#i often forget that i also look like my art

[grzybjek]

think. artists resemble their work the same way dogs resemble their owners

[puppppppppy]

moshi moshi..

[bluehairperson]

Sometimes I see posts about how "I, Strahd" Tatyana has the personality of a cardboard but I don't think I agree honestly.

We only see her in very few scenes (all from Strahd's POV) and she's always very gentle and soft spoken.

Which makes completely sense since she was a lowborn orphan trying to make a good impression on her future brother in law, who is not only the ruler of the valley but also a feared war criminal. Of course she would try to be as nice as possible in front of him.

I also think that Strahd was extremely genuine in thinking he was in love with Tatyana, it's just that he never really knew her the way Sergei did. He only knew a facet.

[justablah56]

head in my hands working on a self portrait and I thought I finished it so I sent it to myself so I could post it and then realized I forgot my moles and acne but now I don't want to look at my drawing tablet again this is literally so sad

[qwuilty]

Annually remembering i can draw whatever shit i want and making it everyone your problem

[blondeaxolotl]

i just think of something silly lol i imagine like maybe r!ciel o!ciel and alois having a little tea party and they asked claude and undertaker to get stuff because undertaker was playing pretend as a butler and claudes already one and they look for them and see them smooching

The thought of Claude kissing Undertaker makes me fully believe this mans taste in men CAN and WILL get worse the moment you start to think it can't get worse

[killjoy-prince]

I was reading manga telling myself to go to bed to no avail when my brother called telling me to open the door because he forgot his keys. When I opened the door, I told him he was lucky I was reading manga bc no one else was up right now and so he thanked me and then went to my room and said in a cutesy voice "Thank you manga~!"

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

what’s the story about the generative power model and water consumption? /gen

There's this myth going around about generative AI consuming truly ridiculous amount of power and water. You'll see people say shit like "generating one image is like just pouring a whole cup of water out into the Sahara!" and bullshit like that, and it's just... not true. The actual truth is that supercomputers, which do a lot of stuff, use a lot of power, and at one point someone released an estimate of how much power some supercomputers were using and people went "oh, that supercomputer must only do AI! All generative AI uses this much power!" and then just... made shit up re: how making an image sucks up a huge chunk of the power grid or something. Which makes no sense because I'm given to understand that many of these models can run on your home computer. (I don't use them so I don't know the details, but I'm told by users that you can download them and generate images locally.) Using these models uses far less power than, say, online gaming. Or using Tumblr. But nobody ever talks about how evil those things are because of their power generation. I wonder why.

To be clear, I don't like generative AI. I'm sure it's got uses in research and stuff but on the consumer side, every effect I've seen of it is bad. Its implementation in products that I use has always made those products worse. The books it writes and flood the market with are incoherent nonsense at best and dangerous at worst (let's not forget that mushroom foraging guide). It's turned the usability of search engines from "rapidly declining, but still usable if you can get past the ads" into "almost one hundred per cent useless now, actually not worth the effort to de-bullshittify your search results", especially if you're looking for images. It's a tool for doing bullshit that people were already doing much easier and faster, thus massively increasing the amount of bullshit. The only consumer-useful uses I've seen of it as a consumer are niche art projects, usually projects that explore the limits of the tool itself like that one poetry book or the Infinite Art Machine; overall I'd say its impact at the Casual Random Person (me) level has been overwhelmingly negative. Also, the fact that so much AI turns out to be underpaid people in a warehouse in some country with no minimum wage and terrible labour protections is... not great. And the fact that it's often used as an excuse to try to find ways to underpay professionals ("you don't have to write it, just clean up what the AI came up with!") is also not great.

But there are real labour and product quality concerns with generative AI, and there's hysterical bullshit. And the whole "AI is magically destroying the planet via climate change but my four hour twitch streaming sesh isn't" thing is hysterical bullshit. The instant I see somebody make this stupid claim I put them in the same mental bucket as somebody complaining about AI not being "real art" -- a hatemobber hopping on the hype train of a new thing to hate and feel like an enlightened activist about when they haven't bothered to learn a fucking thing about the issue. And I just count my blessings that they fell in with this group instead of becoming a flat earther or something.

[doremimosasol]

⋆˙⟡ Just thinking about MATTHEO RIDDLE's love language. He'd be such a lover boy when he finally has you, always reminding you of the love his heart bears.

Doves, cats, bunnies... Mattheo would succeed in enchanting parchment into every shape or form, letting them delicately land on your desk. The paper would gently graze the tips of your fingers as if urging them to absorb the words he wrote.

"Darling, the sun should be jealous of your radiant smile." — "That ribbon in your hair reminds me of the string that binds me to you." — "To love a heart as beautiful as yours has been the biggest gift in my life."

Mattheo would often take walks on the school grounds to drown out his sorrows, preferably alone but not without keeping you in the back of his mind. You’d often receive flowers — “Almost as beautiful as you.” —, stones shaped like a heart, unicorn hair… Every single walk, he’d search for something to gift you.

