#sometimes maybe mix them who knows
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smimon · 1 year ago
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Käärijätober day 3: Tiny
En oo mikää korsto eli lontooks no biggie mut voit odottaa mult suurii
Mitä pienempää koiraa sitä suurempaa suuta mä mielummi nostan volumia ku oon suu kii
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lemurballing · 25 days ago
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the difference between good whispangle and bad whispangle is the difference between trusting each other the most and only trusting each other. between getting stuck in the past or letting the future embrace you. between holding a close bond and being desperate for each other’s company. between being a pair and being a unit.
good whispangle is tangle helping whisper stay in the present and future, and whisper being a guiding hand, a steadying of tangle’s impulse, and the both of them making choices that help and comfort the other.
bad whispangle is tangle getting dragged into dwelling on the past with whisper, is tangle being made to overstep instead of minding the lines she should be able to see, and whisper sinking into a mire that tangle follows her into instead of pulling her from. is putting them together ‘because they’re whispangle’ and forgetting why they were loved together in the first place. is keeping them together because they’re whispangle, even when they trod on the other.
and the difference is,
that if it starts out bad and becomes better, it’s satisfying, heartening.
but to start out excellent and then get worse and decay, feels like a smear or a stain on top of a beloved work.
a natural decay can be done, but we want them to be good together, to bring out the best in each other instead of enabling the worst. if we want to see decay, it is because it makes sense for one or both of them to be driven off-balance and start messing with the other, we want one or both of them to realize this, and we want them to have to jump-start and kick aside and course-correct and come out all the better, for having broken their flaws open and mended them with gold.
we don’t want to see them broken apart and stuck back together with cheap glitter glue.
#somewhat critical so im not tagging them. and its under a readmore. if you see this thru search i love early whispangle &#im not sold on recent dynamics with the ‘neo diamond cutters’ (please use any other name - even if it sounds stupid like ‘ruby tusslers’)#some of them. some of the other bits of their recent dynamic are so good. but it’s a mixed bag#mostly i am a person who loves characters to be capable of being independent. and functioning by their lonesome#idk like i can see tangle being desperate & wanting whisper to stay. what i CANT see if her going ‘lets be the diamond cutters!’#esp without asking whisper.#like you can try and justify it ‘shes trying to keep their memory alive as a positive reminder instead of a dead name’#and i agree that that is justifiable but i just dont like the decision. it doesnt add enough for what it takes away to me#additionally i feel like if tangle & whisper were just the main characters they wouldnt have so many issues (ha. issues. comic)#but because they’re sometimes just absent for 3-10 issues at a time because other characters get a turn#& important developments or open-ended storylines are left bare as bone. (what did tangle do to search for whisper? where did she go?)#if you’re trying to give tangle complicated feelings and have her muse over things & explicitly be supposed to#be considering reforming a ‘diamond cutters’ during the time she’s missing whisper. she should have explicitly been considering that#instead of 0 to ‘lets reuse the traumatic name with no warning’. whisper not knowing? sure. the audience having no clue? bleh.#fair warning i am typing this at 12:30am with a mild headache so maybe i dont make sense#naturally a disclaimer that if you like this go you!! i would be interested in hearing why you like it#but i don’t like it the way i’m currently seeing it
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arcticmist0324 · 1 month ago
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One thing that is difficult about writing historical fiction is when you’ve set your story up in the same time frame as major historical events, which you KNOW would be on your characters’ radar yet they don’t impact the plot. What is too much? What is too little?
#writing#it’s hard like if I just brush over it completely it’s like huh? did you forget this major event that some of these characters would know#and would almost certainly have feelings about#or if you only mention it in passing it’s doing a disservice to the significance of this event#it’s just not part of the story#in the case I’m working with it’s a bit understandable because it’s still very early into the event but#this shit is going to be on their minds and if they themselves never impacted it will likely impact people they know#some of them could kind of ignore it but they are also in proximity to two characters who I’m certain won’t be able to ignore it#but because it’s so early I can maybe get away with mentioning it only in passing#like they don’t know how bad shit will get because it’s only the beginning and they’re naive early 20-somethings#sometimes it’s easy and seemless to incorporate historical events#my other historical story it’s so easy to mix Word War 2 into the protagonist’s childhood because that’s why her brother is the way he is#because of PTSD from a traumatic event that I’ve literally mapped to real life events that happened because it worked the puzzle pieces fit#they don’t always though#and that’s the issue with this story#also these characters are all dealing with a lot of shit so external events might not really be the biggest thing on their minds#like we need to deal with the pressing shitstorm we’ve chosen to jump headfirst into#tag rambles#none of these characters are the type to stand idly by or at least they aren’t by the end of the story#and it’s also like every one of my 5 protagonists will have shit to say even if it’s not something they personally might have to deal with#because part of being in a small group of the only people who know the full story about something is that it creates a bond#like these are literally their ride or die people#I love them so much#all 5 of them are my pookies#and yes I have also been in a situation where it’s like okay I guess these are my people where we all know too much now lol#and there’s definitely a bonding element to that#like no one else will ever get it in a way some other people do#it’s much less dramatic in my case
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wutheringmights · 11 months ago
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Off anon, Long ask ahead.
