#i'm so grateful to have something to love this much <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ethereal555]

LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE!

Boxing Day.

1:11am

'Love, I’m knackered', he wearily laughs as he halts my hips from gyrating on his crotch, with his sweaty hands. The contact of his hands on my hips alone only adding to the inferno of lust burning internally.

I look at him, as small pout plastered on my face, oh how fucked out he looks,I think to myself.

'why are you lying like i can't feel how hard you are?', I swiftly lean to down to suck on his lips, my vision blurry with pure lust

'obviously, but we've been at it for half an hour baby and, we’re being too loud Jude just texted me an eggplant emoji', he chuckles.

'can't help it i'm so fucking turned on by you, and all the presents you got me, and how handsome you are and how good you fuck me. But i promise I'll be quiet. Just one more time okay?' I whine seductively into his right ear pulling on his earlobe with my teeth.

He groans, his low eyes following my every movement - contemplating- until his gaze drops down to my naked breasts both perky and erect. Defeated; he leans up on his elbows to peck me, one peck, two pecks, wrapping his hands firmly around my throat like i taught him. You slowly start back grinding, slightly lifting yourself up, in an attmept to discreetly peel the covers from his crotch area.

He groans pulling his wet lips away from yours.

' We really cant...you know how my mum gets, y-you know the respect thing. my dad's different- but you're drunk and sensitive and loud.'

You roll off of his lap now, laying face down on the bed. Pouting

'How about I hump the pillow instead, I bet it'll have *hiccup* more stamina than you.'

He strokes your back, “You're right. Go to bed freaky girl”, after 3 years he knew how to deal with you when you got like that.

Whilst running his hands through my silk pressed hair a couple of times he bids me a 'good night' followed by a kiss on the head. You turn to face so he could see how dissapointed you felt.

15 minutes pass----

You admire his face in the dimly light room. The security light from the garden outside highlights his nose, and those eyebrows - fucking hell - you thought. As much as you loved his family, they were a hindrance.

You could tell he wasn't asleep as he eyes were quite active beneath his lids.

“Can we spoon jobey?” you whisper against his lips.

“Mhm. Turn around.”

You situate your body comfortably, plastering yourself against your big spoon. Your signautre sleeping formation with his muscular, veiny arms underneath your head and his left arms circled round your waist.

Your plump unclothed bottom against his manhood, a feeling that made the millions of microhairs on your body dance.

As he stills, it dawns upon me that this man may actually sleep and then I’ll be desperate and horny - not on Christmas, no way.

His right palm dangles freely infront of my face, I subtly rub my nose side to side along the width of his palm like a curious dog to a bone.

Your lips slightly parted, your warm breathe caressing his fingers, first.

You boldly take the entirety index finger into your mouth tightening your plump lips around it, sucking it. Those fingers had been up you less that an hour ago so you knew where they had been - there was nothing inhibting my full force of sucking.

Your body vibrates as you're boyfriend, after putting on a show for me, just chuckled.

(Internally ) What the fuck is funny????? ummm... nothing. When he's drunk you always lay down the kitty but he's being shy because of what... Jude? Thee slut himself. Like Jude hasn't heard us plenty of times. Like we haven't heard many of Judes sexcapades.

You weren't sleeping tonight until you got something, anything. You got all your presents from Santa today which you were grateful for, but you were in dire need for the most important one.

He humourously rubs my face with his fingers. When he stills his hand, I catch his index and middle finger in my mouth sucking harder, salivating on them. I reach around my waist to grab his left hand giding his fingers through my dripping folds and down to my puslating opening.

'You feel how much I need you, please J', you choke out with anticipation.

He continues rubbing my folds on his own accord, his breathing heavy and audible.

“You’re crazy when you’re drunk you know that' he mutters.

' And you're so damn frigid when you're sober' you muffled back.

He uses the energy of my vim to shove his two fingers further into my mouth, causing me to gag. My pussy jumps. A groan roars from my mouth as this feeling is intensfied with his fingers pressing teasingly into me. He keeps them there, just on the verge of entering.

I'm desperately start humping his hand now, bucking my hips so that his fingers glide in by force.

Both our hands were drenched with the token of my neediness.

'Don't talk like that okay?' he gruffs into my ear. I nod not being able to speak with the fear I may vomit. He takes his soaked fingers - that were pressing at the back of my throat- out of my mouth. My chin dripping with my saliva.

' Do it, come on, stop being like that' i whisper breathily looking over my shoulder.

'Do what ?' he smugly questions as if his hands havent been playing in my pussy the entire time, pulling, pinching, flicking. He acts as if hes clueless.

'Do this?' he swiftly enters me with his fingers, digging into me. I can't help by cry in relief and satisfaction. The strokes begin cursive at first until he start to pump faster and deeper being fuelled by my sounds. I feel my juicues leeking down my legs driving me over the edge. I grab onto his wrist, firmly, so I could grind hard onto his fingers. Like I deserved to.

I whimper feeling myself getting closer.

He raises and moves to situates himself face to face with my sex. His nose skims my bean at first causing me to gasp.