To him, defense against the dark arts classes were rubbish. — “They don’t teach you to properly defend yourself, so let me, please.” — He’d teach you to use dark magic while also letting you learn its weaknesses. It’d bring you two into the late hours of the night, hidden in the room of requirement. Always making sure to keep lingering touches on your hips, wrist, and shoulders. — “Just so you know the proper form.” bullshit

Having your own dorm room? No, you didn’t, he’d plead with you to stay in his all the time. He’d use excuses like ‘just protecting you’ or ‘keeping your nightmares away’. Silly guy. He just couldn’t handle not holding you through the night.

He’d often give you massages, driving away the tension in your shoulders. His lips would often follow the motion of his hands until no spot would be left unkissed.

Intimate times had two sides. Either he’d be pretty rough — not without telling you how beautiful you look — other times he’d be so soft. But not once he’d forget to take proper care of you after. Showering together sometimes for another round and kissing the skin painted by his love, or just taking a relaxing bath with your back resting against his chest.

He'd spend months to find a way to sneak out of Hogwarts for a weekend trip to London. Taking romantic strolls through the city, ending the day with his coat wrapped around you and a hot chocolate in your hands to keep you warm enough.

His biggest love language would be words of encouragement and soft touches. Often combined.

“How’d my love sleep?” — “Has my pretty girl eaten breakfast today?” — “My smart girlfriend, always working so hard.” — “I’m proud of you.” —

— “I love you.”

[peapod20001]

Gbb hhjj

[saturngalore]

afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hey!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. A prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to imply that a character is two-faced but mostly just signals that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that. I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different. A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here) - maybe it will give you some ideas.

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way. A fav of mine.) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor. I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed.

[viharbinger]

Hi there! Saw your post of Ken Sato request. I was thinking about one I have and I had a OS in mind, a Ken Sato x Fem! Reader with the Bad Boy x Good Girl trope. Similar to Rapunzel and Eugene's relationship. Reader is an amazing artist and such a Sunshine while Ken is the opposite.

It's up to you how you wanna write it. Take your time and no need to rush.

Good Girl's Bad Boy

pairings: Kenji Sato x fem!reader

a/n: I loev him so much help

warnings: erm idk, parents disapproving of Ken lol, this is fluff!!

You and Kenji started dating when you both were in LA and were teenagers. Your parents hated his guts. He was egotistical, had a big bike, got into fights often, he's basically in every parenting 101 on who your kid should not date. Despite your parents disapproval however, it didn't stop you from dating him and they can't pull you away from him anyway. So the only thing your parents can do to protest is roll their eyes at him whenever he picks you up on his bike for dates.

They did not like having him around either, but that also didn't stop him. Up to 12am when you're doing your art assignments, he would often climb up your bedroom window. And get a couple of injuries along the way.

A soft knock was heard at your window. You peer at the window away from your painting, and notice a familiar figure. It was your boyfriend, Ken. Smiling, you move to pull up the window, helping him in so he doesn't trip all over your stuff. "You just don't listen to my parents, do you?" You deadpanned, smirking. "You didn't listen when they told you not to date me." He raised his hands up in defense.

As you were watching him talk, you noticed he had fresh injuries on his cheeks. You furrowed your eyebrows, placing your hands on his cheeks to check for further injuries. "Did you get hurt getting up here? Next time just call me and I'll let you in quietly from the front door." You pouted as he places his own hands above yours. "But then it wouldn't be so thrilling, right?" He raises an eyebrow, grinning.

"You're too much." You walk away to look for your bandaids in the bathroom. Unfortunately all you had were hello kitty bandaids, but that didn't stop you from giving it to him. Placing it onto his face, you can't help but giggle at how cute he looks. "You look so silly." You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm. "What? What did you do?" He furrows his eyebrows, walking to your mirror to look at his face. "Aww, seriously?" He whines, to which you stifle your laugh.

"I think it's adorable. You're adorable." You place a firm kiss to his cheek, his ears warming and turning red from the contact. "I can't let anyone see me in this... I've got a... A reputation to live up to!" He makes up an excuse. "Oh be quiet. It wouldn't kill you to have a hello kitty bandaid. I think it's pretty badass." You reassured him. "Seriously?" He laughs for a moment before flickering his eyes to your art piece.

"What're you working on?" He asks, watching as you move to excitedly show him what you were painting. "It's a cat!" You excitedly show him, it was detailed and coloured halfway, but there were outlines to show what you wanted to paint of course. He chuckles, he loves seeing you gleam when showing your work. "Beautiful artwork, sweetheart." He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Let's not forget he has a bike. A cool one. The first time you rode on it, you were like a scared cat, holding onto his waist tightly. Your parents hated this of course, because they much prefer a well suited man with a car.

