone who gives up — you hold on until the end. u know that there’s a cycle, a method, and a way to get through it. although it hurts, you continue to push through! that’s so good!! i’m so proud of u pile 7! also you got 7 of pentacles for ur energy. which i think is kinda 777 bc of pile 7 yk but wtv. i also js saw 777!!
your limitation is your emotion and your need for emotional and even romantic attention. i feel like this so something you struggle with on and off — and so do i 😭😭 i asked for a song for clarification, and got mad hatter by melanie martinez.
you’re not in the best mindset and you know this! so why do you keep trying to go after this romantic attraction? push back these feelings, pretend they aren’t there — because they aren’t serving you. the right person will come when you need them.
for now, rely on friends and family rather than romantic interest. like i told pile 2(i think) slowly distance yourself, don’t just cut them off.
extra signs/confirmation: the colour purple, alice in wonderland (obviously), cups cards, emotional, back and forth, mood swings, “emotional wreck”, confused, “need for validation, delusions, center of attention, “attention whore.”
Pile VIII — New Awakening
hiii pile 8!!! 8 is the number of balance, and that’s what i’m praying for this year — balance and fulfillment. your energy is very joyful — you possibly have a yellow aura. but along with this yellow, you feel very alone. you feel distant from everyone — like you have nobody to talk to, nothing to do.
pile 8, you are not alone. you need to surrender these feelings to move forward — confide in someone. be straight up and honest. don’t hold it back anymore — TELL SOMEONE.
twisted by missio came on (cringy ass song, iykyk) and i feel like you may be saying “well they already know, so they won’t help. but they may not know the extent of it. really sit them down and talk them through it, because if you just keep it inside it’s going to be harder.
spirit is also saying “complete the goals you’ve set for yourself”. you may possibly be a fighter and you have a LOT you want to do. finish those things before deciding to move on. it could also be confirmation that your maifestations may come in before you even really confide in someone — because it could be a multiple day process.
extra signs/confirmation: gacha life (💀💀), confusion, bottled up emotions, loniness, depression, black sphere, the colour blackc, “how do i get out of here?”, spirals, 333, energetic and outgoing person, not taking yourself seriously, “do you guys ever think about dying? “ — barbie, “i can be everything i want to be!”, barbie, childhood dreams, online friends, life of the party, friendly, feeling like a fake friend, dance the night from barbie.
Pile IX — Life from Death
hi pile 9!! lotta true crime by penelope scott came on as i was finishing pile 8, and i felt like that was important to mention. the intro beat has been stuck in my head for the past few days so!! you may listen to a lot of true crime too!! lmao
you don’t have a solid sense of self, and ie always seems to be changing. from your world view to the way you style your hair — you’re having issues finding yourself. you may have traveled the world, seen so much, and heard so many opinions, but you don’t know where you fit in. you’re everywhere but nowhere, like 9 — that’s what you think. you’re lost with yourself.
when i asked for what’s limiting you, it’s the mindset that “this isn’t for me anymore.. it isn’t worth it.” it that’s literally because you feel like you don’t have any control. you do have control, pile 9. you just have to find the areas in which you do — don’t be self destructive.
oh ana by mother mother also came on and i feel like that may be an important song to this pile.
your advice is exactly what i said — find places which you have power over. do you like painting? paint what you feel!! don’t act like nothing is going your way — and if it is, THEN MAKE IT.
that’s all i have for u pile 9!
extra signs/confirmation: mother mother, red and orange, fire, childhood, death, being lonely, recent breakup, night to day, dancer/just dance, afraid, sick, vomiting, elita.
i hope you enjoy this pap!! i really hope this resonates and works out. i am hoping the best for each and every pile — and i pray that everything works out. no matter if it takes days or years — it will happen. i promise. i am living proof.
much love, abyss.
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shut-up-danny-kun · 19 hours
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I've read hundreds of Star Trek TOS fics by now and it never ceases to amuse me how many different ways there are to fuck up Spock's characterization...now hold on just a minute - this post has a more interesting point than “fanfic writers stupid”, I promise you.