'Wider' he beckons to my thighs. I spread them in the butterfly position. My stomach churning at how exposed I was in this position. My boyfriend reaches forward to kiss me, his fisted arms either side of my head, them he moves back down and leans in to french kiss my clit. I bite my lip hard not wanting to wake his family up.

My eyes roll back, as i hear, feel and see him sloppily sucking on my clit. With passion might i add. The feeling put me in daze, my thights quivering. In no time his fingers hit THE spot and i could swear i was seeing stars on the ceiling.

'uuuggggcc jj-obe' I pornographically moan. My now overly sensitive vagina starts to clench around his fingers. Ireach down from my nipples attempting to pull his head back away from me. But he continues slurping.

The knot in my stomach only intesnfied and i breathe in waiting for this intense wave to flow out of me. He curls his fingers so more causing my back to arch off of the bed.

You feel tears drip from your eyes, you sob, overwhelmed. Your stomach tense. Speaking wasnt happening for me.

'much - tooo much' i force out

He looks up at me from between my dead legs, like a sex drunk demon, the tip of his nose, his lips and chin - glazed with my wetness dripping. He smiles flashing his pearly whites at the state of me.

'its too much?' he softly asks

you nod, drained.

he looks down at the mess that was my pussy, and the bed. staring at her for some time, he flirtatiously looks back at me.

It made me self conscious when he 'admired her' as he liked to call it, but my legs and mind were too weak to protest or close my legs.

'so you dont wanna cum after keeping me up all night baby'.

you shake your head, sheepishly.

He gets up from the bed and your eyes widen, seeing his junior standing up at full attention.

'o-oh im sorry baby, si- sit back down weee, um, can keep going if you want, ok?, come here' you pleaded guilty.

'its okay go to bed darling, ill take care of it - in there'.

he waddles of into the ensuite bathroom, and boom.

you're asleep

----

im so zooted writing this.

[luigibigeater]

running on e / pt. 1

--- luigi breaks into the wrong apartment ---

notes: part 1 of (i think?) 2, finally contributing luigi smut to the site and i'm so excited :). this is very back n forth and all over the place so far so i rly appreciate any feedback, thoughts, requests, etc <3

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t think anyone lived here—” is the first and last thing the intruder can utter before the girl takes him out in one clean strike with a kitchen pan. 

When Luigi comes to, his hands are tied securely to the old-fashioned furnace behind him with a pink rope that seems intended for shibari. The initial onset of panic is eclipsed by confusion: the warm weight on his legs is the slumbering body of a plump black cat who seems to have made a home for itself on his lap. A girl sits upon a cushion directly across the room from him with her legs crossed and her eyes closed as if lost in profound meditation. She’s surrounded by dozens of tiny tealight flames, the sole lightsource. 

The room is white and sparse, furnished by no more than a frameless mattress and an overlarge mirror, but it’s warm nonetheless in the buttery candlelight. The rich oriental rug which covers much of the floor is all the color offered by the space. 

Luigi has no fucking idea what to do so he simply sits still, hoping he’ll find some way out of this before the girl’s eyes open. His coat, shoes, and mask are all still on but he can see his backpack discarded in the darkness of the next room and it looks rifled through. The cat stirs at the slightest of his tugs against the binding and it glares at him with its big golden eyes. As if psychically connected to her pet, the girl’s gaze fixes on him not a moment later. They share in a minute or so of silent staring and her expression maintains such unbroken placidity that Luigi can’t repress the nervous chuckle that crackles out of him.

“So,” he begins, swallowing thickly. “What the fuck?”

“You can relax, I’m not calling any cops on you.” The cat resumes its previous position, at ease. 

“So what am I tied up for?”

“Because my home is not a place for men to roam free.”

“Right, okay, that’s fair. And, um—if you were to call the cops—it would be for…breaking in…or?” Luigi tries to tread lightly, tries to keep his face flat and neutral, but he knows how expressive he can be. 

“I know who you are, if that’s what you’re asking. But I won’t call the cops on you for that either.” 

“Thank you,” he exhales shakily, heavily relieved despite the persistent lack of clarity. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Seemed like you really needed a place to stay so I’ve given you one. But I have my rules.” The girl’s eyes narrow at Luigi; he nods with the eager petulance of a child who craves approval while his gaze wanders mischievously down to where her nipples protrude through a snug white tank. She scoffs lightly and closes her eyes once more.

“I’m super grateful for it. Um, your hospitality.” Luigi shifts around, trying to get comfortable despite the rope. The girl ignores him and he chews his lip as he racks his mind for something to say, wondering if this is one of those sticky scenarios he can charm his way out of. Something tells him it’s not. Though physically attractive, there’s an undeniable strangeness about his captor, an almost supernatural quality, as unsettling as it is endearing, and he wonders if he should be more afraid. Some of the candles around her are close enough to singe the bare skin of her legs but she seems unperturbed. 

