#i also do NOT understand how planes do that
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Send Nudes
Summary: Chaos ensues after you accidentally send Spencer a nude pic
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!ReaderÂ
Category: Smut
Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dub-con (Spencer receives an unsolicited nude pic), embarrassment, awkwardness, tension, heavy kissing, male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), handjob, protected penetrative sex
Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient Challenge!
Word count: 3.2k
Masterlist
Panic. Embarrassment. Shame.Â
It was hard to describe what you felt when you stared at your phone, realizing that you had just sent Spencer Reid a nude picture of yourself.Â
It was a mistake, of course â right when you wanted to send him a screenshot of an article, you stumbled over the mess in your apartment and selected the wrong picture. Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the read receipt showed up instantly.Â
Spencer had just seen your naked body light up on the screen of his phone.Â
A picture he never asked for and probably didn't want to see. It wasnât a bad photo, some might even call it aesthetically pleasing. But you had never intended for anyone else to see it. It was just a way for you to make yourself feel good about your body.Â
You contemplated your options. Burning your phone, moving across the country and changing your identity sounded intriguing but difficult to arrange. Instead you decided to text Spencer, hoping that soon youâd both be able to laugh about the embarrassing thing you just did.Â
âI am so sorry about that. I really didn't mean to send that! Can you please delete the pic and forget about it?âÂ
You didn't get a response. Spencer was never great at texting but you had really hoped to hear back from him. It was hard to tell if he felt just as embarrassed or maybe even offended â you certainly wouldn't want to receive unsolicited nude pics either.Â
You had barely gotten any sleep when you walked into work the next morning. Worst case scenarios had plagued your mind all night â from another painful workplace sexual harassment seminar to maybe even losing your job over your mishap â you had no idea what would expect you today.Â
Everything seemed normal when you got to your desk, except for the fact that your favorite coworker didn't even look at you when you walked by him. Spencer usually liked sitting beside you in the conference room and also on the jet, but he did neither of those things that day.Â
âWow you really must have pissed Reid off, huh?â Luke whispered when he sat down beside you on the plane.Â
âDid he say anything to you?â you wanted to know.Â
âNo, he didn't. What did you do? Spill coffee over his favorite chess board?â he teased.Â
âOh itâs so much worse than that,â you whined while heat rushed to your face.Â
Emily decided to discuss the case before Luke could ask more questions. Spencer avoided you for the next couple of hours until you decided you both had suffered enough.Â
A quiet moment in the coffee kitchen of the police precinct seemed good enough to approach him.
âHey Spencer,â you said and noticed how he almost jumped at the sound of your voice.Â
âHâŚhi,â he mumbled, his eyes fixated on the floor.
Stepping closer, he finally looked at you for the first time that day. The rosy shade spreading over his cheeks was impossible to ignore.Â
âIâm very sorry about the⌠you know. I didn't mean to send it but I understand if you feel offended by it,â you sincerely told him.Â
âIâm not⌠offended.â
You took a deep breath before you continued talking, âAll I want to say is⌠if you want to discuss this incident with Emily or even HR, I would understand. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable in any way.âÂ
âNo, itâs okay, really,â he lied. âWe can just forget about it.âÂ
Spencer Reid was good at many things. Lying, however, definitely wasnât his strong suit. You decided to drop the subject for now, aware that talking more about it would probably not make him less uncomfortable.Â
The tension between you two was palpable for the rest of the workday. When you stepped into your hotel room that night, you were relieved to finally have a couple of walls between the two of you.Â
If this thing didn't resolve soon, youâd have to talk to Emily about it eventually. But there was still hope that it wouldn't come to that. The embarrassment about your mishap was already bad enough as is.
The three knocks on your hotel door startled you. With your heart beating uncomfortably fast, you walked over to the door to find Spencer on the other side.Â
He walked into your room without saying a word. Then he began slowly pacing up and down your room, still silent. He looked at you for a second but his sight fell to the floor immediately after that.Â
âI uhâŚâ he began before taking a deep breath. âI lied to you earlier.â
âAbout what?â you wanted to clarify. âWanting to go to HR?âÂ
He shook his head. âI said that we can just forget about it but I donât think I can do that.âÂ
Your heart felt heavy at his words. His discomfort pained you and you wished nothing more than to be able to take it back. âIâm so sorry Spencer.â
âI deleted the image off my phone butâŚâ he paused to finally look at you. The expression written over his face was hard to read. What you didn't find was the discomfort you expected. Instead he looked⌠cocky?
He continued, â...it seems like itâs burned into my brain. And I canât help but wonder, was it really an accident?â
âWhat?! Of course!â you squeaked. âBelieve me, I would never want to send you a picture like that unprompted.â
That was when you saw a subtle smirk on his face. âInteresting choice of words.âÂ
You thought about it for a moment. Had you really just implied that you would want to send him nudes if heâd ask you to?Â
âThat's not what I meant,â you tried to brush it off. âAnd please donât give me a lecture about Freudian slips.â
His presence filled the room and you felt like you couldn't take deep enough breaths to satiate your need for oxygen. His demeanor was so different from what you were used to and you had trouble wrapping your head around it.
His next question was even more surprising. âWho did you take this picture for?âÂ
The undertone in his voice was unsettling and you started feeling defensive. âI donât see how that's any of your business but just for the record, I took it for myself. I do that occasionally to make myself feel good about my body.âÂ
It seemed as if he was content, almost relieved with your answer. You scanned his body language again and replayed his words in your head. Then it hit you all at once. Spencer was not here to scold you for what you did.Â
He was jealous. And he wanted to make sure no one else got to see your picture.Â
A grin formed on your face as you realized that you could play this game too.
Your tone was laced with a certain playfulness when you asked, âWhat did you do after you saw the picture?â
The change of your demeanor seemed to take Spencer by surprise. âI just told you, I deleted it.âÂ
âI don't think that's all you did.â He audibly gulped and you noticed his cheeks taking on a reddish color. Stepping closer to him, you whispered, âDid you touch yourself, Spencer?â
A shaky breath left his mouth before he confessed, âYes.â
âNaughty boy,â You teased him. âYou really liked that image, hm?âÂ
Nodding, he took a step forward until there was barely any space between the two of you. âI can't stop thinking about you.â
His words boosted your confidence. âI know I look great in that pic. But I think I would look even better in this lighting right here, donât you think?âÂ
Before you could bring to action what you had insinuated, you felt Spencer's hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss. The surprised gasp escaping your throat was muffled by his lips against yours.Â
He kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. Weakness rushed to your knees and you had to hold onto him to not tumble back. One hand pawed at his shirt while the other one held onto his shoulder. His lips felt soft yet firm against yours.Â
When his tongue begged for entrance, you let it. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel heat rushing through body. A few moments ago you really thought youâd have the upper hand in this game you were playing but now realized you were just as pathetic as he was.Â
Maybe sending him that image was a Freudian slip of some kind. Or maybe it was just some odd plan the universe had to bring you together. Either way, you were grateful for how things turned out.Â
Your hands became curious as they wandered over Spencerâs body. The tingling in your fingertips could only be soothed by feeling his skin underneath them, so they quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. Spencer showed a similar interest in feeling more of you by the way his fingers dropped down to the hem of your shirt.Â
Piece after piece both of your clothes fell to the floor, only ever breaking the kiss for as long as necessary. When you stood completely bare in front of one another, you dared to press your body against his to feel him.Â
It was impossible to tell who moaned first when his length pressed against your stomach. With a firm grip on his shoulders, you moved him back until his legs made contact with the edge of the bed. You pushed down until he sat on the mattress, staring up at you with a curiosity in his eyes that made your heart jump.Â
As you stepped back, his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick over his lips and you wondered if he thought about tasting you. To your surprise, he managed to not break eye contact until you challenged him, âGo on, take a look.â
His sight scanned your body, lingering on your breasts for a second before moving further down, taking everything in. You couldnât hold back from looking at him, too. A rosy color had spread all over his cheeks and chest and when you dared to drop your eyes to his cock, you noticed how it twitched slightly against his thigh.Â
âYouâre so beautiful,â he cooed when your eyes met again.Â
âBetter than the image?â you teased, smirking at him.Â
He only nodded before looking at your body again. It was like he was mesmerized, as if a miracle had just unfolded right before him. It became obvious that he was ready to worship you if youâd let him. But first, you had something else in your mind.Â
âShow me exactly what you did when you saw my picture,â you told him.Â
He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. âWh⌠what?âÂ
âDonât be shy now,â you snickered. âCome on, I wanna see how pretty you think I am.âÂ
The sweet smile on your face seemed to encourage him enough to let his right hand move towards his hardness. It was as if he needed reassurance when he found your eyes and you nodded.
He wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a squeeze and you watched as precum spilled over the tip. Slowly, he began moving his fist up and down his length, swiping his thumb over the head each time he got to the top. The groan that slipped from his lips could only be described as absolutely sinful.Â
You couldnât deny how much the sight in front of you turned you on. Spencer was so incredibly beautiful and the thought that your body had the ability to make him feral like that drove you insane.Â
Arousal gathered at your entrance the longer you watched him. This show was no longer enough for you, you needed more. Your hands found the curve of your chest, gently kneading them before your fingers began toying with your hardened peaks. Spencerâs eyes were fixated on your hands, his mouth hanging wide open and unabashedly moaning at the sight while accelerating the pace of his hand.Â
Then suddenly, he stopped and got up from bed. Desperation was written all over his face when he looked at you.Â
âPlease,â he begged as he stepped closer. âI need to touch you.âÂ
It was everything you wanted right then, too.Â
âIâm all yours, Spencer.âÂ
His mouth was on yours in an instant and he didnât waste any time to move you over to the bed to push you onto the mattress. He followed quickly, towering over you as he kissed down your neck, making you moan in anticipation of what would follow.Â
He moved further down your body, kissing and nipping on the tender flesh of your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. The sensation was almost unbearable and you could feel how your arousal began coating the insides of your thighs.Â
Spencer smiled against your skin when he noticed you rocking your hips against his leg every so slightly. His confidence grew as he realized that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.Â
âNeedy,â he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach. âThatâs cute.âÂ
Right then you couldnât care less about being in charge, you just wanted to be taken care of. When his lips brushed over your inner thigh, you opened your legs further to give him better access. He lay down between your legs and didnât waste any time before he began leaving feather light kisses against your folds.Â
You watched as he licked his own lips, tasting your essence on them before he found your eyes.Â
âYouâre so wet,â he teased and let a finger move along your slit. âIs that all for me?âÂ
He expected a witty response, like you telling him to bring his mouth to good use for once. So it took him by surprise when you simply sighed, âYes.âÂ
There was no more game to play. No more back and forth of who was in charge. It was just the two of you, equally as desperate to finally do what you both had been dreaming of for weeks.
âGood,â Spencer whispered, his hot breath tickling your core, before he finally granted you some relief.Â
His tongue moved through your folds, collecting your taste before he focussed on your most sensitive spot. He experimented with different motions for a few moments, paying attention to your reactions until he found what you enjoyed the most. Your hand flew to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his curls to hinder him from moving away â even though he had no intention to do so, anyway.Â
With one arm wrapped around your thigh he hindered you from bucking uncontrollably against his face while his other hand found your entrance, letting two fingers slip into you with ease. He moved with great precision, adjusting the angle and the pace according to your reactions, bringing you closer to your breaking point with every second passing.Â
The sounds of your pleasure filled the room as you began dancing along the brink of euphoria. With just a few more skillful motions, he pushed you over it. Your walls pulsed around his fingers while your entire body shook. He worked you through your orgasm before he lay back down beside you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips.Â
You were still panting when you found his eyes. The warm amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils, the lust visible in his eyes contradicting the saccharine smile he showed you.Â
âYou okay?â he breathed as he wrapped one arm around your waist.Â
âYeah,â you confirmed while one of your hands moved down his body.Â
Tentatively, you let your fingertips brush along his length, feeling his velvety skin under your touch. âNow what are we gonna do with you?â you purred as you wrapped your fingers tightly around him, making him gasp.Â
With a torturously slow pace, you moved along his cock. âTell me, Spencer. What do you want?âÂ
âI uhmâŚ,â he audibly swallowed. âI have a condom in my pocket.âÂ
The fact that he brought a condom to your hotel room when he came over early amused you. He never had any intention of just talking to you.Â
âSo, you want to fuck me?âÂ
âYes,â he admitted unabashedly. âIf you want that, too, of course.â
With a nod you confirmed that that was exactly what you wanted as well. Right after you let go of him, he grabbed his pants from the floor to take out the foil wrapper. You watched as he ripped it open and carefully rolled down the condom.Â
Then, he kneeled down between your legs, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him.Â
âCome here,â you cooed and he leaned over you without hesitation.Â
Reaching between your bodies, you guided him to your entrance. He closed his eyes when he slowly entered you, relishing the sensation of stretching you open inch by inch. When he was fully inside you, he kissed you before he began moving with slow thrusts.
Wrapping your legs around his hips, you brought him even closer. When he was sure that you could take it, he accelerated his pace, fucking you against the mattress until you were sure you would lose your mind.Â
Spencerâs body began trembling and he suddenly stopped moving.Â
âSorry, Iâm really close,â he whined and tried to pull out slightly.Â
âDonât stop,â you pleaded as you kept him in place with your legs around him. âPlease, I need it.â
One of your hands moved down to where your bodies were joined to desperately draw circles around your little nub, making you clench hard around his hardness.Â
âFuck,â he whimpered as he began moving again. âI canât, ahââÂ
With just a few more deep thrusts Spencer came, his cock twitching inside you as his whole body shook. It was enough to throw you over edge too, entering a state of pure bliss together with him. After you had both come down from your high, you welcomed him inside your embrace, your fingertips gently dancing over his back as he caught his breath.Â
For the sake of getting cleaned up you separated for a few moments, only to lay back down together soon after. A shaky breath fell from Spencerâs lips and caught your attention.��
âSoâŚ,â he began talking but didnât continue.Â
You propped yourself up on one elbow to find his eyes. âYeah?â
âI wanted to ask if maybeââÂ
âYou want me to send you that pic again?â you interrupted him with a grin on your face.Â
âNo,â he laughed. âI mean⌠thatâs not what I wanted to say.â
Still in a teasing mood, you snickered, âBut you would like to see that pic again?â
âYou know what,â he chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get a peek at your naked body. âI think I actually prefer this.â
âGood,â you chirped. âIf you want to see more of me youâll have to take me on a date though.â
Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispered, âDeal.â
Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!
Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings
#spencer reid#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction
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ithink the really striking thing here is that like they got thinner but they didnt get that much thinner in a way that counts. like either way from the bottom laptop to the top laptop that is still taking up ur entire laptop compartment in your backpack or in ur super cool gay leather briefcase (okay thats just me) it is not like you would be carrying more stuff if u had the thinner vs the thicker one, the lighter vs the heavier one.
i have owned a thick laptop (thinkpad t440) and a thin laptop (t490s, framework laptop) and there was never a moment ever where i broguht my thin laptop but would not have brought my thick one. both come to class, both come to coffee shops, both come on trains and planes, both sit unused in my backpack for way too long while i use my actual main pc lol. so like what was the point of the technological advancement that lead to this thinness? why not keep this thickness and improve everything else about it? like imagine the battery life and performance you could cram into a thick one with modern tech and you could give it such a big radiator that it wouldnt even need fans for 90 percent of everything. but instead of making the product better we spent most of our energy into making it thinner.
idk it just really showcases how useless this all was, how it was to sell thinner n thinner machines with no real purpose. like my mom hates windows machines in general and needs too many specific apps to use linux, but the issue is that new macbooks have a sharp edge on the keyboard, which cuts and scratches her arms and wrists as she uses it, and so she has to have a thicker machine that is actually designed well. why did we go this route? every year thinner after thinner after thinner and its like. what was the point? the framework laptop or a thinkpad are really the only reasonable laptop options if u want to h ave anything you can repair instead of throw away that is also comfortable to use and not some janky diy contraption. i have to go out of my way to find a phone with a headphone jack and like all th e options are years old or wayyy too expensive unnecessarily powerful 'enthusiast' phones who have like dedicated communities of old white men discussing exactly one product. and all the while we have these advancements and its like? for what? why do we need the thing to be 5% thinner and 5% lighter and 20% worse. its just such a blatant attempt to upsell year over year and while i think ppl are finally catching on (more due to wage stagnation than any like. shift in understanding.) it took way too long for it. at the same time we are lacking variety,. like all the goofy old laptop designs with some degree of 'charm' are gone. so its like. what are we left with? a bunch of same-y increasingly thin and sharp metal slabs with low travel keyboards for laptops n fragile glass sandwiches for phones with n+1 cameras compared to last year but less and less features?
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time present and time past
spencer tried to explain einsteinâs theory of relativity once. and now, with spencer beside you in bed, you think you finally understand what he was on about. because time is relative. and if he doesnât wake up, this moment will never end, and maybe you can slow down time itself.
pairing:Â spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)
genre:Â angst
content: situationship core. they argue. avoidant!-ish.
word count:Â 3.4k
note: i have a final in 3 days and thought now would be the perfect time to write and post my first fic. yay! anyways this is inspired by an old literature text i studied, einstein's theory of relativity and what not. a line: Iâll come to you before you callâJust to prove that I donât come to you every time you call.
time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past. if all time is eternally present all time is unredeemable. - t.s. eliot
You've never been one for physics, the numbers, the theories, the science of it all. But thatâs never stopped Spencer from launching into explanations like a rocket whenever the chance presents itself. You would nod along, a smile on your face though whatever he's saying might as well be in a foreign language.Â
He tried to explain Einsteinâs theory of relativity once. Something about clocks, something about a kind of gravitational field.Â
"Think of it like Iâm on the jet," he started, and if you try hard enough you can imagine him on the other end of the line gesturing with his hands in that animated way of his. "Now imagine if I run down the aisleââ
âHotch would kill you,â you interrupted, biting back a grin as you tried to picture the sight.Â
âJust imagine it,â Spencer laughed.