Serious: When my friend first sent CTB to me, I read the first two chapters. Then I abandoned it. A long while later. I remembered I never read it. Thought, “Well let’s give it one more chance, it might surprise me.” Man, oh man did it. I got to the Ear-piercing scene and was hooked. The dread I felt throughout the past sections. Just knowing Something terrible was going to happen and they were going to stop being friends, brothers. When Spirit discovered Warriors had been lying about the light spirits. I thought that was it. But Then It Wasn’t. and that was so much worse. In a good way. Defying expectations. The neck scene. Changed the whole game. Went from, “I’ve got stop projecting onto these characters. Obviously, the author didn’t mean for me to interpret it like That.” To, “Holy Shit I am So Awesome and good at subtext.” Very good. I did not notice the underlining theme about hands until it was Too Late. Went back and looked at previous chapters. Oh my god it was so obvious. Of course, now I am intentionally looking for foreshadowing. Which might also cause problems. I am noticing Drowning coming up A Whole Lot. So, worries. Went back and reread the first two chapters after I finished reading and was punched in the face by how much I missed. I was mainly compelled by the past sections. In part because there were fewer characters and thus it was easier for me to understand. The first time the present sections really got me was when Warriors found Wind with the journal. I was so scared for him. And the next chapter did not disway my fears. I cannot properly explain the way I felt when reading. Every so often I would feel the most amazing sense of dread while reading. And it compelled me. You wove such complicated feelings into this story. I so desperately wish I was better at explaining emotions, just so that I can tell you how I felt while reading. But god. I can find myself in some way in Spirit, The child, and Warriors. It’s so incredible.
The dread I felt during Scenes like, the entirety of chap 14 or the build up to The child’s departure. Is rivaled only by the Horror I felt when the Minish showed up in chapter 16. I actually had to stop reading for a moment because I was so scared. I don’t know why.
Silly: Don’t worry, I’ve already ‘fought’ my friend. When the name twilight came up, I genuinely thought it was twilight sparkle from my little pony. I very quickly scrolled back up to look at the character tags (I did not look at any of the tags before reading, big mistake.) when the minish first came up, I felt such a primal sense of fear. I can’t even explain it. I thought I was getting by fine. Then A Creature showed up and my gosh. I had to stop reading for a minute and prepare myself because I was just SO scared. Though I have to say that by far the scariest moment when reading, was the slow dreading realization that every single character was blonde. Horrifying. I keep getting Wind and Wild mixed up. It’s causing problems. It took me so long to realize Time was the child. I was so dead set on the theory that Time was an older Warriors. It made sense at the time. Speaking of Warriors. I keep thinking of him with facial hair. which is funny because he is constantly described with a clean-shaven face. And I kept forgetting. I have to wax him in my brain every few minutes. Legend is flipflopping in my brain from, I think I know what game he’s from, to, emo teen. I no longer know how old any character is. I do not trust my perception of age. I thought 'old man' Time was in his Sixties, I thought he had fully gray hair. NOPE! Another blonde boy! I knew of exactly two legend of Zelda games. Original legend of Zelda, and Tears of the Kingdom (and super smash bros. if that counts???). I think perhaps this is causing problems. When Lana got mad at Warriors for spreading rumors about her and Time. I remember thinking, “That’s kind of an overreaction.” And then I went back and reread that that chapter and GET HIS FUCKING ASS LANA. I am now a Lana apologist.
Spirit is just continuously playing the “Hate” monologue from, “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream,” in his head (Me, projecting again). This is very disjointed. Thank you.
Going into this story with nothing but Tears of the Kingdom, the original LOZ, and Super Smash Bros to guide you is a feat. I have friends who are more well-versed in Zelda lore, and they do not understand what is going on.
I am both impressed and terrified. I still think you should fight your friend.
Nonetheless, I'm really happy that you enjoyed the story-- especially the past sections. The past is always the hardest to write, and it's really nice to know that you were so deeply invested in it. I'm really happy that you found it compelling and dread-inducing. Truly, thank you <3
Also, Spirit having the hate monologue on loop in his brain is the funniest take on the character. No notes.
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sparrownnax · 2 months ago
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anyways sometimes i wonder if i'm meant to be connected with people. don't get me wrong i appreciate my friends, but like my quality of life wouldn't go down too much if i hadn't met them. i like digging information out of people. they lose a lot of appeal once i know too much about them. i don't really have any kind of interest in pursuing any kind of relationship with people, romantic or platonic. i could take people or leave them. dunno
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Do you ever read a post where someone is explaining a pokitical thing and from the way they're saying you know with absolute certainty 1) they got their info from a tumblr post and have never actually followed up on how feasible that information actually is to act upon (they may not even have checked if it was CORRECT, but when they do they have clearly not looked into how easy or hard it may be to follow those instructions with a positive outcome), and 2) you know WHICH tumblr post they're quoting because it is basically a copy/paste of it, and 3) it was YOUR goddamn post and the thing they are saying is entirely counter to the point you were making when you said it to the point that you genuinely wonder if they just like. Memory-holed the entire context once they saw that one itty bitty point.
It's like the motherfuckiny dating apps all over again. I do not want people to love my words if they are not actually willing to do the work of understanding them! Didn't your kindergarten ever make you play Telephone to teach you how heresay falls out????
#sometimes i feel like a prized 12 point buck and everyone is desperate to give chase so they can skin me and wear my pelt in memorium#the luxury of being seen is rarely extended to those we perceive as confident/constant in their sense of self#the path of being a child who was constantly told i was making people uncomfortable and alienating my peers#only to immediately become an adult who everyone perceives as so together that they are just Like That With Everyonr#brennan said something like this in the disection of a recent misfits and magic episode about sam (character)#and how he (as evan) realized that the charm and specialness she gifts to everyone around her means that no one ever really gifts it back#and how that fundamentally felt transcendent and revelatory for evan as a turning point idea#he'd spent so long never trusting others feelings of care for him that he couldn't see how he was bulldozing right into and over sam's own#insecurities about whether or not she is worth loving or is special in the same way#and then they had some back and forth about like#sometimes when you develop the skill of relateability and pacification#you disappear so deeply into it that no one notices you're gone - even you yourself - until it's too late#it put to words a lot of the like#gap. that i've always felt between me and others. this insistance on elevating or pathologizing me depending on where they feel the need#to be in relation to me#while having absolutely zero awareness of my actual positioning in relation to them#i have found that they way i interact with others seems to give the impression that because i am being 'genuine' and 'open' about myself#that ALSO means that I am sharing the whole of me.#and when i talk about destigmatization and shame and people work really hard to be like. aware of the edges of me to carch me embarrassed#like if they can prove that i don't 'admit' something it's because i'm ashamed as opposed to considering that maybe they don't have the kind#of relationship with me that would warrant the sharing of it#because i'm willing to talk i am no longer allowed privacy or it's treated as incongruous#but like. i am different people for different people and they are all authentically me but they are also about faciliting the version#of the other person that matters to me to be able to spend time with. i'm not going to bring the parts of me that put you in a bad mood#or aren't comfortable/safe for you. also probably not going to put those things out into the open world as a mixed company conversation#i don't know where I'm going or where I came from here but i think the point is just that I think there's melancholy in seeing when#you also don't know a reliable way to be seen in turn
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imaginarianisms · 9 months ago
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1 day i will make a meta of sansa's dynamic with her metaphorical champions/suitors & how that correlates to the ashford theory (i.e sansa being betrothed to joffrey baratheon, then promised to willas tyrell, then being married to tyrion lannister, then being married to harry hardying then married to aegon vi targaryen & aurane velaryon but it is not this day. lmao. when i make that meta it'll be so over for y'all.