Every time, it's a spin on the massacre wheel. It's kind of amazing. Will he be overly emotional to the point where he's not himself anymore? Will he be so cold it's unpleasant and kind of hard to understand how he's lived to this point? Will he be extremely horny for no good reason? Will he speak in a way that sounds complety wrong?
I chuckle and shake my head. Of course, I KNOW what Spock is like, and MY interpretation of him is the most perfect and correct one. Obviously. He's just a very nuanced character, formed by many people in an unconventional way, with traits that seem to contradict each other at first but ultimately form a rich and unique character that so many people fell in love with specifically because he's so complicated...
Or...is he?
Let's entertain the idea that there isn't one correct interpretation of Spock, that all of these messy bits of characterization are not part of a bigger picture, but...just what they are: a product of many people with starkly different visions, working on a show that refuses to properly develop its characters. What then? Well, then Spock is a Rorschach test. Each viewer connects the random dots in their own way, and ignores the ones they don't like.
Let's use an example: me! In my interpretation of Spock (the most correct one, of course) he is, first of all, gay and on the asexual spectrum, reserved, largely uninterested in casual flirting or sex. When he is interested in the aforementioned things, he tends to be quite ashamed of it.
Makes sense, right? I can show you plenty of evidence for why that could be true. However, in the beginning of the first bloody season, Uhura sings a song about how Spock is actually kind of a heartthrob who likes to drive women insane with how hot he is, and Spock smiles. He smiles at her, as if agreeing and being very amused by all this! This interaction goes against pretty much everything I think about Spock. So what do I do? I explain it away in the most bizzare fucking way possible. See, Uhura and Spock are friends (there is no evidence for this), and Uhura knows everything I've just told you about him (through telepathy I guess? Not like he'd ever tell her!) and she's just trolling him (why would she do that? That is NOTHING like Uhura!). I need to do some Olympics-level mental gymnastics here, the opposite of Occam's razor.
“But Danny,” I hear you say, “it's just the start of the show! They hadn't figured out his character yet!”
To which I say: you can say that about anything! You can blame it all on a bad writer for that episode, and ignore virtually any scene that doesn't jive with your headcanons. It's there, and I can't ignore it.
So...how am I different from the people that want Spock to be thar heartthrob Uhura is singing about? That evidence is as much a part of canon as my favorite lines. Well, I'm not any different, that's the thing. And all those writers I complained about also have a point.
It's kind of a nihilistic take, I know, but maybe the reason Spock is such a cultural icon is because he is...whatever you want him to be: just concrete enough to spur on your imagination, yet vague and contradictory enough to let your brain fill in the gaps.
Don't get me wrong: I absolutely do not believe in this. In my mind, it just so happens that I'm one of the, like, 5 people ever who truly understood Spock (and one of them is Jim Kirk himself). But I still think it's something worth thinking about next time you're mad at a fic.
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rainbowgaez · 20 hours
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one thing about being a trans woman in a male dominated space is that before you start transitioning (and early into it), you will just be off-putting to other men. it sucks, but in my experience that just made it easier to avoid people i probably wouldn't have gotten along with anyway.
however, after you hit a certain threshold in transition and performative presentation, you become fly tape for the most desperate kind of weird guys imaginable. you might think this is an improvement. it's better to be liked than shunned and cold-shouldered—and it's hard to argue with that—but the thing about these weird dudes is that they are often not very perceptive, introspective or self-aware, and that complicates an already complicated situation.
you see, they are parched. for weeks, months, years, they've been searching for a pretty girl who they believe is as verifiably skilled and knowledgeable as they think they are. and after suffering through the sweltering sausage desert that is their hobby or interest, they've stumbled upon an oasis. they become infatuated, assured their journey has come to an end so long as they can flatter and impress their way into your heart, something they're woefully confident in their ability to achieve usually. their narrow view of reason is eclipsed because something girl shaped is the perfect size to obscure it.
this is something that pretty much any femme presenting person has probably had to deal with at some point, but as a trans woman it has placed me in this really awkward spot multiple times. most of the time it comes down to two questions:
do they know, and are they going to be weird about it?