Man... You wished Kenji would've shown a little less attitude when talking to other men that showed you even the slightest attention. The amount of fights he's gotten in for you. And the amount of first aid you've had to do for him. And meeting your parents for the first time, he had a bunch of bandaids on his face and arms, looking like a total thug that fights a lot. -10000 points for him. Your parents just want their angel daughter date someone nicer, you know?

Over the years, your parents eventually accepted him because he has been getting a lot of brownie points for being a big baseball star and.... Being considerably rich. Despite your family's disagreements on this, you moved to Japan with him, as well. After taking the most confusing and unbelievable news of him having to take over Ultraman, of course.

I mean, Japan is beautiful. It's a brilliant place to start your art career— that is, what Ken says when he convinces you to move with him. Moving in the same house was one thing, but moving together to a different country was a bigger thing! Hell, you've both done so many things behind your family's back that you just went right with it.

"Oh, what the heck! Let's move to Japan." You agreed to his proposal, to which he smiled brightly, planting a sweet kiss to your lips. You can definitely see the rest of your life in Japan. Cheering for him in the stands, treating his injuries after any kaiju incidents, and morning coffees together before work... What you didn't expect was a giant pink lizard wanting Ken as her daddy.

He was so frustrated of having to take over his father's job, and stressed out, only you could reassure him. He needs a little sun in his cloudy days, AKA you. You're like the soft breeze on a hot day, or the rainbow at the end of the road!

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

📕 Lesson 1: Female Anatomy

Series masterlist

Continue studying: Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Summary: Eddie’s failing class, so you decide to offer two different styles of biology tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

W/C: something around 4k (I didn’t do a word count after editing, sorry)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, NSFW, PWP, smut with a story. Exhibitionism (f), mutual masturbation (m+f), swearing, innuendo, pet names, slight sub/dom dynamic, subtle size kink? Both Reader & Eddie are overage. No y/n. Reader’s appearance is not described, it can be whatever you like.

A/N: A cute little bit of biology lesson-based smut. I’m a sucker for virgin!Eddie and wanted to see if I could write him. Let me know how I did! 😄

My masterlist

You’ve had a crush on the guy in your Biology class since the beginning of the year when you first saw him ranting on a table in the cafeteria. There’s something about him that’s so different from the guys you’d usually go for. You run in completely different social circles, you with the academically-gifted ‘Brainy Bunch’ (an eye-rollingly terrible moniker coined by the we-think-we’re-so-clever jocks), and him with his nerdy friends. Despite this you find him unusual and intriguing, not to mention hot as all hell. You guess the ‘freak metalhead’ look doesn’t work for everyone, but his long hair and rebellious dark ink are certainly doing it for you. You really want to discover what’s underneath those layers of denim, leather and torn shirts, your imagination only able to go so far as you ponder his form late at night in your bed.

However, girls talk, and you’ve never heard of him being with any of them, or even speaking to all that many. For all his bravado and apparent confidence, you’re reasonably certain that Eddie Munson is still a virgin.

And for some reason this draws you to him even more.

You’re pretty sure you’ve caught Eddie checking out your ass as it’s perched on a high stool while he sits behind you in the biology lab. On days when you’re in this class you’ve started to wear your tightest jeans, and your shortest skirts (though if anyone asked you’d insist it was a coincidence).

Somehow you’ve become inexplicably clumsy (but only in this class, how odd…), often dropping your pencil and having to bend over to pick it up, occasionally chewing on the end in contemplation when you know he’s watching, much to the chagrin of your teacher.

“Never put anything in your mouth in the lab, you should all know better by now.”

You smirk at the innuendo in Eddie’s direction and he quickly looks away, ears exposed by his lab-regulation tied-back hair a little pink at the tips.

You also often ‘forget’ or ‘lose’ equipment, asking him if he’s got a spare, or could he please get you a replacement from the cupboards, which he’s always more than willing to do (giving you ample opportunities to observe his denim-clad ass as he does so).

“Damn, I seem to be one test tube short. Eddie, would you be a doll and get me one from the cupboard?”, crossing your legs and subtly ensuring the hem of your skirt rides up just a little more.

Eddie looks you up and down (result!) and agrees.

“Thanks, you really are my knight in shiny, um, leather?” You wince slightly at your clumsy comment, but he takes it in his stride, continuing the bit by replying,

“Here you go, your majesty”, bowing theatrically and presenting the glassware to you atop his forearm, making you grin.

In another lesson: “Shit, I tore my filter. Eddie, do you have a spare?”

“Anything for the Princess of Biology.”

He gives you a little smirk, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly. You can’t help gazing at his strong, ring-clad hands as he hands you the little circle of absorbent paper.

It becomes somewhat of a game, you playing the Princess and he the rescuing knight.

But for all your teasing you genuinely do actually want to help him pass the class. You don’t want him to have to repeat the year - you’ve seen him play at The Hideout and you know he’s meant for greater things.