#just know that. she never marries after aurane. btw lmao#like if he like g-d forbid ever died before she did she'd like. literally never marry or love again like. thats it lmfao#but anyway like. she has a complicated relationship w/ all of them tbh & reflects on them sometimes.#she obviously hates joffrey for him abusing her but like. she can't help but feel sad for him at times bc like. he was so young.#if he had the right people around him maybe he would've turned out okay eventually. but it didnt happen. she never met willas but sometimes#she wondered what it would've been like to be lady of highgarden but she hopes he's doing alright. her dynamic w/ tyrion is. complicated#like. he was never like openly cruel to her or anything & she's grateful to him for saving her life & standing up for her but like.#there's always that grief surrounding their families & i think she resented & mostly afraid of him at the time but in hindsight she's+#grateful that he never hurt her or forced himself on her. harry she hardly knew unfortunately but like she disliked him at first#but then he actually seemed to warm up to her & she had him tied around her lil finger but she knows that she wouldn't like to be married+#to a guy who actually has children w/ sb else. like. she's seen how that played out & while she wouldn't be mean it makes her uncomfortable#but especially surrounding aegon bc like. she's not naive enough to say she loved him but like. she actually LIKED him#like. while she was wary of him at first she warmed up to him & genuinely respected him as a person & most importantly aegon was her FRIEND#they got along rly well due to their similar upbringings & what they had to do to survive & like. he's actually a decent guy in canon. lmao#he's handsome & was chivalrous & honorable & sweet w/ her but also like batshit insane in a good way. like.#he was the golden prince she always wanted since she was a little girl; the prince that joffrey was supposed to be but never was.#he gave her a future as queen of westeros that was originally HERS. so when daenerys eventually executes him she has mixed feelings about i#aegon was good to her & she'd vowed not to betray him & she actually intended to keep that vow. to her she was forever in his debt+#he gave her a future from her isolation & suffering @ winterfell bc of how much everything changed & he waited for her to love him back.#he actually showed her respect & gave her a solid future when she felt alone & abandoned & led her gently into a world of his own making+#& gave her back her honor & a future. esp when the north was divided between jon rickon & herself. most preferred jon or rickon over her.#without aegon's intervention she probably would've had to marry some northern lord below her station. the winterfell succession crisis wild#but aurane velaryon? that's the love of her life. her bold captain. he taught her how to love & coaxed her in the sun to bloom & freed her.#freed her from the chains of her family obligations. he taught her to break the rules of tradition & follow her heart & trust her instincts#he was there with her in her darkest hour. he quite literally saved her life & defended her honor when no one else had the balls to do that#no one looks @ or touches her the way aurane does she loved him madly truly & deeply he took her girlhood in his stride but when autumn cam#she escaped & had to push him into the deepest recesses of her mind in the name of survival & pragmatism but she never stopped loving him.#& his sweet memory brought too much heartache & bittersweetness for her. she lowkey waited for him for years. & they EVENTUALLY reunited !#he fought & got legitimized for HER. she's. so genuinely happy w/ that man. he's one of her best friends & the father to her children.
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dimiclaudeblaigan · 9 months ago
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"yuri lowell is a manly heterosexual"
yuri lowell:
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#DCB Comments#keeping this off my tales blog/out of tags bc i know the heteronormatives will come for me LOL#with their heteronormative v3speria dub (yes the dub actually altered/watered down#his relationship with a man probably bc it was too undertoney for them and western media is allergic to that)#not pictured in this post: the way yuri is used in official artwork with other tales characters#and is often surrounded by men. or the comic of him admitting he's popular with guys#also not pictured: the way yuri's alts for gacha games often feature flynn's color coding#and/or both of their color coding mixed into his outfit or accessories#also not pictured: the way yuri's wedding outfit alt is flynn color coded#also not pictured: the way yuri's bouquet in the other picture of his first outfit on this post#is almost identical to flynn's ''joke weapon'' bouquet of roses in the game#also not pictured: the entire gacha game of rays (that's based off respective game canon). i can't explain that to you in just tags#also yes yuri has a metal corset in that fourth picture. i don't... know many men who wear a corset#and the only other one i know in this franchise is in fact also the other main m/m pairing in the franchise#i also don't know many manly straight men who the character designers dress and style like this#i just want you all to know. if you're looking for a non heteronormative man. yuri has you covered#just maybe not so much in the dub just ignore that LOL. also worth mentioning that#japan gets a L O T of extra yuri material thanks to gachas merch and other official side material#everything in this post is official artwork and the last one is from this year#it's merch up for pre-order for t@lfes so yes they're still playing with his hair LOL#and yes if you ever pick up his game i am here to advertise to you not to play the dub (even tho the text will still sometimes be wrong...)#i am in fact writing giant lengthy posts abt it on my tales blog so i will not explain to you here in these tags#but the dub sapped yuri of so much emotion to make him seem cool and edgy and more of a troll#instead of playful fun and silly and just a dork but who is emotional when it matters#woe is them to let yuri's voice shake with heartbreak when he's worried abt a man!#i bet the localizers didn't even realize the entire opening theme song was abt yuri and another man and their relationship#maybe one day i'll make a fun post with all of flynn's color coding slapped all over yuri#also i BET there's someone out there who will see this and be like ''she's reaching''#yeah i guess the official gacha game is reaching then too with how it treats yuri and flynn the same as the franchise's canon het pairs
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n9ph · 2 years ago
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mrfoox · 2 years ago
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Another one of those ... 'i' ve been lucky' but... Having ASD really makes you easier to manipulate and use and I feel I've been fortune to not have come across anyone who have done such to me...