âOkay, okay.â
âSo, if you time me and I make it down the aisle in five secondsââ
âHighly unlikely, but sure.â
âAngel,â he warned, but there was no real bite in it. He waited for your giggles to subside before pressing on, âIt takes me five seconds to get from one end of the plane to the other. Right?â
âIf you say so...â
Spencer sighed, but soldiered on. âBut for you, timing me, youâd also have to factor in the distance the jet travelled in those five seconds.â
âAh.â
âYou donât get it.â
âNo, I do. I do.â
âOkay, so explain it.â
You paused, your lips twitching with suppressed laughter. âUh⌠You can run faster than a jet?â
Spencer groaned, but he was laughing too. âTime moves slower for those in the jet!â he said profoundly as though he was the one who had discovered the theory of relativity itself. âItâs fascinating really.â
âOhhhâ you sound, trying your best to feign understanding.Â
âYou know what,â he said between laughs, âIâll explain it when Iâm back, I know youâre a visual learner.â
But he never did. And so you never understood it, not really. At least, you thought you didnâtâuntil now.
Not until heâs lying in your bed again, your sheets tangled around him like theyâve claimed him as their own.
Einstein says that time is relative. He says that the rate at which time passes depends on an observer's frame of reference.Â
The observer in this caseâYou.Â
And if one observer moves at the speed of light, time will slow down for them.Â
Spencerâs asleep beside you. His face is soft in the flickers of streetlight creeping through the blinds. They give you just enough visibility to watch the rise and fall of his chest and you wonder if he's dreaming. The sound of his breathing, steady, is the only thing keeping you tethered.
If you squint hard enough, thereâs almost something domestic about the scene. You ignore the fact that this is the nth time youâve done this because ignoring is easier. Itâs easier to think about how he smells like his shampoo, and how his shirt is thrown haphazardly over your nightstand. A sight you missed more than you would admit. You think about reaching for it, but your hand stays where it is. You stay where you areâjust watching, observing. Because Einstein said the rate at which time passes depends on the observerâs frame of reference. And if you stay still enough, maybe you can slow down time itself.Â
You like moments like these. The simplicity of it. You tell your friends the same thing when they ask, their voices thick with judgment, their eyes too knowing. âWe donât do anythingâ you insist to the room of raised eyebrows. âWeâre just hanging out, you know, as friendsâ you say, as if saying it enough times will make it true.
âJust hanging out?â âYup.âÂ
âAs friends?â âYup.â
You know youâve hit a new low when you have to pull the âhanging outâ card, but you take a sort of comfort in that fact. Because at least heâs not like those other guys, right? Thatâs your silver lining. That itâs not like that. Heâs not like that. But in the quiet after, when his breathing is the only sound and you feel walls closing in you, you can't help but wonder which is worse: the thing that he is, or the thing youâre letting yourself become.
You reached out first this time. A small victory in the game youâve been playing against yourself. Thereâs some semblance of control in it, you rationalize. If youâre bound to fall, tethered to this fate of always crawling back, at least let it be on your terms.
Iâll come to you before you callâJust to prove that I donât come to you every time you call.
Come over. Made too much pasta. You texted. Itâs an olive branch, a peace offering after a fight that had left you both frayed at the edges. A throw of the same old ball back to his side of the court where the game has dragged on far too long. Proof to him that you didnât mean what youâd said, that youâre not done yet. That youâre still okay with this.
You can take it.Â
The fight had been about workâor at least, thatâs how it started. Heâd mentioned a new trainee in passing, his voice light, almost too casual, as he spooned rice out of the takeout box. âSheâs new,â he said, with a shrug. âEager, maybe too eager. Emily says sheâs a bit of a people pleaser.â
She. You watched him carefully, trying to read between the lines.Â
âOh?â you replied, keeping your voice as even as you could manage. Muscle memory. Youâve been here before. Just because Spencer wasn't one of those guys didn't mean you haven't had your fair share of them.Â
You smile as you meet his eyes asking all the right questions. Whereâs she from? Howâs she doing?
He glanced up at you, surprised by your interest. Light work you thought. âSomewhere out West, I think. Sheâs doing fineârookie mistakes, you know. She had a bad day last week, though. Got rattled on a case. Garcia said Hotch was too hard on her.â
âPoor thing,â you murmured, âHope sheâs feeling better.â
âGarcia thought I⌠thought she was pretty,â he added laughing, the words tumbling out like an afterthought. Like the words donât hold the weight that he knows it does.Â
Ah. There it is.
âWell, did you?â you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, casual.
âSheâs⌠alright,â he said, his tone too high, too quick. You didnât miss the way he swallowed hard afterward.
âYouâre avoiding the question,â you teased lightly, smiling even though your stomach was beginning to twist itself into knots.
âIâm not,â he countered, shoving another bite of food into his mouth. âYou asked if sheâs pretty, and I said sheâs alright.â
âYouâre totally avoiding it,â you said, laughing to keep the air light even as the knot pulled tighter. âSpence, you can just say it.â
âSay what?â he asked, eyes darting up to meet yours, then back to his plate.
âJust say it.â
âI donât know what you want from me.â
âAdmit that sheâs pretty.â
âOkay.â He exhaled sharply, like the word had been dragged out of him. âI think sheâs pretty.â
Oh.
There was something in the way he said that made your chest constrict.Â
I think sheâs pretty.
He thinks sheâs pretty. Not like it was some objective fact, not something calculated or reasoned. Not that she was statistically pretty, backed up by some symmetry or math behind it. He just⌠thought soâNo, he thinks so. Thinks. Present tense. Meaning as heâs sitting here, across from you, eating the takeout you suspected heâd purposefully ordered too much of, he thinks sheâs pretty.
You stared down at your plate, your appetite long gone. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. You could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant murmur of voices from the apartment next door.
âYouâre quiet,â he said finally, his voice softer now, hesitant.
âIâm fine,â you replied too quickly, a smile pasted on your face as you looked up. âJust thinking.â
âAbout?â
You shook your head, forcing a smile. âNothing. Pass the soy sauce?â He passed it without another word, but you could feel his eyes lingering on you.Â
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â you finally said, your voice sharper than you intended.
âIâm not,â Spencer replied, his tone defensive, though his eyes stayed trained on you. âYouâre just⌠quiet. Itâs not like you.â
You laughed, a hollow sound. âYeah, well, maybe Iâve run out of things to say.â
âIs this because I said sheâs pretty?â he asked after a beat, his voice cautious, careful. âBecause I didnât wantââ
âSpencer stop,â you interrupted, setting your fork down with a deliberate clink against your plate.
âI wasnât going to say it. You asked me to say it.â he countered. âAnd the term pretty is subjective anyway, I think youâre pretty too.â You stayed silent, not meeting his eyes. âDonât be like that. You know I care about you.â
âIt sure doesnât feel like it,â you shot back, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it. You knew you were being petty. Acting like a child who didnât get their way, grasping at anything to make the hurt feel justified. But you couldnât help it.
âYou justâyou talk about work, aboutâgod, about pretty girls and Iââ, You stopped, swallowing hard, trying to tamp down the words you werenât ready to say. âI feel like Iâm just⌠here. Someone you call when youâre bored or when youâve ordered too much food or whenââ
âThatâs not true,â he argued, his tone sharp now, defensive. âYouâre twisting itââ
âAm I?â you snapped, your eyes finally meeting his. They were wide, startled, but it didnât stop you. âBecause Iâm starting to think this is exactly what it is.â
âWell, what do you think this is?â he asked, his jaw tightening as his hands gripped the edge of the table.
âI donât know,â you said bitterly. âWhy donât you tell me?â
âWeâve talked about this,â Spencer said, his voice low and deliberate, each word cutting deeper than the last. âYou said you wanted to be friends. Friends do this. Friends have dinner. Friends donât force someone to admit someone else is pretty and then make it allâI don't know, all weird after.â
You winced, his phrasing like a mirror reflecting every misstep, every conversation where youâd backed yourself into this corner. Heâs not wrongâyou had said you wanted to be friends. But he didnât know the weight behind that concession.
Youâd thought back to those late-night conversations. The ones where heâd laid out his reasons like a clinical diagnosis: I donât have the time. It wouldnât be fair to you. Iâm not ready. So, youâd waited, convincing yourself that 'not now' meant 'not yet'. But eventually, youâd called it yourself, told him you should just be friends. A sad attempt at controlling a situation you were only ever destined to be hurt by. Because your own destruction should only ever be yours to wieldâand you have to claim it before it can claim you.