i know, ideally, it wouldn't matter, and hopefully i can just turn down their advances and they'll take a hint and fuck off. but that's just the ideal scenario, and like i said earlier, these guys aren't good at picking up hints.
so if they persist, it's like. what do i do? do i tell them in hopes they'll lose interest? that's just one possibility out of several that come from doing that. earlier when i asked "are they going to be weird about it," it's important to mention "weird" means more than one thing in this context. are they suddenly going to start acting angry and violent toward me as if my personal existence is an attempt to deceive them? are they going to become more interested and thereby even harder to make go away? did they somehow already know and that's why they were interested in the first place?
all questions i never want to have to ask nor do i want answered but things i feel i have to occupy myself with to make sure i don't end up in an even worse situation
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THINK YOU THE SH💩T BITCH,YOU NOT EVEN DA FART💨
THIS IS YOU TO THE OLD MINDSET!
Don’t hate the 3D
It’s an assumption bitch!
That same assumption caused by your OWN THOUGHTS
Which take place in your 4D
The 3D is a result
Of the 4D and the 4D is your consciousness your mind
CHANGE YOUR ASSUMPTIONS
If you don’t want
👇🏾
4D-“ My life is so hard I’m such a failure!”
*Two years later*
“I know about manifesting so why hasn’t anything changed!!!!”
3D-“ight bet”
*Ten years later*
*YOU LIVING THE SAME FUCK ASS LIFE YOU WERE AFRAID TO LIVE BECAUSE YOUR ASS WOULD NOT PERSIST*
☝🏾
So if you don’t want what’s up there
CHANGE YOUR ASSUMPTIONS
When your assumptions about the 4D changes the 3D changes
DO YOU NOT SEE THE PATTERN
YOU ARE THE REASON
THAT EVERYTHING WORKS OUT
OR YOU COULD BE THE REASON THAT EVERYTHING DOESN’T
Some of you like I was
Are too afraid to get your desires because you’ve chosen the assumption of failure over the assumption of success
Reason being is because you’re comfortable you may not be comfortable to yourself you may want out but if your doing nothing to prove you want OUT then your comfortable you like living like this knowing about manifestation the void shifting etc but not taking action is like saying you love your partner but never being there for them or saying you love yourself but continuing to allow people to abuse and hurt your self confidence
You have found comfort in being uncomfortable because being uncomfortable is all you know and it’s the only thing that makes you comfortable
YIKES
I know I touched some people with this
Trust me I use to be JUST like YOU
So if you don’t want this
CHANGE YOUR ASSUMPTIONS
Imma keep screaming at you til you do!
4D-“ Yo I look good today and nobody’s gonna tell me I look anybody cuz I’m pretty”
3D- ight,bet
4D-“I’m rich life is easy the void is within me”
NOTICE HOW THE 3D CONTINUES TO RESPOND THE SAME WAY
Because it’s simply a RESULT
If you took a test
You’re gonna use your mind thats full of knowledge to get a good result right?
So USE YOUR MIND
Your 4D USE IT!!
It’s not hard babe
It’s you
You created the void
You over complicate something you made?
If you made a school exam
You’d make it easy right????
For you and for others
So you created the void already
You have the rules
YOU MADE IT EASY
So why assume it’s hard?
You’re contradicting yourself
If you could use your mind to daydream you could use it to manifest
Make it fun
Fuck methods
Do what you want
I’m not gonna sugar coat shit baby
DO WHAT YOU WANT
Methods are tools
Use them if you want
METHODS SUBLIMINALS ETC ARE WANTS NOT NEEDS YOUR DESIRES ARE NOT NEEDS THEY ARE YOURS BECAUSE YOU ALREADY HAVE THEM
You keep
Falling asleep when lucid dreaming or entering the void
WHO SAYS YOU GOTTA BE SLEEPY BABY???
YOU CAN BE WIDE AWAKE LIKE KATY PERRY
If you feel yourself getting sleepy or drowsy
THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE PERFECT MOMENT TO START AFFIRMING
Pls in this moment
You’re like “ahhhh I’m soooo sleepy how do I stay awake”
BITCH START AFFIRM
CUZ YOU DEADASS ABOUT TO GET IN!!!