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princesspeach5 · 2 years ago
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twitter adding a massive amount of completely random (and often negative or upsetting) tweets to the for you page and removing the context for why relevant tweets are there and instagram actually removing posts from your feed after you've seen them so it can say "you're all caught up" and show you posts from people you don't follow have rendered both almost unusable
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phagodyke · 8 months ago
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ahh.. I have tickets for a small music festival tmr which I went to last year + had a whale of a time but this year theres only like 2 artists I wanted to see but they released the schedule a couple days ago and neither are playing before 9:30pm. since I don't live local anymore I'd have to leave to travel back home around that time or I'd miss the last train... and there's not rly anywhere I can crash overnight there (and I was planning on going alone anyway like I did last year). so I think im gonna have to let this one pass me by :-(
#its not the end of the world like theyre not artists i LOVE love just ones i know and like a few tracks of#last year i had so much fun bc one of the artists there was an all time fave of mine. but yeah im not missing out on that this year#but its still a shame. i miss living there and being able to walk to gigs to easily like the music scene was so up my street!!#and i was kind of looking forward to it. but i shouldve planned it further in advance if i was serious abt going#i just didnt think theyd BOTH play so late???? i swear they had an earlier schedule last year#i guess i could just go and mill around some of the shows earlier in the day even tho ive skimmed most of them on spotify and theyre-#not rly my thing. sigh#im v tired + starting to feel quite sad this evening for some specific reasons i dont really want to think much about bc it is what it is#so its hard to imagine going out and having fun tomorrow. maybe ill just aim to get my chores done instead and see how i feel after that#i might fix my bike up and check the other local climbing gym out bc i havent visited that one before and itd be nice to mix it up#and i need to go out on the bike at some point this weekend so i dont build up anxiety abt it after yesterdays crash. hmm#man. its hard trying to do things solely for my own enjoyment sometimes. im usually pretty ok at making myself do it#and im grateful that i am! but i think im just feeling quite lonely. and not in a way where being around other people rly helps#like its more of a core thing. i feel kind of unseen by people in my life at the moment and that makes me feel like im not quite real#and i dont really know what to do about that. i think its why im still on my discord hiatus i just dont really have anything to say rn#ive felt this intermittently throughout a lot my life i think. but most of the time i can distract myself from it enough not to notice it#and i put the effort in socially regardless + usually when im in the moment it doesnt matter. but the stretches inbetween those moments..#its not unbearable and i dont feel that depressed at the moment either. just a bit lost i guess. i know itll pass eventually#but yeah it just keeps nudging up against me bc im feeling every little misunderstanding and slight quite keenly atm#ahh.. well its okay. ive never really needed much anyway im good at taking care of myself and thats enough to get by#ill do something nice for myself this weekend one way or another. im gonna go take a long shower rn i think and then read a bit#ah and i said i didn't rly want to think about it! but i guess i did... well i feel like i exist a little more for typing it out anyway#okay yes shower time now :-)#.diaries#maybe someday ill have ppl in my everyday life who i do feel seen + safe around. a girl can dream.. i have a lot of work to do before then
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bmpmp3 · 9 months ago
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i NEEED to be more annoying about being mixed race in public i keep forgetting how dire it is. sometimes i point out stuff in like visual culture classes about like a magazine cover with a biracial model or something and it blows peoples MINDS because the whole class forgot mixed people were real
#sometimes im like nooooo i shouldnt be too loud about it people find it annoyinggggg sometimes#but then i remember. if i dont. my white peers. i love them i do they're ready to learn and they do a lot of thinking#once you point stuff out. but by god you need to point this stuff out first LOL classmates put a lot of care and thought into all kinds of#issues but HOO baby. race is a BIG blind spot for a lot of em hfkjdjdkfh#i just get surprised is all. i didnt realize how little the average non-mixed-race person thinks about this stuff#i like to call myself whiteboy. because i think thats funny. its my internal monologue. but also i am not actually whiteboy#and i forget the real whiteboys (gender neutral?) dont know much about mixed issues hjskasjfkd#oh speaking of i guess as a quick primer: i should probably mention. i tend to call myself mixed race#just the terminology i grew up with. but in most professional and academic settings i'll use biracial or multiracial where applicable#or when referring to people who are not myself or someone i know prefers the term mixed#i dont know why i like the term mixed. maybe its just easier to say and explain LOL but yeah#not everyone likes the term mixed race so its usually better to call someone biracial or multiracial if you dont know#multiracial identities are vast and can be vastly different. one persons experience is much different from anothers#my experience is different from my older brothers and we have the same parents and look pretty alike#and our experiences are different from like. my biracial cousin who grew up in the US#and all of us have different experiences than the only other multiracial classmate ive had in years#really the best thing is to read stuff written by multiracial people. books articles blogs. watch video content#theres a lot to learn constantly even if youre multiracial yourself! lots of people on this earth. but it can be fun!#interesting and fun to connect with others by listening to their stories and experiences!