It’s just biology, it can’t be any harder than what little you’ve picked up about that complicated game he plays, which seems to be all numbers, convoluted plots and organising “campaigns”, whatever they are. You’re sure he could pass if he’d just apply himself.

Or, perhaps, he just needs the right tutor…?

You’d broached it with your science teacher, offering to help ‘any students who were behind’ for extra credits. After he’d agreed you’d approached Eddie that same day, offering to come to his home and help him with his overdue assignments.

He was confused and skeptical at first, thinking this could all be some elaborate prank, but you were gentle and persuasive, and he’d agreed to pick you up later that day.

You’re sitting on his worn-out sofa, draped with a well loved but soft blanket. You’ve spent the last hour trying to get Eddie to understand cellular respiration (“Isn’t it just, like, breathing in and out?” “No, Eddie, this is cell biochemistry, it’s a bit more complicated than that”), but nothing you attempt seems to be working.

He’s despondent, won’t look at you, and seems resigned to his fate of never passing this particular subject, interjecting with statements like,

“Look, it’s just not going in.”

“I don’t know how to make it stick.”

“I don’t think I’ll get it, Princess, even if you beat it into me.”

The innuendo (accidental or not) is driving you crazy. As is Eddie’s lack of self belief.

You’d even tried explaining it by using D&D analogies.

“Think of the chemical reactions like individual characters interacting in groups. Like, if this particular troupe disband and some make allegiances with another, the group has different skills and attributes now, right?” But after a promising start even that doesn’t seem to hold his attention.

In fact, the more animated you get and closer you sit, the more distracted and fidgety he becomes, unwilling to engage fully with you and shifting uncomfortably.

You move further towards him on the sofa, determined to give it one last shot, and force him to make eye contact with you.

Their colour and depth surprises you as you look into them properly for the first time, noticing their rich, swirling chocolate and whiskey hues.

Your eyes briefly drop to his lips, the soft pink, plump, velvety pillows looking mightily enticing. God, they’re perfect.

Goosebumps rise on your arm as you feel his surprisingly soft curls tickle your shoulder.

Okay, you knew he was cute, but up close? Fucking hell…

You lean across your notes and over to the text book that’s on his other side. Your thighs are touching, and as you twist the side of your breast makes contact with his arm. If he looked slightly down and towards you he’d be able to see right down the neck of your tank top. You kind of hope he does.

Huffing, you prod at the book with your hand, hoping that the diagram on the page might make everything clearer. The movement makes your boobs jiggle a little.

You hadn’t noticed he’d stopped breathing and he suddenly lets out a huff of breath, covering it with a badly faked cough. His cheeks have flushed a light shade of pink.

So, you definitely weren’t imagining all that stuff in class.

Fuck it. You consider this might be the only opportunity you might get to do this, so decide to grab it. After all, academic tutelage was only part of your motivation to get him alone, and something you’ve been thinking about for a long time, one of the fantasies that keeps you up at night, pops into your head. One that would definitely get his attention. And if you can’t help his confidence academically, perhaps you can help with it somewhere else. Call it interpersonal tutelage…?

With as much nonchalance as you can muster, you say, “Um, maybe we should take a break. Y’know, relax a little?”

You scootch away to the end of the sofa, putting your back against the armrest and bringing your feet up onto the cushion in front of you. You grab a couple of throw cushions and slot them behind you, getting comfortable.

Eddie seems to relax a little too once you’ve moved away, but still looks uneasy.

God, are you really going to do this? What if he screams and runs away, or worse, tells his friends, or your classmates..? No, you’ve been thinking about this for far too long. Oh, fuck it x 2…

Feigning a stretch, you arch your back and place your hands at the back of your waist, pushing your chest, and breasts, upwards. Then you move them to the sides of your ribs, glancing over the sides of your boobs, seemingly-innocently pushing them together. You move a hand underneath one of your breasts, cupping it gently in the crook of your thumb and forefinger.

Eddie is still sitting tensely on the front edge of the sofa cushions, stealing sideways glances at you through the curtain of his hair.

“C’mon, Eddie, get comfy with me. It’ll help, I promise.”

Self-consciously, Eddie shifts himself and sits facing you, cross-legged, at the other end of the sofa. You give him a soft smile, which he returns with a slightly bashful one of his own, afterwards rolling his lips inwards between his teeth.

Okay, it’s now or never. Are you gonna be able to concentrate on this, Eddie?

You hum quietly, and almost closing your eyes you run a palm down your chest and over your belly. You drop one knee slightly out to the side, and run your hand down the inside of your thigh and back up it, eventually pushing your fingers between your thighs and cupping your mound with your palm.

You see Eddie’s eyes widen and hear a stifled choke.

Your hand moves to fully cup your breast, and you lightly trace your thumb over your hardening nipple whilst the hand between your legs begins to apply gentle pressure, making you inhale deeply.