Heâd agreed it was better this way and youâd nodded along. Not because you believed it, but because it was a way to keep him in your life. A lifeline you clung to no matter how much it cut into your hands. But labels donât erase whatâs already happened. They donât undo the stolen glances, the kisses in the quiet moments, the nights where you felt like the only two people in the world. They just build a fragile scaffold over it all, a flimsy way of holding up whatâs already crumbling. Dating. On a break. Dating again. Friends. They pile on top of one another like a pathetic plaster over the hurt of what you wished things could be.Â
âRight,â you said finally, the word brittle and sharp as it escapes your lips. Your voice was hollow as your eyes met his, daring him to flinch. âSo I guess that means I canât expect anything from you, right? No decency, no consideration, no⌠nothing. Because weâre not in a relationship. Weâve never been in a relationship. Right?â
âDonât,â Spencer said quietly, almost pleading now. âThatâs not fair. Donât turn this into something itâs not.â
âYouâve made it perfectly clear what this is,â you said, standing from the table, your hands trembling as you gathered your things.Â
âWait,â he said, standing too, âYou donât have toââ
âAnd by the way, Spence,â you cut him off, reaching into your bag and slamming the extra key heâd given you months ago onto the table. It clattered louder than you expected, echoing in the tense silence between you. âYou can have this back. Because last I checked, friends donât have keys to each otherâs apartments.â You were acutely aware of the venom dripping in your voice but you pressed on, the words spilling out before you could stop them. âAnd thanks for the flowers, but I donât think friends go out of their way to buy a bouquet to make up for every friendly dinner they miss.â You didnât wait for a response. You didnât look at his face, didnât want to see whatever expression he was wearing.Â
But the satisfaction of that slam felt distant now. You think back fondly of the girl who had made her point so clear, so definitive. A line drawn in the sand. But winds blow and sand moves. That girl seems like a lifetime away from the girl you are nowâthe one lying here, beside him, again.
Spencer stirs beside you, a quiet sigh escaping his lips, and your breath hitches. You donât want him to wake up. Because ifâwhen he does, you know heâll leave. But until then, in this moment of temporary serenity, you can pretend it doesnât matter. You can pretend itâs okay. You can pretend youâre okay.Â
After all, Einstein said that time is relative. If he doesnât wake up, the moment will never end, and maybeâjust maybeâyou can slow down time itself. You stare at the ceiling, letting the minutes tick past, each one stretching longer than the last.
Your thoughts drift back to what Spencer had said. Time moves slower for those in the jet.
Well, if your apartment is the sky, then this bed is the jet. In the quiet of this moment, his warmth beside you, the faint smell of him lingering on the pillowâthis is where time bends. The rate at which time passes depends on the observerâs frame of reference. Maybe you can trick the universe, make these seconds stretch into hours. Maybe, if you stay still enough, think hard enough, the world outside wonât come knocking. You can freeze this bubble of peace.
But the illusion is tenuous, and reality looms like turbulence on the horizon. Time doesnât truly stop, you know that, weâre all forced to move on along with it. They say time waits for no manâleast of all a broken-hearted girl. The clock keeps ticking, indifferent to your longing. Sooner or later, heâll wake, and the bubble will burst.
You wonder how long you can keep this up. Youâd just been talking earlier tonight, telling each other what had happened in the days you hadnât spoken since the argument. The words had come easier than you expected, though none of them seemed to solve anything. Spencer had fallen asleep mid-sentence, right as you were recounting something trivial about your day. His exhaustion was written all over his faceâthe heavy pull of his eyelids, the way his head tilted slightly toward you before finally giving in. Youâd paused, watching him, and the words you were about to say dissolved into silence. You hadnât wanted to wake him.
The old you wouldâve been angry, the frustration bubbling up into sharp words and accusations. The fight was always the same, well-rehearsed and raw: You always do this. Iâm sorry. When are you not? I missed you. Then why wonât you stay? You know I canât. You can. I canât. It was less of a conversation and more of a script. It had long since stopped being about what either of you said; it was about how you said it and where it always led. It wouldâve ended in a fight, Spencerâs guilt countered by your hurt, spiralling into a familiar standoff with no real resolution.Â
But that was the old you. Sheâd had more fight in her, more fire to demand the things she felt she deserved. That fire has dimmed now, not extinguished, but banked low and steady, like youâve learned to ration it. Itâs not that the frustration has disappearedâit lingers, an ache beneath the surfaceâbut youâve stopped letting it boil over. Deep down, you know the real reason you didnât start a fight tonight. Itâs not just that youâre tired of fighting, though you are. Itâs that you donât know how much fight he still has in him. You donât know if one more argument, one more crack in this fragile thing between you, will be the thing that makes him walk away for good.
And youâre not ready to find out.
So you let it slide. Not because you want to, but because you can. Youâve told yourself youâre strong enough to carry itâto make up the weight of his distance, his exhaustion, his inability to give you what you need. You let him sleep, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, and you tell yourself itâs enough.Â
But Spencer shifts again, and this time his eyes flutter open. You freeze, your body tense, as if staying perfectly still might undo his wakefulness.Â
âHey,â he murmurs groggily, his voice thick with sleep. His arm snakes over your waist, pulling you closer. For a brief, fleeting second, you allow yourself to relish the warmth of his touch, the illusion of intimacy.
Then his hand moves. Heâs reachingânot for you, but for his watch on the bedside table.
He checks the time, squinting in the dim light filtering through the blinds. And you know. You know whatâs coming next.Â
âI should go.â he says softly, his arm already retreating from where it had rested over your waist. He pushes himself up, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.
You sit up slightly, the sheets pooling around you, and force a small smile. âOkayâ you murmur, the words feeling hollow even as they leave your lips.
Spencerâs already out of bed, reaching for his shirt and bag. The routine feels mechanical, practicedâa series of motions heâs repeated so many times it barely registers as something that could hurt you. He pulls the shirt over his head, adjusts the strap on his bag, and leans down to kiss your forehead. Friends, as if. You think.
Itâs a fleeting gesture, a touch thatâs supposed to mean something but feels more like a formality now. More perfunctory than tender.
âIâm sorry I fell asleep,â he says as he straightens, glancing at his watch like heâs late for something more important. âYou shouldâve woken me up.â
You shake your head silently, not trusting that your thoughts wonât betray you. Donât wake up. Donât leave me. Donât go. Instead you settle for, âYou were tired. You should get some rest.â The weight in your chest feels unbearable but you press your lips into a tight, strained smile anyways. A silent permission for him to leave.
He doesnât hesitate.
âDrive safe,â you say quietly as you walk him to the door.
âIâll text you?â he offers, already halfway out.
âOkay,â you reply, the word barely audible.
And then heâs gone.
The sound of the door clicking shut echoes in the quiet of your apartment, final and unrelenting. You stand there for a moment, staring at the door as if willing it to open again, as if hoping he might turn around and come back. You know he wonât.Â
You turn and lean against the wall, the cool surface grounding you, a poor substitute for the warmth that was just beside you. The apartment feels colder, emptier now, the silence deafening. The clock on the wall ticks forward, oblivious to your grief, dragging you further away from the moment he was just here. You feel stuck in place, a reluctant passenger watching the world rush forward while youâre left behind, stranded.
You think back to what Einstein had said and you think heâs got it all wrong. How if one observer moves at the speed of light, time will slow down for them. Because no matter how tightly you try to hold on, the jet doesnât slow down. It wonât wait for you. The jet will keep moving forward, unrelenting, and him along with it. With or without you.
And as you stand alone in the stillness heâs left behind, you realize itâs always been without you.
ââ´ď¸Ë・â hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer x reader#spencer x self insert#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader angst
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I've always thought charles unfollowed him in silent rage while they're flying together after Austria 19 but the clip you posted when max said that charles was like 'its like this' and he replied 'I understand' makes me think that he might actually ask for permission? give explanation? to unfollow max. And max agreed. And that might also be why they never fly together again ever since, but still be seen together doing debrief and generally being civil, though a bit awkward. I think I saw a clip of them on TikTok walking together, they're the only 2 drivers while surrounded by some cameras, and talking the whole way through, a month after Austria 19.
Tbh I wonder what that conversation on the plane entails. I don't think charles only said 'its like this' and then that's it. It's possible yes, since that's one of charles' favorite phrase. But I just wonder if they made some promise like let's only follow each other again after we're both champions. Or something like since we're gonna be direct competitors let's not start investing in deeper friendship between us so it's not gonna blow up, but we can still debrief like usual. And that's why they chose to never hang out (this changed now of course after last year). Or idk I just really want to be a fly on the wall in that whole conversation because max clearly didn't want to explain it further because it's personal.
Anyways just really want to know if them refusing to follow each other even though they clearly keep up with the other's social media is just them thinking it's funny to keep doing it or if it is them feeling like they should honor the promise/conversation they made on that plane.
i think this is the vid you're talking about! tbh max says they werent alone in the plane, probably had to keep their cool/ not cause a scene, and we know Charles is a bit passive aggressive, so that was his way of showing frustration, unfollowing.
Max still had control on his socials but I don't see him asking about it once he realizes Charles unfollowed/ blocked him. they were biting each other even in post race interviews. it was more of a thin ice than being vulnerable to go ask "why did you do that"
And about airmax, always amazes me how they werent so close but Charles flew with him even after the battle- but also, why was he invited at the first place too. they weren't that close. also charles wasnt looking at maxs face on the podium- this was his face lol.
after that, and he wasnt that mature back then, I dont think it was a very sincere "it's like this/its ok". Not to remind that charles was on Max's ass at silverstone/ japan, seething with anger. he was still mad. he was livid, but given 20/21s ferrari, and Max's title battle, he calmed down, and matured more. stopped bringing on track to off track, and started to enjoy debriefs, drivers parades, at least for max.