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jungwnies · 15 days ago
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wreckage - charles leclerc
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୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : after a heated argument with charles, you watch in horror as his car crashes during a race
୨ৎ : genre : angst ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1318
part one | part two | part three | part four
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They say life can change in the blink of an eye. One second, everything feels steady, solid, like the ground beneath your feet couldn’t possibly give way. And then it does. Maybe that’s the irony of it all—you never see it coming. Not really. You think you’re prepared, think you’ve braced yourself, but you’re never quite ready for the moment it all falls apart.
You fought this morning. Not just a little spat about something trivial—no, this was one of those fights that echoed louder than it should have. The kind that lingered, thick in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even hours later.
It wasn’t about anything catastrophic, either, but somehow, with Charles, the small things had a way of snowballing. His schedule. Your schedule. The time you didn’t have together. The things he didn’t say and the things you did.
“I’m trying, okay? You think it’s easy for me?” he’d snapped, his accent sharpening the edges of his words. “You know what this life is like.”
“Yeah, Charles, I do. But I also know you don’t get to use it as an excuse every single time something gets hard. I’m here, too, and I’m trying to make this work just as much as you are.”
His jaw had tightened, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”
You’d felt the sting of those words, like a slap across the face. But you weren’t one to back down, not even when the weight of his frustration pressed heavy on your chest.
“You don’t get to say that to me, not when I’m the one waiting, worrying, wondering if this is ever going to feel… stable. Do you know how hard it is to love someone who’s never really here?”
The silence that followed was deafening, his features a mix of hurt and anger, like he didn’t know which to lean into more. And then he’d said it.
“Maybe it’s hard because you don’t trust me enough to believe that I’m doing my best.”
You hadn’t answered, and maybe that was the problem. The fight ended there, not because either of you wanted it to but because there was no time to fix it. Not when he had a race to prepare for, and you had to pretend like none of this was tearing you apart from the inside out.
When you arrived at the paddock, it felt impossible to mask the weight of the argument. You greeted a few people with forced smiles, but you could see some of them watching you a little too closely. It didn’t help that Charles seemed just as tense, his jaw set and his usual ease nowhere to be found.
Carlos was the first to pull you aside, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “¿Qué pasa, eh? You look like someone stole your churros, and Charles… well, he looks worse. What happened?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”
Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Amiga, por favor. I know you, and I know him. Whatever this is, it’s not nothing.”
You sighed, glancing over your shoulder where Charles was talking to his engineers. “We just… had a fight this morning. It’s not a big deal.”
Carlos gave you a skeptical look. “Not a big deal? You’re both walking around like someone cancelled Christmas. If you’re not okay, neither is he. You should talk to him before the race.”
You hesitated, the memory of this morning’s argument still fresh in your mind. “I don’t want to distract him. He needs to focus.”
Carlos clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a small smile. “Tch. If you think he’s focusing now, you’re wrong. You being upset is a bigger distraction than anything else. Go.”
Reluctantly, you nodded and made your way toward Charles. He was still in deep conversation with one of his engineers, but when he saw you approaching, his expression softened—just slightly.
“Hey,” you said quietly, folding your arms across your chest.
“Hey,” he replied, his voice lower than usual. There was a pause, the tension between you lingering like a storm cloud.
“Good luck out there,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I mean it. Be safe.”
Charles studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours. Then he nodded. “And… I’m sorry. For earlier.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, someone called for him, signaling it was time to get ready. He gave you one last look, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with words unsaid.
The race began, and for a while, the roar of engines and the blur of cars distracted you. Charles was in good form, holding his position, making clean overtakes. You found yourself exhaling with relief every time his car flashed across the screen.
But then it happened.
It was almost too fast to comprehend. One moment, Charles was rounding a corner, perfectly in control. The next, there was smoke, debris, and the sickening crunch of metal against metal.
Your heart stopped.
The commentators’ voices rose in panic, their words a jumbled mess that barely registered in your mind. “Oh no, that’s Leclerc… that’s a big one.”
Everything else faded—the noise of the crowd, the hum of your thoughts—until all that remained was the image of his car, mangled and still.
“Red flag,” one of them said, and that’s when it hit you. They’d stopped the race. It was bad.
Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.
The minutes crawled by like hours, every second another layer of dread settling in your chest. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, desperate for any sign, any update, anything to tell you he was okay.
When they finally cut to the scene, you saw the medics surrounding his car, moving quickly but carefully.
“He’s conscious,” one of the commentators said, and you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, but it wasn’t enough. Not until you saw him. Not until you heard him.
You thought back to the fight, to the last thing he said to you, and it made you sick to your stomach. This couldn’t be the last memory you had of him, the last words you exchanged. It couldn’t.
You were already reaching for your phone, dialing his team, someone, anyone who could give you more than the vague reassurance of the broadcast.
“Please,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Please let him be okay.”
It’s strange, how quickly everything can unravel. You think you’ve got it all figured out, that the argument was just another bump in the road. But in the back of your mind, there’s always that voice whispering, telling you that things might never be the same.
And now, with every second that ticks by, your thoughts spiral, faster and faster, until you can’t breathe. What if this is it? What if those were the last words you ever said to him?
You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but all you can see is that image of his car, broken and still. Your pulse races. You told him you loved him today, but did he really hear you? Was he ever truly certain, or was that last moment of tension, the words left unsaid, enough to make him doubt everything?
You hate this. You hate the fear gnawing at you. You hate that you're sitting here, helpless, as he’s out there fighting for his life. That feeling of powerlessness—it’s unbearable.
Please, you think again, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. Please, don’t let this be the end.
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nochepsicodelica · 2 months ago
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NSFW
Perv!Toji who just hums when he hears you say that you need to go underwear shopping, again, over the phone. You explain how it seems like you have to buy more every month because they keep disappearing by the bundle, and that maybe you just keep forgetting them at his place. Toji says he'll be on the lookout for a pretty pair of your lacy, blue panties, in his room, which lures a laugh out of you, but he knows your reaction would be much different if you knew that he was just describing the current pair he has in his hand. His collection grew bigger than he ever intended it to, but he thinks that as long as you remain unsure of why your sacred treasures keep disappearing, he's in the clear to continue stealing them.