By “getting in” means becoming aware of your pure consciousness state cuz you’re not
“Going anywhere”
You’re becoming aware that it exists
You know it does cuz you’re the reason it exists
But you’re becoming aware
Like you know outside there’s people
And stores
But when you go out there to experience you’re aware of it
But why would you be surprised you already knew it was people outside?
Your conscious mind is always active
So you could do rn if you really want to
It’s there
You being alive is powerful
Because you being here is the reason the void exists in you
You control it
Not the opposite
I LOVE YOU
Deadass
Much love Honey🩵💕
Close your eyes until you see specs like this
Hypnotize your mind block out all the noise and enter the void
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arokel · 2 days
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Catfooted
Fandom: The Boys in the Boat Pairing: Don Hume/Bobby Moch Words: 804 Rating: G Notes: Bobby really was on the UW fencing team! I took one three-week fencing unit in middle school PE so I am of course an expert in the sport as you can see from this fic.
Don knows he sticks out like a sore thumb in this crowd. He’s clearly not a fencer - he’s got the wrong proportions, for starters, and the UW fencing club is small enough that he’d stand out as a new face anyway - and he’s even more clearly not a fencer’s girlfriend.
Not that all or even many of the women dotted among the seats in the fencing courts have boyfriends among the team, unless fencers have a much more bohemian understanding of relationships than rowers do. But most of them seem to have at least inclinings that way, if the way their eyes track the lithe bodies of the fencers as they shake out their wrists and push their sweaty hair off their foreheads is any indication.
Don only has eyes for one of them.
He’s always known Bobby is athletic - Bobby keeps up with the rest of them on their training runs when his lungs allow, and what meat there is on his slender limbs is mostly muscle. But he’s never seen Bobby move like this. Graceful, predatory, catlike in the way his feet barely touch the ground before he’s bounding away with a delighted laugh, challenging his opponent to give chase. The wire helmet obscures his expression, but Don can see it perfectly in his mind’s eye: bright grin flashing, cheeks flushed in triumph and exertion, eyes alight with the thrill of the game. It’s beautiful.
Bobby’s opponent does something complicated with his foil and the girls beside Don murmur in appreciation, but Don’s attention is fixed on the way Bobby twists easily out of reach and parries with a direct, no-nonsense block. It’s so very much like Bobby that Don can’t help but laugh quietly to himself, even if it makes the girls glare at him. Let them think he’s amused by their sighing and pining; they can’t know that he’s just as besotted.
He and Bobby aren’t dating, per se. Don doesn’t know how that would even work, given how dangerous it would be for them to be seen in public that way, or to spend any more time sequestered in Bobby’s room with the door locked than they already do. But they’re doing everything else. So even though he’s only attending Bobby’s match as a friend, he feels a kinship with those girls in the stands who do have a sweetheart in the running.
Except that unlike them - Don can only assume - Don has felt that wiry body under his hands, has seen just how far those flexible hips can bend and twist and writhe atop Don’s. Bobby’s sweat-soaked hair and flushed face is familiar to Don for far more intimate reasons than fencing. Watching him now with that knowledge is mouth-watering.
Bobby looks like a wet dream come to life when he bounds off the court, shaking his hair out of his eyes and pushing the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows. His gaze seeks out Don in the stands and he grins as he makes his way over. He, too, has no eyes for anyone else.
Don wants to tell him congratulations, or even a simple hi, but his mouth is suddenly too numb to form words. Up close, he’s almost too beautiful to look at.
“Cat got your tongue?” Bobby says, coming to a stop at Don’s feet. His chin is tipped up in teasing challenge, his lips chapped from breathing so hard, and Don can do nothing but nod. Bobby smirks. “Well, tell her to give it back. I’m kind of fond of it.”
“You were,” Don manages, face flaming. “You were. Out there. Very…”
Bobby’s laugh is delighted. “Why, thank you. I’ll take that as the compliment I assume it was meant to be?”