“Your cat is really sweet,” Luigi tries, pouting beneath his mask in a way girls have called cute before. “Wish I could pet her…”

The girl laughs breathily, eyes still closed in denial of him, as if perceiving his thoughts. And indeed Luigi was trying to convince himself that if she would just look at him, just take down his mask so he could show off his smile, he would get whatever he wanted. 

“So, are you meditating? Cause I love to meditate. But, I mean, my mind can race like crazy when I do it so I have to make up mantras to interrupt my thoughts. Just over and over, anything I can focus on. Usually affirmations, you know, like ‘I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy.’ Sometimes even just one word can do the trick too, of course, like ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“—up! Shut the fuck up!” 

“I’m just trying to center you, trust me, it’ll help. Just listen to my voice: fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Luigi,” the girl groans as she begins moving her candles aside, one by one. His blood cools at the sound of his government name; it’s confirmation that she does indeed know who she is.

“God, Luigi,” the girl crawls across the room toward him with one little flame in hand. His breath intensifies as she grabs his chin roughly, easing his mask down with her fingers, letting them tease open his lips. Brows clenched together, bambi eyes trembling in the weak light, he’s sex personified, and the girl sighs lustily, delighted to find the real man even better than the pictures. Their mutual arousal is tangible at this distance: him at the scent of jasmine in her hair, her at the trickle of partially dried blood at his hairline where the pan made contact. 

“Wh- what are you—” Luigi gasps when the hot wax hits his cheek. “Owwwww, what the fuck?”

“I know what you’re doing, trying to catch me with my guard down, you fuck, fuck, fuck. Not gonna happen.” She crawls away so that he can see her ass peaking out of pajama shorts. He takes the sight in greedily.

“Jesus Christ, I feel like you just jizzed on me. This is so fucking weird,” he keens, trying to rub the wax off onto his shoulder, watching curiously as she goes into her nearly vacant closet. 

“Behave before it gets weirder,” she says as she comes back with fabric balled in her hand. “Oh, and don’t touch the baby.” The girl squats down again to wrench her cat from his lap.

“I didn’t touch anything! The baby touched me,” Luigi taunts, making no effort to conceal what’s now so hard to miss in his pants. 

“She gets it. There’s something very touchable about you,” the girl murmurs, face nuzzled into the fur on her cat’s neck so that all Luigi can see are her eyes. He can’t help the way his cock pulses. She doesn’t miss it.

“Yeah, you look pretty touchable too, like, kinda fucking hot…” Eyes glossy, flushed, they take each other in for a few silent beats that are marked only by the sounds of the city beyond them. 

“Alright, well, I actually need you to shut the fuck up now. I have reading to do, so,” she places her cat aside gently and moves her wadded panties toward his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Luigi starts to ramble again, panicking. “Can I please just piss first? Please, please just let me use your toilet real quick and then I promise I’ll follow all your rules. Assuming you have a toilet, I dunno, you don’t have much in here. But you know all about me, right, so you probably know about my back and my fucked up bladder? Please? Please, you don’t want me to ruin your carpet, do you?”

The girl grows visibly annoyed and, again, takes hold of his face harshly so that she can force her makeshift gag into his mouth, finishing it off with a scarf. Her stomach flips at the desperation in his eyes, the pathetic sounds he manages around the fabric, the way his hips jerk. She backs away so she can take it all in.

He doesn’t seem any more or less upset when she retrieves his journal, the one she’d found in his backpack, from under her mattress. She stretches out across her carpet on her stomach to read, not too far from him, her ass arching up and her top plunging to multiply his torture. 

They stay that way for a while, the girl humming occasionally when she likes an idea in his writing, Luigi shifting his legs occasionally in discomfort. “I like your mind,” she tells him. At a certain point, he starts to whimper loudly enough that she loses focus (but never loudly enough for any neighbors to hear). 

“What, Luigi?” The girl huffs, dropping the notebook. His rhythmic noises take on a new quality as if he’s saying please, please, please. Every part of his body absolutely begs for relief: thick brows taut, eyes watery, the curls at his forehead beginning to dampen with sweat, jaw clenching hard around the gag. His hips rock languidly with a fluency that makes the girl ache, her thighs squeezing together.

“The more you do that, the more I want to wreck you. You can just let it out, you know, I obviously don’t give a fuck. Actually, no, I think I’d really, really like to watch you piss right here and embarrass yourself. You deserve it for ruining my night and scaring the fuck out of me. Bet you regret breaking in here now, huh? A grown fucking man with an annoying ass mouth just absolutely degrading himself for me, I think I like that a lot. I wish you’d just fucking do it already, Luigi, just fucking let go for me. And then we’ll see what other disgusting shit I can make you do.”

Luigi cuts her trail of words off with a grunt so depraved that it borders on bestial, jaw so tight that veins are showing, face flushed like he’s excited about this too. The girl laughs with pleasure to see the physical proof that he’s finally given up and given in. She reaches over to free him from the gag.

At first he looks disgusted with her, almost angry, lips furled and swollen, chest heaving. 

“Can you ever forgive me?” She teases, leaning closer to him than she’d ever been. 