Perv!Toji who props his phone up against a pillow with a picture of you making the screen glow in the darkness of his room. It's a picture he took of you on one of your dates, you turned around and gave him the prettiest, soft smile, and he was able to capture the shininess of your eyes. It was his lock screen for a while, but of course you always outdo yourself and give him something better. That doesn't mean the previous picture just gets lost in his gallery. No, no, no. It's good material for when he's missing your body against his. His spank bank is riddled with you, it's an unorganized shrine that mixes his pure and sinful memories of you. Just thinking of you is enough to get him off, but it's always nice to be able to turn his head in the direction of his phone to get that crystal clear image of you while he furiously fists his cock until his sticky cum is dripping down his palm and landing on the warm skin of his abdomen. Busting once isn't always enough and in those cases, he just swipes to the next picture of you and does it all over again.
Perv!Toji who always has his hands beneath your clothes. Sometimes, he'll come up behind you while you're cooking, and the second his hands start sliding down your waist, you know what he's up to. His hands keep lowering until they're under the waistband of your shorts, moving the material of your underwear slightly so that he can caress and squeeze your bare hips. He really loves the sudden jolt he earns from your body when his fingers explore a little further and he starts tracing the creases that join your pelvis and thighs. Even when you're out and about, if you're standing around for too long, waiting to order food or just figuring out what you want to do next, he'll stand behind you as if he's giving you a back hug, and his hands will go up your shirt to rub and pinch your tummy.
Perv!Toji who can't watch a movie with you without teasing and playing with your pussy. You'll be sitting on his lap and at some point, his hand will slide down the front of your pajama pants and he'll just rest his palm on your pelvis, not moving for a good while. Once he knows you're used to the feeling, and you're not so riled up about the placement of his hand, he'll "mindlessly" start feeling up the material of your panties. His hand does an opening and closing motion, spreading his fingers apart before bringing them all close together, again. On the inside, you're going insane over every chaste drag of his fingertips over your clothed clit, but it's translated into subtle, occasional, little squirms and shifts on Toji's lap. He won't stop the teasing motions until he breaks your focused bearing entirely, and you're the one greedily chasing friction from his hand.
Perv!Toji who is absolutely terrible at the 'guess who' game. The second he's behind you, one of his enormous hands goes over your eyes, while the other one swiftly goes up your shirt and under your bra to grab a handful of tit. While he shamelessly squeezes, you try to process how fast you were put in this position by him. His familiar scent engulfs your nose, and his lips press against your ear, a deep, goosebump inducing, spine tingling, "guess who?" murmured. You're speechless as you attempt to think of anything other than the throbbing going on between your legs. His lips attaching to the side of your neck doesn't help him at all, but it does bring you back so you're finally able to take your wild guess. "Toji," you breathe out. On the outside he chuckles and plays the defeated man, but deep down, he loves that your body has his touch memorized, and that his smell is distinct, but you're able to recognize it in an instant. He loves that when you hear the sound of his voice, nobody else comes to mind. He loves that you didn't hum as if there were options, and instead, confidently said his name, because it confirms that nobody else is touching you this way.
Perv!Toji whose perverted behavior amplifies every time you send him a video of you playing with yourself. He opens the message, and the sight of your bare body instantly makes his cock spring to life, even before he presses play on the video. Immediately, he's met with the sound of your moans mixed with the slick sound of your fingers going in and out of your drooling cunt. Toji's heart races and his cock twitches at the sound of his name being crooned so sweetly by you. Unknowingly, he looks like he's trying to go into his phone, with the way he holds it so close to his face. He's pinching the screen, zooming into everything, every inch of your skin, your heaving chest, your tummy, before reaching the lewd scene of your glistening cunt being stuffed by your fingers. God, he's like a broken faucet, leaking precum in his boxers because of you and your tendency to be so sinful, that it's holy for him to be the only one who sees you behave this way. He finally goes back up to watch your face, and thank god he always saves this part for last, because you look like hell. Every. Single. Time. His brows are slightly pinched and his breathing quickens as he watches your pretty face contort with pleasure. Toji impatiently unbuttons and unzips his jeans with one hand and pulls his cock out of his boxers, a deep groan leaving him when his hand wraps around his sticky length. He's watching you, hips bucking up into his hand as he imagines it's him making you feel that way. When you cry out his name as you orgasm, his breath hitches, and as if he was actually there fucking you, he follows right after you, groaning as ropes on ropes of thick cum land on his pants and his hand. He lets out a heavy sigh and curses under his breath about the mess he made on himself. His attention is brought back to his phone when he hears you giggle in the video, followed by a quick "Love you, baby" before the video ends. He groans and shuts his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind the couch as he thinks about how badly he needs you. The aftermath is sent to you, followed by a request for you to come over.
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gghostwriter · 2 months ago
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Three's a Sideshow
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Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: Spencer misses an important date and ends up paying the consequences Trope:Angst w.c: 4.2k a/n: this is one of the many many requests of @lavonee (her exact request was: maybe spencer misses an important date/anniversary because of jj and reader is finally fed up being second place to her) trying my best to address all of them. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist
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The hazy dim light of each candle on the white linen covered table gave the restaurant an orange hue. Various aromas of meat, wine, and complimentary cheese wafted through the enclosed space. Sensual tones of the saxophone lightly played on the speakers perfectly weave through each muted conversations between loved ones—couples and families. The high-end restaurant basked in good food and great company. 
Everything was perfect.
Every costumer joyous and warm from the delicious wine. 
All except for one, alone by the corner booth, phone pressed to your ear and eyes scanning for the tall, lithe form of the date for the night.
Beep. Beep. Be—
You grimaced at the busy line tone that answered you, again. Hands gripping the draped linen, trying your best not to tap your newly manicured fingers on the table—trying to blend into the background, unsuccessfully. 
You stuck out like a sore thumb. All dressed up with no partner or food on the table, just a glass of once chilled wine—condensation all around it like tears of abandonment and longing. 