“Very much. Thank you for letting me come,” Don says. He feels on firmer footing with pleasantries rather than the veiled but very public flirting Bobby started them out with.
Bobby’s grin softens and his eyes dart down to his feet for a moment, shy, before he looks back up.
“Thank you. It was - I’m glad you could make it. I’ve got no girl to cheer me on, so…” He clears his throat. “But who needs a girl when I’ve got you, right?”
It should sound like a consolation, and it does hurt a little to hear. But Don also hears in it the truth of what Bobby really means: Bobby would date Don too, if they could. He’s fond of just a bit more than Don’s tongue.
"Yeah. You've got me."
Bobby beams. Then, alerted by some noise, he looks back over his shoulder and sighs. “I have to go change; I’ll see you back at the house. Find that cat in the meantime, maybe?”
Don watches him go, smiling like a fool. He knows the girls can see it, but he doesn’t much care.
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starlightsuncrow · 3 days
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Finally have a free momence, I was curious what your Starfall is generally about, and how it compares to your GW2 alt universe! And any character differences as well, since you mentioned a few different alts (sorry if you’ve explained this in a post before !)
- @magitechbatt
omg,,,, you want to know about Starfall? Buckle in!! It's gonna be long. I've never got the chance to explain so thank you!! Starfall is an original setting @cheddargoblin and I created, the story's premise is: "Long ago a star fell, and changed the world forever both physically and magically and even in it's current day societies across the world struggle to re-find their place in a world grown more wild and hostile around them."
Medieval-ish fantasy with themes of freedom, change, healing and bonds, a good story about found family and overcoming entirely different kinds of bias and classism.
Gw2 has some shared themes and the setting isn't too far off ! Starfall is darker,cruel though. One big difference tho is Starfall happens mainly in snowy regions! Now onto the characters!
I'll speak about my main two, since the rest are still a big WIP.
In Starfall Crow is an ex-mage hunter who escaped the Guild ( main place where hunters are trained and also big anti mage propaganda between all the things, even if they are mages themselves). In escaping he's constantly hunted, due to being an important figure and...a big weapon that was trained specifically for "purposes" by his mentor. The black arms are tattoos ! Cruel symbol of how many mages you captured/killed and so on. Has to learn to fight his own life of bias and brainwashing to live "outside". He's like a caged dog who finally tasted freedom and will fight for it to death if needed. Closed off with MANY issues, they haven't lost a small spark of naivety and hope though. Big part of the character is the revelation they're a fae ! No, they didn't know it. It's complicated. Hehe's also a "cursed" fae, courtesy of the mentor again. Describing the cursed fae as magical beings who have to survive on blood and magic, since they're made of magic. Without feeding they end being feral beasts who won't ever go back to being sane. They go through addiction and withdrawl usually. He's a fighter and adapts easily, someone give him a break please. He's the struggler but keeps going , a love for freedom keeps him going. Crow in Gw2 is a saltspray who fled from the Jade Wind, searching for a cure or something to help back home. After centuries of disguises he fell into the end of the Inquest and got basically " cursed". Vampirism about blood and magic, for a being like a lesser dragon it's...not fun i'd presume. Got saved by Dragora, lived and learned under Drago's wing and then joined the commander's gang in s2. Revealed their true identity much later during EoD<<< caused some drama. They're Starfall's Crow without the harsh environment they lived in, in gw2 he got a taste of it but not enough to compromise his whole life. Marked by it but doesn't let it control them. He's an exploration of who Crow would have been if he escaped sooner from the Guild.
So both keep that duality of self, same coin, just a little to the side in gw2. Neither of them are too different. Fun story about Cardamomo, he comes from gw2 actually! He's my commander and that's part of his core personality. Never make me think of jokes with characters and pairings because 90% of times they end up happening <<< Cromo happened this way. In Gw2 he's the sylvari commander, a naive and full of wonders sylvari who learnt fast war changes you. Forever.