“No. You’re fucking insane,” he growls. But as Luigi stares into the girl’s eyes, at the sinister humor in her expression, as he regains his composure, breath evening out, he laughs, slumping with newfound relief. “Fuck.”

“Finally out of things to say?”

Luigi lurches forward, suddenly freed, and grabs the girl's throat with one hand while using the other to pin her arms behind her back. She doesn’t protest, to his surprise, keeping quiet and pliant as he ties her wrists behind her.

“Does that hurt?” He asks, giving the rope one final tug for reassurance. She shakes her head no. Luigi carries her over to her bed like she’s a doll and sits her down on it. He removes his coat, places his journal back in his bag, takes out his gun, fiddles with it, rolls up his sleeves, blows out the candles, turns on the ceiling lamp, paces the room back and forth, gaze shifting between the girl and the floor, the girl and the floor.

“Are you mustering up the courage to kill me?”

“What? No! I’m—” Luigi cuts himself off and squats before her so that their faces are only a few inches apart. “Look, I don’t know what to do. I’m fucking fucked, as you well know, and sooner or later I’ll get caught. I broke in here because I thought this apartment was vacant. It didn’t cross my mind that it might belong to a psychotic minimalist. I need to take a fucking shower because you fucking made me piss myself and I don’t trust you to sit here unsupervised. I also think I want to fuck the shit out of you but I can’t tell if that’d be wrong or not given the dynamic we find ourselves in but, at the same time, I’m not the one who started it…”

The girl stares poutily at him, refusing to answer for a few seconds. 

“Finally out of things to say?” He jeers, mocking her voice by putting on a higher pitch. The girl spits in his eye forcefully and Luigi doesn’t hesitate to slap her so hard that her ears ring. But the way she turns to look back at him, her bottom lip clasped hard between her teeth, gives him all the clarity he needs.

“Get the fuck up,” he barks, tugging her to her feet by the hair. He stands behind her, several inches taller, his front flush against her back, and she watches in the mirror as he bites down on the side of her neck. He glances at their reflection, teeth still busy devastating the sensitive skin, as he shoves her top up to her collarbone with one hand and shoves the other down the front of her shorts, moaning at the sight of it all.

It’s not a shock to him that she’s already wet against his fingers as they go to circle her clit a few times but it racks his body with another pathetically pleasured noise nonetheless. She can feel his chest vibrate with the sound. 

“You know you moan like a bitch,” she simpers, testing him, and it earns her another harsh slap, this time to the ass. Luigi then draws his gun out from where he’d tucked it in the waistband of his pants and slowly raises the barrel to her temple. 

“You like talking like you’re still in charge, huh?” He speaks softly, right up against her ear, and she can’t tell if she’s shaking with fear or arousal. “That’s okay, it’s okay. Daddy’ll show you who’s in charge. Let daddy show you, hm?”

Luigi nudges the cool gun harder into her head as if to remind her that it’s there before momentarily retiring to retrieve a chair from the room over. He forces her to sit facing the mirror, tearing her panties and shorts off in a motion so rough that it leaves scratches, before pressing his face hard between her legs like he wants to disappear there.

Now it’s the girl’s turn to croon her desire. As the night’s events had already proven, Luigi loves heavy eye contact. And that doesn’t change as he licks at her ferally, spits on her already soaked cunt, and nibbles at her clit till she’s writhing. 

“Daddy, daddy,” she chants as he tongue fucks her, shocking herself with her own pliancy. She claws at her own hands bound behind her, wishing she could fist them in the tight coils of his hair. The restraint only doubles her pleasure. “Jesus, fuck, I—”

“Huh? What is it?” He pauses his determined movements to speak, lapping slowly at her while he waits for a reply. She whines in frustration and he smirks while catching his breath. He flutters his lashes up at her, humming, “did you need to tell me something?”

“Just that- if- if you want to make me cum, you should use your fingers,” she manages. He raises his eyebrows (ugh, God, you know what I mean) in a way that makes her stomach ache with want and he has to lean back a bit to dodge her desperate thrusts. 

“Ohhh, that’s what you want. See that’s a good use of your mouth, telling daddy what you want. Not that I’m always gonna give it to you so readily,” he grins as he takes firm hold of one hip to control her stuttering pelvis. 

He pushes inside gently with his middle and ring finger to start, just a knuckle in, and then tastes the slickness greedily on his tongue, adding even more wetness to the mix with his saliva. One cheek resting on her inner thigh, he watches his hand move in and out torturously for a few thrusts before latching his lips hungrily back onto her clit. 

It goes on like that for a bit, Luigi attentive to her body’s responses so that he can nail the rhythm she so badly craves. She stares in awe of him, her moans unrestrained, and she feels her attraction toward him taking on a dangerous edge as it transcends the physical plane. It’s him, fuck, I fucking want him, she whimpers internally. His writing, his wisdom, his brilliance, his sharpness, his cockiness, his humor, his bravery. He’s probably going away for good and this is the only time I’ll know him and here he is eating me out like I’m his final meal on death row…

Luigi’s excitement seems to intensify when he notices her crying and she can’t help but cum without warning the moment he starts humming against her like he’s the one getting head. It’s everything about him that causes her to seize up, thighs squeezing around him, before releasing; it's the sight of him rubbing himself through his pants like a virgin, too excited to practice restraint, and it’s how lost he seems in the act of pleasuring her, despite his insistence that he’s the one in control. 