The same waitress who escorted you to the table—15 minutes ago, approached with a perfectly rehearsed smile.
“Ma’am, are we ready to order?”
You sighed. “Actually, my boyfriend isn’t here yet—”
She bit her lip, nodding, before quickly averting her eyes to the queued up line outside the premise.
Right. It was a Friday night and every adult in the vicinity wanted a night out to unwind and start their weekend on the right foot.
You tightly smiled, the embarrassment of tonight painting your cheeks a deep maroon, unnoticed through the flickering of the orange candlelight. “—you know what, I think I’d just have a slice of your chocolate cake to go. Yeah, I’m sorry about holding up the table.”
The waitress nodded, understanding washing on her face. “That’s alright. I’ll have your order packed and ready to go.”
“Thanks,” you murmured as you watched her leave. 
Tonight was suppose to be special. 
You dressed up in the same white with purple printed flower midi length dress, styled your hair effortlessly, and spritzed on your favorite perfume that smelled like a luscious garden after a rainy night.
Everything was just like how it was two weeks ago—including your boyfriend of three years, Spencer Reid, not showing up for the date.
You didn’t even know why you bothered. Why his promise of being here tonight made you feel giddy and trusting. Why his commitment on having do-over for the actual anniversary dinner that he missed two weeks ago made you think it was going to end differently and why you gave him another chance—
Another chance to let you down.
Another crack in your belief that you were important.
Another heartache to soothe.
Another let down. 
When you first entered the relationship, you understood the gravity of his work. How his career will always come first and how unpredictable it all may be.
That part—accepting those facts, were easy. You were always one to be tolerant and understanding ever since childhood, labeled as the easy kid—the independent, the self-sufficient. Mixed in with your highly demanding career as a doctor, you got it—the patience and consideration of a saint.
A martyr, your good friend once bluntly said. 
But what good was being a martyr when the person you’re killing yourself for didn’t notice?
It didn’t matter at first. Missed messages, missed calls, missed dates were just a work of rotten timing from both ends. Sometimes it was you having to run to the hospital for an emergency surgery and sometimes it was him having to catch a plane to a latest serial killer case.
The tandem of both independent and busy people in the relationship worked, love blossomed regardless.
What made it different was, there was three of you in the relationship.
The third party being an intense platonic, as he once defended, connection with Her.
You felt it for the first time during a get together with his found family. Your set of eyes trained to read in between the lines for the truth patients unwittingly hide from their doctor. It was a skill that you honed and never hated, up until that moment.
The stolen glances when the other wasn’t looking.
The emotion veiled between the eyes.
The unsaid words that seemed to spill from the silence.
Never mind that there were two presences in the vicinity that could have their life altered in any minute from the secrets long hidden in vaults. It was as if you and her husband were considered ornaments, pieces of a possible aftermath not worth saving. 
You knew of their past—Spencer admitting to having a crush on her during his early days with the team, asking her out on a baseball game date, and her recent admission during a case.
Everything was water under the bridge, your boyfriend assured you. But the thing was, water had a way of overflowing from confinement, turning deadly, and ravaging what once was an idyllic garden that bloomed from your affection. 
Now as you pay for the tab and collect your things, you felt the tides that destroyed the solace inside of you well up to your eyes—wanting the release you’re fighting to keep at bay.
A fight you’re bound to lose.
You whispered a thank you to the waitress, soft and quiet that you were unsure if she even heard it but that was the best you could do, the sobs closing your vocal chords and threatening to escape, making you a spectacle—leaving the restaurant alone, with a boxed cake on hand.
What a sad sight.
You fumbled with the phone again, hands shaking as you insert the key on the ignition.
Beep. Beep. Be—
Nothing. 
What even was the point of all of this, you wondered. All this emotion, love, that was once sweet and heavenly now all felt rotten, puss oozing from its pores and flies exalting for a feast. 
Slowly backing your black 4-door sedan out of the parking lot, you pondered if this was the end—did you have any more left to give? Or was this just a bump on the road for the your future selves to learn and heartily laugh about? 
———
The rattling of your keys as you dropped it on the ceramic plate across the main door disrupted the silent, empty apartment.
A small smile graced your face as you remembered spontaneously booking a ceramic wheel class with Spencer in tow. His initial worries about getting under the nails dirty and the bacteria that could be collected from any stranger that used the items before the both of you swept away with your giggles and assurances to double up on vitamins. 
There was a wide grin on his face then, accepting defeat from the sight of your enthusiasm and glee. 
It was one of your greatest memory with Spencer and when the glazed pottery came from the mail—yours, a wonky blue green plate and his, an uneven moss green bowl, you had him promise to take you again.
A promise that never came to fruition.
You sighed, eyes tracking the rented space you never quite moved in to. The walls painted this dark green color, reflecting the somber mood you frequently found yourself in and the shelves filled to the brim with books you never dream of reading.
in hindsight, maybe your subconscious was telling you something. Why you never agreed to Spencer’s casual asking of you to live with him. Why you were adamant of keeping your own apartment regardless of the nights you spent outside of it.
This place became your pseudo-home, comfortable but never quite permanent. 
The distant murmur of a car being parked on the street had you clambering up from your defeated, slouched position on the leather couch. In your gut, you knew who it was.
You spotted them exiting the SUV.
The two figures that make the relationship three—a sideshow for everyone to see.
Spencer and JJ. 
They talked for a bit, probably saying pleasantries of goodbyes, before she leaned in for a hug. One that he reciprocated, patting her back as he went. 
They looked like a couple and if you were in your right state of mind, you’d chalk the exchange up to nothing but you weren’t—you were wounded and unsure of your standing ever since you exited the restaurant.
Were you his first still?
Or were you just second place? 
They were questions you never wanted no, needed, to be addressed but it seemed like tonight was the night of reckoning.