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Jayvik ramblings
There was once a livejournal where you could compile shipping manifestos, and I wrote one about Zoro/Sanji that had 6000+ words lol. Ngl, Jayvik makes me want to do the same these days, but for now I just need to compile a few thoughts, feel free to gush with me or add to that or correct me.
In every timeline & possibility Viktor chose to save Jayce ("only you can show me this"), even when it meant that they would create hextech and doom the world. And only Jayce can ultimately save Viktor from himself. In the timeline Ekko was sent to where hextech doesn't exist Jayce and Viktor are very possibly dead (suicide / disease), since Jayce was already on the verge of killing himself in the base timeline when his dream was shattered, even without a teenager that died in his lab, and Viktor (who wouldn't have sought out Jayce without his speech about creating magic) would later be dying and wouldn't have shimmer/the hexcore.
There are multiple scenes where Viktor gives Jayce the rune, like when he stops him from killing himself he picks up his bracelet, and he also hands him the crystal when they're trying to stabilize hextech for the first time (just found the imagery symbolic). In their final scene, Jayce gives it back to him (and it looks so gentle for once how he can just remove the rune and carefully hand it to him)
Jayce was always adamant about seeing Viktor as an equal partner from the very beginning ("your hextech dream" "OUR hextech dream" Mel: "you're the dean's assistant" "no, he is my new partner")
In the "this isn't my bedroom" scene Viktor looks displeased when Jayce looks taken by Mel (only noticed that recently!)
Viktor either never noticed or ignored Sky's affections and even after he got to know them after her death, he did not reciprocate and still calls her Ms Young in the astral plane. She can even tell it's not true when he says he will miss their talks. I just saw a clip where Christian Linke even claims that that wasn't actually Sky, but the hexcore pretending to be Sky (which is so dark and twisted IMO). Apparently, Amanda Overton also stated that Sky on the astral plane was a stand-in for Jayce to Viktor. Although I haven't seen the clip myself where she says it.
The constant juxtaposition between Viktor and Mel, starting by their design (Viktor getting progressively more sick and pale, Mel always glowing and golden) and just base characters (Viktor the poor, disabled Zaun rat who has nothing to his name, lives for science and hates being in the lamplight; Mel the influential and cunning politician who makes them her investments). Jayce even hallucinating first Mel and then Viktor in the flames. The Jayce Mel sex scene while Viktor is almost dying and Jayce returning to Viktor after. Also, him deciding to give up on his council seat and his whole career to return to the lab with Viktor where he feels he belongs after Viktor almost died in the beginning of S2.
Jayce ousting his former mentor to save Viktor's life
Viktor convinced that Jayce would understand after Singed tells him everyone will hate and despise him (and Jayce did!)
The scene on the bridge when Jayce has to pick Viktor up in S1 (after he went to Singed) and the POV changes! Where the angles are first neutral, representing them being equal, but then the camera looks down on Viktor as soon as Jayce talks badly about the Undercity.
Jayce's pure terror when he thinks Viktor is dying after the explosion, just being by Viktor's side, sleeping in the lab etc and them handing him that blanket that Viktor keeps forever. Also, Jayce not even hesitating or judging for a second when he sees Viktor's augmented leg etc. He even recorded everything when he continued and used his notes lol.
allll their quotes "it was affection that kept us together" "I thought you were done with Hextech. And with me", being partners again yadda yadda
Even in the midst of everything and his all out war with Viktor, Jayce speaks for himself and Viktor when he quarrels with Mel ("because you used me, and Viktor, for hextech!") and his anger at her not saving Viktor and the others
And I don't think I even have to elaborate on their ending haha, the beauty in Viktor's imperfections, the promise, the wanting his partner back and finishing it together...
And they were celestial roommates <3
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On November 24th 2024 I woke up. It was like any other day. I was NOT expecting to open tumblr and see smut posted by the deity of Spencer Reid tumblr. I knew I had to read it immediately. I was unreasonably excited . I absolutely was NOT prepared for it to be my favorite smut Iâve ever read. So imagine my surprise as Iâm sitting there knocked on my ass from the smut and then itâs not even OVER because itâs also some of the sweetest FLUFF I have ever read?? Itâs all so unique and all so very luveline. When I say nobody else is doing it like her I mean itđđ Iâve never read anything softer or sweeter or more visceral. I fear Jade just has access to some plane of language that the rest of us donât. She can tap into it and make the smallest gestures and details feel warm and kind and lovely. I literally donât understand how she does it but itâs so perfect and beautiful and Iâm continually grateful to be alive at the same time as luveline. Amen everyone say thank you
đđĄđđŤđŤđ˛ đŹđđđŚđŹ
Youâre in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]
c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.
Ë ŕź ŕłâ・Ëâ
Itâs a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. Heâs sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. Heâs normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacketâs been thrown over the back of the chair.Â
He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems⌠eager to please.Â
You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. Heâs the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, whoâs your friend?
You look away once you see an arm rise. Thereâs elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you arenât his type.Â
Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, âExcuse me?âÂ
âRight there with you.â
You wait. He seems cute, but youâre not trying to take him home if he doesnât have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you canât spend another night fluffing someone elseâs feathers.Â
âHey,â he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves youâd read before. He mustâve breathed through them. âHowâs it going?âÂ
You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldnât see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. âHi, handsome,â you say softly. You canât imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. âNothingâs going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.âÂ
âYeah?â he asks.Â
âMm-hm.âÂ
He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. âAre you here alone?âÂ
âI was with a friend,â you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as heâll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. âBut she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.âÂ
âSo youâre in need of company?âÂ
You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. âWould that be you?âÂ
âWhat are you drinking?âÂ
âCherry spritzer.âÂ
âCan I buy you another one?âÂ
âJust one, please.â You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you donât believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. âThis is my first. If I have more than that Iâll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.âÂ
âWhatâs that?â he asks.Â
You tap your nose. The boy âthe manâ to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much.Â
The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didnât tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, âCan you tie a knot?â But before you can answer, he adds, âIâm good at it.âÂ
Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment youâre sitting at the bar wondering if heâll take you home and the next youâre taking a taxi, youâre lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didnât know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; thereâs a difference between kissing for hungerâs sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesnât seem to know the difference.Â
âHave we met before?â you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what heâd started.Â
âNo.â His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. âIâd remember.â
His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast.Â
âDo you wanna cum again?â he asks softly. The best part is that heâs earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek.Â
You could. Heâd done stuff with his mouth youâve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. Youâd felt so suddenly out of control and âand honestly, youâd thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. Heâd been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest.Â
You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness heâd given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. Heâs the prettiest boy youâve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold.Â
âI think you should fuck me now,â you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. âPlease.â
He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesnât pretend he isnât eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side.Â
âWhen did you tell me your name?â you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely.Â
âI donât remember,â he says through a kiss.
âSpencer.âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
âI just thought Iâd try it,â you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over.Â
Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you donât feel.Â
âWhat do you want me to do?â he asks quietly.Â
âJust this.âÂ
âNo, but what do you want?â he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didnât quite make it into a laugh. âWhat feels best? I can get you there again.âÂ
So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then heâs back to kissing you senseless. You canât think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesnât just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, itâs fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything.Â
Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows youâre ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows.Â
He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadnât realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.
âCan I keep going?â he asks just under your ear.Â
You canât say yes fast enough. Heâs kind, ignoring your desperate tone.Â
You donât count the number of times you fuck that night. Itâs not clear, really. They arenât separate occasions. You come down and heâs stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, âYou okay?â as you nod and slip a hand behind his back.Â
He hugs you like heâs known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee.Â
Itâs not that you fuck all night, itâs just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, thereâs a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are.Â
âIâd say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,â he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.
You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. âYou didnât notice me falling asleep?âÂ
He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. âWhen did that happen?âÂ
ââŚI donât want to fall asleep, now.âÂ
âYou donât have to⌠I can make you a cup of tea, orâŚâ He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. âYou could shower.âÂ
Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is heâs doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder.Â
âThat was amazing.â
âYouâre amazing,â he says, wrapping you up all over again. He canât decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed.Â
How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching thatâs making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and heâd just fucked you like a dream. You couldnât manage that sort of pleasure alone.Â
âWhere have you been hiding?â you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can.Â
âNowhere.âÂ
âSo where have you been?âÂ
He takes a breath. âTurn around?â
You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose.Â
âSorry. I should ask, I shouldnât just kiss you,â he says, cupping your cheek.Â
How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders.Â
â
You wake to something new. There isnât a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when youâre ready. Thereâs a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs.Â
âYou okay?â a voice asks.Â
You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face.Â
His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencerâs hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. âI wouldnât have bothered you, but itâs almost one. I was worried you might be sick.âÂ
You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. âI was up late.âÂ
âI know, Iâm sorry.âÂ
You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes.Â
âSo are you? Okay?â he asks gently.Â
âIâll leave soon.âÂ
âThatâs not what Iâm trying to say. If youâre not sick, you can go back to sleep.âÂ
âAnd just lay in your bed all day,â you murmur, disbelieving.Â
âIf you wanted to. Or⌠you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.â His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex canât be something he does often, or thereâs a real possibility that heâs the first man to ever do it right.
His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. âDo you wear glasses?âÂ
He stammers, embarrassed, âHow would you guess that?âÂ
You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. âYou have the marks here. Were you reading?âÂ
âJust while I was waiting for you.âÂ
âWhat do you do?âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âI didnât ask what you do, I donât think we managed to ask each other much of anything,â you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore youâre sure youâd see on yourself in the mirror.Â
âI work for the government,â he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, âfor something called the behavioural analysis unit.âÂ
âLike, statistics?âÂ
He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which youâd explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadnât felt like enough, Spencer leaner than youâd realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly.Â
Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, âI guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. Itâs an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.âÂ
âAnd youâre good at it.âÂ
âIâm good at math, yeah.âÂ
âProbability of a,â âyour breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catchesâ âmorning kiss if I brush my teeth first?âÂ
His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss.Â
You forget that youâre naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish heâd touch you like he did last night, but he isnât so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away.Â
âI had a really great time, last night,â he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. âReally great.âÂ
âMe too.âÂ
âAnd youâre okay?âÂ
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âNothing hurts?â he asks.Â
âNo, of course not.â Your confusion clears. âNo, you werenât like that. I think my legs might be aching but thatâll go away in the shower.âÂ
âI can run you a bath, if you want. Itâs a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but itâll help.â He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesnât want to ebb.Â
âShouldnât have showered without me,â you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesnât want on a new day.Â
âMy hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.âÂ
You sit up. Spencerâs hands fall to yours.
Itâs hard not to play with someoneâs hair when itâs in their face, and when theyâre trailing kisses in warm places. He doesnât blame you really, you can see it in his eyes.Â
For a pause, you just sit.Â
This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadnât intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good.Â
âYouâre not working today, are you?â you ask.Â
âNo, why?â he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.Â
âMaybe weâŚâ He waits. Heâs pretty enough to force your hand. âWe could get to know each other,â you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. âIf you want to.âÂ
âReally?âÂ
âIâve never had that with someone. Maybe weâre, I donât know, compatible in more ways than one.â You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. âYouâre handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.âÂ
âWe could have so much fun,â he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again.Â
You draw a line up his chest. âI might need help getting my back, in the shower. Thatâs not a tight squeeze, is it?âÂ
âWe might have to stand very close.âÂ
You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. Itâs treatment you could grow used to.Â
âÂ
Spencerâs trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks âDerek swore you wereâ and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride.Â
Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked.Â
Then you, the morning after. Youâd slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl youâd been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other.Â
Spencerâs not sure how he managed it, but you donât go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just âcos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. Itâs crazy, except heâs acting the same way.Â
When youâre not fucking youâre in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or youâre laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details.Â
Like, this is it. Youâve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles.Â
âDonât look, Iâm being disgustingââ
âYouâre never disgusting, let meââ
Heâs heard you pee. Heâs kissed you all over. The human aspects of you donât bother him.Â
âSpence, can youââ
âItâs going up your noseââ
ââstop, holy sââ
He pinches your nose clean. âTada. Kiss now?âÂ
âYou wanna share?âÂ
âYes!âÂ
âNo.â You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.
He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, itâs about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didnât know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, youâre asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way.Â
âCan I kiss you now?â he asks imploringly.Â
âNo, weâre done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.âÂ
He canât joke about it or heâll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand.Â
âNo massages.â He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face.Â
âFine, no massages. Unless you want one?âÂ
âNo, we agreed tonight weâd justâ sleep. My boss is onto me.âÂ
You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.
You arenât fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; heâd made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he wonât say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derekâs suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencerâs sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth. Â
Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling youâre not a fling.Â
âI got you some stuff earlier,â he says.Â
You pull his hand from your face and ask, âWhat stuff?âÂ
âLike, stuff you need here. I donât know what you like, but thereâs a cleansing balmâ are you allergic to chamomile?â You shake your head. âUm, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just âcos of the situation yesterdayââ
âI liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is allââ
ââand some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.âÂ
âYou know what shampoo I use?âÂ
âI deduced it.âÂ
âAh, yes, mister profiler,â you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. âIf I hadnât looked you up online Iâd think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?â
He smiles shyly. âI just can.â
âIs there anything else youâve guessed about me?âÂ
âEvery meal with you takes a half hour. Youâre easily distracted.â
He laughs as you protest, âYouâre distracting! You donât need to guess that.âÂ
âYou distract me, too.âÂ
You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. âSpencer,â you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, âthank you. You donât have to buy me stuff, I couldâve just gone home.â
âI donât really want you to.âÂ
You raise your head to see him eye to eye. âI don't want to either. This is⌠I like you.âÂ
He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because youâve shared so many of the latter in the dark. Heâs been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that theyâre okay as long as itâs done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses youâve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend.Â
âI like you too,â he laughs.Â
âYeah?âÂ
âYeah, of course I do.âÂ
âNot justâŚâÂ
âItâs not just the sex,â he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing.Â
âShould we go out, then?âÂ
âWe do.âÂ
âNo, should we date? We could be partners, officially.âÂ
Spencer canât take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight.Â
âPlease, letâs be partners,â he says softly.Â
âMaybe we shouldnât, itâs still soon.âÂ
âFive days and counting. Thatâs longer than some marriages, you know.âÂ
âMaybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.âÂ
âAnd if I donât?â he asks.Â
âThen we get married in Vegas.âÂ
âYou could meet my mom.âÂ
âIâd love to meet your mom.â
âDo you really wanna be my girlfriend?â he asks.Â
âI mean⌠thereâs not such a big difference in dating and what weâre doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.âÂ
âWe did,â he says, failing to hide his grin.Â
You stroke his cheek with your nose.
Your attempt at abstinence doesnât last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesnât intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesnât. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and heâs kissing behind it, and youâre hitching yourself up his chest soon enough.Â
âThat cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?â you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.
You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile.Â
âI guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?â he asks.Â
âI canât remember.âÂ
âI can remind you?â
âThat might be prudent, Dr. Reid.âÂ
âI never shouldâve told you about that,â he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted.Â
âI wouldâve found out eventually. Iâm gonna find out everything about you, honey.âÂ
Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all.Â
Ë ŕź ŕłâ・Ëâ
thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3Â
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Having spent time now with the full series I still donât feel the pacing issues other people seemed to have with it.
I get that as the episodes are releasing and we only have 3 a week and donât have the full picture of what theyâre planning it can be really easy to feel lost and confused.
But now knowing where they were going, a lot of those supposed ârushed plot linesâ people were complaining about make sense. The importance of the Black Rose stuff now makes sense because itâs Ambessaâs entire motivation for why sheâs doing the things sheâs doing. It makes sense to take Ekko and Jayce out of the plot briefly when they visit the hexcore cuz that forces Ambessa to side with Singe. It makes sense why the Warwick stuff was being set up because that ended up being the catalyst to propel Viktor into being the Machine Herald.
Also, it makes sense now why Piltover and Zaun played such an important role in being the stage for where THIS story was set. I get people wanted the show to be more about the inequality, but the inequality was always just the set dressing for the main characters to be in and was never the central focus of the show. Not even back in season 1.
Like back in season 1 the inequality helped explain the characters motivations, but the central core message the story was telling was how people compromised their morals with good intentions only to achieve terrible results.
Jayce built Hextech to help the undercity and he ends up using it against them. Viktor obsesses so much over fixing his disease that he compromises and takes shimmer and in the process Sky dies. Silco dreams of a free Zaun, but it results in him essentially becoming a drug lord and harming the people of Zaun more than helping them. Caitlyn breaks Vi out of prison to help her hunt down Jinx, and in the process of having Vi return into her life inadvertently causes Jinx to double down and attack the Piltover council.
Inequality was a setting and a backdrop, but the show was never focused on resolving or exploring those issues much deeper than it was.
Also, about that pacing.. have you guys gone back and rewatched Season 1? The first 2 episodes are pretty chill with the pacing, but episode 3 goes crazy. And so does episode 4 and 5 and 6⌠like the pacing gets wilder and wilder as the season goes on until towards the end we are jumping from Silco reeling from nearly getting killed by Sevika to having a friendly discussion with Jayce on the bridge to being captured by Jinx. Itâs FAST guys. Breakneck speed.
I will also say that rewatching season 1 gives me an appreciation for a lot of the parallels they had in season 2 that I missed. Things like âRemember Meâ being the theme to when Vander attacks Silco back in season 1. Or like how when AU Powder appears on the dance floor with Ekko mirrors how Jinx approached him on the bridge in Season 1 Episode 7. Or how Jayce and Viktor invented Hextech floating up on the ceiling, and the series ends with the two floating in the ethereal plane together.
I maintain that a lot of these criticisms about season 2âs pacing are not as bad as some people think they are once you take the whole series together as a whole. Without that 3 year gap or the wait between episode drops, the whole series blends together much more seamlessly.
And then thereâs like⌠season 2 episode 7? That episode stops all the forward momentum and resets our expectations. It provides us with context for some of the stuff we had seen and helps us understand the stakes going forward. When people are complaining the series is going by too fast I just canât agree because that episode exists and it literally stops us in our tracks before ramping up again.