He doesn’t ask what the motive is behind her tears but he wipes them on the sleeve of his shirt with concerned care, pointlessly so as they have yet to cease flowing. Each time they lock eyes, she suspects he can understand her, and this time is no different. Still on his knees, Luigi presses his head into her stomach so he can reach around and untie her wrists for her. She holds his head there against her torso, sobbing into his curls, grateful she can finally card her hands through them. He draws soothing circles into her thighs, letting himself be held. 

When she finally calms a bit, he pulls back to ask in all seriousness if he’d hurt her. She insists that he hadn’t. She doesn’t tell him how badly it hurts to know that he’ll likely never know freedom again, that this country will make a symbol of his young life, that she’ll probably never see him again. 

“Luigi, I’m sorry,” the girl deftly reaches down his back to snatch his gun and then wrenches his head back by the hair so she can press the barrel just past his lips.

“This is such a stu’id ‘ucking ga’e,” he groans, words partially impeded by the cold steel intrusion. She laughs and he finds himself grinning at the wild contrast between the display of humor and her tragically lovely tear-stained face.

“What game?” This time it’s his turn to get slapped, teeth knocking painfully against the gun.

“You’re ‘ucking crazy…” he musters, moaning uninhibitedly at the contradictory pleasure of being degraded.

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

i just binged the entire comic so far and i'm OBSESSED it's so good??? the art is absolutely gorgeous oh my god!! breathtaking backgrounds, snappy expressions/poses, and super dynamic panel arrangements :D i particularly love the way you draw shadow, rouge, and amy (her spines and overalls are perfect)!! and can't forget the details on sonic's markings :3 love how his third eye reacts to what's going on around him!!

as for the story i love seeing sonic come to terms with his werehog form while trying to keep dark gaia's influence/corruption at bay and how it mirrors shadow's history on the ark <3 sonic and shadow in general have wonderful interactions theyre so cute together ahhhh. speaking of shadow DARK SHADOW HELLOOOO SO COOL!!!! plus team dark amy is top tier she and rouge work so well together!!

sorry this ask is kinda rambly haha but i'm beyond excited for issue 10, thank you so much for making and sharing such a wonderful comic!!!

thank you so much ^_^

please never apologize for being a fan of something and especially not for expressing the joy something brings to you. i guarantee you're not being annoying and anyone on the recieving end will be immensely grateful.

i always get excited when people put their extra little thoiughts into reading the comic and point out the small details i put there ;_; there's nothing more fulfilling than people finding the breadcrumbs i hide out there!!!!

[burningcheese-merchant]

Merchant, what are some headcanons you have about silentlily/mystic cacao? (Aside from the ones we alr have, which I’m rlly grateful for btw🧚‍♀️) maybe even a small fic with one of these ships(I’m definitely not STARVED of content of these guys)

Do you think they have a change at redemption, and if so, would they be together with their respective ancients?

Also just so you know I got converted into the burning cheese cult the day I read your first ao3 fic about the ship, I was amazed by the writing and was craving for more, actually I’m the person named “cracker” that commented on your fics.

Thanks for feeding us with your amazing ideas 🙏🙏

CRACKER??? IS THAT REALLY YOU???

I'm so happy to hear from you again 😭😭😭 where have you been, I've missed you and your comments on my fics 😭😭😭 I love chatting with you man, it's so nice that you found me here

While I can't provide any fics right this second (my fic backlog is HUGE; for multiple stories/AUs/ships, not just BurningCheese. First one in line is a BurningCheese fic I've been sitting on for 2 months+ now. First chapter coming to AO3 soon (as in... tomorrow 👀)), I can provide headcanons at the very least. 3 each, for my old buddy 🫵❤️

Silent Salt never, ever takes off his helm. He is deeply uncomfortable showing his face to anyone, even his friends (it took them forever to learn what he looks like, even after literal years of friendship). The fact that he is not only willing to show his face to White Lily, but let her touch and remove his helm herself (that is HUGE), is a true testament to how much he trusts and cares for her

Silent Salt loves White Lily's hair. He thinks it's absolutely beautiful. She taught him how she braids it so he can do it for her, which he does every so often

I hc Silent Salt as being completely mute (like, he can't make any noise at all. As if he has no vocal cords, period. You can hear him breathing and that's it) and primarily using movement/body language to communicate his thoughts and feelings (and sign language as well, although he uses that to carry on longer and more articulate conversations). White Lily took the time to teach herself sign language so she could understand and communicate with him better, which he finds deeply touching as very, very few people have ever done that for him or anything nice at all really. Letting my personal characterization of + backstory for him slip a little here haha

