#I don’t actually know if it was Russian

[notlongtolove]

your star next to mine

nobody loves the earth for spinning, not really. it's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. the sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. the stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: established relationshippp ugh waking up to spencer reid <3 actually more like spencer reid waking up to bau!reader (spoiler: hes out of this world in love with her)

word count: 1k

note: writing this made me SICKKKK with longing and yearning (they r so in love and i hate them for it ugh) sorry sorry writing ab stars and spencer reid in bed AGAIN im sorry i just want to romanticise small moments in life (theyre coming for me with a strait jacket as we speak)

a line: It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out.

When The Big met The Bang and science happened before eyes that did not exist yet, collided and made love to each other was your star next to mine? Tell me, my love; did someone ever wish upon the star we are made from? - m. chase

There are roughly 7100 languages spoken and signed on earth. Spencer himself is familiar with at least seven of them. Russian, Latin, Middle English, to name a few. You remember him explaining the intricacies of medieval typography during your third date—You think you fell in love with him somewhere between his comparison of Gothic and Carolingian scripts. 

Before there were text messages made up of abbreviations and emojis, there were letters. Love letters of thoughts born from lovelorn minds that made their way into granite, pressed against the grain of paper. Before that, feathered quills dipped in ink, sometimes splattering on parchment. A testament to words too heavy to get out right, but a need to get them out all the same. 

But the earth has been spinning for 4.6 billion years. And before that, there were cavemen that carved primitive symbols into stone—etches and notches that archaeologists still devote their lives to deciphering. Spencer sometimes thinks that had he not joined the FBI, he might’ve found himself in their shoes, decoding ancient scribbles, a circle with four notches, stick figures huddling around it. 

Now, he thinks, there’s not much left to figure out after all.

You turn in your sleep, hand searching for him in the mess of sheets. No words needed. I missed you, even in sleep. I miss you. Spencer shuffles a little closer to appease you, the small crease in your brow softens, almost vanishes, content when you find the curve of his hip. When Spencer places his hand over waist, he knows you know what he’s saying. I missed you too. I miss you, even in sleep.

Your hand shifts to accommodate his, intertwining with his in a way that makes his chest squeeze. It’s a dance you’ve both perfected, your fingers settling into the spaces between his. His hands are far from soft. The callus on his left palm is rough and worn, a result of years in the field with his gun. Yours aren’t perfect either—nails a little less neat than you'd like, a few nicks from the hurried days of recent weeks. His thumb traces the back of your hand. You give a small squeeze in return. And then two more. It’s instinctual—fingers find fingers. Spencer gives three squeezes back. 

But then your hand pushes past his, brushing lightly over the scab on the small of his back—A close call with a bullet during last week’s case. Even in sleep, you frown at the reminder. Not a big deal, baby, he’d winced through the burning pain in an effort to reassure you. You’d cried anyway. Later, you’d marched straight to Hotch, demanding better bulletproof vests—I don’t care if they have a bigger budget, I want the kind they use down in D.C.

Spencer gently takes your hand and places it on his chest. The tension in your brow visibly eases. For a moment, it rests there, still and quiet, before it stirs again, sleepily travelling up to settle on the curve of his neck. The birthmark on your shoulder makes a quiet appearance when his shirt slides off you a little. A lover’s kiss from a past life. Spencer hopes it was him in your life before this. And the one before that. And all the other ones before that. 

He breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck, the motion guided by how tightly he pulls you to him. The only thing he loves more than falling asleep to you is waking up to you. It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out. You pull back slightly humming lightly into his skin, a good morning before the good morning. A hi again, i’m glad it’s you i’m waking up to. 

The strands of hair falling into your face can’t hide the explosion of color in your eyes when they sleepily blink open. Once, then twice, before you’re closing them again—It’s woefully insufficient. Spencer thinks of how constellations were once used for navigation. They guided sailors across vast oceans, helping them find their way home. 

Then you’re leaning in to kiss him, eyes still closed. When the big met the bang all those years ago. His hand moves from your waist, tracing the curve of your spine, down your arm, and back up. You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth and Spencer sees stars. He thinks it’s a wonder you still have this effect on him after 439 days—206 of those being nights spent together. His fingers graze along your jaw before resting gently on your lips. A journey from waist to lips—one Spencer would gladly make a thousand times and more.

As someone with a PhD in Mathematics and who prides himself in his comprehension of logic and reason, Spencer knows infinity is an abstract idea. It’s an unreachable concept through mere arithmetic. But for you, he’d solve for it a million times over just so he doesn’t have to spend a single day without you. Honest to god, he doesn’t think he can. Truthfully, he doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so long without you in the first place.