Eddie watches you, agape, bringing his hands together and clasping one hand over the other in front of him, you surmise to disguise his burgeoning bulge.

You open your eyes a little, keeping them soft and half lidded, and gently smile in Eddie’s direction, ensuring he’s still watching you.

Using both hands to pop the button and lower the zipper on your jeans, you tease yourself by running the pretty elastic trim of your your panties between your fingertips, pulling it slightly away from you and letting it snap back onto your abdomen.

“Uh…”, he swallows hard, and you internally groan at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing in that delicious neck, “What’re you doing..?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Eddie? I’m… relaxing…”

Sighing out the last word, you choose this moment to slip your hand down the front of your underwear, sliding over your mound and dipping just the tip of one finger between your folds, feeling the wetness that’s already pooled there. Your forehead furrows a little and you let out a quiet, contented hum.

Eddie’s eyes widen further and his eyebrows disappear completely under his bangs, and he sounds a little like he’s suffocating.

He tries to move further away from you along the sofa, unsuccessfully however as he’s wedged against the other armrest.

“Uh, I can, y’know, leave, or you could use my room, or, I can take you home, or, or-”

He’s babbling, and looking everywhere but at you. That’s not what you want at all, and you’re also concerned that he looks so uncomfortable.

“I can stop, if you want…”

He rushes out a reply, almost shouting the first syllable.

“N-NO! Um, no, it’s okay, really.”

“Okay, Eddie, stay right there. Keep your eyes on me, I wanna give you a show.”

He looks even more shocked, jaw dropping open, and you think he might bolt. But after a moment it’s clear that despite being full of anxiety, fear and self-consciousness, his curiosity, hormones and horniness are winning out, and he fixes his gaze on you.

He manages to squeak out, “Ok-aay…”

You lift your hips, using both hands to push your jeans and underwear down your legs until they reach your ankles. You slowly splay your knees, finally exposing yourself fully to Eddie’s gaze. One hand comes back to your breast, and you pinch your fabric-covered nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

He takes in the sight before him, the soft fur around your core, your wet folds glistening in the dim light of his living room, your sultry gaze, the peaks of your hardened nipples now visible through the thin fabric of your top.

He lets out a stuttering breath as his hips involuntarily shift underneath him, trying to find some friction.

“Jeezus fuck, Princess, are you tryin’a kill me?”

You try to think of something that might help relax him.

“If it helps you can imagine that we’re still studying. How about a quick lesson in female anatomy..?”

You move your hand down and with featherlight touches trace your fingertips around your pussy.

“Now, this whole area is my vulva.”

Eddie gulps.

Making a vertical line you trace your fingers over your wet lips.

“These are my labia.”

Eddie’s lips press together and he lets out a stammering hum, closing his eyes momentarily before snapping them back open so he doesn’t miss a thing.

“Are you paying attention, Eddie? This part is really important. This-,” you inhale sharply as you trail your wet fingers upwards and make contact, “This is where you’ll find my clit- fuck-”

It feels so delicious you almost don’t manage to finish your sentence, and you let out a long, low hum. Part of you doesn’t want to stop, but you’ve got more planned. Moving your fingers down again, you say,

“And this, here? This is my vagina…”

With a smile, you watch him stare as you dip a fingertip into your sopping hole, letting out a low moan as you gradually slip it inside of you.

“You know what the g-spot is, Eddie? I can show you where to find it, if you want me to…?”

You slide your finger in further, curling it towards your front wall, almost managing to tickle that certain spot within and letting out a loud groan.

At the other end of the sofa Eddie gasps an inhale, whimpering slightly, and you see him press the heel of his hand into his crotch. The combination of his sounds and actions is making you impossibly wetter - the boys you’ve been with before didn’t do much of either, and you didn’t know how much it turned you on.

You watch his face as he stares intently at your weeping centre as you slowly, so slowly move your finger in and out a few times.

“D’you think you’ll remember that, Eddie?”

“I promise I’ll fuckin’ try, Jesus Christ…”

He swallows again, exhaling heavily.

Deciding it’s time for the main event, you bring the hand that was squeezing your breast down your body, moving your fingertips to your clit and applying gentle pressure.

“I want you to see how wet you make me, Eddie. I want you to know how much I enjoy you watching my ass in biology class, how often I’ve thought about it when I’m alone. How much I like checking yours out in those oh-so tight jean- oh!”

A particularly exquisite circle followed by a firm press on your clit makes you moan out loud. The combination of both your hands has you close, closer than you imagined you’d be at this stage. It takes much longer when you’re by yourself, and you’re surprised and excited by just how much you’re enjoying having Eddie watch you.

Eddie’s fully gripping himself through his jeans now and is breathing heavily through his nose. He looks big, and you salivate at the thought.

You really want to see what he’s been hiding inside that tight denim.