While Dark Cacao and Mystic Flour are not particularly romantic (it's just not really who they are, nothing to do with not liking each other), they will both still make little gestures for each other. They take care to make each other's favorite tea, just how they like it. Flour will tuck stray strands of Cacao's hair back behind his ears when she notices them (and she always does. She pays closer attention to his face than anyone realizes). Cacao always asks Flour how her day has been, or if something is bothering her (he, too, is attentive to her face and facial expressions, and does notice subtle changes (which is also huge bc Flour wears the same damn face almost all the time lol)). Small things that actually mean quite a lot, because they stem from genuine love that does not need words or grand gestures to make itself known and understood

They are very polite and patient with one another, even when they're disagreeing (or even arguing). They will never talk over each other; they wait until the other has finished saying what they have to say before they respond. They feel a deep mutual respect for one another as individuals and try to maintain this, regardless of how tense their interactions may become

They sometimes exchange keepsakes unique to their cultures, as tokens of affection to hold onto and admire while they're apart. Scrolls, paintings, idols. Small things not really meant to take up space; just things that turn their heads or draw their eyes over for a moment and make them smile when they walk past them in the palace/Ivory Pagoda

Really makes me smile to see you again, dude. You really were there since day 1 and I'm grateful. And I'm glad I convinced you to ship BurningCheese in the first place! You and everyone else honestly 😂 it's both awesome and hilarious how many people have come to me saying I converted them to the ship. I feel I like I'm amassing a private militia lol. Gonna murder all other ships involving either character in their sleep. Gonna storm Devsis HQ and seize control of the writers' room. Gonna hoard nuclear weapons and take over the world

I hope you enjoy the stories I've written on here as well! They're mostly wholesome because as fun as Yandere Spice is, I genuinely do ship Burning Spice with Golden Cheese and want them to be happy and healthy, which is why I mainly prescribe them a slow burn romance + slow burn redemption arc for Spice lmao (they're all tagged #merchant shorts for ease of access. There are 9 in total I think. With more in the oven, because I keep forgetting to put my imagination on a leash most of the time. Trying to slowly work my way up to their wedding) I also hope you like the fan babies 👉👈 I put a lot of time and effort into creating them (please ignore my lack of artistic talent, I will improve eventually. Hopefully. I make up for it with my writing in the meantime), they're my little blorbo grandchildren

(As for that other question of yours... In my main canon + my Reformed Beasts AU (which... are kind of the same ngl lmao), yes, Flour and Salt can change. Any bad person can change their ways if only they cared enough to do so. It takes time and great effort, but eventually, they both turn over a new leaf, as all the Beasts do. As for whether or not they get together with their Ancients... wait and see. I like SilentLily and MysticCacao, but that doesn't necessarily mean they'll happen. You'll find out as I dump more stupid lore on here lol)

[varilien]

can you pls draw vash in his really nice cute bra 🥺

teehee yeah i think i can do that :3

(now available at my shop!)

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[sysig]

Reading moodboard #84430940 (Patreon)

[0reblogufufu0]

Happy Birthday to the loveliest of friends, @snoobins <3

Twin stars

A universe apart

Just close enough

To wistfully gaze at the other

Knowing yet not

How fate will lead them together

[widowshill]

man some of those tags on that "why did you follow this person" post got to me. man !!! !

[pixelpaladin24]

I've been officially in 2024 for 33 minutes and it's great so far 😁

Happy new year to all of you again!!

[adore-gregor]

I feel so lucky

[nebulouscoffee]

✄ what’s your editing process?

★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in "Who We Are" ? what was the hardest scene to write?

and

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line -> for "Home"

Thank you so much!😊

✄ what’s your editing process? - answered here :)

★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in "Who We Are" ? what was the hardest scene to write? - I remember being so excited to write Ezri's joining, which ended up being a ton of fun- as well as this (not yet posted) fallout between Jadzia and Julian. Plus the climactic zhian'tara ritual! A scene that's been quite hard to write is one where Jadzia sort of snaps and is... actually very mean to Ezri (hard because it's tough to find the balance between painful and still in-character; in canon it was Garak, who can easily be cruel- but while I think Jadzia can be uncaring sometimes she isn't usually mean like that, so what would it take to push her? how can I make it convincing?) - and ofc that climactic zhian'tara ritual lol, because HOWWW can I capture the sheer madness of Jadzia Sans Dax But Not Quite Idaris hosting the spirit of Technically Now Dead Past Host Jadzia Dax. Nothing is good enough!! Nothing!!!

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line -> for "Home" - omg Home :') can't believe it's been two whole years since I sat down and thought "well maybe I should try writing a fan fic" & then accidentally gave birth to a 100k word monster lmao. I haven't actually read this one since last December, so I'm not sure these are in fact my fav lines- but people seem to comment about this exchange between Kira and Garak a lot, and I do like it!