When you pull away breathless, grinning, it’s almost a little wicked. You're definitely fully awake now. Cheeks flushed, lips red and rosy and you’re both leaning in again.

No words said. Lips to lips. A universal love letter through the ages. Pieces of parchment, folded and sealed, wax stamps guarding tenderness in ink. Hairs tucked inside lockets. Pictures in weathered wallets. From the sea to the shore, from the granite to the quills, from the stone to the paper. No words needed. 

Nobody loves the Earth for spinning, not really. It's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. The sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. The stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. Spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined. 

There’s nothing else to decipher. A fact, pure and simple. An absolute consistency through and through. 

Lips to lips, over and over. The big meets the bang, again and again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: sidelines by phoebe bridgers sailor song by gigi perez

[spyder31]

Listening to Maria say a Russian word hits different.

Even if it was aggressive.

[1-800-i-ship-it]

- VICTOR ASKS YURI IF HE WANTS HIM TO BE A BOYFRIEND TO HIM??? THIS IS CANON?????

- VICTOR GIVES YURI A BOYFRIEND HUG BEFORE HE PERFORMS???? THE PRESS EATS IT UP???

- YURI GETS MOTIVATJON DURING HIS PERFORMANCE FROM TRYNA SEDUCE VICTOR???

- VICTOR APPLIES CHAPSTICK DIRECTLY TO YURI’S LIPS WITH HIS FINGER???? VICTOR THINKS TO HIMSELF THAT YURI IS BEAUTIFUL????

- YURI BASICALLY CONFESSES THAT VICTOR IS THE MAIN INSPIRATION FOR HIS THEME OF LOVE???

is this reality holy shit…im literally not even halfway through the show

[1-aussiedollar]

[synco-arts]

this game is all about the thrill

[askthesmg4apprenticeshipau]

Eternity!5: Цитрус, ты не помешаешь мне повеситься на потолке.

Eternity!6: Seriously Bunny? It feels like your trying to annoy me or something.

Eternity!5: Don't worry! I'm not actually trying to annoy you..

SMG6: I’m concerned

SMG3: Oh. Russian? Well then, Ты бы перестал говорить об этом дерьме? Здесь есть кто-то, кто тебя понимает, и это немного... просто перестань так говорить. Ты заставляешь меня чувствовать себя немного неловко с этим разговором, SMG5!

(Translation in case it doesn’t translate properly back: would you stop talking about this shit? There’s someone here who understands you, and that’s a little... just stop talking like that. You’re making me a bit uncomfortable here with that talk, SMG5!)

SMG5: Since when did you speak Russian??

SMG3: …

SMG3: Listen I know a lot of languages to communicate effectively on the dark web. French, German, Japanese, Spanish, Russian, Swedish-

SMG6: Huh?!

SMG5: I get the picture…

[compacflt]

COMPACFLT, ma’am, you’ve absolutely wrecked me with: “My father—my father was kind”. I can’t even tell you exactly why, but that just struck right in the chest with the force of a sledgehammer, gosh. If it’s alright with you, could you please share your headcanons about Ice and Mav’s fathers? I know I’m, like, quoting your own work back to you but I can’t help it: “Well, dead pilot dads, that’s one thing we have in common.” —But do they? Or is one dead pilot dad vastly different from the other?

ice’s dad (Thomas kazansky sr.): asshole army major OH-6 and UH-1 pilot who got shot down over Vietnam in 1967. son of far-eastern-european immigrants. anti-commie. wanted ice to ALSO be a chopper pilot in the army, so ice went navy instead. daredevil dipshit who died & left ice’s mom alone with two young kids & whose death encouraged ice away from breaking the rules or being unsafe (esp. in the air). not necessarily a great person or a great father but died when ice was 8 so also not a huge influence on his life (i know val kilmer has said ice’s father was a big influence… I’ve written elsewhere about why i personally shifted ice’s narrative away from daddy issues and more towards Navy authority in general issues, in light of ice’s character and rank in tgm. GOD i need a master post sorry, but i think you can find it if you search “edts notes” on my blog and scroll for a while). ice’s LACK of a father -> no man to model himself on -> overcompensating & not getting it exactly right (doesn’t know how to talk to other men) -> maverick immediately clocks him as gay -> the plot of my fic.

