#haven’t fully processed this yet

[feralgoblingf]

Almost died tonight while with a friend I hadn’t seen in 3 years. Like what are the odds

[giddlygoat]

hater has disturbing reoccurring dreams about wander crawling inside his ribcage that always have him waking up in a cold sweat [they just feel too real and hater can’t place why]. wander has reoccurring dreams of hater ceremoniously destroying him with the Disaster Blaster and it’s the one dream he doesn’t eagerly blab to sylvia about because he doesn’t know how to tell her that it never feels like a nightmare. soooo is anyone else sick in the head or is it just me

[saturnvs]

wet on wet, attempts at some art therapy at home

[sophisticatedswifts]

This week has been full of ups and downs

[zorogasm]

reading the boy and the heron (or, how do you live) reviews and seeing lots of “it was pretty, but i didn’t like it cause it was weird and random and didn’t make sense and messy,” which is a critique you’re allowed to have; i just find it funny in comparison to my own, because i was like ooooh pretty colors… tiny unhinged homicidal boy… The War……….. squishy fellas…. Hot lady…..

[arolesbianism]

A mini Meiro ref

[shoutsindwarvish]

my grandma died this morning

because of shavuot, shabbat, and memorial day, the funeral won’t be until wednesday

which feels like a long time?? i know they embalmed my grandpa (he wasn’t observant but it’s a jewish cemetery so in hindsight i’m surprised) so they’ll probably do the same for her

what in the world do people do who ARE observant and have holidays stacked on top of each other like this? :(

[pepprs]

mutuals i got myself into a situation so sticky i don’t even know how to describe it (edit: *describes it* lol). please send thoughts of successful escape my way lol

[flytohurt]

also

yeah

that was the most haunting promo i’ve ever seen from Sting

[mookybear12404]

Please pray for the soul of my cousin who just passed and our whole family. She was only in her 20s

[oct0lightsquare]

March 8, 2023

Oh yeah, forgot to mention uhhhhh

Today’s my birthday 🥳

[anneonomus]

got hit by a car last night and still the most traumatic thing to happen was my roommate told me they’ve had a tumblr all along

[stonesandswords]

.

[candidcondor]

You will be warm when you die

You will be held

I’ll coo soft words in your ear

And gently preen your feathers

At the end of your life, I

will keep you dry

and make sure the kids aren’t too loud

You’ll curl into the shape of my palm

I promise to sing to you

A song about soaring

And hiccup from crying between verses

But i know you won’t mind

You’re going to chirp softly and close your eyes

As I enchant with a lullaby of starry skies

And my heart will skip a beat when you stop nodding along

But I’ll keep singing your song till it is done

My father will tell me to wash my hands

And erase any trace of you

“It might have had the flu” he’ll beg

but this hour is dedicated to you

because when you die you’ll be held and warm

and your feathers will be preened and

I’ll sing you your song

because i refuse to let you die alone

[rayatii]

Funerals are the worst type of family reunions.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! Could you please write something for Spencer where r is used to men being like really loud and rough and all that (maybe bc of her father or smth) and just her getting used to how gentle Spencer is and almost thinking it’s too good to be true?

Thank you for requesting angel <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 905 words

It happens when you’re still half asleep. You fumble for your phone on Spencer’s nightstand, your alarm chiming, and knock a picture frame off instead. You’re fully awake by the time you hear the sound of glass shattering against the floor. 

You mumble a curse. Spencer hums questioningly into his pillow. 

You get down from the bed, managing to step over the glass, but you’re not thinking clearly enough. When you sink onto your knees, little shards prick the skin. You pick the frame up carefully. It’s a picture of Spencer and his mom. An old one, of her chasing a three or four-year-old Spencer around someone’s yard. They’re both laughing, her arms outstretched towards him and his face turning to look over his shoulder. It’s obviously a sentimental photo. 

Your cursing intensifies, though you keep it internal now. You feel awful. 

Spencer’s head appears over the edge of the bed as you’re scraping the glass into a pile. His eyes are half-open, expression still weighted with drowsiness. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

There’s no accusation in his tone, but you feel suddenly teary. You haven’t fought with Spencer yet, and you weren’t expecting to be yelled at first thing this morning. You suppose you’ve earned it, though. 

“Spence, I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I—I knocked over your picture. The frame broke. I feel awful, I’ll get you a new one o—or I can replace the glass if the frame is important to you.” 

“What?” Spencer blinks, brows furrowed as though he’s having trouble grasping this. “No, it’s—stop. Don’t do that.” 

You still, looking up at him hesitantly with your hands cupped around the glass pile. “What do you want me to do?” 

“You can’t clean glass up with your hands.” He shuffles his way out from under the covers, taking a big step over the class to stand behind you. His hands wrap around your elbows. “Get away from there.” 

His tone conveys some upset, but not nearly as much as you were prepared for. And his grip on your arms is gentle. You can’t make sense of it. 

You let him guide you into the bathroom, sitting up on the counter when he prompts you. Spencer takes your hands in his, looking them over and brushing his fingers lightly across your palms before determining there’s no glass in them. His eyes skim you over. When they land on your knees, his expression pinches. 

“Why did you do this?” You expect him to grasp your knee roughly, but his fingers wrap around it with care, thumb rubbing over the soft underside as though to soothe you. 

“I wasn’t thinking,” you say softly. “I feel so bad about the picture with your mom, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Spencer sounds surprised. His eyes flit up to yours, soft brown, curious. “I can get a new frame. You didn’t need to hurt yourself.” 

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Your voice drops to a murmur as Spencer bends down, opening a drawer to take out first aid supplies. 

He pulls each tiny piece of glass from your knees with heart-aching care. One hand stays on the back of whichever knee he’s working on, to steady him and to comfort you, and it’s a slow, attentive, tender process. Gradually, a realization seeps into you. 

Spencer isn’t going to blow up at you. Maybe someday, but not about this, not over just anything. You’re not sure how you could have been so expectant of someone who’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you turning harsh and forceful at the first upset. 

You don’t even wince as Spencer cleans up your knees. He’s careful to give you no reason to, every touch considerate and sweet. He straightens after smoothing bandages over the cuts, still holding your lower thighs in his hands. 

“That wasn’t a very nice way to wake up,” he says. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, but you hold your arms out for a hug anyway. 

Spencer’s happy to oblige you, his hips fitting between your legs and palms sliding across your back. He smells like sleep. You hook your chin over his shoulder, contentment filling your belly like warm honey. 

“You seemed upset,” he murmurs, a question if you choose to answer it. 

“I was nervous,” you admit. “I thought you’d be mad.” 

“For knocking the frame over?”

“Mhm. I still feel really bad.” 

Spencer draws a line between your shoulders. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t do it on purpose.” 

You hum. “You’re a lot less loud than most guys, do you know that?” 

He pauses. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” You pull away from him, cradling his face in your hand. “I’m just not used to it, is all. I keep expecting you to yell at me, but that doesn’t seem like it’s really your thing.” 

“I guess I don’t think of it as my thing,” Spencer agrees, mouth curving as he repeats your words. “My mom says I was always a quiet kid. I guess I just never thought yelling would get me anywhere.” 

“Don’t start.” You grin, and his cheek dimples under your palm. “I like you like this.” 

“Okay, I’ll try not to.” He tilts his face into your touch. His hands drop back to your knees, skimming down the unharmed sides next to the bandages. “And you shouldn’t get angry at yourself on my behalf anymore, either.”