“Nilvi isn’t even a Cardassian fruit,” he said randomly.  Kira knew. It was Amlethi; plucked from their soils and grown on Cardassian worlds. Jiruoub berries were Amlethi too; yet they’d fed her three years in the Resistance. Korman weeds brought by Cardassian invaders now blanketed moba orchards, inexplicably helping the indigenous trees grow. Two of the seven spices in Seven-Spice Hasperat were Cardassian.  Years ago, Kira would’ve defiantly relished a five-spice version, shamed her peers who didn’t. Now, she just thinks they’ve all been through too much to punish themselves with bland hasperat. Maybe time couldn’t heal all wounds. But it could turn her hasperat from a political statement into lunch. “My father enjoyed it,” she remembered. “So did my mother.” Garak paused. “You’ve met her, you know.”

This digs into a lot of things I find fascinating about their dynamic, and what they might have in common despite being from opposite sides of an Occupation- but it's also an important character moment for both of them; a recognition of how much their lives have changed, their worlds have changed, they have changed. The nilvi fruit does have symbolic weight in this fic lol- it's the thing that starts off the whole series of unfortunate events, yes, but also when it's first mentioned in chapter one, it's via Garak reminiscing about it as a symbol of cultural pride, unity, and Cardassian wealth, and with casual nostalgia. Him saying this now is a display of how much the events of the fic have forced him to confront that nostalgia- now, the fruit has become a symbol of Cardassian greed, entitlement and violence (both on a larger, planetary scale, and a personal one). I also really wanted to write this moment of peaceful self-awareness for Kira- there are things she will never truly heal from, things she'll never forgive (a lot of which are quite literally personified in the man she's currently sipping springwine with) - but that doesn't mean they can't come to take on new significances. I remember I was thinking about how maize is a dietary staple in most African countries, and red and green chillies are so famously associated with various Asian cuisines- yet, neither of those things is native to those lands. Every country from Sudan to Sri Lanka is filled with tea stalls that are now a crucial part of the culture - but shai/chai never used to be made with tea leaves until those countries were colonised. This is not a "silver lining on the cloud" type thing, of course- quite the opposite; neither Bajor nor any real-world nations should ever have been colonised (& this is why I included that "inexplicably helping the indigenous trees grow" line- the exact sort of thing that would get paraded around as a defence of colonialism! Just like railways, languages, European architecture, fusion art, etc. Whether Cardassian activity was poisoning the soil or inadvertently helping something grow, it doesn't matter- it had no business being carried out in Bajoran territory.) But this is an aspect of occupations I hadn't seen explored all that much in ds9 fanworks; that inevitable intertwining of cultures- so I wanted to write more about it, and given I drew a lot of inspiration from stuff I see around me I'm always so pleasantly surprised by how many people responded to it, I'm very glad it resonated

[noxtivagus]

TODAY

[lilybug-02]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝟏𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬!!! 🎉 💐

I've been using this blog since I started college, and now, I'm less than 3 weeks from finishing my Environmental Geoscience degree (with a Minor in Soil Science)! ☺︎ I cannot tell y'all how much I've learned these past few years. About myself and about what I want to do in the world. About how much I've grown, not just as an artist, but as a storyteller.

I like to think this is much more than just an art blog, because if you've followed me long enough, you know I love to go on long tangents about the most random things and post about my many other interests. And I love doing it! I love being myself on this blog and I love the freedom of it all.

And the people on Tumblr! Ha. Never did I think I would be online friends or acquaintances with so many talented artists and creatives. I'm not always able to spur the same energy I could in the past, struggling with depression does that and becoming an adult is it's own can of worms, but you guys make me feel like a hundred bucks despite it all. And I cannot thank you enough.

Art has always been a way for me to express myself. Whether i'm feeling like a soggy sad puddle or feeling I'm at the top of the world. And being able to so freely draw whatever I want without judgment is something so very very special. It's a passion that I am very lucky to have kept with me in life. I wouldn't be the same person without it.

To all those who've followed me for the Chara Timeline, my heart goes out to you all in gratefulness. I know having a comic on such a long hiatus may be disappointing, but it's given me so much time to live my life and I appreciate every comment i've ever gotten on it.

And for the crazy amount of people just joining in from my Hollow Knight Comic, GOLLY. There's so many of you!! And all of you are so sweet and supportive too! It's so amazing.

And to those who are just here for my blog and art and silly antics. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart ❤️

[starkwlkr]

girl, so confusing | f1

an: might make this two or three parts, not sure yet but oh well <3 love y’all THIS IS AN AU WHERE ALL THE F1 DILFS ARE SINGLE

faceclaim gisele bündchen

part 2

liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and others

yourusername 💋

aussiegrit long time no see 👀

yourusername don’t worry, I still have cherry lipgloss that’s waiting for you

aussiegrit 😉

jensonbutton well hello 😏

yourusername hey there stranger

jensonbutton stranger? you’re breaking my heart, baby

sebastianvettel miss you lots!

yourusername come over then

sebastianvettel don’t tempt me

ferraridepressionclub y/n fr has all the dilfs in her comments i wanna be like her when i grow up

paddockgirlies she’s so iconic

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INTERVIEW WITH Y/N L/N | VOGUE

In conversation with Y/n L/n about being a mother and a racing driver, and her what’s in store for her.