“Show me, Eddie, I wanna see you.”

Hesitantly, never having experienced anything even close to this before, Eddie mumbles,

“You, uh…?”

“I wanna see you. Take out your cock. Let me see all of you, please.”

He’s rubbing himself, and you can see how strained his jeans are, a wet stain now visible in the dark fabric.

Slowly, eyes never leaving your face and looking for any tiny indication that you’re uncomfortable or have changed your mind, he slowly undoes his button and pulls down his zipper.

His languid pace is killing you, but in a good way; you realise he most likely has no idea what this is doing to you.

He rearranges the front of his jeans, opening the fly wide and leaving nothing but a thin layer of checkered cotton covering his member. The tent it’s creating is impressive.

He watches you stare and run your wet tongue over your bottom lip.

Letting out a nervous breath between pursed lips, he pushes one hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, using his thumb and two fingers to hold his cock at the base. Using his other hand he slowly, agonisingly slowly, pulls the fabric out and downwards, gradually exposing his full member to the lights of the room and to you.

You pause your own movements and spend a moment taking it in. It’s long, with an impressive girth - you briefly wonder whether he knows what he’s packing - and it’s the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. Lengthy, veined, slightly curved, and thick, so thick.

Eddie watches your expression for a moment. Satisfied that you’re not freaked or about to run away screaming, he brings the rest of his fingers to join the others, wrapping himself fully in his fist and squeezing gently, causing a little bead of precum to collect on the tip.

You take in the sight before you for a few moments, then utter, completely honestly, “Eddie, in case no one’s ever told you this, you have a really beautiful dick.”

His face and neck turn the second-prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“No one’s ever told me that before, Princess.” Adding, almost in a whisper, “In fact, no one’s ever seen it.”

He chuckles lightly through that last sentence, embarrassed at what he’s just admitted. The ego boost of your comments has clearly given him some confidence though, as he adds with a slight smirk, a little breathy as he runs the pad of his thumb unhurriedly over his tip, “You, uh, really think so?”

Oh, so he likes me watching him too?

You can’t take your eyes off of it.

“I really do, Eddie. It’s so pretty.”

As if to confirm your statement you resume your hand movements, adding another finger and resuming circling your clit with the other. You notice that Eddie’s started moving too, his hand moving over himself in a deft gripping and twisting motion, his hips bucking up every now and again.

For a few moments neither of you say anything, the only sounds in the room your combined panting breaths and the lewd movements of wet skin.

Your clit is swollen and supremely sensitive, and, pushing in a little further, your fingers just tickle that exquisite spot within you.

You moan as you imagine it’s Eddie’s pretty cock inside you. That he’s leaning over you, thrusting into you, hitting that spot effortlessly. Maybe even talking to you, telling you how good your pussy feels, how well you’re taking him…

Suddenly your eyes roll back in your head and your mouth hangs open, a gutteral moan emerging from your chest as you get closer and closer.

Bringing your attention back to him you mumble, hurriedly,

“Jeezus Eddie, I’m gonna cum, you wanna see me cum?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire fucking life.”

Eddie’s words come out in a spluttering rush and on his last word your breathing halts, your muscles lock and you cum, hard, clenching around your fingers and letting out an involuntary strangled scream.

Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you think you hear Eddie let out a loud, “Holy shhhiiiit!”

You come down a little, opening your eyes and locking them with Eddie’s. You ride out your aftershocks, humming as you feel your fingers inside of you and your juices running down them. You eventually remove your fingers from your cunt, leaving its puffy wetness fully on display, and trace them around your lips and clit.

“F-fuck, Princess, that’s the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen…”

Eddie’s red-faced and panting, his cock still very much standing to attention in his now vice-like grip, the tip an angry red and leaking copious amounts of precum. His eyes are blown dark, the chocolate rims almost completely obscured. His face and neck are flushed and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, and he’s clenching his jaw, looking like he’s trying desperately not to bust.

“Are you ok over there, Eddie?”

“Shit, yeah, yes, I mean, fuck.”

Breathily, you ask him,

“Do you wanna cum?”

“Fuck yes, I just, I didn’t know whether you wanted me to.”

“Oh I do Eddie, I really do. It’s your turn now. You gonna cum for me? Please, let me see you lose it, show me everything you’ve got.”

He breathes out a loud sigh in what seems like relief. You like how good he’s being for you, learning yet more about yourself that you didn’t know before.

His fist speeds up as his other hand comes to hold his balls, deftly stroking and rolling the flesh. His brow furrows deeply and his lips clamp shut around a low moan. He’s staring intently at you, eyes flicking between your face and your still-dripping cunt.

Suddenly his expression turns to one resembling surprise, as his eyebrows lift and his mouth opens, a string of expletives leaving those perfect, plump lips,

“Fuck, fuck, Jeezus, motherf-, oh my-, fuckfuckfuuuck!”