As you watched Spencer enter the apartment, the smile on his face from spotting you slowly become a furrow between his brows, you fidgeted—pulling the coat tighter to your body, the one you never hung on the back of the door—ready to bolt.
“Love, I’m so sorry I missed our reservation—”
He went in for a kiss on your glossy lips. 
A simple act that you didn’t have the energy to accept, you turned your head to the side. His lips catching your cheek instead.
“It’s fine,” you sardonically replied. “It wasn’t like I was waiting for you for half an hour to show up. It’s fine, Spencer.” 
His brow twitched. 
“It sounds like it’s not fine. Why don’t you tell me what you really feel? We promised to openly communicate, didn’t we?”
You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air. “I said it’s fine, Spencer. Why don’t you give it a rest?”
“You look beautiful,” his calloused fingers gently caressing your hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t show. It’s just that JJ and the tea—”
Your last thread of reason snapped clean from hearing her name.
“It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it? Me coming after her?”
“Love.”
“Don’t touch me—don’t call me that,” you pushed his hands away, tucking the escaped tendrils behind your ears. 
His own, raking the wavy brown hair you loved, in frustration. You could tell, with how his hands opened and closed, that he was itching to touch you, comfort you. 
“Her? You mean, JJ? She’s a friend. Just a friend.” 
“And if this friend wasn’t married with kids, would you still be here with me now?”
Silence. 
There, you said it.
“What—yes, yes of course. Why would you ask that? Why would you doubt it? Doubt me?”
Your gut twisted inside of you. It was inconceivable for someone like Spencer to lie, wasn’t it? He was a good guy, one of the best. But all the hidden resentment in your heart—a pile you weren’t even aware of, no longer wanted to be silenced. It no longer wanted to be pushed to the side for optimism and denial. 
“I don’t know, Spencer. Maybe it’s the way you look at her—” voice raising up an octave. You’ve lost control, verbally dumping out everything. “Do you think I don’t see it? You look at her with this, this nostalgia and—and this emotion that I can’t compare to—never seen it when you look at me! Or maybe, maybe it’s because you drop everything for her? Including me?”
“Are you talking about when Henry got sick?” his hands finding a home on his hips. “I thought you understood—you of all, should have.”
Your laughter turned into a sob. “I do—I did, until you dropped me of unceremoniously back here, in this apartment, just so you could rush out to her home. Like I was some kind of secret, you didn’t want to bring around her. Like I was some sort of disease, you didn’t want her catching. Didn’t you think I would be of great help? A licensed medical doctor?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight—I thought you, you shouldn’t be exposed to the type of flu Henry contracted. You could have gotten sick too and could have passed it on to your other patients.”
“It’s my job to take care of the sick, don’t you think I take measures for my own health? Spencer, please, for once just be honest with me.”
He tilted his head. “Honest about what?”
“If it’s her you really want and if I’m just a passable substitute to settle down with.”
You could see his eyes blazing with such—disgust? Anger? You didn’t know what emotion it was before it was snuffed out, leaving his expression blank and almost sad. It was a look you were familiar with, his profiler look.
“I don’t need you profiling me and my insecurities, Spencer. I just want the truth. The God-honest truth.” 
“I love you. I can’t imagine a life without you—I won’t imagine it. Isn’t that enough?”
Your hands drop to your side.
“I don’t know. Is it?”
The distance created by the silence between you and Spencer was vast. You’ve never felt quite alone and isolated in the relationship until this moment. Was this it, then? The end to your once dreamed of happy ever after? 
“I’m sorry I missed the dinner. Why don’t you let me make it up to you? We can book the same restaurant for next week and—”
“You can’t just make up for a make up anniversary dinner, that’s not how it works in real life, Spencer. And besides, I don’t want to see the same pitying looks the workers there give me when they realize my date is again, and again, a no-show.”
He sighed, slowly invading your space. The arms that once felt like home to you, circling your waist, now felt foreign. You never imagined you’d get here but then again, who did? 
Your hands clasped his button down before loosening its grip. Taking in one more whiff of his cedar-wood and mint perfume, you pushed him away. Stepping backwards from his presence and all he had to offer.
“It’s late. We’re both tired—”
He nervously smiled. Intertwining his fingers with yours and started to walk backwards to the direction of the bedroom. “Yeah, we can talk about it in the morning once you feel better.”
You wiggled your hand free.
“Actually, I think I have to go.”
Spencer paused, panic coloring his face. “That’s—that’s not what I meant, love. Anything but that. Please, please I love you and I’m sorry.”
“Me too, Spence. Me too.” 
You slowly gathered your things, sans the chocolate cake left opened and untouched on the coffee table. 
“Happy anniversary, I need space to think this all through—to think us through.”
He stood still, blocking your way, trying to wrap his head around the direction this was going to. The inevitable downfall of him and you. It was a car crash no one could no longer escape from. 
“Please, let me fix this. I can do it, just—tell me how. Do you want me to limit my time spent with JJ? I-I can try, just please, don’t leave me.”
It wasn’t a promise, you noted. With how many broken promises there were between the span of your relationship, you wondered if that was a conscious choice of wording from him. It sounded hopeful, gleaming with oath even. But they were just words at the end of the day, packaged pretty for you to swallow.
“I need time, Spencer. I’m not breaking up with you, I just need space,” you placed a kiss on his cheek, wet from tears. “Can you give me that, love?”
He choked a sob. 
“Promise me you’ll be back. Promise me.”
You tightly smiled, making your way back to the door. The unanswered plea hanging in the air like a blade, waiting to slash down between you—waiting to sever the connection that was once shiny and new. 
Shakily removing the spare key of the apartment from your chain, you chanced one last look at his hunched form—sobs emitting from his sweet lips and acid rain spilling down his cherub cheeks, regretting that this might be your last memory of Spencer Reid.
You didn’t know if you’d be back. 
If the thought of being second place will ever go away.
But the sinking feeling in your gut tells you the truth—that this is it.
This is final.
This is the end. 
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