Known for her fierce driving and even fiercer spirit, has seamlessly transitioned into a life that’s as complex as it is rewarding. A name that echoes through the halls of motorsport history, her story is one of reinvention—a journey from high-speed thrills to quiet, profound moments of motherhood, and, possibly, a return to the racing world in an entirely new role.

The 2000s were Y/n’s golden years at Williams. Her raw talent shone even when the team’s fortunes dipped, and she quickly became a fan favorite. Known for her courage, sharp wit, and stunning moves on the track, she formed friendships with some of the sport's brightest stars—Mark Webber, Sebastian Vettel, and Jenson Button. Their bond, a cocktail of camaraderie and unspoken attraction, became as legendary as her driving.

But the glamorous world of F1, with its dazzling lights and high expectations, took a toll. In 2004, Williams made the decision to drop her from their roster—a move that would alter the course of her life forever. Y/n, at the time, found solace in the chaos. Late nights, parties, and the company of friends became her refuge.

"I wasn’t ready to let go of F1, but at that point, I wasn’t sure where I was headed." Y/n said as we chat in her London home. It’s a beautiful house with stained glass windows and the perfect amount of sunlight shining in. Her daughter is also present though she much prefers to continue with her reading as she cuddles up to her mother.

But in the unpredictable world of racing, the story of Y/n was far from over. A fresh start beckoned when McLaren offered her a seat, a move that many saw as her redemption arc. She embraced the opportunity, her focus sharper than ever. The partying ceased. The cigarettes were put out. It wasn’t just a return to the sport—it was a return to herself.

Her career, marked by precision and passion, came to an official close in 2014, but Y/n’s influence has never waned. Retirement, though, didn’t equate to slowing down. Today, Y/n is a mother—something that’s become a cornerstone of her identity.

“I’ve always been independent, but being a mom has redefined what it means to be strong," she says, her eyes softening. "It’s a different kind of challenge, but one I’m grateful for every single day.”

Her daughter, now nine, was born a year after her retirement. She had announced the birth on her social media with a simple caption: “welcome to the world, my beautiful girl”

“As a mom, I’ve learned the art of balancing," Y/n reflects. "There are days when I’m just a mom—no racing, no interviews, no drama. And then there are days when I’m reminded of who I was before all of this. It's about finding peace with both versions of myself.”

At this point, her daughter stops reading her book and places several kisses on her mother’s cheek. It was a beautiful moment between mom and daughter.

“The future is full of possibilities. I’m focused on what’s next, but I'm not in any rush. We’ll see what happens. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Motherhood may have softened some edges, but it has only sharpened her focus. If there’s one thing Y/n has taught us, it’s that the greatest drivers are those who can keep pushing, even when they’re driving toward the unknown.

INTERVIEW WITH Y/N | THE PADDOCK SESSIONS PODCAST

“Welcome everyone to the paddock sessions podcast. I’m your host Dan and todays guest is a very special one. She is my favorite driver and I’m going to try not to freak out right now. Y/n L/n welcome to the paddock sessions!” Dan the host said into his microphone.

Y/n smiled and thanked Dan for the introduction. “Favorite driver? Dan, I’m flattered. I’ll pay you later.” She joked.

“You’re actually the reason my girlfriend watches formula 1. She watched your past races and was devastated when I told her you retired in 2014. I think she was thinking of breaking up with me because I told her,” Dan admitted. Y/n chuckled at his words. “But can we see a potential comeback for you? I know I’m not the only one that would love to see that!”

“Well I can’t really stay away from formula 1. I try to watch the races with my daughter, but she’s not interested in racing at all so I always end up watching them alone.” Y/n explained as she adjusted the microphone.

“Daughter of a racing driver isn’t interested in racing? That’s wild. But at least she knows that her mom is a legend in the sport, yeah?” Dan asked.

“She’s reminded every time we go out and I’m stopped because someone wants an autograph or a picture,” Y/n laughs. “But she knows the basics, she knows what all the number means, she’s a smart girl.”

“Amazing. Um, on the topic of your daughter, and you can stop me if you want, you’ve always been an open book in many ways, yet when it comes to your daughter’s father, you’ve kept things private. How hard has it been to keep things like that private? I imagine it must be frustrating.”

Y/n nodded and cleared her throat. “I’ve always believed in protecting my daughter’s privacy, and for me, that extends to the people closest to us. I’ll say this: my daughter is incredibly lucky to have the most amazing father. He’s the kind of dad who would do anything to keep her safe and happy. I know she’s growing up in a secure and loving environment because of him. He’s protective, but in the best way possible.”

“Have you seen the tweets regarding it?” Dan asked curiously.

“Oh yeah, it’s all over my feed. I’ve actually read some pretty crazy shit about the father of my daughter.” Y/n said.

“Any favorites?”

“There’s a thread that was posted recently on why Lewis is the father of my daughter. I love Lewis, but I can confirm he is not. He’s actually the godfather.”

“Well, you heard it hear first folks!”

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina