#it really doesn’t hurt any less

[harmonizewithechoes]

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[moonshynecybin]

Marc wasn’t moving to Andorra to evade taxes he was trying to join the polycule and publicly got rejected

two things can be true…. marc’s inability to join their little clique/polycule with all the other spanish guys (and specifically the catalan riders he’s known all his life !! that his mom fed pasta to !!) is another odd little brick in the isolating little mosaic of his life that i’d think about a LOT. it’s not even an implicit rejection of him from those guys it’s like. public pressure that he bends to because he doesn’t GET to be treated the same way as all of them and it isolates him further as a result… now i’m not saying he should evade taxes i think that’s bad. to be clear. but i do think that entire situation serves as a little bit of a microcosm for all the small isolations he experiences in his life specifically because of the way he rides motorcycles…

[in-kyblogs]

“And I find it rather interesting . . . interesting that you know my name and that you’re alive. I have never told my name to anyone who is alive.”

Queen of the Damned, Anne Rice

[nullians]

It’s actually insane how fandom in general has become so scared of making weird and dark and ugly works. Like I look at myself and see how I have also subconsciously adapted this instinct to self censor and make things “marketable” and it’s making me want to crawl out of my skin. I need to get weirder and worse and more off-putting hello

[danielnelsen]

things aren’t going well with peach. while i think my dad’s very right to be concerned that she hasn’t eaten anything in nearly 60 hours (obviously i am too), im becoming increasingly concerned that she hasn’t slept at all in around 36 hours and prior to that she was under anaesthetic, which isn’t exactly restful, so it’s closer to 48 hrs

like dad took her back to the vet today and we’ve got injections for her painkillers now because she’s not eating, and also injections for fluids (because she doesn’t drink; she only gets water from her food), so the not eating is Bad but also kinda under management, but if she doesn’t sleep soon i’m extremely worried. dad was like ‘if she doesn’t eat by tomorrow afternoon we’ll take her back because the injections will run out’ but like. if she doesn’t sleep tonight we have GOT to take her back first thing in the morning so they can sedate her or something

[naarlar]

hot take: Miles and Gwen should NOT end up together during or at the end of Beyond the Spiderverse.

Hear me out, this is not anti gwiles at all.

I think as the audience we get to see the nuances of Gwen’s situation in ATSV and we sympathize with her and understand (well most of us). However, try considering it from Miles’ perspective.

Honestly, if Gwen put me through the crap she put Miles through (intentionally or not), it would take a LONG time before I gave her the chance to be close friends again, let alone dating.

I’m not saying gwiles shouldn’t happen. It can (it is a very cute ship) but it requires a lot of time and healing for both of them, time that honestly I don’t think BTSV is going to have. While I think the movie is probably still going to rush gwiles, I personally think honestly it would be better if at best it was hinted but not outright. But hey, we’ll see.

[sassmill]

I just want to be allowed to scream at my sister the way she screams at me. I want to be allowed to slam doors and throw things and break things. I want to be allowed to react to the way she treats us and not be called selfish.

[redgoldblue]

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[twistpixel]

God with timeline squished are people going to be like “Barb wasn’t even disabled for long; Bruce was also a wheelchair user after knightfall, she’s not special” in a dismissive way. This is me making up a guy to get mad at but I’ve seen so many “bad things that were part of a character’s arc are the same as bad things that completely changed a character” posts it makes me siiiiccckkk

[goldkirk]

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[arttheclown]

i’m starting to feel like losing my grandpa is hitting me even harder than losing my dad tbh

[autistic-katara]

anyone else have at least one mutual where over time you’ve both grown enough that you (dubiously) hit most of the marks on their dni but u never end up unmutualling eachother

[changing-the-narrative]

my wounds from you are reopened every day

and you’re trying to love them shut again,

but sometimes your kisses taste like salt

and they burn just the same

[intcrastra]

Love the idea of the little wings at Robin’s waist and head fluttering whenever she’s flustered.

[goldenlockslo]

love when my best friend and housemate sending me messages bitching about my girlfriend to me by accident instead of one of her friends :)))

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.