Cute guy who sees the horrors and comes back angry, frustrated and not much hope and will to fight again, but that's all he knows how to do after all. That's why Gyala and part of Soto hit hard. They're tired, they don't know how to rest. Big trust issues? Or more about they can't let be seen weak and vulnereable. The important thing to know about Momo is that he wasn't Cardamomo at first. He starts as Caoimhe until the Departing. He dies, he comes back. He comes back different. I love the mirror theme so much he IS a mirror. A broken one. Caoimhe died, Cardamomo came back with less memories, some gone forever and a personality made to withstand the trauma just to fight Balthazar. Oops, Caoimhe took too much time to recover and now this commander has two pilots. They're the same guy still! Momo isn't a new different identity, he's more of...some aspects put together to give time to heal. Similar personalities to the point there's no much difference unless you know what to look for ( they have a slightly different behavior and manner of speech). It's like a fragment who learnt to be its own thing, while still following the main purpose of protector.
It's a toughie to describe I'll be honest, if I can finish that fanfic i'm writing maybe it helps understanding it (or i can simply ramble on another post <3) In Gw2 he's a dryad, beings born with a specific purpose ( in this case it's about balance). I'm still working on many details but he keeps the commmander "role" so to speak and absolutely gains the Caoimhe/Cardamomo duality again. Loss is part of his character in many ways too eheh. He's a bit more off putting and warms a bit slower than his gw2 alt though! Playing more on the fact this guy isn't human at all. I've been trying to keep both my ocs' cores for both settings with some modifications but more or less the alts end up being "what ifs" and explorations of a part of the main character that can't be explored easily in the main setting. They aren't as different as I make them sound probably.
Fun fact, dryads and fae are rivals, this didn't stop Cromo happening( one half didn't know, the other didn't care). The main alt i can explain is Dragonheart for Momo! Selkastra ( saltspray is just an appereance change and plays more on Crow being young but still... a dragon) Dragonheart is Momo's champion self? so to speak? That one transformation in EoD but what if we can access to it under circumstances and what if it follows the different aspects too? Otherwordly momo <3 Each aspect affects Momo differently and he acts as consequence too. Physically and mentally. If Aurene is the Prism Dragon, Cardamomo is the prism itself reflecting, each side something different. There's Fae Crow to explain too, but nothing too big changes apart from making him extremely ethereal and fey-like. Not to be mess with, fae are known to bend rules and twist them to their like. Even tho Starfall Fae are...a bit particular. I hope these are enough to answer your questions, which im so so happy u asked!! (it got so long he l p) I'm terrible at summaries but this made my whole day, thank you so much again !! <333
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vhvrs · 3 months
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i talk abt/ draw summer so little but she is like. my fav fav i love her sooo much n i love the specific niche she presents to the story that i rarely ever see in media but also rnm does a LOT of casual things u rarely see in long form media I LOVE HER!!!!!!!
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arts-i-enjoy · 2 months
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AHHHHHH
#this post brought to you by: me#i. applied for a preapproval letter for a mortgage yesterday. and spoke to a realtor to start finding me houses#i want to move several states away which further complicated things. but the houses there are CHEAP#like under 100k for a 2 bedroom move in ready#anyways i got approved for 80k with a 20k down payment. and im FREAKING THE FUCK OUT#and because i got that pre app letter i have a loan officer calling me today to talk#and we literally work at the same bank so i can SEE that hes active and hasnt read my message#even though its been 45 minutes. KEVIN MESSAGE ME BACK. IM NOT GONNA BE ABLE TO FOCUS UNTIL I DO THIS CALL#AHHHHHHH S C R E A M. it might happening!!!! i might be finally.mov8ng out in a few months!!!#i mgiht be a HOMEOWNER by the end of the year#i have been saving money for this since i was. 16? 17?#ive had a good well paying job since i was 18.#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#once i have a house then i start job searching in that area. and start getting really serious about LEAVING my very good job#which is soooo scary. this job was supposed to be my lifelong career. but then everyone fucking moved to other states and left me behind#so theres no point staying here.#i might never have this kind of job security again.#but also my realtor said that theres a lot of bank jobs in that area so maybe itll be easy to find something#on the fence on if i tell my parents that im Making Moves right now#on one hand its hard to not talk about it becuae im STRESSED TF OUT#but on the other hand when i tentatively mentioned the state i want to move to#richard started yelling and swearing el oh el#might be better to wait and avoid the tension as long as possible?#but also i dont know how they can stay angry when its literally my best option#the other places where my friends live either have 0 opportunity and high housing prices. or are even moe liberal than where im going#idk. why do half of my problems come down to “my parents will be mad” like im a 12 year old or something. shit fucking sucks#this is why i want to get out of here#also it feels weird and bad to talk to my friends about how stressed i am about buying a house when all of them are stressed about#not being able to make rent or something. my problems feel like a brag in a really odd and shitty way. but hey!#if this works out maybe ill start being stressed about how im going to make my mortgage payments! :') yay!
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kris-mage-fics · 8 months
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Helloaur kris, u have mail
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hope u n ur husband have a great day!!!
also i redrew the ol kyrah art from ur pfp
Aaaaaaaaaah! Omg she's so cute! I freaking love how the curls above Kyrahlise's forehead almost make a heart! You always do such a good job of making her look genuinely happy! I love it, thank you so much, Yuki! Well it's about 11pm my time as I'm writing this, but thank you for the sweet sentiment! Today was really random. Though yesterday was his birthday, and it was a lovely day. The baked potato wedges I made to go with supper were a huge hit with him, lol (He loudly said "Oh my god!" when he ate the first one! Generally the most he'll say is a quiet "this is really good", so that was a resounding success!)
Thank you again for the drawing! <3 Now I'm going to update my pfp!
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steakout-05 · 27 days
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headcanons i have about Craig the scientist :)
as are most of the characters i have headcanons for, Craig is on the autism spectrum. he has a flat effect to his voice and facial expressions, doesn't really get most social cues, doesn't know how to react to others in pain the "right" way, misunderstands metaphors and speaks in quite a direct manner because it makes the most sense to his brain. he's quite a literal thinker. he also tends to hyperfixate so hard on a task that he forgets his basic needs and hygene, and thus has quite an unkempt look underneath that hazmat suit of his (which i will get into later!). Barry often ends up needing to get Craig something to eat because of how long he hyperfixates on something.
Craig sometimes doesn't exactly pay attention to his tone of voice, so sometimes he can say something that, to him, sounds completely normal, but because of his tone, can end up sounding really ominous to other people by accident ("We know who you are, Barry.")
Craig has traumatic cataract in his left eye (or wherever the fuck craig's visor crack is supposed to be in canon lol) from the explosion in 'Level 2' and is half blind in that eye. his eye has a very clouded look as a result of the injury. he's also got a huge scar there too that required some pretty gnarly stitches later, and his skin is almost completely numb around that area.
Craig also never really had the best eyesight before the injury, so he's always wearing these big ol' nerdy glasses underneath his helmet. and yes, they are tacked together with a band-aid lol
Craig is one of the few scientists who is not a clone of Peter Simpkins, the late friend of both Professor Brains and (in my headcanon'd canon) Craig. i like to think that Craig and Simpkins knew each other when they were first recruited by Legitimate Research and was pretty close to both him and Brains, and since Simpkins died, Brains has kind of taken more of a liking towards Craig (mostly out of loneliness and needing someone to help around at the lab, but he has a genuine fondness for him under his demanding and angry exterior).
There's a bit of a fan theory that Craig is the same guy as the scientist in the 'Robot Bird' rock opera, which i like to believe is the case. i mean, he's got the same monotone voice as Craig, it's gotta be him. i hope this does end up becoming canon because i think it'd make for an interesting conflict between Barry and Craig!!
Craig may or may not be related to Lab Lady.
Craig's counterpart in the mirror universe is named Kayla.
Craig is demiromantic and is questioning his sexuality (he thinks he might be bi or pan), though he definitely knows he loves Barry <3
Craig has an unhealthy habit of wiping his embarrassing memories, like, a lot. he wipes memories of awkward accidents in the lab, particularly painful failures, and most importantly, the memories of losing literally all his stuff and his career to Barry, which is why he doesn't immediately recognise him in the shorts. Craig has a lot of trouble recounting stories from the past because of this memory-wiping and felt a sense of emptiness, which getting hit in the head certainly didn't help with, so he tried inventing that apple in the Multiverse Madness event to get some of them back. it was pure dumb luck that Barry didn't end up witnessing what happened to Craig in the 'Robot Bird' opera and both are completely unaware of the disastrous can of worms that could have opened. bro's gonna end up like wallflower blush if he doesn't keep that memory erasing under control
and finally...
under his helmet, Craig has messy dirty-blonde hair, a rounded face that has a few stray facial hairs he forgot to shave, a long scar down the left side of his face, hazel coloured eyes and pale skin. this design is inspired by the designs made by @dexterno-artz and @schnabel53 respectively :D
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this is a sketch of my finalised(ish) craig design!!! i've shown earlier versions of this guy in a couple of older posts but i haven't really revised his design much until now. i kinda had the idea of him looking like a stereotypical nerd and then made him messier. i might tone the amount of hair he has down a tiny bit but also i really like the nerdy bird's nest thing he has goin on :) i like to think he literally hasn't brushed his hair in several weeks and it's just become a bird's nest from nights of staying up doing science stuff
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how i feel about barry tbh. he's literally so dumb i love him
(also apologies for the photos being kinda blurry and me forgetting to turn off the filter. again. in my defence it looks really nice and orange on my phone)
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sometimes i like drawing him saying stuff from the shorts to get a feel of how he'd look when talking and make sure he looks juuuust nerdy enough for me to go "yep that's craig". also his big,g, handns,s,
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drew this as a quick side profile sketch to get a general idea of how i want to draw him from this angle. he's talking to barry offscreen and falling in love with him <3
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stupid little comic with a stupid little interaction that would definitely happen between these stupid little guys <3 barry being a little asshole every now and then is very entertaining to me. i need to see him antagonising craig and starting an old couple bickering argument with craig, that would heal me i think
i think i'll post more of this design in the future, i really quite like it a lot :)
#jetpack joyride#craig jetpack joyride 2#jetpack joyride 2#headcanon design#yeag sorry the photos are so fucked looking#my room does not have good lighting.... like..... at all#my sketchbook is also literally falling to pieces lmao#i'm gonna get a new one soon but damn. my poor sketchbook#i didnt even do anything to it....... why must it fall apart and die on me..........#anyway YEAH craig design!!!!#i quite like this design a lot#i feel like there's something that could be added to it but i don't wanna make his design more complicated than it already is#that first drawing of him kinda looks like his eye is bleeding lol#it's just a really big scar dw#craig having traumatic cataract was inspired by my dog getting traumatic glaucoma in his eye#also i think craig would go hard as like. a character who's similar to wallflower blush#except instead of everyone forgetting her but her remembering them#it's craig forgetting everything that happened to him and then finding a way to restore the memories and then he gets SO PISSED at barry#they'll sure need a lot of couple's counselling after that blunder#i kinda wanna make designs for steve and toni#especially steve!!!#how do you think they'd identify steve from the other scientists. would barry just stick a big piece of paper with an S on it to his face#answering my own question: yes he would absolutely do that#steve is the one i feel like both barry and craig tease the most#i find steve literally being so nervous about being perceived that he runs away and damages property to be extremely relatable#also fun fact: craig's hair and eye colours are kinda based off the colour i see the word craig in???#ok this is gonna be tricky to explain but i think i might have grapheme colour synesthesia#it's basically a condition where you can see or VERY heavily associate colours to a specific number or letter#and for some reason my brain has christened 'craig' as being a very specific sort of yellowy green! it's what i see in my head when i think#-of the word 'craig' so i decided to make him kinda blonde and have hazel eyes (which is basically a mix of green and yellow)!! neato!!
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keeps-ache · 9 months
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woke up with the feeling that 'something has been irreversibly changed'
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as-rare-as-trees · 6 months
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The line between -I love making art- and -art is so damn difficult I'm not gonna try ever again- is so thin it's almost invisible
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