Maverick’s dad (peter “duke” mitchell sr.): a genuinely awesome person. funny & kind, warm & loving, a truly good father & a great fighter pilot. big american patriot. Comes from a long long line of us navy personnel—maverick has the navy family name & the pedigree ice, as a second generation american, does not. Im still not sure who raised maverick—it’s one of those things I don’t have a strong opinion on, so it could go either way (i posited in the airplane one-shot that he was raised by relatives, aunt & uncle, but I know it’s a popular hc here that he was a foster kid—all equally plausible to me) but I do think he grew up exceedingly bitter, hearing about how great his dad was and how there was just no way! his dad could’ve failed the Navy the way he supposedly did, because he was just such a good person… there’s a real bitterness about original maverick that TGM maverick kind of lost. His bitterness only shows during the “it’s not the plane it’s the pilot” “EXACTLY” exchange (incidentally the scene that gave me the idea that Bradley thinks mav pulled his papers bc he’s openly gay…it’s the pilot not the plane, ouch). but i still think maverick is like deeply deeply bitter about how the navy handled his fathers death, which is what the excerpt i posted on wednesday is actually about—he confesses to ice how disillusioned he has been with the navy as an institution since he found out the truth about his father’s heroism. I know i just just just said that Maverick’s patriotic conservatism is his reason for existence in the meta “why we make mil propaganda movies” sense, and i stand by that, but i think on a human character level there probably has to be a little bit of deep-seated resentment towards the Navy for smearing his father’s good name and his own good name in the process. My maverick grew up a good Christian kid, called himself peter jr. after his good guy father, who never broke ANY rules until he was radicalized by not getting into the academy (“punish the son for the sins of his father”) and basically lost his mind for 30+ years. “If my family name automatically makes me a sinner in the navy’s eyes, then I might as well sin anyway.”

[rowanthestrange]

i voted

took me forty minutes to put the x in the box of the party i am literally a member of

successfully rationalised that we’re a new and probably swing constituency so we’ve got to

feel a truly unmatched sense of depoliticised disenfranchised hopelessness

[hanakihan]

i realized that in my head I’ve been unconsciously headcanoning Jin-Chul as half Russian descent.

gimme a second to explain okay wheeze

the more i look at Jin-Chul (especially his manhwa counterpart portrayal) i remember that one boy who lived in next apartment to mine when I was little.

/side note I was born and lived near Baikal lake so there were many Yakut and Buryat people as well as Japanese, Chinese, Korean and Mongolian people/

and so that boy was actually of russian-korean descent and surprisingly enough had almost blond hair and was really nice (like yeah whole idea is based on fact Jin-Chul has non classy natural hair color for Korea so—)

anyway just think about jin-chul being half russian descent and then he pretty much doesn’t even know it because he was taken to Korea back when he was really young and then ended up in orphanage for one reason or another and was an outcast because he looked differently from others—

[titsthedamnseason]

i had a win today because it turns out when you download the audiobook it still appears as amour amour with an old version of the title and cover

[miyamiwu]

I really want to change my online pseud (Lizonka) into something more Asian-sounding to reflect my pursuits in Asian literature… but having to change my usernames across all my accounts is going to be a pain....

also, how are my mutuals gonna recognize me once i change names

[zairene]

the one and only time i’ll post some shit like this

me whenever fyodor or dazai utters one word

[lolli-says-stuff]

Alex : Do you mind if I slyly mention that you’re single?

Dima : Do not do that.

Alex : You won’t even notice!

Yassen , entering: Alex , you wanted to see me again?

Alex : Dima 's single

Dima :

[wheelercurse]

If we’re talking about the writing s4 is one of the best seasons.

[malachitezmeyka]

Forever torn between “If I get my first F since I was in the fifth grade that might actually be my final straw” and “Omfg I am so beyond giving a fuck at this point leave me alone”

Of course, there’s always a chance I could successfully argue my point that hey, it’s gonna be very unfair if you give me an F for not writing an essay I don’t know how to write. Like, the essay I’ll have to write to be allowed to sit my exam in May is a pain in the ass, but it at least has a structure that is relatively easy to follow. But essays for literature class? They’re actually fucking beyond me. I’ve written like.. three of those in my life, two were bullshitted so completely that in the one based on Hero of Our Time, I said that Pechorin is somehow both a fatalist and NOT a fatalist at the same time and I still have no idea how I got an A for it, and the third took me three tries to do and it still was barely passable. I don’t know how to do them, nobody will fucking EXPLAIN how to do them, and… honestly, I’d much rather take the F and not bother than work my ass off and write something my teacher will ruthlessly pick apart. It’s less humiliating that way

But will my teacher listen to me? Probably not. She low-key hates me anyway