I understand that some side characters outside the central 7-8 mains werenât fully developed much and that is definitely a valid criticism of the show⌠however I would also remind people that season 1 had a similar problem. Grayson was a fascinating character I wish I knew more about, but outside of a small cameo in episode 5 sheâs just gone out of the series forever and nobody brings her up again ever. We never learn much about Huck. We never learn what happened to Clagger and Myloâs parents. We never learn anything about Finn and what he did. We never learn more about the robot council member or the woman who has a clock on her neck. There are a LOT of characters who just never come back at all in season 1.
I dunno guys.. the more I digest this series the more many of the criticisms feel unfounded or a real reach for something to complain about.
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itâs so crazy to me that snow is real and actually normal for a lot of people. iâve seen that shit Once and it was just on the ground already not falling from the sky or anything so my idiot gremlin brain suspects someone just put it there with a machine
#before iâm accused of anything you gotta understand that on a Real Physical level i barelyyyy accept rain#like if i wasnât kicking it with rain my whole life iâd be suspicious of it too#because on an intellectual level i understand the rain cycle you know evaporation -> clouds -> rain etc i watched the magic school bus i get#it#but my dumb idiot animal gremlin brain Does Not Get It. how are clouds water why is the water allowed to float like that etc#and i do know why!! i do!!! on paper. but then i look at the sky and my brain goes caveman mode#itâs like how i really Donât Understand bicycles and how they stay upright#like i know itâs physics and momentum etc. and i can see it working for everyone else#but iâve never been able to learn how to ride a bike because spiritually i Donât Get It#yes i am stupid but please take solace in the fact that i know that iâm stupid about these things#i also do NOT understand how planes do that
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#still wild to me that i am in a relationship#itll be 3 months next week and i am obsessed with him than ever#i never couldve imagined itd actually be like this but it is literally everything i ever wanted#hes sooooo kind#and sweet and i could gush about him all day long#i mentioned in front of two of his friends how im planning to buy a ps5 in the next couple months bc i only have Nintendo consoles#and i wanna play other games#and his two friends where like well why arent you getting a gaming pc?????#important note here: they all are gaming nerds and they are all like IT guys incl my boyfriend#and i explained that its just the easiest way and that im not really a pc gamer#(but important note here is that my bf has hi gaming pc set up on his tv and plays with a controller exclusively and i do vibe with that)#and then all 3 basically were like we will literally build you a gaming pc ourselves so you dont buy a ps5!!!!#that was 2 days ago.#yesterday my boyfriend showed me his research into possible gaming pc set ups for me that would be within a certain budget#while still being definitely more than good enough#and he explained some things to me and asked my opinions#and now im sat here like ok đĽş#i think ill let my boyfriend build me a gaming pc#mind you i wasnt planing on getting a ps5 before fall the earliest bc im planning on moving soon and money and all that#but hes already planning and gathering ideas#while still understanding why i initially wanted a ps5 (less money and i have no idea about gaming pc set ups) and leaving it fully up to me#i am also now at exactly 100 hours into elden ring with him as my backseater#which means end game shit#i am currently switching between trying to win against Malenia Mogh lord of blood and radagon#its........ going#i maxed out my number of flasks and charges?? is that what its called#and i got my +10 staved and sword/catana#its still super fun but hoh boy#the rush of adrenaline when i finally beat godfrey and my boyfriend was so hapoy for me too it was honestly super fucking adorable#personal
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Okay, no, sorry, Iâm still mad about this. âBe critical of the media you consume and examine why you react to it in the way that you do, support marginalized and stigmatized identities.â Yeah, until itâs about mental illness.
A woman (or even man, if heâs deemed over-emotional) makes music about suffering from mental illness and people just go, âWhat are they complaining about, thatâs so immature, hashtag wangst.â (And then, sometimes, inexplicably, if the mentally ill woman gets better and writes happier music, they then talk about how artistically bankrupt she is now and that she should go back to hating herself.)Â People LOVE cis white pRoBLeMaTiC (straight) fictional men until they are realistically mentally ill, in which case theyâre âwhinyâ and âinsufferableâ and deserve to die violently, apparently (or, if fandom is merciful, theyâre ignored). (And then they celebrate when they DO inevitably get killed off.) âDo your duty and watch [thing I, mc13, personally find insufferable] For The (white) Gays because it has Gays.â Sure, will you watch c4 Pure, the ONLY show specifically about OCD, then? (No, the answer is no, itâs always no.)
I canât get anyone to watch Doom Patrol. I couldnât get people (in general-I did convince a few irl friends thank GOD) to watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. One of the most popular and acclaimed shows right now has a character with schizophrenia who was turned into the Big Bad Villain for no fucking reason. One of the most commonly-cited examples of Iconic⢠queer media involves a mentally ill man being broken over and over and over again before The Ship⢠can reasonably happen. DW introduced a major character who was at one point suffering from mental illness in her past, AND THEN ALL MENTION OF THIS WAS COMPLETELY DROPPED IN THE FUTURE, WITH NO BEARING ON ANYTHING TO THE POINT WHERE I FORGOT IT EVEN EXISTED??!?!? R*tched was a thing that existed despite the Sad Sympathetic Backstory treatment being IN DIRECT CONTRADICTION OF WHAT PURPOSE THIS CHARACTER SERVED IN One Flew Over the Cuckooâs Nest. THEY GAVE. A SAD WOOBIE VILLAIN TREATMENT. TO THE /LITERAL PERSONIFICATION/ OF ABLEISM. THAT IS HER FUNCTION. TO EXIST AS A SYMBOL OF ALL THE WAYS SOCIETY OPPRESSES THE DISABLED AND MENTALLY ILL.
I am!!! Literally!!!!! The only one!!!!!!!!! Complaining about these things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE ONLY ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one else has said ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one is talking about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Iâm so tired!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#*OBLIGATORY COMMENT ABOUT HOW REPRESENTATION/FICTIONAL DISABILITY IS NOT THE END ALL BE ALL OF ACTIVISM*#*OTHER OBLIGATORY COMMENT ABOUT HOW LIKING '''pRoBLeMaTiC''' CONTENT DOES NOT MAKE YOU A BAD PERSON OR A HORRIFYING ABLEIST*#THIS WAS JUST ME GETTING MAD IT'S NOT THAT DEEP#In the Vents#the real horror was the ableism we found along the way#like. in some of these cases yes I /KNOW/ it was not meant to come across like that!!! but y'all accept that as a valid type of media#criticism when it's about anything else!!!!!!!! just not this apparently????!?!!!!#I do not understand how there is such an ABYSMAL treatment of the subject of mental illness in fiction when this is the#memetic Mental Illness Website like genuinely I do not get it I am scaling my walls and banging pots and pans and growling like a rabid dog#IF YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT THE MESSAGE A STORY IS TELLING YOU GOTTA APPLY IT HERE TOO#I AM ALSO THE LAST PERSON TO SAY THAT YOU'VE GOTTA ADD A DISCLAIMER OF SOMETHING'S LAUNDRY LIST OF FLAWS BEFORE YOU TALK ABOUT IT#BUT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST YOU HAVE TO ACKNOWLEDGE ON SOME LEVEL EVEN IF IT'S JUST TO YOURSELF THAT THINGS HAVE FLAWS#YOU'VE GOTTA BE AWARE OF SHIT#WHEN WILL WE HAVE THE OUTCRY OVER BURY YOUR DISABLED THAT WE DO OVER BYG (WHICH IS ALSO BAD BTW)#I GUARANTEE YOU WE WON'T BE GETTING A SEPARATE FUCKING CON OVER FANDOM OUTCRY THAT'S FOR SURE#I'm making a rule: if you can prove to me that you've started cxgf after reading this and/or if you can prove to me#that you've watched pure (channel 4/hbo max-the one with charly clive) I'll write a fic for you#let's see if I get sniped for criticizing both the beloved sacred mads show AND the plane crash girls show#if I see ONE more comment about how either of those is a perfect show that Gets What All The People Want I will in fact spontaneously#combust.#(and before you @ me yes I have any and all permutations of show tags blocked I'm not just being mean to be mean)#my god remember what happened the last time I tried to talk about this a;lsdfkajs;ldfkj#good thing I turned off anonymous asks!!#this is not even getting into some of the SMALLER fandoms#like I do not ever want to think about the takes I saw for ctrlz EVER again
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Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah
#Leviathan is a mass of bodies. Shiva wears the ash of burned corpses. Transforming in both cases the masses into the Matter of the Bodiless#ramblings //#leviathan //#Maheshvara //#Not surprised this is coming up now he loves his fun fact time. Earlier I was poking at what he was doing#because he's... very distracted. And uh. Somewhere over yonder doing war stuff with people. And I was thinking about how he is just so many#circumstance based people at the same time. He'll be doing paperwork in a Royal Office somewhere and on a battlefield elsewhere and#running through the forest as a deer somewhere else and living as members of a school of fish in some transcendental lake#and scrying the pools of God and watching birds in a forest... and he incarnates here too and will be a chef downtown#and a teacher somewhere else up also doing paperwork and some dog on the street begging for food and and and#And over all of it... That central blissful mind that is water itself. all it's senses of self - emotions. thoughts. and so on - arising#from its various movements and shapes as reflections on the surface. But also... a sweet thing. Anyway#That black umbrella Lev that's deep and beyond names... beloved.... Searching for someone...#Shiva throws himself down into reality to bounce around as rays of light... the sun incarnating through the day sky into plants then into#animals and so on slowly recollecting more and more who he is. Searching for Shiva#always. Well. You found him. But then... Well. You go past the crying screaming stage of birth and then you get to fun#You gestate. You know who you are when the Sun's light touches your eyes. You scream at it. You change. You grow.#Then you learn the world is fun... People talk about how it seems ridiculous that someone who had achieved oneness would come back#and I wholly agree on a side thought relevant to that that most people who claim to know oneness don't know it#because the idea of oneness itself is actually a product of duality IE you have to be on a world where Two exists to understand One#One doesn't exist in a unified world. There's no One. In a unified world... So you can absolutely achieve a state of oneness while still#being non-unified if you don't truly get it... But anyway. On the why come back thing... Yeah people don't get it. But people who do get it#come back all the time. This reality is just an experience. You can spend your entire life asleep or you can come play and experience#So. Lev's incarnations on this plane mirror his incarnation of Shiva Into Bodies... He comes here to play games. He plays#He takes photos. He wanders. He plays music for people on street corners. He laughs. He loves. He suffers. He experiences.#Sometimes he doesn't understand. Sometimes he understands. Anyway.... Looking through his eyes... Iridescent scene of cranes#flying over a sunset more rich than I've ever seen on earth but so natural. Fire without fire. Water catching and soaking up every colour.