His jaw drops as his abdomen contracts, and his eyes fix on your cunt as he jets hot ropes of white cum into the air and over his fist and t-shirt. There’s so much, and it seems never ending.

The sight is even better than you’d imagined it might be and your hips buck up into your hand, making you press your fingers into your clit again triggering another aftershock, and you find yourself moaning along with him.

For a few moments there’s more silence, aside from your panting and heavy breathing.

Eventually Eddie chuckles a little, and you huff a breath out through your nose with a smile on your face.

You’re both a sweaty, sticky mess, but neither of you care.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was…” You’re lost for words.

“Amazing? Incredible?” Seeing the grin plastered across Eddie’s face is easily as gratifying as all the other stuff you’ve done tonight.

You both giggle as Eddie says, “Fuck me, Princess, you’re definitely the best tutor I’ve ever had.”

Neither of you really want to move, but some cleanup is definitely necessary. Eddie takes the blanket from the sofa and throws it in the washer, cleaning up quickly in the bathroom, letting you know when it’s free and returning in a change of clothes, throwing the others in with the blanket.

As you both process what’s just transpired you share timid glances and half smiles.

You both sit on the sofa again as you start to pack up your notes and books. In another unforeseen realisation, you’re surprised at how much you’ve enjoyed Eddie’s company, and the warm feeling you get inside every time he looks at you is entirely unexpected.

You realise you’re gonna have to be the one to say something, and give Eddie a smirk.

“So, how about next time we do some practical revision on, maybe, male anatomy?”

He looks a little surprised, but certainly not unhappy at the suggestion that there might actually be a ‘next time’.

“You really wanna, uh, tutor me again?”

Nodding in the affirmative, you reply, “Oh yeah, I think we’ve both learned a lot this afternoon.”

Holding his gaze, you suggest,

“Same time next week..?”

Lesson 2: Male anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

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[spencerreidsreads]

He didn’t have to say it

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: So immersed in your painting, you forget to take a break to stretch your legs. Aaron helps out with the pain that comes from it.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, mainly fluff!!

Word count: 1.7k

*based on THIS request*

AN: Hi! I’ve never written fanfiction of any sort in my life before, but I really wanted to give it a go. I’d love to know what you think, including any criticisms (I don’t mind criticism, I want to learn how to get better) If you enjoy please like, reblog and comment! If even anyone enjoys this piece it would encourage me to try again. Thank you so much

*also this is not proof read - I’m too embarrassed to go through it again. So please let me know if there are any mistakes!*

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡꘎

A flowing river of blue, the smell off wildflowers blowing in the breeze, and the chirping of birds flying overhead. And then… pain? No longer were you in a calm meadow garden, outside of a homey cottage. Instead you are sat alone, inside of your art room, suddenly aware of the pain in your legs.

You had been so immersed in finishing the last details of the painting you had started weeks ago, that you had lost track of time. You had been staring at it so intently, trying to look for flaws to perfect, it had almost felt like you were there. You hadn’t been at home just then, you were transported into your work of art relaxed and undisturbed within the canvas.

It was light outside when you began working. You remembered hearing the sound of people strolling the streets and children playing in the nearby park. Now however, the sky was beginning to darken and the streets were almost silent, other than the sound of the odd car driving past. The outside world was proof enough that you had been sat too long, without a single break to stretch your legs.

Had you not been so wrapped up in your painting, you would’ve remembered to take a walk or go for a snack to prevent the intense pain you were currently feeling. Aaron always reminded you to do so.

Speaking of Aaron, you desperately hoped he would be home soon, you knew the pain would only intensify once you started moving around, and you wanted nothing more than for him to be there to comfort you. He was so wonderfully helpful when you needed comfort. He was your rock and no matter how you were feeling, he always managed to make you feel somewhat better. He had researched the best ways to reduce the pain you often felt and despite how tired he may be from work, he always made the time to make sure you were safe and content.

Stretching out a paint speckled arm, you reached for your phone prepared to text Aaron to see if he would be home soon, he was due back to his evening. But once again he proved to be the best husband you could ask for, as not even a second after grabbing your phone, you heard the front door opening. Perfect timing.

The sound of the door shutting quietly, a bag hitting the ground and the locks of the door being set, you knew it was your husband finally back from the week long case he had been on with the team.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was soft and carried some tiredness with it, you knew this had been a tough case for him and immediately felt guilty for wanting his comfort and attention when he had only just returned home. You knew how hard he worked and didn’t want to burden him. So instead you decided you would greet your husband and try your best to hide the pain as not to worry him. Though with a skilled profiler as a husband, you knew this was wishful thinking.

When you went to stand, you hissed as an intense pain shot through your knees, causing them to buckle. Luckily, Aaron had come in search of you, having not heard a reply when he called out for you. Just as you were about to fall back to the ground you had previously been occupying, you immediately felt arms wrap around your frame, engulfed in the scent of your husbands cologne.