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sorry I'm actually still not over when I decided to try to buy tickets to the lovejoy show in denver for this up-coming december "as a joke" bc it'd been a handful of minutes since they went on sale and I'd thought it be sold out..
and then I literally got 4 tickets in my cart fully being held for me and ready to check out and I had to let them go because a) I didn't have enough money in my account to buy all 4 tickets + the fees, and, b) I couldn't buy a plane ticket to go to another state for a lvjy concert đ
I'm still not over it like do you understand how difficult it can be to get lvjy tickets?? and I had to let them go??? aughhh
#if I'd had the money I totally would've tried to get a plane ticket though lmao#but I picked out 4 tickets bc I have 3 friends I would've loved to go with (2 of which haven't seen them live yet)#and also I was literally doing this as a joke#like you don't understand I'll get all the way to checkout with plane tickets or hotel bookings and stuff as a joke#and just to see how much it would cost#bc idk I think it's fun#but it backfired so badly with the lvjy tickets I'm still so sad </3#stella rambles
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i will be getting on a plane in 3 hours. i have not been inside an airport since i was 8 years old. how does this shit work? is my bag over 50 pounds? probably. letâs hope i donât anxiety cry during the tsa check
#sorry this is just rambling#but i literally do not understand how airports work#also itâs -35° F#how does that affect a plane?
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Aha tonight I am too tired to get myself off the couch and upstairs to take a shower and go to bed
Instead I have been curled up under a blanket since 8 PM, slept through the entire postgame show (but stayed awake-ish enough to know that the Avs didnât blow their three-goal lead), woke up when ESPN started blaring ads, retrieved delicious grocery store cake from the fridge, and then alternated between scrolling through my phone and watching modern family until. 20 min ago. But Iâm now at least upstairs.
Iâm getting up at 10 AM, though. I canât completely fuck up my sleep schedule. Especially since I have to catch a SIX AM FLIGHT on Thursday lololololololol godddddd
#dad fucking of course those are the only tickets still available#because you waited until SIX DAYS BEFORE WE WANTED TO ARRIVE to get them#jfc. anyway. lowkey regretting saying oh yeah sure we should go to a Minnesota timberwolves game IN JANUARY dad sure yeah#but itâs fine. leaving Thursday. getting back Sunday. not a big deal.#I arranged with friend to get these tickets in NOVEMBER#Iâve been bugging my dad to coordinate on the plane tickets since xmas#I cannot tell you how fucking stressed I am by what was supposed to just be a chill (no pun intended) trip#to see two sports games#(well actually it was supposed to be in February when the Avs were playing but his gf has something else she needs to travel to)#(do I understand why she needs to go? no)#(does it make it easier to rationalize âdad please letâs not all stay in the same hotel roomâ? yes)#whatever. itâs fine. Iâm not gonna die Iâm just going to be uncomfortable#(but also why must we coordinate. I can take an Uber to the hotel from the airport. itâs not a big deal.)#(also wait why are we getting a rental car for the weekend trip????)#I just⌠whatever. itâs fine!!! everything is fine!!!!! I am just so grumpy today!!!!!#and I need to go to bed!!!!!#go to bed self!!!!
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"Seriously considering" with it not being expected to be operational until the mid-2030s with an election a year away and two parties were committed to it over a decade ago without a word since...
I'm very much for passenger rail but I have very little expectations for this to happen given the project was announced in 2021, the winning bidder hasn't been selected yet, there's been no public input, and the whole thing has been in limbo for over a decade.
It smacks of a "concept of a plan" and the Liberals announcing it's considering it (yet again) to try to get votes without breaking election campaign laws with no commitment to follow through on it.
It's not like Trudeau has had a majority for just shy of a decade, the framework of this hasn't existed before that, or there hasn't been demand for this if it was really such a priority to get done.
Also with VIA being involved, I doubt it will be affordable. Reliability may increase by not having to give way to freight trains (frequency is also unknown and they aren't big on frequency to begin with) but the company has jumped feet first into embracing air travel baggage fees and restrictions while charging as much or more than a plane ticket would be.
It's almost like selling off nationalized rail to freight companies was a bad thing, as was expecting a Crown corp to figure out its own funding to minimize how much the government subsidizes.
The federal government is "seriously" considering building the country's first high-speed rail link between Quebec City and Toronto, says Public Services and Procurement Minister Jean-Yves Duclos. Ottawa announced plans back in 2021 to build what it called a "high-frequency" (HFR) rail corridor with stops in Toronto, Peterborough, Ottawa, Montreal, Trois-Rivières, Laval and Quebec City. At the time, the government estimated the cost at between $6 billion and $12 billion. The federal government identified three qualified bidders for the project last year. A spokesperson for VIA HFR, the VIA Rail subsidiary set up to oversee the project, said the bidders have been asked to provide the government with two options: a "conventional" rail network with trains reaching speeds of 200 km/h, and a network with trains reaching speeds "comparable to those of European trains."
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Tagging: @newsfromstolenland
#it also doesn't take 10 years to build a 1000km track from scratch#and looks like this has been in the works since the early 00s so even before the ndp and liberals promised it in the 10s#and the sad thing is that corridor is the best via operates#here out west it's maybe one train a day and arrival time is a suggestion that can be hours after the stated time#you have to show up early for departure but the arrival window makes appliance delivery windows look small and easy to plan around#and they can't even be bothered to have wifi even when trips take day(s)#also the cars tend to be old and in bad shape because maintenance has to be deferred due to lack of government funding#and why the hell does a train have a baggage weight limit for carry-ons????#i can understand checked to protect employees (though there should be equipment available to move anything over 50lbs)#but carry-ons?#trains don't have to account for weight or weight distribution or fuel weight the same way planes do#also they expect you to show up 45+ minutes before departure to measure and weigh your luggage#high speed rail is good and all but the government/via can't even handle 'regular' speed rail#or make rail reliable/affordable/convenient so it's worse and more expensive than even amtrak in the states#and sure as hell isn't close to european rail#would love love love more rail but given how long this has been in the planning stages#and is set up as an 'elect us again because it will take until after the election to approve this'#i don't have any faith this will happen or comes from a genuine place of wanting to make rail viable#especially as via is a disaster of a crown corp and the feds have been so tight-fisted about actually funding them
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The boy reading with Halo font
I expect him to vanish behind closed doors with "someone" and we'll see him if he's hungry....
Or wandering.
#this is a pacer here#it looks like a great place to pace though#or making me a Grandpa#me: đ¤ it's fine it is just more difficult to picture him making it#not really ... I know his blood#it's like the A-team with one OÎÎ#like our culture: hey how's it going *bang*#our culture after: smokes a cigarette like Matthew McConaughey in Teue Detective talking about time is a flat circle#me: standing in his holo cells in a small plane while at 13 14 and beyond#well my vocal chords can work baritone and bass but my spirit is a rainbow of rainbows#color? I dunno ... I don't care#if you like my dick please suck it with all your might#you're gonna need heart#you're gonna need ambition to overcome a motherload#also the sawing zip ties with feet#curious that I must say#it speaks of fun pre school times and also alludes to something dark as fuck that makes me want to kill things#I don't care if I am also the Devil...so's being alive#Arthur.....I mean.... he lived#but he's still breathing here#when I sat there and had to do dead to life math I am like 167 years sir that's a while#I am also like I have made much more progress in 45 than you did in 167 so thanks for cumming in grandma#I see him again after đ¤ 23 years#understandably it took almost a full school year to catch on#mhm I used to call him air as a child of not grandpa#he was standing in the hall by my door watching my room#curious old ancestors#and *I* am the one who has to ease his pain#go the distance#bring Arthur back like a good God
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