“Hey, take your time. It’s ok let me help you”. There goes your plan of hiding the pain. Aaron immediately knew what was wrong and slowly supported you to stand. Once you were fully elevated he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding most of your weight off of your knees. Despite the fact that Aaron repeatedly told you to stretch your legs to prevent this from happening, he wasn’t going to lecture you. You were in pain and he just wanted to bring you comfort, so he didn’t say anything. He just held you close and softly began to play with your hair the way that you liked.

The mixture of love you felt from Aaron’s care and the pain you were feeling in your legs caused tears to appear in your waterline. Aaron immediately shifted into gear, wanting to reduce the pain as much as possible, “how about we take a little walk hm? Just around the apartment. Give your legs a chance to stretch and I’ll tell you all about how much I missed you while I was gone?” You smiled and nodded in response through the tears. He always knew how to make you feel better.

Aaron didn’t rush you, he didn’t leave you to take care of yourself. Instead he lovingly wrapped an arm around your waist and let you set the pace as you walked out of your art room and into the kitchen. Though this caused the pain to intensify, you knew that in the long run it would help. So as you grimaced and slowly treaded through the pain, Aaron kept to his word and informed you of how awful it was to be away from you for the week. You laughed as he mentioned that he was caught looking at the picture of you he kept in his wallet by Morgan and he was teased by the team for the rest of the case. He told you that instead of ordering his original coffee from the coffee shop near the precinct, he ordered your favourite drink. It was too sweet for him and didn’t wake him up as much as he liked, but it made him feel closer to you.

As you approached the front door on your walk, near where he’d left his bag, Aaron reached inside and hid his hands behind his back, something grasped tightly in his fist.

“After we wrapped up the case I saw these in a store window and they made me think of you. One for me and one for you”. Aaron brought his hand in front of you both and opened it, revealing 2 key rings that looked to be a matching pair. One of them was a key shape, and the other a locket. You knew these weren’t the kind of thing Aaron cared for at all, in fact he found them extremely cheesy. But he knew you loved small things like this and just wanted to see you smile.

And smile you did. You looked from the keyrings in Aaron’s large hand, then back up to his eyes, a large grin on your face. You couldn’t believe the reputation Aaron had at work as the stoic grouchy boss. How could anyone describe this man (who was currently staring at you with a soft smile on his face and some tacky keyrings in his hand) as anything other than perfect? That’s what he was to you. Perfect. He was always thinking of you and you could not be more grateful.

“I love them” you whispered, Aaron didn’t respond, he just looked lovingly into your eyes and continued along with you on your walk to the living room. At this point, whilst your legs still ached, you found it hard not to focus on how happy you were with your partner. It was hard not to be happy around him. Your tears had eased up and had instead been replaced with a loving stare directed at your husband.

Once you had done a lap of the apartment, Aaron suggested a bath together to soothe your joints, which you quickly agreed to. He sat you on the side of the bathtub as he messed with the taps and added some bubbles, just the way you liked it. Once the bath was ready he held your hand and helped you in, slipping in himself afterwards, your back leaning against his chest. Not many words were exchanged, they didn’t need to be. You both knew exactly what you wanted to say ‘I love you so much’, ‘thank you for loving me’, ‘I’m so grateful to have you in my life’. Instead, Aaron softly hummed as he gently scrubbed away the paint from your body and placed soothing kisses along the back of your neck. You felt so safe and at home here within his arms.

Once the water began to turn cold, you and Aaron stepped out of the bathtub and he wrapped a towel around you.

“Your painting looked beautiful by the way” he whispered as you both prepared to brush your teeth and get settled for bed.

Despite being together for 7 years, he still made you feel giddy with his compliments. Turning to face him, a small thank you passed your lips. He was always so supportive of whatever hobby you picked up and loved to shower you in the compliments he believed you so deeply deserved.

The two of you soon got settled into bed and Aaron wrapped you into his arms, “how are you feeling honey? Any better?” he questioned.

Placing a soft kiss to his bare chest, you sighed in sleepy contentment before nodding your head. “You always make me feel better.”

“I just wish I was here more often for you” Aaron sighed. You knew he felt guilt about leaving you alone whilst he went away with the team, but even if he wasn’t with you, you rarely felt alone. Even at his busiest, he made time, even for something as small as an ‘I love you’ text or a ‘have a good day’ message.

“You’re perfect for me Aaron, please don’t doubt that. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” you sleepily replied, meaning every word. He gazed at your tired face and drooping eyes and saw that you were on the verge of sleep. Aaron swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He felt so overwhelmed with love that he felt emotional. Pulling you closer, he placed a soft goodnight kiss against your lips. “I love you sweetheart”, but you had already drifted off.

But even though you didn’t hear it, that didn’t matter. He didn’t have to say it. You knew. You’d never felt more loved in your life, Aaron loved you and he never let you forget it.